“Pushy,” he said. “I like that—” He broke off on a groan when she popped open his jeans, tugged them down enough to free him, and sucked him into her mouth.

“Oh Christ.” His voice was a low, rough growl as his fingers slid into her hair. “Soph.”

And that, her name, was the last thing he said for a while.

Boneless and sated, they sort of melted into each other, letting the cool air drift across their damp and overheated bodies while they struggled to lower their heart rates from near stroke level.

“I can’t even…,” he finally murmured, his voice gravelly. “That was…” When he couldn’t seem to find the words, he merely tightened his grip on her like he knew she was a flight risk and he couldn’t bear it.

She loved that. The gesture, tiny as it had been, kept her warm. She knew this was to have been…what? Angry sex? Makeup sex? She couldn’t remember anymore, but she knew one thing.

It hadn’t been just sex.

This hit her like a wave over the head, as cold as the lake water beneath the boat. Not just sex. That meant more than just sex.

She’d told him she couldn’t fall, not ever again, and yet she was seriously doing just that.

This was crazy. Crazy impossible. And just thinking about it, she began to have a very quiet, very internal freak-out.

Except maybe not so internal. She didn’t realize she was trembling until, with a low murmur of concern, Jacob pulled her in closer, running his big hands over her as if to warm her.

But he couldn’t, because she was cold from the inside out. Cold with the certainty that she’d truly done exactly what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t.

She’d fallen. And as the commercial went, she didn’t think she could get up.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing. Everything’s peachy. Listen, I think we should forget this happened.”

His long look suggested she was mental, and she gave a nearly hysterical laugh, because he was just now figuring that out? Sitting up, she began to re-dress. “Hurry.”

“Where’s the fire?”

She’d broken the hook on her bra, dammit. She slipped her blouse back on without it. Her damn nipples hadn’t gotten the freak-out memo and were pressing against the thin material. It was hugely annoying, but when she glanced over at Jacob, he seemed anything but annoyed. “Okay, so I’m not in a hurry to get somewhere. I’m in a hurry to get away from any awkward…after.”

He laughed. “Since when do we do awkward afters?”

She stared at him and remembered last time, in his bed, where he’d taken her to new heights. Over and over again.

No awkward after. “Fine. Whatever. I’m taking you home.”

His slow, sexy smile told her she’d just played right into his big hands, but at the moment she didn’t care. She took control of the boat and headed across the water at a fast clip.

The evening was truly gorgeous. The water was like a piece of glass, and she cut straight through it, loving the light spray off the front of the hull, the wind in her face…She was almost thankful that Lucas was such an asshole.

Almost.

When she got back to the north shore, she slowed down, passing the row of cabins. When she came to Jacob’s, she lined up with his dock the best she could, but she wasn’t good at coming in from this direction, and the wind and waves were not being her friends.

“Careful,” he said. “The corner—”

“I see it.” She whipped her head around, trying to eyeball the maneuver, still getting used to how differently a boat glided over water versus a car on the road.

Jacob stood up. “Sophie—”

“Sit down or jump into the water,” she said. “Because I can’t see around you.”

He stood on the very edge of the boat, one foot on the hull, the other reaching out to work as a buoy for the dock. “You’re coming in too hot,” he said. “You’ve got to—”

“I see it.” Shit. He was right. She’d overcorrected, and now she was stuck in the position of having to overcorrect an overcorrect—which never worked out.

“Sophie—”

“I got it!”

But she didn’t, and in the next second she heard the boat collide with the dock. And a big, huge chunk of the dock broke off and fell into the water.

Chapter 17

Jacob took over, leaping onto the dock, the rope from the bow of Sophie’s boat in his hand, which he used to tie it to the torn dock. “Got it, Andretti,” he said, turning back to Sophie with a smile that quickly died on his lips.