Once back in the main cave, he set about gathering all the things he’d organized so carefully less than an hour ago. He made three trips, stopping after the first one to help Bethany light a fire in the second cave.
By the time he finished, Bethany had already slipped naked beneath the steaming depths of the pool. “How deep is it?” he asked, coming to stand at the edge. “Can you touch the bottom?”
She nodded, giving him a look of rapturous pleasure. “It’s about three feet deep,” she answered. “And it feels heavenly.”
Holding her gaze, he peeled away his damp clothing and sat down on the stone ledge, dangling his feet in the warm water. He drew in a sharp breath as the heat seeped into his frozen toes.
“Don’t be a chicken,” she teased, her good humor obviously restored. “Come all the way in.”
Grimacing, he did as she’d commanded, sinking down until everything but his head was submerged. “Mmm. You’re right. It feels wonderful.”
“I was starting to think I’d never be warm again.” She glided toward him until less than a foot separated them. “Too bad we didn’t discover this earlier.”
He nodded, staring at her with unconcealed hunger. She’d dunked her head, and now her golden hair hung in heavy, wet spirals across her bare shoulders; droplets of water glistened on her long lashes. He wanted to lick it off her, inch by lovely inch.
“Turn around,” she whispered. “I’ll wash your back.”
He did as she asked, rising up a bit so she could soap his back, trembling with arousal as her soft hands moved over his skin. God, it felt good to be pampered. Once she’d finished with his back, she moved around him, soaping his shoulders, arms and chest.
He held still, closing his eyes, more relaxed than he’d been in years. It could be like this always, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered. All he had to do was let her follow through with her plan. He could bury Zach Price forever and become someone new—someone who had the right to ask a woman like Bethany to be his wife.
“My turn,” she said after she’d washed everything above the water line.
She pressed the soap into his hand, and he opened his eyes and looked at her, taking in the arousal shimmering in her lovely green eyes. Despite their earlier argument, despite everything she knew of him, she still wanted him.
He took the soap without a word, feeling behind him until he found a ledge in the rocks. Sitting down, he pulled her into his arms, shuddering at the delicious silkiness of her wet skin against his own.
She leaned against his shoulder, allowing her beautiful breasts to break free of the water. He soaped them first, loving the way her slick, smooth skin felt beneath his hands, loving the way her nipples puckered into hard little points, stabbing his palms with each pass of the soap.
After a long while she turned in his arms, straddling his thighs as she caught his mouth in a searching kiss. He dropped the soap on the rocks behind him, buried his hands in her hair, and returned her kiss in full measure, drowning in the sweet taste of her.
All the anger and frustration of the last few hours fell away, and he knew he’d been lying to her—lying to himself—when he’d said he couldn’t love her after only two days. In truth, he thought he’d loved her since the first moment he’d set eyes upon her, or at least since she’d freed him from his shackles.
Groaning, he broke the kiss and slid his hands down her sides, clasping her hips and driving deep within her, burying himself to the hilt in her tight, welcoming warmth. She gasped and met his gaze, biting her lip as he began to thrust in a smooth, languid rhythm, determined to make this last a very long time.
Dipping his head, he caught one of her nipples between his lips, biting gently and then drawing her into his mouth, suckling as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Oh, Zach,” she murmured, her voice husky and strained. “That feels so good.”
The sound of his name on her lips broke his control. His thrusts became wild and hard, erratic, as the pleasure tore through him, making him grit his teeth and struggle to keep from exploding before she did.
Reaching between them, he found the sweet little bud of arousal and rubbed it, desperate to give her as much pleasure as she’d given him. She cried out, stiffening against him, the contractions of her orgasm milking him into his own.
“Bethany,” he moaned and let himself go, holding her tightly as his vision blurred and his world disintegrated around him.
