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We were so tightly pressed against each other now, you couldn’t have fit a knife blade in between. We didn’t fit together perfectly - not at all! I was soft, and he was hard. I was curvy, and he was flat as a washboard. It would have been hard to find two people who fit together less well. But who the hell cared? Even as a child, I’d had the most fun hammering rectangular toy blocks through round holes! And right now, I wanted nothing so much as to hammer him good and proper!
‘Not here!’ he growled.
‘What?’ I was so delirious now, I could barely understand single words.
‘Out of sight! Behind rock!’
‘No! Now! I need-’
My words ended in a squeal when, in a move too fast for me to blink, his hands slid down behind my thighs. He lifted me out of the water as if I were just another little fish caught with his spear, and we were off. In a moment we were behind the rock, effectively hidden from the eyes of the world. He continued until we were standing in the centre of the waterfall, the spray of water less than gentle here. I frowned. Was it stronger than before? Or was that just my imagination, feeling everything stronger in this whirling, glittering whirlpool of lust?
‘Why here?’ I whispered. ‘Still feel the need to wash, do you?’
‘No!’ His answer was raw. His hands still had hold of my thighs and didn’t seem to want to let go. ‘If I don’t cool off a little, I’m going to do something I’ll regret.’
Cool off? As in…he felt hot? Mr Rikkard Ambrose?
My fingers skimmed over his wet skin. It was true. His voice was cold, his eyes were cold - but his body with burning. Burning for me.
‘Do it!’ I demanded. ‘No regrets!’
‘But-’
I stretched until my lips were at his ear, caressing his earlobe. ‘Do it!’
His eyes found mine. Even through the downpour all around us, I could see their swirling depths, calling me, demanding all of me.
‘Hold on!’ he commanded.
I clenched my legs around his hips, clinging to him like a little lovesick monkey. Removing one hand from under my thighs, he reached for the buckle of his belt. A cheap-looking, tarnished old thing that no London tailor in his right mind would put on for sale. But right then and there, I didn’t care how cheap his belt buckle was. I only cared that it would be opened pronto!
Torturously slowly, he slid one finger underneath the strap and started to pull. Inch by inch, it pulled back, taking the buckle with it.
‘Get a move on!’ I growled. His hand under my thigh was like a living, breathing brand burning into my skin. His fingers flexed, sliding up my thigh, and I couldn’t keep a small moan from escaping my throat. To hell with it! There was no way he could have heard over the roar of the waterfall.
‘Getting impatient, are we?’ his cool, composed voice whispered into my ear.
He’d heard! How the hell had he heard?
‘No!’ I denied.
He flexed his fingers again, and I sucked in a breath.
‘Indeed? I do believe you’re misreading the situation, Mr Linton.’
‘Get that blasted buckle open!’ I groaned. ‘And stop calling me Mister!’
His hand slid further up my thigh. ‘Hm…we might just come to an agreement on the latter point. A modification of terminology seems appropriate.’
Good God! His words set my body on fire, burning me up from tip to toe. I heard, from very far away, like a distant echo, the click of metal on metal. The belt buckle!
I glanced down, trying to see if it was open yet - but I could hardly see anything. For a moment I thought a haze of passion was clouding my eyes - but a haze of passion would be red, right? Or maybe a nice shade of purple. But certainly not brown! No self-respecting haze of passion would be brown, right?
I opened my mouth to ask what was going on - and got a mouthful of water in reply. Muddy water. Good God, the waterfall really had started spouting like crazy for some reason. And it wasn’t quite as clear and wonderful anymore as a few minutes ago.
Still, I’d be damned if I let a few drops of water keep me from my goal! My hand reached out and grabbed Mr Ambrose’s hair, directing his attention down towards the belt buckle.
‘Get on with it!’
