He kissed her softly. “It wasn’t a favor. I did it because I wanted to. I like watching you come. I like knowing I made you feel good,” he said gruffly. His mouth fastened on hers again.
“Nothing you said is an argument for me not to make you come here and now. Everything you said is true for me, too,” she said breathlessly once their mouths parted.
His eyebrows went up in a droll expression at the same time his hands lowered beneath her swimsuit bottoms and cupped the cheeks.
“I wasn’t aware we were arguing. I was just stating a fact. I want to let it build.” She gasped softly at the feeling of him squeezing her bare ass lasciviously and grinding her pussy against his cock.
“It doesn’t really feel like you want to wait,” she said dubiously.
His grin broke free. He smacked her bottom as briskly as he could while underwater and she jumped.
“Do you want to learn how to drive the Jet Ski?” he asked her, pulling away.
And despite the fact that she was disappointed to leave his arms, his idea sounded interesting.
“Can I learn how to pop it up out of the water onto the boat like you did?” she asked, swimming after him toward the yacht.
“Maybe next lesson,” she heard him say dryly over his shoulder, and she laughed. She was reminded that not only was he a mind-blowing lover and sexy enigma: Jacob was also just really fun to be with.
• • •
After they’d played around on the Jet Ski in the bright sunshine for another hour or so, and Harper had become a competent driver of it, she told him she was starving. It was past time for them to head in, anyway, Jacob realized. Harper’s cheeks, nose, and chest were pink from the sun, and as they’d gotten off the Jet Ski, he’d noticed that her eyelids looked heavy.
They showered off on the outdoor shower enclosure and made their way to the galley. There, they investigated the contents of the picnic hamper that Lisa had prepared for them. They settled on freshly made salmon and California rolls along with a banana-and-mango salsa. They ate on the foredeck of the boat in the shade. By the time Harper had eaten their early supper and drank a half glass of white wine, she was having difficulty keeping her eyelids open. He was glad she was so relaxed. She looked happy, and that gratified him. He’d wanted that, for her to feel secure and carefree. He knew she was having second thoughts about the wisdom of going deeper with him.
True, he had his own doubts about his wisdom in demanding more from her. But he despised seeing Harper anxious about him . . . about them. And despite his concerns, both for himself and for her well-being, he was selfish. He wanted her wholesale.
“Come on,” he said presently, standing from the high-top table and reaching for her hand.
“Where are we going?” she asked, blinking and forcing her eyelids open.
“I’m taking you to bed.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly looking more alert, the pink, full lips that had been torturing him all day curving into a smile.
“To take a nap. You look wrung out.” He gave a bark of laughter at her scowl.
“I didn’t know this was here,” she said from behind him a moment later when he’d led her downstairs and opened the door to a bedroom suite.
“Bathroom is through there.” He pointed at a door. He flipped back the comforter and the sheet on the large bed and waved her toward him. He forced his face into impassivity as he removed the pretty, sexy blue bikini she wore, the one that matched both her eyes and the shimmering alpine lake, and molded her body in a way that had made him fantasize repeatedly all afternoon, primarily about two topics: either burying his face in between the glory of her high, full breasts or the heaven between her thighs.
He jerked his gaze away from her pale, exposed breasts now, urging her toward the bed.
“You’re not getting in with me?” she asked as he pulled the sheet up over her naked body, and then the duvet. She’d definitely gotten sun today, and she looked like a sexy, sweet decadence against the dark gray sheets.
“I’m not tired,” he said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I’m going to take the boat up the coast a bit and position us for the fireworks.”
“You mean the ones that you sponsor every year?”
“Who told you about that?” Her hair had mostly dried as they’d eaten their meal. He pushed some copper strands off her temple and smoothed them away from her face.
“Jim mentioned it the other night. But it’s common knowledge, isn’t it? That you sponsor the Labor Day fireworks for Tahoe Shores? I hope it is, because it was mentioned in an article we did for the holiday weekend version of the Gazette,” she added wryly.
“I guess it is generally known, yeah. The city council couldn’t make a secret of it.”
“You’re nicer than you want people to think you are.”
He paused in stroking her.