Chapter Nineteen Sophie
Nineteen
Sophie
Sophie had always considered herself a reasonably sensible woman. Until that morning, she would’ve sworn she wasn’t the type to end up naked in the middle of a lake with a man she’d known for exactly a week.
Yet here she was, sprawled across a bench seat, her body still tingling from what Luke had just done with that wickedly talented tongue of his.
Christ, the man was gorgeous. The morning sunlight painted his body in gold, highlighting the curve of his shoulders and the flex of muscles as he tore open the foil packet with his teeth.
Talk about a far cry from the handful of perfectly nice but thoroughly uninspiring men she’d dated in London, with their soft hands and bodies sculpted by expensive gym memberships rather than actual work.
The raft rocked gently beneath them as Sophie watched him, slow and deliberate, push his jeans down his hips.
Her breath caught, a sharp, shivering intake that had nothing to do with the heat of the morning sun.
Well, well, well. Harbor Hottie was aptly named in all departments.
A light dusting of dark hair led down from his chest, barely enough to hide the smooth, defined muscles beneath.
Her fingers itched with the urge to trace every line, to map the dip of his ribs, the tension across his stomach.
Sunlight kissed every ridge and hollow of his torso, casting shadows in all the right places.
Sophie gasped when his erection came into view, huge and engorged with want.
“Bloody hell,” she whispered, immediately clamping her lips shut when she realized she’d said it aloud.
Luke’s eyes met hers, one eyebrow quirking up in that way that made her stomach flip. Her skin tingled everywhere: her breasts still damp from his mouth, her thighs trembling with aftershocks of pleasure, the insides of her knees sensitized from the scrape of his stubble.
She reached for him, needing his weight on her.
The first brush of his naked chest against her breasts sent electricity skittering across her nerve endings, her nipples tightening almost painfully.
Every point of contact—his thighs against hers, his fingers tangled in her hair, his erection pressing insistently against her belly—felt hyper-charged.
The raft shifted as he moved over her, his weight settling between her thighs, the head of his cock nudging against her entrance. Sophie held her breath, fingernails digging into his shoulders as he began to push forward.
Bloody. Freaking. Hell.
The stretch was exquisite, her body yielding to accommodate him inch by delicious inch.
Her inner walls clenched around him, adjusting to his size, and the noise that escaped her throat was something between a gasp and a moan.
Heat seared through her, radiating outward from where they joined, spreading through her belly and thighs in molten waves.
When he was fully within her, Sophie took a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the fullness, the slight burn tilting decisively toward pleasure. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this. Not the romance novels she’d read, not her previous lovers, not her most private fantasies.
This was Luke Rhodes, the same man who’d scowled at her from across his dock a week ago, now buried inside her to the hilt, his face a study in restraint just inches from hers, his hands trembling slightly where they gripped her hips.
“Okay?” he murmured.
Sophie nodded, not trusting her voice, and wrapped her legs around his waist, using her heels to urge him deeper still. A growl escaped him at the change in angle and then he began to move.
Each thrust sent shockwaves of sensation ricocheting through her body.
The initial discomfort gave way to a building pressure that made her arch beneath him.
Her skin was too tight, too hot, too sensitive.
Every brush of his chest against her nipples, every scrape of his stubble against her throat, every place their sweat-slicked bodies connected pulling her tighter toward some precipice.
The gentle rocking of the raft beneath them added an extra dimension, an unpredictable rhythm that made each thrust slightly different than the last. One moment shallow, teasing; the next deep enough to make her gasp. Sophie’s nails raked down Luke’s back, marking him, claiming him, urging him on.
Luke moved with the same focused intensity she’d seen in everything he did: the same concentration he applied to coiling rope or navigating the lake, but infinitely more devastating when channeled into pleasure.
The cords in his neck stood out with tension, his jaw clenched as he held himself in check, every muscle in his powerful body controlled despite the growing urgency in his movements.
That iron control suddenly struck Sophie as a challenge. Mr. Perfect Control, always so measured, so restrained. Even now, buried deep inside her, he was holding back.
What would it take, she wondered, to make Luke Rhodes completely lose his composure?
“You don’t have to be gentle,” she whispered, raking her nails down his back and feeling him shudder. “I won’t break.”
His eyes darkened, but still that maddening control remained. Sophie decided to play dirty. She tightened her inner muscles around him deliberately, watching his eyes flutter closed for a brief moment. She did it again, adding a roll of her hips that had him sucking in a sharp breath.
“Sophie,” he warned, voice rough as gravel.
She leaned up, bringing her lips to his ear. “I want to see you lose control,” she whispered, then caught his earlobe between her teeth, tugging gently.
Something in Luke’s expression shifted. A flash of heat, a flicker of something wild. His movements stuttered briefly as he fought against his instincts. The struggle playing across his face was beautiful: desire warring with restraint, need fighting discipline.
She slid her hands into his hair, tugging just hard enough to test his limits. “Let go,” she urged, meeting his thrusts with her own movements. “I want all of you.”
A low moan emerged from deep in his chest as his hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks. In one swift movement, he hitched her legs higher around his waist and drove into her with a force that had her gasping.
Gone was the careful lover, replaced by something primal and untamed.
His thrusts became harder, deeper, almost desperate as he finally surrendered to what his body had been demanding.
The muscles in his chest bulged, his thighs threaded with veins.
The raft rocked violently beneath them, water slapping against the hull in time with their movements.
His hands were everywhere, tangling in her hair, palming her breast, gripping her hip to hold her steady.
This was what she wanted: Luke Rhodes, undone and magnificent, eyes wild and movements unleashed.
She felt the moment he lost control. His rhythm stuttering, his grip on her hip tightening almost to the point of bruising, his breathing harsh and uneven against her neck. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself as deep as possible, his entire body going rigid as he pulsed inside her.
For long moments afterward, they lay tangled together under a blanket from the boat. Sophie felt utterly boneless, her body humming with satisfaction, little aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through her.
“Well,” she managed finally, her voice slightly hoarse, “that’s one way to take in the lake view.”
“HEY THERE, LUKE! THAT YOUR NEW NEIGHBOR?” a voice suddenly called out.