Leigh wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her grease-stained hand, crouching beneath the conveyor belt system at Terminal C. The belt had been jamming all morning, and she'd been the one stuck fixing it while everyone else was already in holiday mode. Labor Day weekend. Her friend Mara had bailed on their Nashville trip two days ago — something about an ex-boyfriend emergency, which was rich coming from someone who'd sworn off men for the seventh time this year.
So when Danny appeared at her workstation, holding two coffees and looking unreasonably clean for a fellow engineer, she didn't immediately shut him down.
"Got a place on Lake Oconee," he said, setting the coffee on her tool cart. "My uncle's. Boat, dock, quiet water. No plans, right?"
She'd known Danny was trying to court her for months. The way he lingered at her desk during shift changes. The way he remembered she took her coffee with exactly one sugar, not two. The way he'd once spent forty minutes explaining a wiring schematic to her that she already understood, just to keep talking. It was sweet, if a little pathetic.
"Fine," she said, surprising herself. "But I'm not sharing a room."
He grinned. "There are three bedrooms. You're safe."
The drive took two hours. Danny played old Motown and didn't talk too much, which Leigh appreciated. She watched the landscape shift from highway concrete to rolling green hills, and by the time they turned onto a gravel road lined with tall pines, she felt something in her chest loosen. The lakehouse was beautiful — weathered wood, a long dock stretching over dark water, and not another house in sight.
They dropped their bags inside, and Danny immediately pulled his shirt over his head.
Leigh froze.
She'd seen Danny in his navy work polo a hundred times. She knew he was broad. She'd noticed his arms when he lifted equipment. But she had never seen him bare-chested, and the sight of him standing in the golden afternoon light made her mouth go dry. His abs were cut — not in that gym-bro way, but in the way of a man who actually used his body for work. A thin line of dark hair trailed from his navel down into the waistband of his shorts. His shoulders were wide, his chest solid, and when he stretched his arms overhead, the muscles across his stomach shifted like something alive.
"You coming?" he asked, already walking toward the dock.
"Where?"
"Lake's right there." He kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his shorts, and stepped out of them, leaving him in a pair of black boxer briefs that hugged his thighs. Then he dove cleanly into the water, barely making a splash.
Leigh stood on the dock, arms crossed, feeling suddenly and embarrassingly aroused. The cool breeze off the lake did nothing to calm the heat building between her legs. She watched Danny surface, pushing wet hair back from his forehead, water streaming down his chest.
"Get in," he called. "It's perfect."
"I didn't bring a swimsuit," she said, which was a stupid excuse because neither had he.
"So? Strip down. I won't look."
Right. He wouldn't look. She was a grown woman. This was fine. Her fingers found the hem of her t-shirt, and she hesitated for exactly three seconds before pulling it over her head. The air hit her bare stomach. She unbuttoned her jeans, pushed them down her hips, and stepped out of them, standing in a pale blue bra and matching underwear — a thin string bikini cut she'd bought on a whim and never worn until today.
She dove in before she could overthink it.
The water was cool and clean, and she surfaced a few feet from Danny, droplets sliding down her face. He was closer than she expected, and his eyes moved over her with an intensity that made her skin prickle beneath the water. She could see it on his face — the way his jaw tightened when he looked at her shoulders, the way his gaze dropped to where the water lapped at the tops of her breasts. She was fuller than most women he'd probably been with, and she knew her bra was struggling to contain her.
"You're staring," she said.
"I'm admiring." His voice was lower than usual. "There's a difference."
She splashed him, and he laughed, but when he wiped the water from his eyes, the look hadn't changed. If anything, it had deepened.
They floated and swam for the next hour, moving in and out of easy conversation. He told her about his uncle, a retired Navy engineer who'd built the dock himself. She told him about growing up in Savannah, about choosing engineering because she liked fixing things that other people gave up on. The sun moved across the sky, turning the lake from blue to gold to amber. At one point, Danny floated on his back, and she caught the clear outline of his arousal pressing against the wet fabric of his boxer briefs. He didn't try to hide it. She didn't pretend not to see it.
When the sun began sinking toward the tree line, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink, they waded out of the lake together. The evening air was warm, and water ran down Leigh's body, her underwear clinging to every curve. She was acutely aware of the way her bra pulled tight across her chest, her full breasts straining against the damp fabric. And her underwear — the thin string was pulled deep between her round cheeks, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. She caught Danny staring again, and this time he didn't look away. His breathing had changed. Something hungry flickered behind his eyes.
"I'm going to grab a towel," she said, walking toward the house.
She reached the porch and looked around. Her t-shirt and jeans were gone. His shorts and shirt were gone too. She checked the railing, the bench, the door frame. Nothing.
"Danny."
He stood at the edge of the porch, water dripping from his chest, a half-smile on his face. "Looking for something?"
"Where are my clothes?"
"Hidden."
"That's childish."
"That's strategic." He stepped closer. "You look good like this. Didn't want to ruin it by letting you cover up."
She should have been annoyed. Instead, a pulse of heat shot through her, settling low in her belly. "So I'm just supposed to walk around in my underwear all night?"
"That was the plan."
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. He led her inside, and she padded through the house in nothing but her bra and panties, acutely aware of every brush of air against her skin. They grilled burgers on the back deck, and she sat on the porch swing with her legs tucked under her, watching the last light fade from the sky, while Danny leaned against the railing and looked at her like she was the only thing worth seeing.
They shared a bottle of wine. Then another. By the time the stars were out and the lake was black, she was warm and loose and hyperaware of every inch of exposed skin. Danny sat beside her on the swing, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. His hand rested on her bare thigh, heavy and still.
"You're still courting me," she murmured.
"I'm not done yet," he said.
She turned her head, and his mouth was right there. He kissed her slowly, one hand sliding to the back of her neck, the other still on her thigh. She opened for him, tasting wine and wanting, and when his fingers traced the edge of her underwear, she made a sound that surprised them both.
He pulled back. "Bed?"
She nodded.
He led her to the guest room — the one with the window overlooking the lake — and they fell onto the white sheets together. He unhooked her bra with steady hands, and when her breasts spilled free, he groaned low in his throat. He kissed them reverently, his tongue tracing circles around each nipple until she was arching off the bed. His hands gripped her waist, then lower, palms full of her, fingers pulling the thin string of her underwear aside.
She reached for him, slipping her hand into his boxer briefs, wrapping her fingers around his hard length. He hissed against her neck, his hips pushing forward. She stroked him slowly while his hand slid between her legs, one finger pressing against her entrance before sliding inside. She was slick and swollen, and when he added a second finger, she bit down on his shoulder.
"Danny—"
"I know," he whispered. "I've got you."
He worked her with his fingers until she was trembling, his thumb circling the sensitive spot that made her gasp. She came apart beneath him, her body clenching around his fingers, a cry slipping from her lips that echoed in the quiet room.
Afterward, he held her against his chest, both of them still mostly undressed, the lake breeze drifting through the open window. She fell asleep with her cheek against his heartbeat.
---
Morning came slowly, the gray light of dawn creeping across the sheets. Leigh woke to a sensation — warm, wet, deliberate — and it took her a moment to understand what was happening. Danny's mouth was between her legs, his tongue moving in slow, languid strokes. Her underwear was gone entirely now, and her thighs were open, his hands gripping her hips to hold her steady.
She gasped, her fingers twisting in the sheets. "What—"
"Good morning," he murmured against her, and the vibration of his voice sent a jolt through her entire body.
He licked her again, slower this time, dragging his tongue the full length of her before circling the spot that made her toes curl. She was already close — whatever dream she'd been having had primed her body for this — and when he sucked gently, she shattered, her back arching off the mattress, a broken moan filling the room.
He kissed the inside of her thigh and looked up at her, his chin glistening, that half-smile back on his face.
"Still courting you," he said.
She laughed, breathless and still trembling, and pulled him up to kiss him.