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“You coming in?” he asked innocently.
She couldn’t help but watch the trail of water that dripped from his red chest hair, downward over his flat stomach to the surface of the water where the lake only barely covered his groin.
“It’s not bad once you get used to it.”
She chuckled and slapped away a few mosquitoes. Maybe swimming in a frigid lake would be better than getting eaten alive, which seemed to be imminent. She charged in, diving beneath the surface. Icy cold slapped her skin and she burst up from the water sputtering.
“You fucking cunt!” she gasped, not even bothering to wipe the water from her face while she waded quickly back toward shore. Fuck, it was cold!
“Give it a chance!” Grant laughed, catching her around the waist and swinging her around before she got even halfway back to the beach.
This wrestling business would be way more fun if the water wasn’t the temperature of glacier runoff.
She screeched and fought like a cat trying to get out of a bath, but he only chuckled and pinned her back to his chest where she struggled in futility.
“It’s too cold!” she complained, taking a handful of water and throwing it in his face, partially catching herself in the process.
At least his body was warm.
And muscled.
And slick with the water between them.
His arms had slid upward and were banded under her breasts as she wriggled to get away. Thankfully the frigid water disguised the real reason her nipples were hard. His breath was hot against her ear, and she could feel his cock stiffening against the small of her back, skin against skin. Heat pooled between her legs, spreading through her body, and the water suddenly wasn’t doing much to cool her down.
“See? It’s not so bad,” he murmured, the rumble of his deep voice against her ear giving her shivers on top of her shivers.
One of his arms let go of her, but then his hand slid upward to cup her breast. She whimpered, squirming back against him, desperate for more and afraid to say anything that might remind him he’d been doing his best not to touch her. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, gently squeezing the painfully tight bud, the black tattoos on his arm and hand stark against his white and freckled skin, the muscles and tendons moving just beneath.
There should be porn for women—just male forearms, all tattooed and muscled and quiet power. She was going to be rich if she remembered this idea when they got back to civilization.
Grant always touched her like he owned her.
Like he’d owned her forever.
Her mind buzzed in response, falling under his spell, making her wish she could just let go and let him take control of her permanently. It would be so easy to give in and let him have her.
She melted against him, quivering, his mouth open and following the slope of her neck down to the spot between there and her shoulder, his breath hot, his teeth sinking into her skin. She screamed in pain, pleasure washing through her as her pussy fluttered in sympathy. Her cry echoed across the water, finally getting lost in the wind, sounding like a wounded animal’s last sound in the world.
God, she wanted him—had wanted him for so long that everything he did was more, felt more, than it should.
“My sweet, sweet Arabella,” he breathed in her ear, “why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?” He let her go, but tangled a hand in her wet hair, grabbing tight, and slid two fingers into her slackened mouth, using his grip to pull her back against him. She latched on and sucked, and he bit the back of her neck like he was marking her, his hips grinding his cock along the groove of her spine. “As soon as you let me put a collar around this delicate little throat, you can have anything you want from me.”
He made it sound so simple, but it so wasn’t.
Learning to trust a lover was one thing, but letting someone collar her—letting him become everything?
No. Absolutely no.
Fucking bastard!
She turned her head, forcing his fingers from her mouth.
“Moose.” Her safeword stopped him cold.
“Fuck.” He groaned but let her go, and she waded back to the beach with a water-imposed slowness that maddened her.
From the sounds coming from behind her, he was following, but at least he wasn’t trying to touch her. If he touched her again she didn’t know what he could get her to agree to. Her throat was thick and her eyes burned, and the last thing she wanted to do was have to turn around and look him in the face.
