“Have ye ever cast a fishing rod before?” he murmured.
“No.” Was her voice breathy? Shefeltbreathy. As if his touch would turn her into so much smoke and, like a hot air balloon, she would simply float away on the currents. “Just fishing in the lagoon of Venice, but that was merely dropping a line over the side of a boat.”
“Ah, then ye will enjoy learning this.” He pressed her right hand forward, causing the long fishing rod to bob. “The trick with fly-fishing is tae dance the nymph across the water. The fish need tae think it is flying along the surface. Ye simply have to practice the motion.”
Here, he demonstrated for her how it was done, his hand still grasping hers—a slow draw back at the elbow and then a quick flick of the wrist.
Silence descended between them as Ethan showed her over and over how to cast the line. Small sounds echoed in the ensuing quiet—the creak of the fly rod, the burble of water lapping over rocks, . . . thescritchof Ethan’s chin whiskers at her temple.
Allie tried to concentrate on his ‘lesson.’
But . . . he surrounded her. The press of his hard torso against her spine, the taut strength in his grip around her waist, the faint brush of his lips across the shell of her ear.
Every point of contact between them hummed, alive and pulsing with a rushing current.
The fire he ignited in her blood turned her thoughts hazy.
Why were they pretending any of this outing was about fishing?
She was rather sure it was about kissing.
Specifically, Ethan Penn-Leith’s mouth on hers.
And because Allie was never one to back down from an opportunity, she said as much—
“You needn’t contrive a fishing lesson in order to kiss me.”
Ethan froze at her back, his hand atop hers going still.
The rasp of his breathing hovered in the air.
And then his lips nipped her left ear, this time deliberate and calculated.
A tremor passed through her body.
“But where is the fun in that, lass?” His breath caressed her skin, sending goose-flesh dancing down her spine.
Flexing his left arm, he pulled her infinitesimally closer, his thumb drawing circles on her hip bone.
“Fun?” she gasped. “This feels rather torturous.”
His wicked laugh vibrated her body.
And then, his lips touched her neck, butterfly soft and not nearly enough.
“I seem tae remember telling ye that when I kiss a lady, I kiss her for keeps,” he murmured into her skin. “Are ye ready tae take that leap?”
“You know I won’t promise that, Ethan. We have a pact, remember?”
Another agonizingly light kiss to her neck was his only reply.
Uffa!He was deliberately driving her mad with desire.
Ethan knew the rules of their agreement, and yet he was choosing this. To toss a torch onto the dry brush of their crackling attraction.
She wanted to inhale him, to consume and be consumed.
“Enough!” She spun around, her eyes surely hungry and eager.
