Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,73
cove.”
Gah, the swoon. Maybe offering a tender session of love making should be up for grabs. “All we need are some candles and rose petals.”
“How about a bonfire and wood chips?”
“Even better.” I nip at his chin, merging us away from potential land mines of heart and flowers.
His fingers bite into the curve at my hip. “Someone’s back to being her feisty self this morning.”
A flip leaps in my belly as we enter safe territory again. I want to believe the flustered idiocies are behind me, especially where Halder is concerned. That awkward skin is shed and replaced with vivacious luminosity. Fantasies aren’t just for the guys. I flip my tangled waves as this bold identity takes a stand. “It’s all your fault. You’ve created a ravenous spitfire.”
“It’s probably all of this fresh air. The elevation is probably making you dizzy.”
I shift against him, nudging the unavoidable pole standing erect and needy. “Seems I’m not the only one feeling the effects. Is that a hint? I gotta admit, you’re not being subtle. There’s no missing that sizable clue.”
His groan is almost painful. “Oh, now you’re ready to go again?”
I widen my eyes at his seemingly surprised question. “Not sure my lady bits can handle another go-round until later. You kept me up too late.”
Halder sputters. “Me?”
“Okay, fine. I’ll take the blame.” And rightfully so. It’s his fault for opening the floodgates, though. This inner fiend has been fed and she won’t stay satisfied for long.
He gives my ass a swat. “Let’s get dressed before our urges take control.”
I roll off him with a sigh. “Such hardship.”
“You’ll thank me once we find the trout.”
My stomach releases a loud grumble. I slap a hand over the noisy complaint. “I’m a tad ahead of schedule in that regard.”
“I don’t mind advance compliments to the chef.” He reaches for his discarded briefs and conceals that mouthwatering shaft with the tight cotton. Such a pity to hide the steely rod from view. I find myself already looking forward to being intimately acquainted with him.
With an accentuated swing for visual impact, I sashay to the spread piles of clothes by the pit. My layers are extra crisp and crinkly from the unexpected wash cycle. Every thread and scrap are warm thanks to the low-burning flames. I trap a moan while slipping the toasty shirt over my bare skin. That soft sensation wrapped in smoky comfort almost makes up for leaving our snuggle den.
Halder is suited up and ready for our hike before I’m even lacing my boots. That speed of his can be quite impressive. I imagine his stomach is leading the urgency. We haven’t enjoyed a decent meal since arriving at this site. Not that opportunity was on our side with all the accompanying madness. We didn’t wander far from our little notch in this cliff. Halder was too worried about me recuperating. He distracted me with sex, protein bars, and endless amounts of cuddling when I suggested trekking farther to find a fishing spot. Who am I to resist such pleasures of luxury? I lost track of the orgasms he granted, but the state of my body is enough to track the score. He’s totally winning. This is a game I’ll gladly forfeit in my favor.
“All set?” Halder tucks the hatchet into his belt loop. His silhouette is outlined in the mouth of our hollow. Sunlight filters in, giving him an ethereal vibe.
“Yeah, I was just admiring the view.” I step toward him with an outstretched hand.
He laces our gloved fingers together and leads me outside. His earlier joke about the temperature being hotter turns out to be accurate. The lack of breeze, blended with a cloudless sky, makes for a pleasant morning. Without the bitter chill snapping at my cheeks, I’m able to appreciate our journey as if we’re on a lazy stroll.
We follow the shoreline from a safe distance, with Halder as a barrier between the water and me. My floundering incident is still recent enough to raise his hackles. Once again, I find a giddy zing zipping under my skin at him taking extra precautions—not that the aftermath of me getting drenched was so horrible. I could do without the frigid depths, though.
The jabbering flow howls over rustling branches and scrambling critters. Since we’re on the proper side of the river, I can focus on more than the reckless stream. There are more patches of grass and dirt visible, compared to snow and ice. That sight gives me hope for this