My lips part with a sob. My brain goes soft, and my body hums with the promise of a euphoric climax. I push harder, stroking my clit faster until I’m panting and sobbing for a release only that stranger can offer me.
The orgasm comes with enough power to arch my back, my whole body trembling as delicious pleasure rolls through me in long, pulsing waves. My core clenches, leaving me heaving and shaking.
It’s his name on my lips when I come apart. Those gorgeous and intense hazel eyes I think of when pleasure explodes through me until I’m wrung out. My hand drops to my stomach, and the tremble in my thighs fades to tiny spasms. Itry to open my eyes, knowing I should get out of bed and… do something.
Pack. Right, I need to pack for tomorrow. Better to have everything ready before tomorrow, so I don’t forget anything.
I try to move, shift my legs over the side of the bed, but my body won’t cooperate. As do my eyes when I try to open them. Instead, I choose to sink deeper into the warm covers.
It’s his face I see last before everything fades.
Chapter Four
Wyatt
“What is this?”
I point at the pair of gloves Acca tosses over the counter along with the rest of my items. I know the cunning old woman loves making money, but how is she going to explain tossing a pair of small gloves onto my pile?
“Gloves, don’t you have eyes?”
I pick them up and study them. They are a couple of sizes too small for me and would barely fit three of my fingers. The only person with a hand this small is… “Stop meddling,” I growl at Acca, who doesn’t bat an eye at my tone. While the scowl I give her would send most people scurrying back to the door,, it barely shakes her. “You sent her to me yesterday, knowing full well I don’t like people on my property.”
“You didn’t send her off like you’ve done with the others,” she challenges, holding my gaze until neither of us wavers, and then she laughs. “Now, be a good boy and toss those into the bag. Something tells me our little conservationist is going to need them, and we can’t have those pretty fingers getting too cold.”
“I’m sure she’ll pack her own pair of gloves and doesn’t need a meddling old woman packing another for her.”
“Twenty bucks says she forgets them.”
I shake my head as I pull out my wallet to pay. “You don’t know this girl, Acca. How can you predict what she will and won’t forget?”
“I’ve been on this earth long enough to have a great read on people. Twenty bucks says she forgets her gloves.”
“Fine,” I say, tossing the damned things into the bag. “You just made me pay sixty bucks for something she doesn’t need. That’s damn expensive for a pair of work gloves, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” She grins at me as I gather my stuff to leave.
“Take care of my dog, old lady!” I grunt on my way out.
I load everything into the truck and drive ten minutes to Sylvie’s townhouse. She comes rushing out of the door before I’ve even parked, wild strawberry hair catching the sun as she scrambles into the passenger’s seat.
“Hi, it’s cold,” she whispers, blowing into her cupped hands before splaying her fingers over the heater vents. “Sorry. You’re probably used to this and barely feel it.”
“Where are your gloves?”
“Oh, I think I left them in Acca’s 4-wheeler yesterday. Can we grab them on the way?”
I shake my head at that cunning old woman. With a sigh, I reach into the back and produce the pair that Acca bullied me into buying. “Here, don’t lose these.”
“You bought me a pair,” she beams up at me, those blue eyes bright, and it takes everything in me to look back at the road. The ride to the harbor passes with her warming her hands.I question the wisdom of taking her away for a night or two in the wild, but I can’t exactly turn back now, not with the excitement I can see in her eyes.
I force my eyes forward and my thoughts where they belong—on the trip, on the provisions I’ve packed, on anything except the way she looks in the morning light. It doesn’t entirely work.
I park the truck and climb out to load all our supplies onto the fishing boat. The owner is a grumpy, sea-worn old man I’ve worked with a dozen times before. He works the boat with his grandson, a fresh-faced teenager who keeps stealing glances at a completely oblivious Sylvie. She, in turn, seems fascinated by the boat as I continue working.
“The boat is bigger than I expected!” There is an awed look on her face as she looks around, eyes bright with excitement. “Hey, why can’t we just rent a boat and go ourselves instead of hitching a ride from fishermen?” she asks, keeping her voice low so it doesn’t carry to the others.
I don’t hide my amusement at that. She’s done her research on the sea lions—I’ll give her that—but she clearly didn’t spend much time on the logistics of getting to them.. “Even going between islands out here is never routine, and the island we’re going to is further out and has no harbor. We can’t dock a boat there overnight. We have to be dropped off.”
