“Of course, if you like,” Sophie assured him.
He seemed to waver on his feet a moment before he leaned down and treated her to another bone-liquefying kiss. Sophie just stared at his retreating back as he walked away a moment later, her brain temporarily wiped clean of everything but the taste of Thomas.
She watched him through the picture window in the living room as she prepared the marinade. He kicked out of his newly bought tennis shoes, peeled off his socks, and then straddled the hammock with long legs before lifting his feet and swaying for a moment. He leaned back and brought up his feet, settling into the mesh rope cradle.
Sophie smiled to herself. She knew perfectly well what it was like to be suspended between the thick canopy of the two supporting maple trees, the lulling effect of staring up at patches of blue sky and puffy clouds while the summer breeze rocked you gently.
Thomas would be fast asleep in minutes.
She let him rest for more than an hour. She would have let him sleep longer, but he already was having difficulty getting a full night’s rest. He might suffer more acutely from his insomnia if he slept too long during the day. On the way back from setting out more food and some water for Guy she approached the hammock.
She studied his face for a moment before she caressed his cheek. The shade where he slept was relatively cool, but the day itself was warm. A light coat of perspiration dampened the hair at his temple. He didn’t stir when she brushed his hair off his forehead, attempting to cool him. She could tell by the movement of his eyes beneath the closed lids that he was dreaming.
“Thomas,” she called softly, beckoning him back to the realm of the waking world.
She squeaked in surprise when his hand jerked up, quick as a snake at the strike, gripping the forearm of her stroking hand in an ironlike hold. Her gaze shot to his face. His eyes were open, but she got the strange sensation that he wasn’t seeing her at all.
“Thomas. It’s just me,” she assured, recognizing a nightmare in the depths of his eyes. His vicelike grip on her didn’t lessen. “It’s Sophie, Thomas. Everything’s okay.”
She twisted her forearm, willing him to release his tight hold. At first, he didn’t relent. But then he glanced out at the golden lake and back to Sophie’s face.
His hand dropped.
“Sorry,” he mumbled gruffly. He wiped at a sheen of perspiration that had gathered on his upper lip. He grimaced and sat up partially in the hammock. Sophie watched as he flung his shirt off with a flex and ripple of ridged muscle.
“It’s all right,” she murmured, her attention captured by the compelling sight of his bronzed, bare torso. “It’s a little warm. Do you want to go in to the air-conditioning?”
He lay back in the hammock and stared up at the trees. The color of his eyes reflected those of the scene above him, rays of sunlight spiking through dark forest green.
His choppy breathing slowly evened.
“No. It’s better now,” he said finally. Sophie wasn’t sure if he referred to his fading nightmare or the fact that his body temperature was cooling in his half-naked state. He glanced over at her, his gaze flickering from her face down to her waist. He reached for her upper arms. “It’d be even better if you came here.”
He guided her onto the hammock, her knees on either side of his hips. He smiled when he heard her soft laughter. Without saying another word, he drew her down to him, her breasts flush against his chest, and covered her mouth with his own.
Sophie moaned into his mouth when the impact of his taste and the pressure of his persuasive lips fully hit her consciousness. She tasted salt from his sweat and just the barest hi
nt of the sugar from the sweet tea still lingering on his agile tongue. His singular flavor intermingled, the resulting taste so intoxicating that she found herself striking out for it again and again, seeking deeper in the depths of his mouth.
The kiss continued, as lazy, sultry, and sensual as the summer day. She felt the tension in his muscles, the evidence of an arousal that had flamed and then banked several times that day. But he seemed content for the moment in kissing her . . . in eating her mouth like it was the rarest, most succulent treat to be cherished. The only place he touched her was on her bare upper arms, where he lightly ran his fingertips over her skin and occasionally molded the muscles in his big hands.
Sophie found herself becoming hyperalert to those seemingly innocent caresses as Thomas continued to devour her mouth and his cock grew progressively stiffer until it felt like a thick, hot poker throbbing against her hip. Her flesh and blood turned to warm syrup under the influence of a kiss that went on and on, neither of them seemingly capable of getting enough of the other’s taste and caressing lips. Something about the relative chasteness of his embrace and the graphic, illicit evidence of monumental arousal struck her as delicious for some reason—familiar and forbidden at once.
She groaned softly when he captured her tongue in his mouth and sucked gently, feeling the suction of his hot kiss all the way to the depths of her sex. Her clit twanged almost painfully.
She broke their kiss and pressed her forehead to his.
“Let’s go inside,” she murmured between pants.
“Why? It’s nice here.”
She swallowed the lump that had grown in her throat as she stared into his increasingly familiar face.
“Sit up a minute,” he said.
Sophie did so, her movements causing the hammock to sway.
“Scoot back onto my thighs,” he encouraged. Once she’d followed his instructions, she watched, frozen, as he rapidly unfastened his cargo shorts and pushed them down around his thighs. His white boxer briefs stretched tight over his enormous erection.