Craze by Anne Conley Page B

begging him to let go and take her. Anywhere. Everywhere.
    Mostly, though, he felt like he was back on the cutter during a storm. They’d had this game they’d played. Not really a game, but it was something to do. While the waves tossed the ship up and down, they would time their jumps. If you hit it right, you could jump at the same time the ship went deep in a swell. Looking around, you were floating in the night sky, fifty foot swells at eye level and the ship’s deck fifty to a hundred feet below. The boat would come up at the same time you went down, and a perfect landing from a fifty foot jump happened, as long as you didn’t panic and grab something on the way down. Of course they did it with ropes tied to them, just in case someone slipped off deck or something. The chicken shits did it inside the hull.
    That’s how he felt around Krista. It was hard to describe, but that was the best way he knew how. It had always been the coolest feeling, jumping on the boats, to see the cutter in the bottom of the wave while you were at the top. And the same feeling of flying hit him with Krista, at random times. Without the ropes.
    Like when she came out of the shower surrounded by waves of her shower gel scent. Vanilla and apricots or something. And the unique smell of Krista.
    Ryan wanted to close his eyes and bury his face in her hair, which she was wearing down. He wanted to taste that patch of skin where her neck met her shoulder. He wanted to dig in with his teeth and make her squeal.
    She broke into his ruminations with a question, “Can I do a load of laundry real quick? I’m running low.”
    Realizing he’d probably had a funny look on his face, he stood. “Sure. Washing machine’s right back here.” He led the way, showing her how to use it, ignoring the smirk on her face. He’d be damned if he just assumed she knew how to use one because she was a woman.
    “Thanks.” She was still smiling at him, and he got that weird feeling in his stomach again. He wished she wasn’t under his protection; he wished Simon hadn’t told him to keep this professional. He wanted her.
    Although, if she wasn’t in danger, she probably never would have crossed his path aside from the park. Ryan wouldn’t have pursued anything with Classy Lady—she wasn’t his type.
    Krista didn’t know much about the outdoors, or hunting, not that she didn’t seem willing to learn. She had been great company on their walk the other day, surprising him. So laid back, this woman was ready for anything he threw at her. She was kind, thinking of others before she realized the consequences to herself. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get in over his head. And he was sure he wouldn’t give a shit what Simon thought about it all.
    “I think lunch is about ready. You hungry?”
    She eyed him eagerly. “Starved.”
    “Good. Come on back to the porch.” He’d already put the salad out, along with a pitcher of iced tea, so after loading up the plates with the steaks, he sat down across from her to eat.
    She took a bite of salad and cut into her steak. “God, is everything you cook this amazing?”
    The odd feeling inside him swelled with her praise. “Why, yes. Yes, it is,” he deadpanned before taking a bite of his own. “Of course, it helps you had a piddly breakfast and you’re starving.”
    She chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “I don’t think so. Everything you’ve made me is delicious.”
    He smiled at her, unable to keep it off his face. “So, your parents are coming in later this week. Anything I should know before I meet them and pretend to be your boyfriend?” He waggled his eyebrows at her flirtatiously, and she smirked at him, but something in his words sounded funny to him. He had a feeling it would be easier than she thought it would be, and he looked forward to it. If only to touch her more. He really wanted an excuse to do that.
    “Well, I’ve been told I’m an excellent kisser,” she said with a smirk.
    He