Forever Jake. Barbara DunlopЧитать онлайн книгу.
her. She twisted around.
Jacob Bronson. The class geek. A rangy, slouch-shouldered, slow-talkin’ boy from the poorest family in town. His jeans were always too short, and he missed more school than he attended, working the pathetic piece of ground his father liked to call a farm.
“Uh.” She chewed her lip. It was pretty obvious she needed help here. And she didn’t think Jacob was dangerous. He might try to cop a feel, but then, so would Seth or Alex given the opportunity.
She was known as the Ice Princess because of her standoffish airs and habit of keeping all the boys at arm’s length. Though, in truth, it was more fear than superiority that kept her virtuous. Not that her reasons mattered. She could well imagine the prestigious bragging rights a guy would have for sliding his hands over a buck-naked Robin Medford in a rescue attempt.
Better one boy without an audience, she decided. One quiet boy at that. Though she strongly suspected even Jacob would break his silence to talk about this one.
It was settled then. Jacob was going to run his big rough hands along her naked legs.
She looked nervously up into his charcoal-blue eyes. He wasn’t laughing at her or leering at her. In fact, he looked genuinely concerned. She swallowed.
Her voice quavered as she answered his question. “Yes. Please.”
JACOB’S HANDS were gentle as they encircled her ankle. Of necessity, his cheek was in close proximity to her navel under the water.
She gazed up at the pale blue sky where a faint quarter moon bravely attempted to shine despite the midnight sun hovering just below the distant mountains. She tried valiantly to pretend this wasn’t happening.
Jacob’s cheek brushed her abdomen. She sucked in a frantic breath as a strange humming sensation worked its way along her limbs. The pressure of the tree branch lessened for a second, then snapped back. Robin jerked from the brief flash of pain.
Jacob surfaced. “Sorry.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay.” He was trying to be gentle, she could tell. She stared straight at his naked chest, wondering if succumbing to hypothermia might not be a better way to go. She was never going to live this down.
He clamped his jaw. “I’m, uh, going to have to…”
“What?” Please, oh, please, don’t let him go for help.
“Well…you see…” He raked a hand through his short-cropped hair. “I’ll have to wrap my arms around your leg…”
“So?” She was just relieved that he wasn’t going for an audience. She was beginning to worry that Annie would come looking for her.
“Just hurry,” she implored.
“Okay. I’m sorry.” He ducked under the water again.
The freshening breeze tangled her wet hair, chilling her face and scalp. She could feel his strong arms working their way around, no, between her legs. Her eyes widened.
His shoulder brushed her upper thighs. Her body hummed again. It felt… It felt…
She closed her eyes as her entire body seemed to convulse with longing. His fingers surrounded her ankle and his shoulder flexed enticingly. Then suddenly his body was rushing along the length of her, coming up for air.
He stood completely still, looking intently past her right ear at the black-green bushes on shore as he sucked in long breaths. Robin stared up at the droplets of water clinging to his dark, thick lashes. She felt flushed, warm, itchy. Her lips parted.
Suddenly she was in no hurry to get free. She wanted him to rub against her legs again. She liked the feel of his skin, the friction of the water.
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