In His Arms - Joey W. Hill Page 0,192

interrupted for a while. Do what you want with that.”

As he watched his friend lift himself out of the pool, those insanely thick muscles rippling over his back and arms, Rory shook his head. “You know, you’re not as much of a dick as everyone says.”

Brick put the cigar out and palmed the stub. “Just remember all that love when you become my brother-in-law.”

“Thomas is already married. You’ll have to kill Marcus to get him, and my money’s on Marcus.”

Brick flipped him the bird on his way back into the house.

As Rory smiled, he gazed thoughtfully after his friend. Brick’s cigar smoke hadn’t seemed to bother Daralyn the way cigarette smoke did, but Rory knew Brick would have doused it in a second if it had.

From the time they’d met in high school, they’d gotten along. But they’d become even deeper friends after his accident, not the usual thing. Disabled people often lost friendships they had before their injuries, or the bonds of those old friendships loosened. Priority and perspective changes forked them onto a path separate from the things that had kept them linked. But Brick had moved from the old circle into the new, becoming a key bridge between them. It was largely because of him that Rory’s local high school buddies had remained current friendships. Brick had helped them regain a comfortable footing with one another, find a new look to their connection.

If he had no blood family left in the world, Brick would be the closest thing Rory had to a brother. A day like this just reinforced it. Brick had learned about Rory’s close call when he called to check in with him about Daralyn’s status, pleased to learn she’d returned home. As such, it hadn’t surprised Rory that several days later the firefighter had called back, casually suggesting they come spend the day with him at his friend’s pool.

Normally, a pool party wasn’t the best option for a guy getting over a brush with pneumonia, but a heated indoor pool in this kind of setting? That was a different matter.

Rory lay back on the noodles, just floating. The sun coming through the windows was warm on his wet skin, and he was relaxed, breathing easy. He could get back to his normal workouts in a couple days, start rebuilding his strength where he wanted it. He had definite plans for that recuperation.

His lips curved as a fine-boned hand slid along his back, his side, up to his shoulder. Daralyn emerged on his right, brushing her lips against his biceps. He curled an arm around her, the noodle giving him the support so that he could bring her close to his side, let her twine her legs over his under the wavering, sun-sparkled water.

“I have my own personal mermaid,” he said.

“If you can catch her,” she said, sliding out of his hold to circle him, displaying her newfound swimming abilities. She enjoyed the water, was comfortable in it, turning and twisting like a mermaid in truth. As she backed away, she sent him a teasing look beneath her lashes.

She was flirting with him, his shy girl offering a delightful glimpse of her inner female minx. He gave her an unimpressed nod, laid his head back to feel the sun again and then struck, lunging over the right noodle to snag her around the waist. She let out a little yelp.

He’d timed his attack, the momentum carrying him and her in a turn that brought him to the ladder in one or two strokes. He hooked himself with one arm, pushing her full up against the ladder steps. With his free hand he took a nice handful of her ass, curving his fingers under the edge of the red bikini bottoms to stroke.

Her lips parted, her eyes darkening. He felt where every one of her fingers pressed into his wet shoulders, against his neck, and as she moved them to curl in his short hair. Relishing the give of her breasts against his chest, he touched his mouth to her neck and tasted Daralyn, chlorine, and the faint coconut scent of sunblock.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he told her. When she did, she also wrapped her arms tighter around him, holding him close. He felt her love everywhere. It was all the proof he needed of the existence of the soul, a full-bodied thing that transcended the physical.

He didn’t mind indulging the physical side of things, though. He eased back, so her hands slipped to his

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