“Yes it is,” she said. “And I wonder if it isn’t deliberate.”
She glanced over her shoulder at his closed expression, the stark, icy green eyes, before turning back to the rain. Dampness pelted her face—cool, inviting, drawing her into an almost primal awareness of it. Rain cleansed and eased, and it always had been a source of peace for her.
“How long has it been since you played in the rain?” she asked, smiling as the wind drove a sheet of dampness against them.
She mesmerized him. Seeing her there, a teasing imp in her eyes, yet with that glimmer of sadness still shining. How was he supposed to resist her?
Cam was silent for long moments before he finally answered. “Too long to remember.”
She didn’t look back at his face. She was afraid if she did she would cry. She could hear the loneliness in his tone, sense the male confusion caused by her expression.
She took a deep breath and swallowed tightly before turning her head and staring up at him, seeing all the things she had heard in his voice.
“Let’s get wet and wild,” she whispered. “Come on, Cam, play in the rain with me.”
“You’ll catch your death of cold.” He eyed the rain skeptically.
“Then you can feed me homemade chicken soup.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him out after her.
The rain was drenching, falling down in sheets that soaked them within seconds. It ran over Jaci’s hair and face in rivulets. Spreading her arms wide, she lifted her face and turned in a circle, her eyes closing as the summer shower spilled over her.
When her head lowered and she opened her eyes, she saw Cam, his head lifted, eyes closed. His shirt and slacks were drenched and he looked primal. So male. So intense.
When his eyes opened and he stared back at her, she saw a core of need inside him that she wondered if he even knew he possessed.
“Dance with me,” she whispered. The need to feel his arms around her was driving her crazy.
“There’s no music.” He tried to smile, but she could see the edge of dominance burning inside him. He wanted much more than to dance.
“Then we’ll make our own music.” She moved into his arms, feeling them go around her as he looped her arms around his neck. “Haven’t you ever wanted to make your own music, Cam?”
The rain ran down his hair and face in thick rivulets, highlighting the light growth of beard that shadowed his face.
The ice in his eyes was thawing, being replaced by desire, by a hint of emotion that had her heart racing.
“Are we making music yet?” he asked, his voice rough with arousal now.
Within the soaked slacks, his c**k throbbed hard and insistent, as his hands slid the hem of her shirt along her midriff so he could touch her bare back. At the same moment, she became aware of Chase watching from the door, his gaze heavy, arousal evident; but he did nothing to join them. She prayed he wouldn’t.
“Don’t you feel it?” she whispered, her fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt.
She wanted to see his bare chest, the rain running through the mat of dark chest hair, drenching the corded muscles of his upper body.
Within minutes she had the shirt opened and pushed it from his shoulders. Still, Chase watched. It added to the eroticism, made her feel somehow more wicked, sexier.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he questioned her, his voice rough, his expression tightening with lust. “I’m going to end up f**king you on the damned balcony, Jaci.”
“Good thing you have lots of trees around here, then.” She smiled up at him before glancing out at the grounds around the warehouse. Huge, stately oaks grew high and close, sheltering the open balcony.
One hand lifted from her waist to cup her cheek, and he danced her back to the brick wall, his hard body sheltering her from the force of the rain. She forgot about Chase—forgot about everything but the pleasure burning inside her.
The other hand slid around, flattened against her lower stomach, and pressed demandingly against her, as his head lowered.
The taste of the rain and her kiss was intoxicating. Cam was certain he had never known anything, any woman, that had ever tasted as good as Jaci. His tongue swiped over her lips, drew in the raindrops that clung to them, before he caught the lower curve of her lip between his teeth and nipped at it erotically.
She jerked against him in response, her breath coming hard and fast now, her body heating, despite the water pouring over her.
Her body curved against his, her lower stomach cushioning the erection throbbing beneath his slacks, her br**sts pressed into his bare chest.
The cool rain did nothing to tamp the fire burning inside him. She was like a drug in his system now, and he wondered how the hell he would survive if he didn’t manage to bind her to him.
“This is so good,” she panted, as his lips moved from hers to the curve of her jaw, and lower on her neck. “Feeling you like this, Cam—all over. Like the rain.”
He grimaced as he buried his head in her neck. Going slow and easy with her was killing him. His control was so damned frayed, it was all he could do to force himself to hold back.
He slid his palm lower on her stomach, his fingertips pressing against the mound between her thighs, rotating, caressing the flesh just above her cl*t through the material of her jeans.
He wanted those damned pants off her.
“I have to feel you,” he groaned. The words were rasping, his voice guttural, an indication of his loss of control.
Damn, he’d never had trouble controlling himself with a woman. Never known a time that he couldn’t draw the pleasure out, make her scream before he reached the point that he had to bury himself inside her. Until now.
He gripped the hem of her shirt and drew it up her body. As he leaned back, he watched as her arms lifted gracefully, the clinging material peeling off her flesh to reveal paradise beneath.
Tossing the shirt aside, he flicked open the clip of her bra and drew it away from the swollen mounds of her br**sts.
His mouth watered at the sight of her tight, hard little ni**les. They were flushed a ruby red, puckered, and seemed to beg for his kiss.
His head lowered as he felt her hands on his shoulders, her nails raking across his flesh.
He should take her inside. Hell, he knew he should take her inside, out of the rain, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to do it. She was made for the caress of the raindrops—water running along her flesh, soaking her as she burned for him.