Forever Hunted: Forever Bluegrass #9

Carter took her hand again and carried the bag with their towels and a picnic basket in his other. They walked over the rough, wild landscape to a set of steep steps leading down the cliff to the beach. “I wanted this afternoon for just the two of us,” he said from over his shoulder before he descended the steps. “That’s why I picked this beach. It’s perfect for couples and out of the way enough to not be too crowded.”

Reagan followed close behind, trying to look at everything as she walked down the steps. There were jagged rocks sticking up from the sand and in the water, along with several secluded nooks and crannies along the cliffs to sit in the sand, away from others. Reagan didn’t ask where they were going as Carter led her past many of the beachgoers sitting near the steps. Carter already told her. He wanted her to himself.

After a five-minute walk, Carter set the basket and towels down on the far side of a rock formation that looked like a ten-foot-tall arrowhead. Reagan lifted her face to the sun and took a deep breath of the salt air. Her body relaxed instantly. It always did when she was outdoors.

When she opened her eyes, Carter was stripping his shirt from his body and tossing it on one of two towels he’d laid out. “Would you like to eat or swim first?”

“Eat! I’m starving,” Reagan said as she kicked off her flip-flops and pulled off her shorts before sitting on the towel. Carter chuckled and opened the basket. Inside were two plates of gourmet sandwiches and a bottle of champagne wrapped in an ice pack. Reagan set out the sandwiches as Carter popped the champagne.

He poured two glasses and handed one to her. “To new adventures.”

Reagan smiled and tipped her glass onto his before taking a sip. This was an adventure she wanted to last forever. At first, when they were walking to their beach hideaway, she was nervous. She didn’t know how to act. Should she try to be perfect and impress him? But as soon as she’d lifted her face to the sun, she’d known she didn’t have to do all the pretending that normally happened on first dates. Carter already knew her. He knew she wasn’t afraid to eat a sandwich in front of him, knew she loved to swim, and knew she would crack sarcastic jokes. They knew each other, and instead of worrying about trying to be the perfect date, she let the worry melt away with the sun and focused on being with her friend . . . her very hot friend.

As they ate, Reagan and Carter talked about their friends, the upcoming football season, and bets they had placed at the Blossom Café for who was next to be married, who would be pregnant, and who Mr. Chapman, the town’s habitual flasher, would surprise next.

Any lingering nervousness vanished as the ocean called to her. “Want to go for a swim?” Reagan asked as she purposefully, slowly pulled off her shirt and folded it before setting it on the towel as if it were a pillow.

She didn’t miss the way Carter’s eyes slowly traveled from her eyes, down to her full breasts, and still farther down before she laughed and embraced her sexuality. “Come and get me,” she taunted before she ran for the ocean. Right then she didn’t want to think. She only wanted to feel.

The water was cool as she splashed in the surf. Carter ran behind her, reaching for her, but she laughed as she darted out of his grasp. Reagan shrieked as he chased her through the shallow water until she decided she was ready to be caught. She tossed her head back and laughed as Carter wrapped her in his arms and lifted her up. He carried her into the deeper water. The water lapped her thighs until he reached water deep enough to float with her in his arms. He moved to cradle her instead of dunking her as she’d thought he’d do.

“This is so much better than swimming in the lake,” Reagan said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked out over the Pacific.

“I never had you in my arms at the lake. You fit perfectly,” Carter whispered against her neck as he pulled her closer, but he didn’t press for more. He kept one arm around her back, with his hand wrapped around her rib cage and his other arm under her knees. Unfortunately, he also kept his lips to himself. She floated in his arms for what seemed like forever as the sun shone down on them. She was completely comfortable in the silence because she was with Carter. He was quiet to begin with, and growing up they’d had plenty of these companionable silences while hiking, swimming, or riding. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, Reagan laid her head against his shoulder and relaxed completely into his touch.

“Race me back to the beach?” Reagan challenged when she was ready to get another glass of champagne. They’d been racing each other on the backs of horses since they were seven years old, so it was only natural to race back to the beach.

Carter grinned, then tossed her in the water as he yelled, “Go!”

Reagan shoved off the sandy bottom of the ocean and kicked as hard as she could to catch up to him. She almost caught him on the beach, but he turned, grabbed her around the waist, and gently tackled her onto the towels. “I’ll claim my prize later tonight,” he said as he lay half on top of her.

The pressure of his body on hers had her instinctively arching into him. His hand was on her bare stomach and his leg was thrown over hers as he stared at her. Reagan was sure he could feel her heart beating as he looked into her eyes. His fingers dragged softly across her stomach as he moved to lie on his back, removing his hand and leg from her body. Reagan didn’t know whether to scream in frustration or relief from a desire stronger than she’d ever felt before.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” she asked, shielding her eyes and enjoying the heat of the late afternoon sun and the heat of Carter’s body pressed against her side.

“Dinner and then I have a treat for you.”

“I think this whole day is a treat.” Reagan sighed. “What more could there be?”

“It’s something I know you love but would never do back home.”

Sex? Reagan smiled to herself as she wondered what Carter had planned.





4





Six hours later, Reagan was about to burst. First, when they made it back to the hotel she’d found her dream dress hanging in the closet. Second, Carter had taken her for the best sushi dinner she’d ever had at an upscale restaurant where she’d spotted more than one person she recognized from the movies. And at eleven o’clock, they’d left the restaurant and walked four blocks to a dance club. Elegant and romantic weren’t words she thought to associate with dance clubs, but this one had chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a marble bar. And then there was the music. It was dance music, but not the kind you find in the cheap clubs for twenty-one-year-olds where all you could hear was the bass thumping.

Here you heard the music and could dance to it. The songs were about sex and love and had a beat that was used for more than dancing. Carter had known she loved to dance, but at events in Keeneston, her father always kept a close eye on her. Here she could get lost in the music, lost in Carter’s touch, and lost in their moves together. And those moves had her on fire.

Carter’s hands touched her everywhere when they danced. He held her low on the hips as he pulled her against him, his thumbs brushing the outside of her breasts as he moved his hands up and down her back, and then his strong hands held her hand as he spun her. He moved her with ease and confidence. Then there were his legs. His thighs pressed against hers, and his knee parted hers and slid between her legs, leaving Reagan’s body on fire. She wanted to strip out of her clothes and do a completely different kind of dancing.

Carter placed his hand around the back of her neck and slipped his leg between hers once again. Using her neck to control the dance, he bent her back, and when he brought her up, his lips brushed her ear as they swayed low to the music locked together, hip to hip, chest to chest.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” The feel of his lips teased the shell of her ear and had her knees growing weak.

“I think I’m ready to get back to the hotel.” Who was this breathless vixen? Reagan couldn’t believe her voice sounded like that. But right then she felt sexy, confident, and ready to pounce.

Kathleen Brooks's books