In Hot Water - Mary Baxter Lynn

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crossed afterwards, that intensity made her stomach quiver.

      Earlier in the evening at a cabana party he’d asked her to dance to a slow, erotic tune. She’d gone into his arms without hesitation. After remaining there through several songs, he’d grabbed her hand and said in a low voice, “Let’s walk.”

      They had strolled barefoot along the water’s edge until he’d stopped and pulled her again into his arms. Now, as they continued to dance to imaginary music she was powerless to stop him.

      “You’re not supposed to be thinking,” he whispered into her ear.

      The warmth of his breath sent chills down her spine. “I’m not.”

      “No,” he whispered again, stopping in the middle of the make-believe dance and pushing her to arm’s length.

      She looked at him, held his gaze, and felt her heart beat loudly in her chest. “Why is that?”

      “Because only feelings are allowed.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her in step with him. “It’s a night of magic.”

      The raspy tone of his voice affected her as much as the touch of his hand clasping hers tightly.

      “I don’t know you,” she said, her gaze resting on his profile.

      “That’s okay.”

      “Is it?” Her voice wavered.

      He stopped, turned her to face him, then tipped her chin up. “Forget about the world. Just think about the moment and how you feel.”

      “I don’t even know your name.”

      “If a name is what you want, call me Stan.”

      “I’m Mildred.” She couldn’t believe she had outright lied, but then she didn’t believe his name was Stan either.

      “Mildred it is,” he said in a low voice.

      She shivered, though the ocean breeze was warm against her skin. “This…is crazy.”

      “I’m crazy about you,” he countered.

      In the moonlight she could see his chiseled features and his deep-set eyes, eyes that seemed to penetrate right through to her thoughts.

      She licked her dry lips. “That’s not possible.”

      “Anything’s possible tonight,” he rasped. “Don’t fight yourself. Don’t fight me.”

      She closed her eyes, struggling to get control of her wayward emotions. If only she hadn’t had that last drink. Perhaps, then, she wouldn’t have left her friends partying at the cabana and taken a midnight stroll on the beach with a perfect stranger.

      “Hey,” he said, “you’re thinking again.”

      She felt his finger trace the line of her jaw before running it along the inside of her lower lip.

      Her breathing became erratic. His touch left her feeling hotter than she’d ever been.

      “I want to kiss you,” he whispered, his hand now trailing down her neck and onto her collarbone.

      Her head lolled back like a flower on a weak stem as his hand found its way to a breast. “Please.”

      “Please what? Kiss you? Touch you?”

      “Yes to both.” Her words came out in a gasp.

      His hand slipped under her halter top and rubbed her breasts. She couldn’t breathe or talk.

      “Perfect,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers.

      His lips gently cajoled hers, but then she whimpered; his kiss belied such raw, aching hunger that she nearly collapsed against him.

      As his mouth continued to cover hers, he sank to his knees and took her with him down onto the wet sand.

      “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.” His voice was so hoarse she could barely understand him.

      His words didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the feel of his hands removing her top, his mouth suckling her breasts and his teeth gently nibbling at her nipples. Locking her hands on his head, she held him close, reveling in every sensation he aroused.

      “I want to see all of you,” he said, pulling her upright.

      He removed her shorts and panties and cast them onto a dry, sandy part of the beach.

      Standing like a dazed nude statue drenched in the moonlight, she watched as he peeled off his own clothes. She gazed upon his flat, muscled stomach only a moment before looking downward.

      He was big and hard.

      Desire spread throughout her body. She must have made a satisfactory sound in her throat because he made a strange sound of his own before grabbing her and kissing her again.

      “Do you want me as much as I want you?”

      She could only moan.

      And anticipate.

      And soak up the frantic need escalating between them.

      “Answer me,” he demanded in a guttural tone.

      “Yes” was all she could manage, especially after his hand cupped her hot mound and two of his fingers pressed and probed her insides, making her wet.

      Again she felt like collapsing, and again they sank to their knees. Using the wet sand as a bed and the water lapping around them as cover, he lowered himself over her, then spread her legs.

      Unable to utter even the smallest of sounds, she reached for his throbbing erection and guided it into her. With a deep groan, he penetrated her.

      Her eyes widened as she realized how large he was inside her.

      He paused long enough to whisper, “Are you okay?”

      “Yes, oh yes,” she said through gritted teeth, clutching at his back, beckoning him to come more fully inside her, to invade her, to fill her, to give her all to him.

      Now.

      As if he could read her mind, he ground into her and began pounding her with a force akin to the surf pounding against the beach. She wrapped her legs around his buttocks and felt the silent screams of pleasure bounce around her head as her heart begged for more. She wanted more.

      He didn’t know when he’d been this tired. But then he’d worked hard at beating up on his body this morning.

      First, he’d run five miles on the beach, which was like running in a straitjacket, then he’d lifted heavier weights than usual in the compact but ample sized gym onboard his sailboat.

      Now as he made his way into the outdoor café at the luxury hotel, he realized that his stomach gnawed from lack of food. His overzealous workout had used up what energy he’d had stored.

      Still, he shouldn’t be here. He should have already set sail. He hadn’t planned on hanging around the island another day, because he had other places to go, other fish to fry, and because a buddy of his had agreed to meet him in a couple of days for some deep-sea fishing. Yet here he was pulling out a chair in a crowded corner of a café.

      So why was he lollygagging?

      Her.

      He was hoping that he would run into Mildred. He smirked at the thought of her name. It was no more Mildred than his was Stan. But he wasn’t complaining.

      He’d take her any way he could get her and under any name, too.

      She was a little hottie.

      “May I take your order, sir?”

      He’d ordered and the waitress hurried off. Holt perused his surroundings. Instantly, his stomach clenched and he sat up straighter. He couldn’t believe his luck. There she was, though not alone. She was with the same three

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