He glanced hotly into her eyes for a split second before he dove. Abandoning any pretense of keeping their body contact to a minimum, his strong, sure hands explored her ankle and the branches surrounding it. His shoulders, neck and hair alternately rubbed and brushed her inner thighs and higher.
Her knees felt weak, and she reached down tentatively to steady herself. She touched his square shoulders, the shifting steel of his muscles, and suddenly felt safe. Here, trapped and naked in the Forever River, rubbing up against Jacob Bronson, and she’d never felt so secure in her life.
His ragged clothes and perpetual slouch had hidden a magnificent sinewy physique. Unable to stop herself, she let her hands slide down his upper arms. Bulging biceps flexed under her touch. His cheek rested against the top of her thigh, chin just barely brushing the downy curls.
Robin’s entire world focused on that insubstantial touch.
She felt her ankle slip free.
As he slowly surfaced she let her hands move with him, keeping her grip on his arms, telling herself it was so she wouldn’t fall.
She gazed into his eyes, then noted for the first time his coarse beard stubble. It was a marked contrast to the sparse facial hair of the other boys in the class. He was really quite handsome, in a rugged, dangerous sort of way. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed before.
His big hands gently closed around her rib cage and she realized her breasts were out of the water, puckered and exposed to his avid gaze. She shuddered, but made no move to conceal herself. A coyote howled on the mountainside. Its pups answered in short yips.
He was going to kiss her. She could see the longing in his eyes.
The longing transformed to determination, then resolve.
He slowly bent forward.
She tipped her head to accommodate him. His cold lips touched her softly. They warmed against her own. They opened. She followed suit, and his tongue pushed through. He tasted of mint and smelled faintly of spiced aftershave long diluted by the river water.
His arms wound slowly, inexorably, around her, and she pressed her long fingernails into his taut shoulder muscles, desperate to get closer. She felt him brace himself on the bottom against the rushing current. He was strong and sure and invincible.
He lifted her, holding her naked body flush against his own. She wound her arms around his neck, and felt her legs begin to encircle his hips. Steadying herself, she rationalized.
The roar of the river pounded in her ears. If there were any mosquitoes lingering, she sure didn’t feel them. All sensation was centered inside; hot pulsating waves of hormones propelling her toward the unknown.
He left her mouth and she whimpered in disappointment. But then he kissed her neck, slipped his hands lower to cup her bottom, and she tightened her knees against his hips.
“Robin?” His voice sounded strangled.
“Yes?” she hissed. A knot of tension coiled tighter and tighter inside her until all she wanted…all she needed…
He stroked one hand over the back of her head, pulling her tight against his shoulder. “You don’t want this.”
“What?” What was he talking about? She wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She was his for the taking. He was beautiful and bold. He was the boy—no, the man—she’d waited for.
“Robin,” he rasped. “We have to stop.”
“No.” She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, using her tongue to test the tiny droplets of water clinging there. He was delicious.
He pulled back with a gasp, thwarting her efforts. He looked her straight in the eye. There was intelligence, clarity and determination in that gaze. “You do not want this to happen.”
He was sending her away.
She slowly shook her head in an effort to stop him.
When he spoke again his harsh whisper was precise and implacable. “You’re Robin Medford. I’m Jacob Bronson. You do not want this to happen.”
She felt tears well up behind her eyes and she banged her clenched fist against his shoulder.
Because he was so right.
And because he was also so very wrong….
“Robin?”
It took her a split second to realize his voice was in the present, not the past.
She lifted her lashes to stare into the same pair of charcoal-blue eyes.
He hadn’t told a soul.
2
JAKE MET the confused vulnerability in Robin’s expression and had to steel himself against a wash of memories. The last time she’d looked at him that way she’d been naked in his arms, forcing him to use every single scrap of strength and valor he possessed to keep from making love to her.
In an instant he was transported back in time, to the beach, to the night before graduation. He swore he could hear the rush of the river, smell her lemon perfume, and feel her wet, silken skin heating under his fingertips.
The screen door opened with a bang.
“Robin?” Connie, Robin’s older sister and a frequent visitor to Forever, stepped onto the porch. “Oh, hi, Jake. Finished work for the day?”
Jake forced his gaze away from Robin and cleared his mind of the bewitching memories. He’d never been back to that beach. Not once.
He took a sharp, bracing breath of the evening air. Personal ads, marriage proposals—just when he thought life couldn’t get more surreal, Forever’s mystery woman turned out to be Robin Medford.
“I’m all done.” He answered Connie’s question.
“Jacob Bronson?” Robin seemed to come back to life. She laughed lightly, tucking her sandy-blond hair behind one ear with a trembling hand. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”
Well, wasn’t that just a boost to a guy’s ego? He’d been fantasizing about the woman for fifteen years, and she didn’t even remember him. Perfect.
“Grandma wants you to stay for dinner, Jake,” said Connie.
He supposed he should be gratified that at least one sister knew who he was. Connie pushed the sleeves of her multicoloured sweatshirt to her elbows and crossed her arms. Though she was only four years his senior, she had a habit of treating him as if he were one of her children.
“I don’t want to intrude.” He seized on a perfectly legitimate excuse to make himself scarce. Robin’s presence meant the entire Medford clan was together for the first time in several years. They probably wanted to be alone. Jake sure wanted them to be alone.
He’d have to be a very masochistic man to voluntarily sit across the dinner table from her.
