by Fiona Lowe
She shook her head in amazement at the lurid colour. ‘Obviously we don’t need to be camouflaged. I bet you could probably see that bucket on a satellite picture.’
Dimples appeared in his cheeks. ‘Crocodiles like a bright colour.’
Fear gushed through her, draining the blood from her face. Snakes she could handle but the thought of the prehistoric creatures that could move with such deathly speed terrified her.
‘Hey.’ His fingers suddenly brushed her chin, tilting it upward. He spoke softly. ‘I’m joking. I’d never put you into danger.’
She gazed into eyes dark with remorse, dusky with care and light with something else she couldn’t quite pin down.
He had so much care to give. He deserved to find a woman who would stay with him and love him.
Caught in his penetrating gaze it was almost all she could do to nod her understanding but she somehow managed to find her voice. ‘Sorry. I know you wouldn’t put us in peril—it’s just that I have this thing about crocodiles.’
‘Most of us do.’ He dropped his fingers from her chin, caught her hand in his and together they started walking.
‘Kirra has salt-water crocodiles in the ocean and strolls along the water’s edge are out. But there are no crocodiles in this area and when I got permission from the traditional owners to bring you out here, I checked again.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re most welcome.’
His smile sent quivering trails of delight through her and she squeezed his hand in appreciation, loving the feel of his palm against hers.
The bush got thicker and he dropped her hand, needing both arms to bush-bash and hold up branches so she could duck under them. She followed behind, admiring his athleticism and the way his shorts moved across what she imagined was a taut behind.
‘Ooh-h.’ Her foot suddenly sank up to her ankles into blue-grey mud and she swung her head around, taking in her environs. She’d been so busy being gloriously distracted by Flynn that she hadn’t noticed the change in vegetation. Low spindly trees with bright green leaves and exposed roots surrounded her.
‘Mangroves.’ She lifted her foot up with a sucking squelch and tried to stand on a large root. ‘We’re gathering food in mangroves?’ She couldn’t hide her disbelief.
His eyes twinkled. ‘Nature’s nursery. Come on, there’s some fabulous food here.’ He strode off, oblivious to the mud, a man on a mission.
She gingerly took another step, which sent mud flicking onto her calves before her feet immediately disappeared into more mud. She stepped carefully again but still mud splattered her legs.
It’s only mud. Live for the moment—you don’t know how long you’ve got.
Flynn, now twenty metres ahead, turned and gave her a wave and a smile. A smile with a magnetic force field that encircled her, pulling her toward him.
She plunged her feet into the mud and waded, closing the distance between them.
He squatted down. ‘This is what you’re looking for as you walk.’ He ran his finger along criss-crossing trails in the mud before digging down under the roots of the mangrove. A moment later he triumphantly held aloft a large black shell.
‘What is it?’ She peered at the long spiral shell.
‘A whelk. It’s a sea snail. We cook them in the coals and they taste brilliant.’ He tossed it into the bucket and then quickly harvested a dozen.
‘Now it’s your turn.’
She stared at the mud, trying not to think about what could be hidden in it, and plunged her hand into the soggy depths. As the mud squished between her fingers she couldn’t help herself and a girly squeal escaped from her lips. She quickly pulled her hand back, the sudden action making her overbalance, and sat down hard in the mud.
Flynn’s mirth rang out loud and clear.
Resignation and amusement spun through her as the water seeped through her cargo pants. ‘You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?’
His body shook with laughter. ‘Probably more than I should.’ He pulled his digital camera out of his pocket. ‘Smile.’
She tilted her head, gave a pout and with a muddy hand flicked back her hair as if she were a model on a shoot.
The camera trembled in Flynn’s hands before he steadied it and she heard the electronic sound of the shutter.
The moment he slid the camera back into his pocket she hurled a handful of mud at him, catching him on the shoulder.
‘Hey!’ For a second his face wore a stunned expression and then he grinned.
A grin of fun, a grin of pleasure. A grin of pure intent.
At that precise moment she realised she hadn’t thought this through and she was a sitting duck for a retaliatory attack.
As his hand scooped up a large glop of mud, she hauled herself up, with one hand on a mangrove and the other filled with sludgy ammunition.
A chuckle wafted on the hot air and then mud caught her between the shoulder blades, the water dribbling down her back, cool in the midday heat. She threw wildly as she tried to gain her balance.
‘You missed by a mile. I’m over here.’
Foolishly she turned, the action leaving her wide open and completely unprotected.
Mud splattered her neck and chest, sticking her T-shirt to her skin. ‘You’ve done it now. I’m showing no mercy.’ She flung her arm back and arced it forward, black goop flying through the air and hitting his arm.
‘Right! That’s it. When I catch you, you’re going to be dunked in mud.’
Joy and delight surged through her as she ducked and darted through the mangroves, hurling mud and laughing more than she could ever remember.
Flynn had the aim of a marksman and rarely missed. She, on the other hand, was being outplayed and outmanoeuvred.
She recognised the ribbon Flynn had tied on the tree when they’d first arrived in the mangroves and she took a sharp left, seeking retreat, running back to firmer ground and away from the mud.
She heard the crack and snap of vegetation and knew Flynn had followed her. Panting with exertion and doubled up with laughter, she held up her hands in surrender when he appeared in the clearing by the truck. ‘I give up. You’re too good.’
Dimples shone like stars in his cheeks. ‘I am, aren’t I?’ He stood in front of her, tall, dark and deliciously mud splattered, holding the ridiculously bright yellow bucket. His eyes danced with devilment. ‘Just remember that next time you start a mud fight with the master.’
Laughing, she shook her head at him before giving a mock bow. ‘So, wise one, is there anywhere I can wash this stinking mud off me?’ She pulled at her wet and filthy clothes.
His eyes darkened and his gaze seemed fixed on her shirt. ‘I know the perfect place.’ He swung the bucket into the back of the truck. ‘Hop in.’
Mia pulled a couple of old towels out of her bag and spread them out to protect the seats, before unlacing her boots and pulling her feet from their soggy confines.
Flynn turned the key and the truck lurched forward over the rough ground. ‘You’ll love this place.’ He turned and winked. ‘There’s no mud.’
‘I’m liking it already.’ She leaned back and as she lifted a drink bottle to her lips she gave in to an overwhelming need and sneaked sideways glances at Flynn. How could one man make her feel so alive in a way she’d never known before?
She dragged her gaze away and looked out the window. ‘The vegetation’s just got thicker.’
Flynn nodded approvingly, like a teacher with a student who was finally making progress. ‘See, you’re learning already. The thicker vegetation means water is close by.’
He stopped the vehicle and opened the door. ‘It’s only a short walk through that grove of paperbarks.’
Mia picked up the towels and clambered out of the vehicle, her wet pants sticking to her. Jamming her hat on her head, she didn’t care what she looked like, she just wanted to immerse herself in cool, fresh water.
Flynn rounded the back of the truck, holding his battered hat in h
is left hand. His gaze lazily flicked from her head to her toes, spending time on the journey down.
Heat unfurled from deep within her, rolling out in waves.
He grabbed her hand. ‘Prepare yourself for a treat.’
Is it you? The errant thought took hold as he led the way though the eucalypts.
She caught the glint of sunlight on water through the clumps of palms and lush vegetation and suddenly she was standing on the edge of a waterhole, fed by a rushing stream of fresh, sparkling water so clear that she could see tiny fish. Delicate ferns grew out of the mossy banks, the vivid green in stark contrast to the burnt brown and orange that characterised the land a mere two hundred metres away.
‘Apart from the palms, I could be back in Tassie. I love it.’
Flynn beamed. ‘I knew you would.’ He dropped her hand and reached up, untangling a large rope, which hung from a sturdy gumtree. He pulled it forward, his grip firm, the muscles in his arms taut with definition. With an almighty yell he jumped out over the water and cannonballed into its depths.
Mia threw her head back in laughter as water sprayed all over her and mud ran in rivulets down her legs.
He reappeared a few seconds later, flicking water from his hair, his T-shirt hiding nothing as it moulded itself to his broad chest. ‘It’s magnificent.’
You’re magnificent. She leaned over and caught the rope. ‘Look out, I’m coming in.’ She wrapped her hands round the coarse, damp rope and swung herself out over the water.
A feeling of freedom rushed through her as she sailed through the air, and when she let go of the rope she screamed, not from fear but because she could. Her toes hit the water, the chill racing up her legs, and then she was submerged in a blaze of refreshing bubbles.
She kicked up and swam until she could feel sand under her toes. She opened her eyes to find Flynn’s hazel gaze seeking hers. ‘This is glorious.’
He smiled a long, slow smile that sent mini-shock waves of pleasure rocking through her. His hand reached out and with the pad of his thumb he brushed away the remnants of the mud on her cheek. ‘You’re glorious. Even covered in mud you’re completely sensational.’ The words came out low and tremulous.
Her breath stalled in her throat as his fingers trailed along her jaw—a feather-light touch with incendiary properties. Her knees buckled and she gripped his arm.
His hand slowly curved behind her neck, and she moved toward him, drawn by the invisible force of attraction that had been building between them from the moment they’d met.
It was as if every bone in her body had dissolved and she could no longer support herself. She laid her head on his shoulder, with her chest pressed against his, feeling his heart pounding under her breast, and she knew at that moment this was exactly where she wanted to be.
She wanted him.
She was tired of fighting this overwhelming attraction. She wanted his arms wrapped tightly around her, his stubble grazing her cheek and his hot mouth working its magic all over her, leaving no place untouched. She wanted it all.
Live for the moment.
For the first time in her life she was going to take what she wanted and not worry about the future.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FLYNN gloried in the feel of Mia’s wet body pressed against his own as his heart pounded his urgent need for her to every cell of his body. His lips trailed kisses along the curve of her ear and somehow he managed to speak through a hoarse throat. ‘This thing between us, this simmering attraction, you feel it too, don’t you?’
She slowly raised her head, unmistakable desire clear and bold in her sea-blue eyes. ‘Oh, yes.’
His body tightened at her low and husky response. It took every ounce of his self-control not to plunder her mouth right there and then. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. ‘Do you have a plan?’
A flash of something sparked for a second behind the desire in her eyes and then faded as fast as it had appeared. ‘I don’t make plans. I just take things day by day.’ She raised her hand to his cheek. ‘Right now I want to make love to you. It’s as simple as that.’
Perfect. Her words released his corralled lust, the stampede of need stripping away almost all rational thought, but one small voice spoke up. Women never see sex as simple. He opened his mouth to reply but she immediately rested her forefinger against his lips, perception shining in her eyes and understanding lining her smile.
‘Shh, don’t panic. I don’t expect you to marry me, I don’t expect or want anything from you except this.’ Her mouth tilted against his, her lips hot, hard and demanding.
White lights showered in his head, and with a moan he greedily returned the kiss, taking what she offered and seeking even more.
Wet arms snaked around his neck, fingers gripped his hair and her taste exploded in his mouth as wild as the honey they’d supped on earlier. He’d never experienced a kiss like it. Frank and unabashed lust danced with a poignant tenderness. With each and every wondrous exploration her mouth managed to give and take simultaneously, threatening to shatter the wall he’d so carefully constructed around his heart.
Mia suddenly found the thin barrier of wet clothing between them more than she could bear. She wanted to feel Flynn’s skin against hers but she couldn’t bear for her lips to abandon his so she tried to push his T-shirt up his back. But the wet fabric stuck like a second skin.
Her need to be closer to him overrode her need to stay connected to the kiss and she pulled back. ‘Wet clothes suck.’
His laugh sent trails of delight shivering through her, which doubled in intensity as he hauled his T-shirt over his head, exposing a muscular chest and stomach with a smattering of dark hair trailing downwards and disappearing under the waistband of his shorts. She had to force breath into her lungs.
He held out his arms to her. ‘Is this better?’
Better? He was a gift. Her gift. ‘Almost.’ Her gaze fell to his waist. ‘But you’re not completely unwrapped.’
‘I will be in a moment.’ He bent down to shuck his shorts.
She wanted to touch him, taste him and hold him against her, but she had to get her own clothes off first. Her fingers fumbled and her arms got tangled in cloying, wet cotton as she tried to drag her shirt over her head. Need duelled with frustration. The shirt finally came free and she managed to kick off her shorts. She tossed the soggy garments onto the bank next to Flynn’s clothes and then reached down to unclasp her bra.
His hand covered hers, stalling her intent. ‘I want to do that.’
She stared up into eyes as dark as polished jarrah. ‘Really?’
He nodded almost hypnotically. ‘Really.’
With a slow and deliberate touch he trailed the fingers of his free hand down along the ruched strap of her bra, across the lacy edges and down into the cleft between her breasts.
Her breasts strained against the soft fabric as each light caress fired off a volley of sensation, both delicious and tormenting at the same time.
His fingers undid the clasp with ease and with an almost reverent touch his hands cupped her breasts, supporting their tingling and aching weight.
‘You’re beautiful.’ His thumb brushed her nipples.
A moan left her lips as her head fell back, her body quivering but demanding more.
With his hand on one breast, his mouth closed over the other, his heat roared through her like a fireball, torching every part of her and branding her as his.
Her legs buckled.
He pulled her against him and she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his desire for her hard and firm against her thigh. The wonder that she could arouse him showered over her, giving her a taste of power, and deep inside her a pulse throbbed.
She gave herself up to every glorious sensation, letting them rule her body and her mind, letting them drive out every fear and dread for the future, and letting them take her out of her normal world into a realm she couldn’t have imagined existed.
The only thing that existe
d was his touch on her and selfishly she took it all.
He raised his head.
Don’t stop, please, don’t stop. Through the haze of desire she managed to focus on him. His eyes burned brightly with a fundamental craving. A craving for her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward, kissing him, seeking his essence and giving her own.
His palms gripped her buttocks, holding her close, and his chest shuddered against hers, his groan vibrating in her mouth. Then one hand slid between her thighs and his thumb caressed her.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
She shattered in a moment, crying out as sensation ripped through her—giving, taking, changing. Creating a kernel of hope.
She sank against him, her head resting on his neck, embarrassment staining her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. Who knew I was this easy?’
‘Shh.’ He stroked her head, his voice soft. ‘I wanted to give that to you. I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be glad.’
Her heart soared in awe. She’d never had such a considerate lover.
He carried her through the water until his back was resting against the mossy bank. Holding her with one arm, he reached for his shorts.
She looked up over his shoulder. ‘You came prepared?’
He grinned. ‘One of us had to have a plan.’ His fingers reached into his pocket.
She couldn’t stop the wide smile breaking across her face. He’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. ‘Good thinking. But I think it’s my turn to give you something.’ She plucked the small blue packet out of his hand.
‘Hey!’ He reached for it, his free hand wrapping around her wrist.
She quickly switched hands, knowing his other arm held her. ‘I promise I’ll be very thorough.’
He growled deep in his throat. ‘That’s what I’m worried about.’ He suddenly let her go, grabbing the condom as she fell back, laughing.
The water slid over her as joy surged through her. She surfaced, still laughing. Flynn stood before her, tall and proud like a warrior ready for battle. Her laughter died in her throat as heady need exploded and muscles twitched, aching to be filled.
