Chapter 24 #2
He shook his head. We took turns, and I was laughing so much about using my wrist that I missed every time. The sky grew darker. Tim threw himself all over the place like a Labrador to make the catch, which made me laugh even harder and made him try even harder.
Until one.
“Missed,” I said, triumphant.
I snagged the grape from the blanket and held it up to show the evidence.
He got into an athletic stance, if you could do that on your knees, looking even more determined to get it next time.
I threw it upward, and he flung himself in the air, torpedoing toward me, his eyes wide as if terrified he’d hurt me.
His chest bumped mine, and then, probably realizing where this was heading, braced his hands on the ground as his weight forced me backward.
He landed right on top of me, our faces inches apart, his powerful chest pressing against mine, his legs pinning me down.
“Sorry,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
My robe had fallen aside, and I could feel the hard musculature of his chest and legs against my skin. His face was close, shadowy, with sharp cheekbones. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I could feel my lips part, instinctive and languid.
What was happening?
We lay there, his chest moving up and down on top of me, our lips almost touching.
His eyes were now as unknowable as the darkening night, his skin smelling of dust and sweat and a deep musk, merging with the smell of river water and stones and champagne.
“I should get off you,” he said finally.
Should he? Did he want to? The way his hooded gaze was holding mine didn’t seem like it. I wanted him to stay right there, his glorious, hard-muscled everything driving into my softness.
“No,” I whispered, unable to lie. “Don’t get up. I like how your body feels against mine.”
He seemed surprised, then his lips curved into a pleased smile.
“This time, it’s you throwing yourself at me,” I said, joking but strained. He still hadn’t replied. Told me how he felt.
“Yeah, I definitely am. I’ve wanted to throw myself at you for a very long time.
I feel so drawn to you, Tabitha, I can barely breathe sometimes.
” His voice cracked with raw honesty. “Last time, you had too much to drink for me to act. But things feel different after all the time we’ve spent together. ”
“Well, I’m not drunk now,” I said.
“No, you’re not,” he said with a wicked grin.
Our eyes locked, and I could feel my heart racing faster and faster against his, which was pounding like a jackhammer… And lower down, something else of his was getting harder.
“Shall I help you close your robe?” he asked.
“No.”
His eyes flickered with surprise, then glittered.
My heart was beating so hard and loud, he must have heard and felt it.
“Fuck, Tabitha, I want to kiss you.”
His eyes seared into mine.
“Yes,” I said, desperate for him now.
But he didn’t kiss me right away. Holding both sides of my face, he moved his thumbs in circles against my temples and stared into my eyes, his brown eyes warmed with the golden hour. Everything around us, the grass, trees, river and sky, lit up.
Under his intense gaze, I felt suddenly very shy.
We’d known each other a lifetime, and it was only when we were young that I knew exactly what we were to each other.
Best friends. Grown up, we’d become amorphous and confusing.
These tense three months, working together, had forced us to face each other and our connection.
Three months of skirting around this intensity, my lingering looks while his back was turned or when I thought he wasn’t watching, me wondering if his edgy second glances meant anything.
“Tim?” I murmured, uncertain now, not even knowing what I was asking.
“I got you.” He brushed a strand of hair from my face, seeming to know I needed reassurance. Tipping his head to get a better position, he finally pressed his lips to mine. He took small, slow sips at my top lip, then my bottom lip, and I melted beneath him, soft and slippery as satin.
“Tabitha.” His voice was cracked and husky and arousing. I loved how he said my name with the local burr that rounded the letters and caressed the syllables, rolling them around in his mouth.
“Your eyes are so blue,” he said. “I could fall into them and stay there all day.” Then, as he breathed out, he sank his hard muscled body fully into mine and he rolled his hips against me.
Whoa.
“Tim,” I sighed.
“Oh fuck, Tabs, finally. Finally,” he growled out with frustration. “I know we should go slow, but I don’t know if I can.”
Now his voice was grabbing my name by its arse as he ground intensely against me. I no longer doubted how fiercely he wanted me, and I ached to show him how much I wanted him too.
There was no uncertainty now. His body on top of mine, his huge robe parting around me, I could feel his need and his passion because it matched mine.
His hands raked my scalp. With a groan, he parted my lips with his, and the kiss sent signals to all the nerve endings in my body.
I’d never felt this much need or urgency from just kissing.
He teased my tongue with flicks and rolls as we ground our hips into each other.
I thought I knew the taste and feel of Tim’s mouth, the feel of his fully clothed body against mine.
We’d kissed that summer when we were twenty-five, excited and sun-warmed and supple-limbed, but this was like kissing a different person.
He was a grown man now, his fingers through my hair firmer and more experienced, his mouth more nuanced.
One minute, seeking and flirty, the next, forceful and hard and firm.
I was certain where this was going now, and I wanted him so badly. I wanted to feel his hands all over my body. I wanted everything.
After some time—minutes or seconds, I wasn’t certain—he gently pulled away.
Emboldened by his kisses, I chased his mouth, and with my hands firmly on the nape of his neck, I pulled his face back down to me.
A husky laugh came from the back of his throat.
With a groan, he grabbed one of my bare thighs and hoisted my leg up and over his hip.
His large hand spread over my skin and pressed into my flesh.
He dragged his fingers up and down, sending pulsing, wanting signals into my core. I shamelessly groaned for him. Yes.
“Oy! Get a room, you two!”
Tim’s head shot up.
My body jerked in surprise, and I looked up to see a few flashes of color through the trees. How much could they see? I reached between us to pull my robe closed.
“Yeah,” chorused a whole lot of young male voices.
“If it’s rocking, don’t come knocking!” yelled another one.
“Oh no,” Tim groaned. “One of the kids was wearing my company T-shirt. He’s the young lad I fired on Monday. Looks like they’re headed in the direction of the village, probably to the pub, but I wouldn’t put it past them to come back. We’d better get going.”
He breathed heavily. Our faces were still nearly touching, and I sensed he wanted to kiss me again. I did too, but the moment had passed. I felt a sudden rush of annoyance those boys had taken this brief, wonderful respite from the responsibilities of my life.
Tim reluctantly moved off me as I pulled my robe all the way together. “I’ll take you home.”
I secured my tie, and he helped me to my feet. Within seconds, we had everything packed up. Tim took my hand as I stepped up into the truck and then, rounding the back, slung the baskets in. He climbed in beside me and started up the engine, grim-faced, keen to get away.
Kissing Tim had been heaven, and I was both mortified and disappointed that we’d had to stop. I’d felt so wanted as he’d devoured me. I’ve not had that for a long time. And I shamelessly wanted more.
But where did that leave us?