Under the Surface. Kira Sinclair

He whipped back around and collided with her.

      Her hands landed on his chest. Her body crashed against him. Pressed tight between them, he felt the towel’s knot finally give way. Just as his control was doing. In a desperate attempt to save them both, Jackson grabbed for the towel as it slid down her back. The instinctive move backfired. Big time.

      His fingers brushed across her naked skin. She gasped and arched into him. The soft curve of her breasts flattened against the hard plane of his body even as the towel was caught between them.

      God, he wanted more.

      They both stilled, locked in the precarious position and certain one wrong move could bring disaster crashing down on them both.

      Unfortunately, Jackson wasn’t sure which would be the disaster: letting her go or not letting her go. The waters definitely had been muddied.

      Slowly, Loralei tipped her head back and dragged her gaze up to meet his.

      Damn, her eyes were deep. Deep enough he could dive inside and get lost. And the way she was staring at him made his stomach knot and his cock throb.

      She licked her lips, parted them as if she was going to say something, but nothing came out. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling against the edge of the towel that flirted with the sharp peaks of her nipples.

      Jackson had to close his eyes at the sensation of her body moving against his. He was only human.

      “Loralei,” he murmured, keeping his eyes shut tight. “Step back. Now.”

      If he was strong enough, he’d be the one to turn away. But he had only a slippery hold on his control right now, and if he moved Jackson was seriously afraid it would be in the wrong direction. This was his last-ditch effort at doing the right thing, because in about five seconds he wasn’t going to be able to curb his response to her anymore.

      But she didn’t move.

      “Seriously,” he growled.

      Every muscle in his body was tight with the effort to hold himself in check. He felt...brittle. On the edge of exploding.

      And he wasn’t particularly enamored with the sensation.

      Jackson prided himself on his self-control. He’d fought hard for the ability to withstand the harshest conditions without cracking.

      But sixty seconds with this woman pressed tight against him and every hard-won victory had disappeared like so much smoke.

      “What if I don’t want to move?” she finally whispered.

      Jackson groaned. His eyes popped open as his fingers, which were pressed against her back, flexed in preparation for digging in and taking more.

      He stared at her, searching her expression for some sign that she meant what she’d just said.

      Rising onto the tips of her toes, she wrapped her hands around his neck and urged him toward her. Just before her lips touched his she whispered, “Remind me that I’m alive.”

      The minute their mouths collided it was over. He’d have to worry about the aftermath later, because he was too preoccupied to give a damn about anything but the taste and feel of her.

      His hands slipped into her hair, angled her head so he could have better access to her hot mouth.

      The moment was complete combustion. Their tongues tangled. She bounced on her toes, as if trying to get more of him. Without breaking their connection, Jackson wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her higher.

      They both forgot about the towel. It snagged, hanging between them unnoticed. Jackson ran his palms across the slope of her back. Her skin was still damp from her shower. So smooth and soft. He could spend hours just touching her.

      Even as his mouth devoured hers, his hands studied and learned. The way her body arched into his touch when he skimmed the sensitive dip right above her rear. Or the tiny catch in her breath that he drank in as he caressed between her shoulder blades.

      He wanted to take a step back and appreciate the view, but she wouldn’t let him. Her hands were everywhere. Her rush to consume him only managed to fuel his own raging need.

      Loralei broke the kiss, but only long enough to run her mouth over the skin of his neck, taking teasing licks before sucking gently. The tug of her lips arrowed straight down to where his cock leaped against the fly of the jeans he’d thrown on.

      Why had he bothered? He couldn’t remember anymore.

      Twisting, he pressed her up against the first available surface, which just happened to be the edge of the dresser. Reaching blindly behind her, Loralei managed to swipe her hand over the top, clearing the few random things that were scattered there. They pinged against the floor, but he didn’t care. They weren’t important anyway.

      Jackson pulled back, relishing her broken little pants as she tried to catch her breath. The towel was draped across her body, tucked between her legs. In the mirror behind her, he could see the hard swell of her ass. Her skin glowed.

      She watched him out of eyes glazed with desire. He wanted that, liked knowing he could make her feel that way. “Jackson, please.”

      But her fractured words also had a spike of ice arrowing straight through him. What had she said?

       Remind me I’m alive.

      He wanted to do just that. Remind them both. But he shouldn’t. Taking a step away from her, Jackson tried to regain his sanity. Make his brain re-engage.

      “What are you doing?”

      He shook his head, hating the way her eyes slowly refocused on the here and now instead of the pleasure he’d been giving her moments ago.

      “You...” Jackson balled his hands into fists. “This isn’t what you need right now.”

      Loralei’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “Don’t you dare.”

      “Don’t I dare what?”

      Reaching out, Loralei balled her fists into his T-shirt, using the leverage to haul him closer.

      “Walk away from me again tonight.”

      Every pulse point in his body throbbed. Jackson stared down at her upturned face, trying desperately not to notice her half-naked body before him.

      Gently, he reached up and unwrapped her fingers, one by one, from his shirt.

      Placing her hand on the dresser beside her hip, he wrapped her fingers over the edge, holding her hand in place...and away from him.

      “Goddamn you,” she breathed.

      Her eyes sparked and beneath that smooth caramel color her skin flushed red.

      Before he could react, her other hand flashed out, cupping his obvious reaction to what they’d just been doing.

      “You want this as much as I do.”

      Of course he wanted her. She was beautiful. Just as he was certain the apple offered by the serpent in the Garden of Eden had been beautiful. “Yeah, I want you.”