His Strings to Pull by Cathryn Fox Page A

brain as she struggled to take in air.
    “Shit,” he said. The next thing she knew she was flat on her back on the flagstone walkway surrounding the pool, and Mr. Hottie’s lips were coming down fast.
    Oh, God, his mouth tasted like cool mint and warm cinnamon all rolled into one. His lips moved over hers, and as air filled her lungs in a whoosh, she was sure she’d just drowned and gone to heaven. And oh, what a heaven it was…
    As though moving on their own accord, her arms tangled around his neck, holding his mouth to hers as she reveled in his warmth, the sweet flavor of his kisses. She searched for his tongue, wanting a deeper, more thorough taste, but before she could find it, his body stiffened and he inched back.
    He angled his head, and when eyes full of concern locked on hers, reality crashed over her like a cold wave. Oh hell. He was performing CPR, not kissing her.
    “I…uh…” she managed to get out, then for good measure, she sucked in a breath and coughed to make it look like she was having a near-death experience, but the look on his face told her he was on to her.
    He swiped his tongue over his lower lip, like he was savoring the taste of her, as he eyed her curiously. “Wait…you weren’t…were you…” he began, his body still hovering over hers, his mouth so close all she had to do was lift herself up an inch if she wanted to steal another kiss.
    Which, of course, she did…
    “Yes, I was drowning,” she said quickly. “But thanks to your quick thinking, I’m okay now.” When she saw the other lifeguard coming her way, she held her hand up to stop her, letting her know she was fine. She made a move to get up, but he leaned in, keeping her pinned with his hard body. Her mind took that moment to wander, wondering what it would be like to be sandwiched between this man—and a mattress—their bodies naked, entwined…
    “Hey, lady, you okay?”
    The sound of a kid’s voice put an abrupt end to her fantasy. She turned her head to see a boy around twelve hovering over her, and instantly recognized him as the big brother to the two young girls this man had been playing with earlier.
    “I’m sorry.” The boy crinkled his nose apologetically. “I didn’t see you.”
    “You’re not supposed to be running on the deck,” Jenny said firmly, surprised she could actually find her voice as the man’s weight continued to press down on her.
    Mr. Hottie swung his head toward the boy. “We’ll discuss this later, when we get home,” he said, his expression stern yet affectionate at the same time.
    They’d discuss it at home? Jenny’s heart sank. Damn, the kids were his, which meant he was likely married to the pretty woman who brought them here often.
    She tried to move, shoving at his chest, but it was like trying to push a pickup with a toothpick. “If you’ll excuse me…” she began.
    “Ving.”
    “What?” she asked.
    “It’s Ving,” he said. “Ving Duncan.”
    “Okay, Ving Duncan.” She gave another hard shove, needing him off her body before he noticed the hardening of her nipples beneath her speedo. Cripes, the guy was married and the last thing she wanted to do was lust after someone’s husband again. “If you could just move.”
    He jumped to his feet and pulled her up with him. Her body collided with his, and as his hardness meshed with her softness, it damn near sucked the oxygen from her lungs—again.
    “And you are?” he asked.
    “Grateful that you saved me. Thank you.” Working to tamp down the heat he stirred in her, she turned to the boy, and put on her best serious face. “You need to be careful. You could have really hurt someone.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said again, hanging his head, and Jenny, having a soft spot for kids, ruffled his hair. She shot Ving an imploring look, and said, “Don’t be too hard on him. He seems like a nice kid, and I don’t think he meant it.”
    “Maybe,” he responded. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to get