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“Was it Harold?”
“Yes.”
He should have gone after the bastard while he was in the boat, settled the issue once and for all. But his anger would have to wait. Right now he needed to get her out of the water before she caught a chill.
“I’m going to put a towel over my shoulder,” he decided. “I’ll pick you up and hold you against it, then drape another two over you. It’s the best option I came up with. Do you have any other ideas?”
“No, although it seems really strange to be in a situation like this.”
“It probably doesn’t happen to most people,” he agreed, and she gave him a more genuine smile.
“I’ll bet it doesn’t. Okay, I’m ready.”
He retrieved another towel and threw it over his shoulder, then slowly bent towards her, keeping his eyes on her face. As soon as he reached into the water to slide his arm beneath her he realized the flaw in his plan. He might not be looking but nothing could stop him from feeling. From feeling the warm, silky skin against his, the water slippery and unexpectedly erotic.
Another series of images popped into his head, of the two of them this time, water swirling around them as they caressed each other. Damn. The small degree of success he’d had in subduing his cock was immediately lost and he was once again rock hard.
“I’m going to lift you up now,” he said hastily and scooped her into his arms, holding her just a little more tightly than he needed to so that he could feel her small, firm breasts pressing against his chest despite the towel separating them.
He quickly threw the other towel over her back but his relief was short-lived. She was out of the water, but she was still naked and she still needed to dry off. What now?
She apparently had the same thought because she frowned.
“I know we don’t have a whole lot of options, but I’m not sure this is going to work.”
“I’m not either,” he admitted. “Maybe I could rub you down and then let you arrange the fabric.”
“I suppose it’s worth a try.”
Despite the doubt in her voice, her body was still soft and relaxed against it. Soft expect for the hard little nipples pressing against his chest, that is. He wanted desperately to touch one, to lean her back and push the towel down so he could look and touch and even taste her. No, dammit.
He lifted the towel covering her back and began running it up and down her body in slow strokes, starting at her shoulders and working down her arms. Then he stroked down her back, his fingers occasionally brushing against that silky skin. He hesitated when he reached her bottom, tempted to dip between her legs, but he continued down instead, lightly stroking the sensitive back of her thighs, the soft skin of her calves, and the tops of her feet.
“I think your back is dry enough now,” he said reluctantly.
“Mmm.” Her voice sounded dreamy and far away. “My front too because of the way you were moving me. If you could just hold me up long enough for me to tie the fabric like. sarong.”
“I will hold you as long as you want.”
The words sounded oddly like a vow in the quiet room and he quickly carried her back into the bedroom. He kept his arm around her as he set her on her feet but the towel fluttered away. He caught one brief tantalizing glimpse of small breasts and rosy nipples before he forced his gaze up over her head as she took the piece of fabric.
“I’m done,” she said and he let his eyes drop back down.
Damn. She looked almost as enticing clothed as she did naked, the soft fabric molding to her small curves, the muted green a pleasant contrast to her pale skin.
“You look beautiful.”
A pretty tide of pink crept over her cheeks at his praise and she quickly looked away.
“Will you take me outside? I’d like to see where we are, or at least as much as I can see in the dark.”
“All right.”
Keeping his arm around her, he guided her out onto the wide front porch. His house was raised a good distance off the ground as a precaution against the inevitable floods as well as discouraging unwanted animals. He also had herb packets designed to dissuade them scattered throughout the nearby woods. The clouds had thinned enough to allow more moonlight, revealing the clearing in front of the house, along with the gardens and the chicken coop, the woodshed and the arbor covered in flowering vines.
“Wow. You’ve put a lot of work into this place.”
He hadn’t had much choice - most of it had been about survival, about keeping himself fed and clothed and warm. Only in the last few years had he been able to add things like the arbor that were simply intended for pleasure. The trees thinned to the west, the land sloping down to the swamp, the water inky in the moonlight. The rest of the clearing was surrounded by woods and undergrowth, growing thicker over the years.
