Jacob nodded easily, but Sophie could see past the calm facade. That news didn’t make him happy.
Not that she cared. “If this little reunion is over,” she said, “maybe we could get back to the issue here, which is that I don’t deserve a damn ticket because—” Well, actually, she didn’t have a because.
But as it turned out, she didn’t need one.
“You’re not going to get a ticket,” Jacob said.
She turned to him. “How do you know? You don’t work for lake patrol, remember?”
Jacob turned to Rob. “You heard that we’re taking over North Beach for some upcoming events?”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “Everyone’s looking forward to them.”
Jacob smiled. “Nice. Sophie’s on our staff.”
“Gotcha,” Rob said. “You’ll need to get her a lake pass if you’re going to keep her moored overnight anywhere other than a private dock.”
“We’ve got a private dock secured,” Jacob said, and pointed to the line of cabins and private docks to the far right—of which his was the first one. And then the two of them continued to speak casually for another few minutes while Sophie stared at Jacob.
He’d lied to that lake patrol guy for her…
After a minute she realized he was staring at her back and that Rob had left. She opened her mouth, but he shook his head and boarded The Little Lucas. Then, casual as you please, he moved to the controls, started the engine, and motored them out of the boat ramp area.
“What the hell?” she asked, the forward motion of the boat forcing her to sit in the chair next to him or fall over.
Jacob handled the boat with the ease of a man who’d been born to it. The wind beat at them and she shivered, but Jacob looked impervious to the weather. “What the hell was that?” she asked.
“Not here.” They left the five-miles-per-hour zone and he hit the gas. Talking became impossible over the high-pitched whine of the engine. They zoomed along the shore for a few minutes, the wind tousling her hair, the slowly sinking sun slanting over the mountain peaks and into her eyes.
She gasped in surprise when the boat slowed without warning and would’ve slid forward if Jacob hadn’t put out an arm to catch her. She strained against his tanned, corded forearm, righting herself as soon as she could.
Okay, maybe not quite as soon as she could. Maybe she let her hands hold on to that hard arm for a few beats longer than she needed. She was only human.
They were in a secluded cove, no other boats in sight, no one on the shore, when Jacob turned off the boat and faced her.
“What—” she started, but was effectively shut up when Jacob rose to his feet, yanked her up as well, and into his arms. Her heart rate tripled before he even touched his mouth to hers, and then she couldn’t think at all.
Tightening his grip, he kissed her long and hard and deep, and by the time they pulled apart for air, she had her hands all over him, one at the small of his back, holding him to her, the other—oh God—in his jeans. She jerked her hands around and up, putting them on his chest.
To push him away, she told herself.
But she didn’t push. Instead, her fingers curled into the cotton of his shirt as a battle raged inside her. Fear and lust were in mortal combat, and she had no idea which would win. If he kissed her again, they’d end up naked on the floor of this boat, but she didn’t think she could be with him like that again and not fall.
He didn’t appear to have the same internal war going on. His big, yummy hands were exploring and his mouth wasn’t far behind, and she was losing her mind, not to mention her resolve. She already knew he liked to kiss and that he was a master at it, but she was starting to learn that he liked to kiss everything, on his own schedule. And he liked to linger.
The memories of a Jacob-induced orgasm had been fueling her fantasies for days. And, if she was being honest, it’d fueled more than one self-induced orgasm as well.
But then they locked eyes and they froze in place, her from a sudden rush of emotions, Jacob probably from watching them play out across her face.
“I want you to know,” she said. “That this…” She wagged a finger between them. “This insanity between us, it’s not making any sense to me. It just isn’t. I’m still…conflicted.”
“Three days, Soph.”
“I let you stew for three days, but I can’t do it anymore.” He hauled her in again, wrapped his hand in her hair and tugged just enough to make her look at him. “You’ve wrecked me,” he murmured against her mouth, making her heart skitter to a halt in her chest.