‘I’m not your friend anymore,’ she stated, batting a branch of berries out of her face. ‘You said it was ashortwalk.’
‘We’re almost there. Promise.’ The rushing water of Foxglove Falls sputtered through the forest, and he could already taste the fresh damp, feel the soil soften under his soles, with every step closer.
‘I’m going to remind you, again, that I’m still hungover.’
He helped her climb over a cluster of protruding tree roots, all but dragging her past the next turn so that she would finally understand why he’d been so eager to fetch her here.
She didn’t see at first, too busy casting him a scathing glare that, with her beetroot-red face and too-big sunglasses, only made her look more adorable. And then she must have heard the waterfall,because she pushed her shades onto her head to take in the view. It was only a small, shallow pool feeding into Belbarrow’s river from the craggy mountains above, which was why few people outside of town had discovered it. Struan was intent to keep it that way. There was a magic to having a place that was just his – and Harper and Fraser’s once, but he was still in the process of erasing those memories.
It could be hers, theirs, if she wanted it. The orchard would still be baking, and the river wasn’t deep enough at this time of year to dip in much more than a toe. Here, they’d be cool.
And completely, utterly alone.
‘I never knew this was here,’ Rae breathed, inching towards the light-dappled ripples. She placed her picnic basket down on the flat rock that Struan usually perched on. Only here was his mind muted, the birdsong and lapping water loud enough to drown out his usual chatter.
Her awed smile made him smile, too, as he dropped his pack beside the basket. ‘I found it on a hike a couple of years back.’
‘Do you bring your clients here?’
‘No, never. Places like this are better left alone. I love it too much to share it with them.’
‘Ah. So, it’s your sexy time spot.’ She nodded as though she understood perfectly.
She didn’t. Not at all. He perched on the edge of the rock, the day’s warmth seeping through the fabric of his shorts. ‘I can’t say I’m not flattered by this assumption that I’m some sort of wanton sex god with great game,but it’s not accurate.’
Rae was too busy rooting through the basket for the ice pack she’d brought to express any sign of doubt. Only when she’d pressed the freezer block to her neck did she reply, ‘I definitely would never use the phrasesex god.’
‘Never say never.’ His gaze clung to her closed lids and parted lips, all pleasure and relief.Hewanted to make her feel that way. He wanted to make her comfortable, make her moan, make her something other than exhausted and irritated like she was now. Jesus, she was making him jealous of inanimate objects.
His attention lowered to the hollow of her neck, which was shiny with sweat. The tan lines on her shoulders left by straps now slipped off. The red gingham of her dress, tight over his favourite parts of her – her hips and arse. The hem had ridden up to reveal paler upper thighs and white cycling shorts.
He tugged her closer by the skirt. ‘I’ve never brought anybody here before. Only you.’
An arch of her brow. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’ His fingertips brushed over the edge of the shorts. ‘These weren’t here before.’
Was it some kind of sign to keep out? Had he been too forward by touching her in the kitchen before?
She nestled between his splayed legs, her free hand on his shoulder for balance. ‘The summer is not kind to fat women. My chub rub reached new heights today.’
He chuckled. Many of the women he worked with complained about chafing if they didn’t wear comfortable hiking clothes,so the term wasn’t new to him, but itwasjust another thing that sounded far more endearing when it came out of her mouth. He especially liked how comfortable she was around that word,fat. It wasn’t used as a way of putting herself down, nor had she punctuated it with a space left open for him to disagree, tell her she wasn’t fat, she was beautiful, like women he’d been around in the past.
She was both, and he thought maybe she knew that well enough he didn’t have to say so.
Hoped, at least.
‘I could kiss it better.’ He nudged her shorts up, looking up in asking.
Her lemonade-sharp breath fanned over his face. ‘How are you even thinking about that in this heat?’
‘Around you, it’s hard to think of anything else,’ he admitted. ‘Is it too much?’
Slowly, she shook her head and nudged close enough that his chin rested on the jut of her lower stomach. ‘No.’
She peeled up her skirt in invitation, and he hitched the shorts’ hem higher to place gentle kisses along that sensitive, chafed spot. She wavered against him until the freezer pack dropped to the ground so she could balance with both arms on his shoulders. He treated the other thigh with equal tenderness, a hum of hunger coursing through him when he caught scent of her sweet musk just inches away. His nose followed the seam covering her centre, causing her to twitch against him.
‘Struan,’ she whispered, fingers scraping against his scalp and sending electricity down his spine.
