Forever Buckhorn. Lori Foster

we get, so you can skin out of that dress now.”

       She peeked at him, then away. “Why don’t you go ahead and get in, then I’ll…inch my way in?”

       “Have you ever driven a boat?”

       “No.”

       “Do you know how to start it?”

       She glanced dubiously at the pull start for the motor, then shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

       He nodded. “So at least I know you’re not plotting on getting me overboard then taking off.”

       Her eyes widened. “I wouldn’t do that.” She chewed her lip, looking undecided, then admitted, “It’s just that I hadn’t figured on how to go about stripping off my clothes out here in the open.”

       “With me and the cows watching?”

       “Right.”

       He could have offered a few suggestions, but that would be crass. Besides, he was afraid his suggestions would offend her. Likely they would.

       Oh, hell, he knew damn good and well they would.

       “All right. I’ll turn my back. But don’t take too long. You can put your folded things on the cooler so they won’t get wet.” Before he could change his mind, he turned his back, stepped on a seat and dove in. He heard her squeal as the small boat rocked wildly.

       The water was shallow, so he made the dive straight out, and seconds later his head broke the water. He could easily stand, so he waded to the dock, keeping his head averted, then rested his folded arms over the edge of the aged wood. He could hear her undressing.

       “The water feels great.” His voice shook, damn it.

       “It’s…green.”

       He cleared his throat. “Because of the moss.” She probably had her shoes off already, and those ridiculous, frilly, feminine little socks that looked like they’d come from a fetish catalogue, though he doubted she knew it. He pictured her wearing those socks—and nothing else. The picture was vague because he had no idea what the hell her body looked like, but the thought still excited him. Dumb.

       Did she only have on the dress, or was she wearing other stuff over her suit? He cleared his throat and mustered his control. “Aren’t you done yet?”

       “Well…yeah.”

       His head snapped around, and he stared. She stood there, pale slender arms folded over her middle, long legs pressed together, shoulders squared as if in challenge. And her suit wasn’t a bikini, not that it mattered one little bit.

       “Damn, woman.” The words were a choked whisper, hot and touched with awe. It felt like his eyes bugged out of his head.

       She shifted nervously, uncrossing and recrossing her arms, taking her weight from one foot to the other, making the supple muscles in her calves and thighs move seductively.

       Gabe had no idea if she blushed or not because he couldn’t get his gaze off her body and onto her face.

       The one-piece suit was simple, a pale lime green, and it covered enough skin to make a grandma happy. But what it left uncovered…

       Her plump breasts made his mouth water with the instinct of Pavlov’s dog. High, round…he wondered for a single heartbeat if they were real or enhanced. He stared, hard, unaware of her discomfort, her uncertainty. Nothing in the suit suggested it capable of that incredible support. There were no underwires, no lined bra cups. The suit was a sleek, simple design, and it hugged her like her own skin.

       The visible outline of soft nipples drew him, making his imagination go wild. He wanted to see them tight and puckered, straining for his mouth.

       Breathing deeply, he traced her body with his gaze, to the shaping of her rib cage, the indention of a navel, the rounded slope of her mound.

       Heat rolled through him, making his nostrils flare. He could easily picture her naked, and did so, tormenting himself further.

       Surely even the cows were agog. She had the most symmetrically perfect feminine body he’d ever seen, and the lake water no longer felt so cool. His sex grew thick and heavy, hot. It was unexpected, this instantaneous reaction he had to her. Women didn’t affect him this way. He’d learned control early on and hadn’t had an unwanted erection since his teens. He chose when to be involved; he did not get sucked into a vortex of lust!

       But there was no denying what he felt at this moment. It annoyed him, with himself, not her. She did nothing to entice him, other than to stand there and let him look his fill.

       Just as he’d suspected, her freckles decorated other parts of her body, not just her face. Her shoulders were lightly sprinkled with them—and her thighs. His heartbeat lost its even rhythm. Damn. He hadn’t known freckles could be so incredibly sexy.

       One thing was certain, he was sure glad he’d brought her here so that every guy on the lake wasn’t able to gawk at her.

       Hell, he was doing enough gawking for all of them.

       Pulling himself together, he cleared his throat again and looked at her face. Her head was down, her long braid hanging over a shoulder, touching a hipbone. He bit his lip, feeling the heavy thumping of his heart, the tautness of his muscles. “Lizzy?”

       Her arms tightened around herself. “Hmm?”

       Belatedly he understood her anxiety at being on display. He felt like a jerk, and tried for a teasing tone despite the urgency hammering through him. “You comin’ in or not?”

       “Do I get a choice?”

       He didn’t hesitate. “No.”

       Slowly her gaze lifted to his. “You’d better be worth this.”

       Oh, he’d show her just how worthwhile he could— No, wait. Wrong thought. He hadn’t brought her here for that. He’d brought her here to convince her to forget about her silly ideas of heroism.

       He scowled with determination, but his carnal thoughts seemed less and less wrong with every second she stood there, her small body the epitome of sexual temptation. He unglued his tongue and said, “Come on. Quit stalling.”

       She licked her lips and he groaned, practically feeling the stroke of her small pink tongue.

       She glared at him suspiciously, then looked over the side of the boat, looked at him and licked her lips again. “How?”

       Without even thinking about it, he found himself wading to the boat, holding up his arms and inviting her into them.

       And just like that, she closed her eyes, muttered a quiet prayer and fell in against him.

      CHAPTER THREE

      GABE FOUND his arms filled with warm, soft woman. It wasn’t the first time, of course, but it sure felt different from any other time. Unexpectedly, her scent surrounded him. Lizzy smelled sweet, with a unique hint of musk that pulled at him. Her fingers were tight in his hair, her arms wrapped around his head in a death grip. His mind went almost blank. He could feel her firm, rounded bottom against his right forearm where he’d instinctively hooked her closer, to keep her from falling when she’d jumped in against him. His left arm was around her narrow waist, his large hand splayed wide so that his fingers spanned her back.

       More momentous than that, though, was the fact that his face was pressed between her breasts. They certainly felt real enough. Jolted by the sexual press of her body, he froze, not even breathing. She was wrapped around him like a vine, but she didn’t seem to notice the intimacy of their position.

       Gabe noticed. Damn, but he noticed.

       He shifted the tiniest bit so that his hand could cuddle a full, round cheek, and felt the shock of the touch all the way to his throbbing groin. She panted, but not with excitement.

       “Lizzy?”