body.
I really am in love, aren’t I?
Smiling, he walked toward her in the water, intending to pull her into his arms and kiss her again.
She tilted her head a little, as if listening. Then, with a wicked smile, she slashed her arm into the water and sent a wave flying and hitting him in the face.
He coughed. “Hey! What in the name of the seven levels of hell was that for?”
She was laughing. She was beaming. She was happy.
Oh, fates. Yes, he was in love. That look on her face did something to him. It lit up a part of his heart he hadn’t known existed. She was happy, and suddenly he was happy too.
Is this what it feels like? How have I ever lived without this?
“You deserved it.”
“What did I do?”
“Do I need a specific example?”
“It’s only been a day!”
“It’s been an eventful day. And you’re a hound.” And with that, she splashed him again, laughing.
“Oh, that’s it—” He dove for her, but she must have heard him coming and jumped back. She dodged him! He was treated to another face full of water for his trouble. Growling, he dove for her again. The little fox was fast, and he was apparently noisy. He watched her place her hand in the waves to feel when he was coming toward her.
Clever.
It took him a few minutes—of trying harder than he’d like to admit—before he finally caught up with her and managed to snatch her around the waist. “Gotcha!”
She squealed, laughing, and shrieked as he picked her up and threw her in the air, letting her come back down on the water with a heavy sploosh!
When she came up, he expected her to be mad at him. He caught her quickly in his arms, just in case. He had been rougher than he had intended. It just got away from him. But instead, she was smiling and laughing, and she shoved his chest with both hands. He let her push him off balance, only because he grabbed her wrists at the last second and pulled her along with him.
He balanced his weight easily in the water, floating with just his head and shoulders above the surface. He was tilted backward, and she was there right on top of him. Body to body. He felt her bare midriff against his abdomen. Her thighs on his.
And, if the look on her face was any indication, she felt something else of his as well. He couldn’t help it. He’d been at full mast since he met her. Before she could protest, before she could slap him again, he caught her cheek with his hand and kissed her.
He wrapped his other arm around her lower back, pressing her to him, making sure there was no question in her mind about how he felt. He kept the kiss passionate but gentle. He wouldn’t take too much this time. This was an experiment. A test.
Do you want me like I want you, my clever fox? Even just a little? Or do you merely put up with my kisses because you feel like you don’t have a choice?
Ever so slowly, he broke the kiss. He let his lips hover close to hers, let her feel him there.
She drifted her hand over his bare chest, and for a moment he was certain he’d have to count to six. But instead, she combed her fingers through his hair. Then she did the most remarkable thing. She wandered her fingers over his face, not to caress him—but as if to learn him. Fingertips grazed his brow, his cheekbone, his nose, his jawline.
“This is wrong…” she protested, like she was trying to convince herself.
“No, it isn’t.”
“You’re a killer.”
“So many people are, Hope. So many people.”
“But…” She trailed off. “I can’t feel this way.”
He shushed her gently. He let her explore his face for a moment in silence before a thought came to him. And like all things, he never questioned his first impulse, and he asked, whether or not he should. “Do you dream?” he whispered.
“Vividly,” she whispered back. She moved her other hand to join the first. He let his eyes drift shut as he caressed him.
“What is it like?”
“Things beyond words. I don’t see things. Even in my dreams, I’m still blind.” Her voice was soft, thick with emotion. “But sometimes I think I dream of what colors might be.”
I love you, Hope. He couldn’t say the words yet. He’d scare her. He didn’t want to scare her. He wanted