Free Sanctuary by Nora Roberts Page A

as she tried to wiggle free. “I’ve been wanting to anyway.”
    “Get your hands—” The end of her demand was lost in a surprised grunt against his mouth. She’d never expected reliable Giff Verdon to move so quickly, or so decisively.
    She hadn’t realized his hands were so big, or so hard, or that his mouth would be so ... sexy as it crushed down on hers with the cool tang of the sea clinging to it. For form’s sake she shoved against him, but ruined it with a throaty little moan as her lips parted and invited more.
    She tasted exactly as he’d imagined—hot and ready, the sex kitten mouth slippery and wet. The fantasies he’d woven for over ten years simply fell apart and reformed in fresh, wild colors threaded with helpless love and desperate need.
    When she wrapped her legs around his waist, rocked her body against his, he was lost.
    “I want you.” He tore his mouth from hers to race it along her throat while the waves tossed them about and into a tangle of limbs. “Damn you, Lex, you know I’ve always wanted you.”
    Water flowed over her head, filled it with roaring. The sea sucked her down, made her giddy. Then she was in the dazzling sunlight again with his mouth fused to hers.
    “Now, then. Right now.” She panted it out, amazed at how real the need was, that tight, hot little ball of it. “Right here.”
    He’d wanted her like this as long as he could remember. Ready and willing and eager. His body pulsed toward pain with the need to be in her, and of her. And he knew if he let that need rule, he would take her and lose her in one flash.
    Instead he slid his hands down from her waist to cup and knead her bottom, used his thumbs to torment her until her eyes went dark and blind. “I’ve waited, Lex.” And let her go. “So can you.”
    She struggled to stay above the waves, sputtered out water as she gaped at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “I’m not interested in scratching your itch and then watching you walk off purring.” He lifted a hand to push back his dripping hair. “When you’re ready for more than that, you know where to find me.”
    “You son of a bitch.”
    “You go work off your mad, honey. We’ll talk when you’ve had time to think it through calm.” His hand shot out, grabbed her arm. “When I make love with you, that’s going to be it for both of us. You’ll want to think about that too.”
    She shoved his hand away. “Don’t you touch me again, Giff Verdon.”
    “I’m going to do more than touch you,” he told her as she dove under to swim toward shore. “I’m going to marry you,” he said, only loud enough for his own ears. He let out a long breath as he watched her stride out of the water. “Unless I kill myself first.”
    To ease the throbbing in his system, he sank under the water. But as the taste of her continued to cling to his mouth, he decided he was either the smartest man on Desire or the stupidest.
     
     
    JO had just drummed up the energy to take a walk and had reached the edges of the garden when Lexy stormed up the path. She hadn’t bothered to towel off, so the little sundress was plastered against her like skin. Jo straightened her shoulders, lifted an eyebrow.
    “Well, how’s the water?”
    “Go to hell.” Breath heaving, humiliation still stinging, Lexy planted her feet. “Just go straight to hell.”
    “I’m beginning to think I’ve already arrived. And so far my welcome’s been pretty much as expected.”
    “Why should you expect anything? This place means nothing to you and neither do we.”
    “How do you know what means anything to me, Lexy?”
    “I don’t see you changing sheets, clearing tables. When’s the last time you scrubbed a toilet or mopped a damn floor?”
    “Is that what you’ve been doing this afternoon?” Jo skimmed her gaze up Lexy’s damp and sandy legs to her dripping hair. “Must have been some toilet.”
    “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
    “Same goes, Lex.”