On the Run (Whispering Key #2) - May Archer Page 0,67

was frightened, razor claws and all.

“Toby, Hagatha is you. Honestly, anyone who’d spent a couple hours with you would spot the similarities. You have the same voice. You have the same heart. Maybe if you stopped running away from your alter ego, you’d understand what other people like so much about you. Maybe you need to own that.”

He cleared his throat. “In any case, this has been quite passably enjoyable, Goodman, but surely our swimming lesson is over now?”

“Floating’s not the same as swimming, Toby,” I warned.

“An excellent point, but I’m concerned for the state of my skin.” He held up his pruny fingers.

I almost sighed. The time limit on Toby’s patience for serious discussion seemed to have expired. But in the end, maybe that was for the best. Maybe there was something to be said for just enjoying something, especially when you knew it wouldn’t last long.

We’d drifted back to the shallow end, so Toby put his feet on the bottom and stood. “I feel like it’s only fair that I should choose our next activity.”

“You already serenaded me with Broadway’s greatest hits yesterday, and once a week is probably my limit,” I warned, though I was pretty sure I could tolerate it as many times as necessary. He was adorable when he reached for the high notes.

He mock-pouted. “I wasn’t going to sing… probably.”

“And I told you I’m not helping to make decorations for the party. My hands are too big for paper crafts.”

“Yeah, we figured that out pretty fast on Monday.” He wrinkled his nose and wrapped his arms around my neck. “Your origami stars were… unique. But there are many, many things your big hands are very good at, Beale.”

“Is that so?” I lifted one eyebrow. “Anything in particular?”

“Oh, rescuing me from murder cats. Um. Fixing murder boats. Swimming lessons—” He backed me up against the wall.

“In the murder pool?” I guessed. I spread my legs so he could fit against me better.

“Exactly.”

“I’m sensing a pattern here, Toby, and it’s concerning.”

“You’re also good at decidedly un-murder-y things. And you might recall providing me with a comprehensive list of sexual fantasies the other day. I believe a blow job was discussed, for starters.”

For starters. Yeah, I remembered that list in great detail, specifically the part that had involved me fucking him, which was something we hadn’t done yet this week. My dick started to swell despite the cool water.

“You got my attention.” I coasted a hand down over the ass of those tiny red shorts and held him in place so I could stroke myself against him. “Tell me more.”

He tugged my hair to get better access to the tendon at the side of my neck and bit down gently. “I’m more of a show-er than a tell-er, baby. Come see.” He spun away from me and headed for the stairs.

I narrowed my eyes. Up to this point, Toby had mostly directed our sexual encounters, which had been totally fine with me. More than fine. So much more than fine. His confidence and take-charge attitude had given me confidence. But today, I felt the need to remind him that I had a few tricks up my sleeve, as well, and I always tried to listen to my instincts.

I caught him when he was about to put his foot on the bottom step and lifted him from behind with one arm around his chest.

“Sweet Jesus, Beale! What the hell are you—?”

“It’s all coming back to me now.” I ran a hand from his chest to his abs, then down over the front of his bathing suit. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and bucked against my hold. “I’m remembering there was a pool-related component to the fantasy list.”

“W-we don’t have supplies,” he said weakly. “We should—”

“Take advantage of the contractors not coming until this afternoon and enjoy some more time in nature? Someone once told me you were Outdoorsy Barbie.” I delved my fingers into his bathing suit and stroked his length. “I couldn’t agree more.”

It only took a couple of strokes before his entire body melted back against me like butter in the hot sun.

“Oh, fuck, Beale. Fuck, that’s so good.”

I nudged him onto his hands and knees on the stairs, with his lower legs still in the water. “Look at you, already half-hard for me. That cannot be comfy in those shorts. Let me help you out.”

“Wait, wait, not here. Not in the—”

I had his suit pulled down in what I thought was record