One Funeral (No Weddings Book 2) (17 page)

I leaned back, inhaling a breath, feeling very much in the presence of a hunter again. Sparks of heat licked between my thighs at the realization. “For what?”

“To take things to the next level.”

I swallowed hard, unable to catch my breath or think coherently. “When will that happen?”

“Cade! Hannah! You two listening? It’s at Christian’s house, and we’re good with that. Saturday—lawn party starting at noon.”

We glanced across the fire to the threesome staring at us as we leaned further apart, back to our own cushions. Cade cleared his throat. “Sorry, guys. We were discussing the cake.” He smirked, then mumbled under his breath, “Or rather, the icing on it.”

“C
ade!” My whispered reprimand fell on ignoring ears as he dragged me down the grassy hill toward the water. “You’re insane. Let me go!” I tugged my hand back, but his fingers were locked with mine in a viselike grip.

He simply laughed, determined for us to have rebellious fun. Christian Thomas’s party was in full swing on the lawn behind us. But in true Cade Michaelson style, more adventures were to be had behind the scenes, away from prying eyes and stifling filters. And with all but one of his finals taken, he’d become a new man again.

In fact, he seemed hell-bent on making up for lost time.

The hill ended into a narrow berm that abutted a dock. He slowed as we approached a wooden structure with windows and a peaked roof. “Look at this boathouse. You can’t see this baby and not want to know what’s inside.”

I shook my head, laughing. My racing heart argued with my common sense, thrilling at Cade’s rule-breaking nature. In a sudden reckless moment, seeing the boyish excitement on his face, I wanted to break into the boathouse as badly as he did.

When he gripped the knob and it turned, he grinned. “See? Our contract gives us full legal access to the property, and there was no lock. It’s like an engraved invitation.”

The boathouse was a mixture of dark and light, dry and damp. It was both quiet, in the sense that only the two of us were there, and full of rich sound, from the wind whistling through the rafters to the water lapping at the support posts in the water. A large sliding door with windows was latched closed on the far end, and an open slip for watercraft extended under it into the center of the structure. Along the wall, hoisted up toward the ceiling, were all manner of wooden boats, from rowing to sailing.

“A scull!” Cade shouted, the word echoing around us. He crossed to the far side of the boathouse and began unfastening a long, narrow rowboat from the wall.

“Cade, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? Come over here. Untie that end.” He wrestled with knots in the ropes that held the thing up on a pulley system.

“We’re going to be arrested,” I grumbled.

“No, we’re not. And you’re going to live a little, even if you have to be dragged there, kicking and screaming.”

I glared at him but kept my mouth shut. He had a valid point—I was a tad reclusive and conservative—so I did as he asked, untying the knot. He hooked rope slings that were hanging from an overhead mechanical apparatus around each end of the scull.

Then he crossed to the corner of the boathouse and messed with the buttons of a control panel. With a loud creak, the mechanical system roared to life, and the scull began to move away from the wall, toward the center of the boathouse. He paused halfway, fastening two sets of oars into a built-in framework for them.

Understanding dawned into my slow brain as the sleek, shallow craft finally touched the water, and he turned the mechanism off. “Oh no. I’m not getting in that thing.”

Squatting down, he unfastened the ropes from one end. Without looking at me, he replied, “Oh yes. You are.”

I shook my head, backing up, crossing my arms. “I’ve never rowed.”

“So I’ll teach you.”

“You’ve done this before?”

Cade stood, then walked over and embraced me. His gentle strength and warmth surrounded me. And as I inhaled the incredible scent of Cade, every muscle in my body seemed to relax. I looked up into his dark blue eyes. Happiness reflected there, and I sighed, smiling.

“I rowed crew in college, Maestro. Trust me, this will be fun.” He bent down and gave me a gentle kiss.

I froze for a split second, then relaxed as his soft lips teased mine. My hands skimmed over the hard planes of his abs and chest through the thin material of his T-shirt as I imagined him rowing crew. The muscles beneath my fingers, flexing with every pull, had crafted this beautiful body. I pressed in, leaning up, intensifying our kiss.

When I grew breathless from lack of oxygen, he pulled away, grinning, and pecked a tiny last kiss on the tip of my nose, keeping his arms locked tight around me. “Now which is it going to be? Voluntarily? Or kicking and screaming? Because I have to say, I’m really turned on by the latter.”

Having Cade wrapped around me with his intoxicating scent short-circuited my brain. Somehow, he won the argument by his sheer irresistible presence.

“You are a very bad man.” I narrowed my eyes.

He grinned. “You love my badness.”

I shook my head but said nothing, unable to argue the truth. With a speed I’m sure was designed to take me out of my head and prevent further protests, he guided me forward, held my hands, and lowered me down into the rocking boat. I held my breath the whole time.

“Where’s my life jacket?” I stared into the black water lapping against the pillars under the boathouse.

He frowned. “Can you swim? Sorry, I assumed you could.”

Wrapping the fingers of both hands around one of the oars, I glanced up. “Yes, I can swim.”

On a headshake, he turned, going over to the control panel again. “Then you don’t need a life jacket. You have your arms and legs, and you have me.”

A few seconds later, a motor hummed to life, and the door moved, sliding open. My crazy mind fabricated images of our tiny sliver of a boat being sliced in two by some daredevil kamikaze speedboat driver who’d had too many beers to notice us. But there were no sounds of speedboats outside. So I took a deep breath, forcing myself to be in the moment, not lost in a half dozen worst-case scenarios.

The self-administered advice struck me as parallel to what Cade and the therapist had been telling me: worrying about the future only stymied a person in the present.

I forced all thoughts from my brain and looked at Cade, who stared at me, waiting.

I gave him a confident smile. “No life jacket. I’m an excellent swimmer.” And somehow, saying the words made me believe I didn’t need to cling to a life preserver on more than a literal level.

As he moved to climb down in, I gripped the rough wood of the boathouse floor to keep us stable.

Cade took his seat, grinning wide. “You’re facing the wrong direction, Maestro.”

With care not to rock us too much, I twisted around.

His hands closed over mine, laced into my fingers, and then he guided them up to the oars. “Put your hands here.” At his instruction, I obeyed, wrapping my hands around the smooth wood. “Keep a loose hold. They’re secured into the hull, so they aren’t going anywhere. Good.

“Now bend forward, extending your arms in front of you. That’s it. And lean back, pulling them up and toward you. Exactly. You’ve got it.”

The strokes were easy and natural, and with both of us synchronized, we began gliding backward. This close to the surface, the quiet rushing sound the scull made as we sliced through the water was oddly peaceful. Soothing. A slow burn worked into my muscles while I watched Cade’s movements in my peripheral vision, matching them.

Together, we became a team, racing along as if gliding on ice. The scenery was spectacular, the greens and grays of trees and houses transforming into a moving watercolor.

“Ease up, Maestro.”

Watching his hands, I mimicked his actions, slowing my strokes until we pressed down on the oars, causing the ends to lift out of the water.

Then we coasted. The two of us, one with our craft, became a part of the world around us. The cold nip of the wind went ignored as a huge smile cramped my cheeks. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the fresh mineral scent, threw my arms wide, and fell backward, my head landing in Cade’s lap. When I opened them, he grinned down at me.

“Pretty amazing, yes?”

I nodded. “Incredible. Let’s steal this.”

He chuckled. “Thirty minutes ago you were worried about trespassing. Now you’ve moved up to theft. What’s next? Bank robbery?”

I scowled. “Shush. You’re ruining the moment.”

He leaned down and kissed me. Upside down. Hot, tender lips pressed into mine before he sucked in my lower lip, tugging for a second before releasing it as he pulled away. “And now?” He arched a brow; his blue eyes blazed electric.

I smiled, warmth spreading through my body. “Moment saved.”

For the next hour or more, we glided along the waterway. Cade pointed out landmarks he recognized as the shadows grew in length. Even though the sun still shone brightly, hung low in the afternoon sky, there was a slight chill to the breeze, and I shivered. By the time we glided back into the boathouse, my body temperature had dropped a little, but my spirits soared.

Then my random idiocy stole away my common sense; when we parked in the slip, I stood.

The sudden shift caused the scull to wobble furiously, and I lost my balance. “Shit!”

“Hannah!”

I fell forward, and the wooden edge of the boathouse dock flew toward my face. I threw my arms up, shielding my eyes as my body hit freezing water. Pain fired into my cheek and forearms while I clung to the edge of the boat slip, opposite of where we’d climbed in.

“Fuck. Hannah, are you okay?” Cade bent over me. His strong hands gripped my biceps, and he lifted me out of the water.

Shivering, I stood there, feeling like a complete moron. “I’m s-so sorry. I have n-no idea what I was th-thinking.” My teeth chattered. “Clearly, I w-wasn’t. At all.”

He touched my cheek, and I winced. His eyes narrowed. “Only a shallow cut, but it’s going to bruise. Anywhere else hurt?”

I held up my arms for his inspection. He nodded.

Then, before I could process what was happening, Cade had pulled my shirt over my head. I blinked as he tugged at the button of my jeans. “Wh-what are you d-d-doing?”

He glared at me. “You will freeze to death if you don’t get out of these clothes.”

I swallowed hard. “But…”

He arched a brow, his hands already sliding my soggy jeans over my hips. “I didn’t plan this, Maestro, but I’m warm and dry. You’re freezing and wet. Kick your shoes off.”

I did as he asked, and he gave no further explanation. Common sense slowly returned, and I understood the reason for his quick actions. But I now stood in front of him in nothing but…

We both glanced down between us as I stepped out of the soggy mess. Goose bumps were permanently branded on my flesh. Lots and lots of skin was exposed, and the only thing keeping me from being completely naked in front of a man for the first time in two years was a sheer, lilac lace bra and the matching scrap of a thong.

Cade sucked in a deep breath, furrowing his brow, raising his gaze to mine. “Damn.” The word was an awe-filled whisper.

Before I had time to react—to be embarrassed or gauge his reaction—he stripped his thin jacket off and wrapped it around me, shoving my hands into the armholes. Then he led me over to a bench and sat down, pulling me down onto his lap.

Seeking more of his incredible heat, I curled into him while he wrapped his arms around me, encasing me in warmth. Calming by infinitesimal degrees, I closed my eyes.

Minutes ticked by in an oddly soothing silence, the only cadence our slow deep breaths.

“You know, if you wanted to prove you could swim, open water would’ve been a better choice.”

I laughed softly, pressing my cheek harder against his chest. His heart pounded there, and I felt lucky to hear its rhythm. Him holding me close like this, with no agenda other than to comfort me, jarred something deep inside me.

All the great effort he put into slowly courting me touched my heart. The simple act of being embraced drew me closer toward this wonderful man who held himself back for my benefit.

I sighed, content to drink in the moment.

When my uncontrollable shaking finally stopped, I looked up into his concerned eyes. “So what now? My clothes are soaked.”

The corners of his lips twitched. “Well, I guess sex in a boathouse is out.”

I snorted. “You have me half naked already. Not going to try to go all the way?”

His gaze roved over my face, then dropped lower to my cleavage. “Hannah, I would love nothing more than to peel your underwear off and turn this into an incredible memory for you. But you freezing and wet is not how I’d imagined our first time going down. Well” —his eyes sparked with wickedness— “wet, yes. Very, very wet.” He touched a finger to the tip of my nose. “But definitely not during one of our business events.”

“How did you imagine it?”

He shook his head. “Not telling. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise. But you already know another fantasy I have—kitchen islands, chocolate sauce, honey.”