“You are doing beautifully, my sweet.”
It didn’t feel like it; she felt like a quivering mess. But she had made it this far.
“I’m just going to lower you a bit more into the water. Are you ready?”
“Isn’t this deep enough?” Her voice quivered noticeably.
“We won’t go any deeper, but you can’t learn to swim standing like this. My arms will be around you the entire time, all right?”
She nodded, and he slowly lowered them into the water, cradling her against him, until he was on his knees and the water lapped around her shoulders. He’d positioned her so that he held her by her waist and chest and her feet floated out to the side. She fought the nausea as the memories took hold, of the suffocating darkness, of the water filling her nose and mouth.
She couldn’t do this. She had to get out of here.
Panic erupted, and she flailed wildly, trying to stand up. But his arms held her close.
“Let me go!” she gasped.
“Shhh…” he said softly. “I have you. You are perfectly safe.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. He didn’t understand. Look at him—he was a rock. He’d probably never felt a moment of fear in his life. This was so humiliating. She didn’t want him to see her like this.
She buried her face against his warm neck and clasped his broad shoulders, her entire body shaking, his solid strength an iron tether to hold on to. He simply held her, easing her panic with the soft caress of his hand on her back. His hand slid down her side to her hips. To her bottom. And achingly close to between her legs. His touch was feather soft and deftly arousing. She stopped shaking. He stroked her until her body softened and the water no longer felt like a pool of lead, but lighter and freer—like a cloud. Until the panic receded and she couldn’t think of anything but his hands on her skin.
They were so close, his mouth was only inches from hers. She was achingly aware of her breasts plastered against his chest. The drenched fabric of her shirt was an insignificant barrier to the wide expanse of powerful muscle.
There was nothing decent about her garments now. Nothing of her shape was hidden from his view. And though he was taking pains not to make her self-conscious, she knew he was very aware of it as well.
“Is that better?” he murmured against her ear, the warmth of his breath making her shiver again.
She wanted nothing more than to dissolve against him. Her body felt warm and languid, but also aroused and aching for his touch. Which was exactly what he’d intended. She eyed him.The rogue.But there was some consolation. If the strain on his face was any indication, he was not unaffected.
“Yes,” she answered. “It is better. Your teaching method is somewhat unconventional, but effective.” She shifted against him, not surprised to feel the hard length of his erection nudging her bottom. Good, he was just as aroused as she. “And dangerous.”
His fingers trailed down the curve of her spine. A teasing stroke when she wanted pressure. “Aye,” he admitted. “Very dangerous.”
Realizing she’d best put an end to this perilous game, she lifted her gaze back to his. “What’s next?”
The passion still burned in his gaze. A simmering threat or a promise, she didn’t know.
“The next part you must do on your own. I want you to dip your chin in the water, up to your nose, keeping your mouth closed. You will still be able to breathe through your nose. Like this.” He demonstrated.
Her eyes widened. She wanted to refuse, but he was right: She would never learn to swim and always be vulnerable if she kept allowing fear to win.
Which, of course, was easier said than done. She tried three times, but each time the water started to close over her mouth, her head seemed to jerk up of its own volition.
He held her hands, murmuring little encouragements, but it didn’t help.
She looked at him hopelessly. “It’s no use. I can’t do it.”
He tipped her chin with his finger so that he was looking right into her eyes. “Your fear will not go away in one day, lass. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve already made great progress.”
“You’re not disappointed in me?” She bit her lip. “I know you’re busy, and I haven’t proved a very apt student.”
A lazy smile curved his wide, sensual mouth. A mouth that teased and spoke of so many unknown pleasures. “Rather the opposite. I look forward to more lessons. I can’t imagine a more”—he slid his hand down the curve of her hip—“delightful pupil.”
Flora’s cheeks warmed. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Every minute,” he admitted unabashedly. “Would you like to try one more time?” His mouth moved just a fraction of an inch closer. She felt the warm spice of his breath on her cheek. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. Her pulse spiked, but not with fear. Every nerve ending was ragged with anticipation. She would agree to anything, if only he would kiss her.
