The Reef

about. And the truth is, I want the damned thing over.”
    “I thought you liked that stuff.”
    “I do. I—” Annoyed with herself, she floated again, closed her eyes again. “I don’t know what I mean. Mythesis is on the inherent versus the monetary value of artifacts. It’s not terribly original, but I thought I might focus on one piece, tracing it from its beginnings through to its discovery and analysis. Or I might scrap the whole thing and go back to my first idea of how technological advancements have improved and depersonalized the science of marine archaeology. Or . . .”
    She opened one eye. “You can see why I’m not thrilled you tried to pin me down.”
    “So, you haven’t made up your mind yet. What’s the hurry?”
    “I thought there was one.” How could she explain that she felt as though she’d been on a treadmill for years. One of her own choosing, certainly. But that she’d suddenly, and impulsively, leapt off. She didn’t have her feet under her yet, and wasn’t sure how to get back on when the time came.
    “You always got that line, right there, when you tried to out-think yourself.” He skimmed a fingertip between her brows.
    She batted his hand aside. “Go away, Lassiter. I’m having a good time stewing over a professional crisis.”
    “Looks to me like you have to be taught how to relax all over again.” He planted a hand firmly on her face and pushed.
    She went under, but she was quick enough to snag him on the way down. She got her chin above water, and would have been more successful pulling in air if she hadn’t been giggling. When he closed a hand over her ankle, she kicked out with her other foot and had the satisfaction of meeting flesh before he dragged her down again.
    Rather than struggle, she went limp. The instant his grip loosened, she gave him a solid butt, then struck out for the boat. She wasn’t certain if he was quicker than he’d once been, or if she was slower, but she didn’t make it four strokes.
    By the time she clawed her way to the surface again, she was weak and out of breath.
    “You’re drowning me.”
    “I’m saving you,” he corrected. Indeed he washolding her up. Their legs were tangled so he used one arm to keep them buoyant while the other stayed wrapped around her.
    “Maybe I am out of shape.” She fought to get her breath back and used one hand to swipe hair out of her eyes.
    “Not from where I’m swimming.”
    It took a moment for the laughter to fade from her face, a moment before she realized she was clinging to him, that his body was hard, nearly naked and pressed close to hers. It took a moment to read the desire in his eyes and for the raw echo of it to sound through her.
    “Let me go, Matthew.”
    He could feel her trembling now, and she’d gone pale. But he knew it wasn’t from fear. She’d often looked and felt just like this before. When she’d wanted him.
    “Your heart’s pounding, Tate. I can practically hear it.”
    “I said—”
    He leaned forward, caught her bottom lip lightly between his teeth and watched her eyes cloud. “Go ahead,” he challenged against her mouth. “Say it again.”
    He didn’t give her the chance. His lips were devouring hers, crushing then nibbling, then seducing apart so that he could take the kiss into the deep and the dark and the dangerous.
    By Christ, he’d please himself. That’s what he thought, even as he suffered. She was everything he’d remembered and sought to forget. Everything and more. Even as they sank beneath the surface, kicked back into air wrapped in each other, he knew it wasn’t the sea that would drown him. But his desperate, endless need for her.
    The taste of her, the smell and the feel. The sound of her breath catching on confused pleasure. The memories of the past and the reality of now tangled until he could almost forget there had been time between.
    She hadn’t known she could still feel like this. So hungry and out of control. She didn’t want to think, not when her body was so intensely alive and every nerve in it on shivering edge.
    It was just physical. She could cling to that as well as him. A man’s hard, demanding mouth, that wet, slipperyflesh, a tough, ready body molded to hers. No, she didn’t want to think. But she had to.
    “No.”
    She managed one breathless syllable before his mouth came back and sent her mind reeling again. She felt her will slipping and struggled against both him and herself.
    “I said no.”
    “I