Forever Bound (The Forever Series, #4)

I regretted asking Jenny to take us to the beach. A big ol’ interruption was about to come, and I’d heard about getting sand in all the wrong places.

I brought things down a notch even though it took some effort. Jenny was more than I bargained for, a pink goddess in her green dress. I had ascertained she wasn’t wearing much under that gown. There wasn’t any strap or band breaking the smoothness of her back.

As I tugged on her lower lip with my teeth, the urge to drag her down on that limo seat was hard to keep in check. We’d get there. She was pausing and dodging a little, but since that first crazy kiss at the party, she’d been making her intentions clear.

When I was growing up, my grandpa told me about girls who were tigers. That I ought to give them a wide berth. But I learned pretty quick that those were the ones who interested me the most. I never could say no to a single one.

Every now and again, I’d find out the hard way that one of them had a boyfriend — or a husband. I was better now about getting lost in a hurry if I had to. Not that I wasn’t up for a fight. But even a single hard punch to some asshole’s jaw could mess up my hand for a week, and when you’re playing by the seat of your pants on the road, your fingers are your moneymaker.

These days I tried to make sure the girls in my lap were single. I should’ve asked Jenny about that guy at the party, but I just hadn’t done it.

Jenny sighed against my mouth, then pulled away. “We’re probably almost there,” she said.

I ran a hand along her bare shoulder. “You going to be cold?”

“Not if you do your job.” She snuggled up against my chest.

The limo jolted as we bumped over something. We both looked out the window.

“It’s the parking lot for this stretch of beach,” Jenny said. “It’ll be pretty deserted on a night like this.”

I reached down for one of her shoes. “You going to try wearing these?” They looked like little death traps to me, spiked heels and very little to hold them on.

“No, I’ll go barefoot in the sand.”

The limo rolled to a stop. Outside, I could see the ocean in the moonlight, dark through the tinted windows, endless and shifting.

When the driver opened the door and I got a whiff of the sea air, I felt exhilarated. I tightened my arms around Jenny and ducked outside, keeping her in my arms.

“You gonna carry me the whole time?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I said. “You told me to do my job.” She didn’t weigh a whole heck of a lot, and the effort felt good.

“Well, all right, Mr. Strongman,” she said, and wrapped her arms around my neck. “To the shore!”

I stepped off the asphalt of the parking lot and took off across the wide expanse of sand. There were no lights out here, only the moon. Farther down, I could see some structures with lamps on the side, and behind us was the road. But ahead was nothing but water as far as you could see. The moon reflected on its surface, fading from the bright ball into a line of sparkling waves that eventually disappeared into the dark.

I stood, feeling a little dumbstruck.

“You can set me down,” Jenny said quietly.

I let her feet fall to the sand. Her dress shimmered in the moonlight, although in the darkness, I could no longer see the color of it or the pink in her hair. She stepped out into the first lap of water on the sand, then squealed. “It’s always so cold!” she said.

She turned around to me, her body silhouetted in the form-fitting dress. With the dreadlocks dropping to her shoulders, and the perfect outline of her curves, she was like a mermaid coming on land. My groin tightened so painfully that I wanted to snatch her right there, to hell with the sand.

Jenny ran along the edge of the water in short, abrupt steps, leaving shallow melting footprints. “This silly dress!” she exclaimed, then grasped the fabric of the skirt and jerked it higher to free more of her legs.

I had to clamp down my jaw as her thighs were revealed in the moonlight, smooth and soft. The dress was crazy short now, and the need to touch her again was too strong for me to ignore.

I followed behind her as she skipped along the waves. Then I couldn’t take it any longer and swept her back up in my arms.

She squealed and kicked her legs, sending sand flying. But she turned to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I ducked my head to capture her mouth. Every movie I’d ever seen on the beach had it nailed. This was hands down the most intense place to be with a woman.

She dug her fingers into my hair as I took over her mouth, drinking deeply from her, ready for more of her, my appetite whetted by that new bit of skin she’d shown.

“There’s some rocks a little farther down,” she said. “Just keep walking.”

We were pretty out in the open, but that didn’t stop me from working my hand as far up her thigh as I could while still holding her.

Deanna Roy's books