She dropped to her knees and scooted up close beside him. He wrapped his arm around her, and they sat companionably together.
They gazed into the gentle ripple across the top of the pond. "What do you think your piscean friend, the Gentleman, is up to tonight?" Cleav asked.
Esme glanced with mock concern at the depths of the water. "I suspect he's sound asleep by now."
"Asleep?" Cleav's question was incredulous and he chuckled lightly. "Do fish sleep?"
Esme gave him a shrug. "Everything sleeps, doesn't it?"
"I don't know," Cleav admitted.
"Folks think that river critters aren't like the rest of us, but I suspect they pretty much are."
She sighed thoughtfully. "We're all made by the same God, so more than likely we're pretty much the same."
Cleav looked at her approvingly. "I'd never thought of 'river critters' that way."
Pulling Esme closer, he set his chin lightly on the top of her head. "You're very likely correct. We are probably pretty much the same."
Smiling proudly at his agreement, Esme snuggled against the man at her side.
"That old Steelhead is sleeping for sure," she said.
"Do you think he's dreaming?"
"Sure enough." Then curiously she asked, "What do you think fish dream about?"
Considering the question, Cleav's lips finally curved into a smile, and he placed a gentle kiss in the sweet-smelling hair on the top of her head.
"I bet that Gentleman has some long-finned female Rainbow swimming through his dreams."
Esme giggled for a minute and then sobered. "Wouldn't he want a Steelhead?" she asked. "A woman more like himself?"
Pulling back slightly, he raised her chin to look into her eyes.
"Is that what you think?" he asked her softly. As she nodded mutely, he shook his head. "No, Esme," he said. "The Gentleman's memories are for bearing, not for sharing."
A tensionless quiet settled between them.
"Are we still talking about fish?" she asked.
"No," Cleav replied again.
"I—" Esme forgot what she meant to ask as his mouth came down on hers.
His lips were soft and warm, but they were demanding. No sweet, gentle pressure, but hot urgency guided him. The persuasive movement of his mouth teased and tempted her to respond in kind.
Esme twisted against him, holding his broad shoulders, trying to bring herself as close to him as possible. Side by side was not nearly intimate enough.
Cleav pulled her into his lap facing him. The new position forced Esme's dress indecently upward, baring her legs to him. Cleav's hands took advantage. Possessively, he ran his strong hands along the length of her calves and thighs, making her feel hot and sweet all over.
"Kiss me, Hillbaby," he murmured softly before he plunged his tongue deeply into her mouth.
She did. She was as eager for the taste of him as he was for her.
Cleav moaned in appreciation as Esme teased him even more immodestly to demonstrate her gratitude.
She ran her hands through his hair. She thrilled at its smooth, silky sleekness and breathed deeply of the spicy masculine smell.
