Heat radiates off the rock, warming every speck of skin I have pressed against it. It’s comforting against the panic from the unexpected attacker.
Until it moves.
Strong hands flex under me, gripping my backside and holding me above the water, and I realize what I have done.
It isn’t a boulder I clambered up to escape.
It is Weston.
And I’m essentially naked, every exposed surface of my body pressed against his, clinging to him like the moss on the bark of the trees back home.
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if being unable to see what I did will somehow reverse time. My neck turns painfully slowly, and I gently lift my gaze. The monster in the water is completely forgotten as my eyes trail over everywhere our skin touches.
I’m hyperaware of the press of my soft curves against the hard planes of his body. My arms wound around his neck, pulling my body and breasts flush against his bare chest, so the delicate lace is the only separation between us. My feet clasp around his back as my now throbbing core settles against him.
Pressing against his, my chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. My eyes lift to his face, only to find his chin tucked, his gaze downcast, as if he too is trying to avoid this forced entanglement.
Until he isn’t.
Teal eyes meet mine, holding them for just a moment before they slide over my skin, caressing my face, and settling on my lips. My breath hitches, and my mind empties of everything except the feel of him against me, firm and smooth and real. The muscles in my arms tighten involuntarily as my eyes flicker to his lips, pulling me closer until we’re barely sharing a breath. The air is intoxicating, and as if it’s affecting him too, his arms move, his effortless hold changing as he crushes me against him.
His throat bobs when my hips shift in his grasp, pressing the heat between my thighs into him. I suck in a breath; the sound breaks his trance and sends an imaginary bucket of cold water tumbling over my head.
What the fuck am I doing?
This isWeston.
His chin drops again as he turns his head away, while I still sit, chest panting against his, with my heart pounding in my ears. He’s moving again, shifting one arm underneath me and dropping the other to his side, before leaning sideways into the water. When he straightens again, his arm extended out nextto him, a long, rope-like plant dangles from his hand, its huge leaves protruding in all directions.
He looks back to me then, his lids hooded and eyes still darkened.
“Are you afraid of plants now too, princess?” His voice vibrates in his chest, and I feel it reverberate through mine.
“Oh,” I say, thankful for the darkness hiding the heat in my cheeks as I look away, trying to settle my gaze anywhere but on him. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
“No need to apologize.”
Tilting to the side again, he drops the rope plant back into the water, then straightens with a deep breath through his nose.
“We should, um,” I clear my throat. “We should probably go back.”
He nods. “We should.”
A moment passes, but neither of us moves. His eyes are pinned to my mouth again, and my lips part at the thought of what I would do if he leaned in and closed the distance between us.
I can’t find out, no matter how much my entire body feels like it has been engulfed in flames under his attention and touch.
“You can put me down now, Captain,” I finally whisper, my eyes trailing down to his lips once more, and I catch the quick clench of his jaw before it relaxes again.
His shoulders barely tense under my arms as he lets out another slow breath. I unhook my arms and legs, and he shifts me to his side, slowly lowering me until my feet splash into the water below, but not before my thigh brushes against the front of him, long and firm.
Oh gods.
Was Weston just as affected by the touch of our bare skin as me?
I step away quickly, turning in the direction of our belongings, and he does the same, putting more space between us as we wade slowly to the boulder.
He reaches it first and pulls himself up before leaning back down and offering me a hand. Without a second thought, I take it, letting him hoist me up onto the warm dry surface. Weston keeps his eyes averted as he bends to pick up his shirt and belt, but instead of sliding it over his shoulders, he extends the dry clothing out to me.
