sweet scent of flowers and the musty fragrance of rotting leaves underfoot were almost heady in the hot, humid air. Sweat trickled down my neck after an hour, and I slid the hair tie off my wrist, pulling my straggling hair into a messy bun to get it off my neck.
“Give me your bug repellant,” he said, “insects love the back of the neck. It’s the dessert bar on the buffet to them.”
I stopped and dug out my menthol and tea tree oil repellant lotion and handed it to him. The pungent scent surrounded us as he opened the bottle and poured some onto his fingertips. Then his calloused fingers were massaging the back of my neck, dipping down inside the neckline of my shirt. He stroked so lightly with those slippery fingers all around my throat and down along my collarbones. My lips were parted and I knew that I was breathing heavily. I wanted those hands to do other, scandalous things. I bit my lip shamelessly. I didn’t shrug away or resist his touch. I was eating it up, getting some of the touch I craved.
“Thanks,” I breathed.”
“Anyplace else you want bug repellant?” he asked coyly.
“I can think of a few places, but—" I cut myself off, bit my tongue. “No thank you. I’m fine.”
“Were you about to proposition me?” he asked with mischief in his eyes.
“You’re really good with your hands,” I replied with a grin, “a girl could get carried away if she wasn’t careful.”
“I get the impression you’re always careful, Morgan,” he said.
“Usually, but on this trip, I’m not so sure. Maybe I’ve had too much sun or maybe the spa massage got me too relaxed,” I gave a laugh that was almost nervous.
“What’s the matter?”
“I think it’s you. I’m acting like a teenager around you.”
“It doesn’t seem that way to me, but maybe that’s because I’m used to acting like one myself,” he said rather charitably.
“No, I think I just feel a little silly around you. The way I did when I was like fourteen and saw a cute boy. So forgive me if I say something—immature.”
“You’re forgiven, as long as you can overlook anything I say that’s just as bad,” he said.
I held out my hand for his, “It’s a deal.”
We shook hands and pretended to ignore the crackle of electricity between us from that slight contact. Our path wound upward and along a craggy, narrow passage with rocks and tree roots rising on either side of us. I stopped twice to record some observations into my phone and take photos. It was beautiful.
“It’s like the forest in Snow White almost,” I said. “Gorgeous and a little creepy at the same time.”
Billy just looked at me and then helped me along. The path itself was barely wide enough to put one foot in front of the other in some places, tight and slippery. He gripped my hand. I held on tightly. We went on at a faster pace once we got out of the narrow passage. I was sweating, breathing hard, drinking my water at every opportunity. For an hour or so, we barely spoke. I held up my hand once to stop because I needed to rest for a second although I pretended to take pictures for my article. I couldn’t have done an audio recording of anything except me panting like I was going to collapse. He came over to me and took something out of his pack and draped it over the back of my neck. It was one of those cooling towels, damp and icy cold on the back of my hot, prickly neck. I sighed out loud.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said, practically moaning from the relief.
I glanced at him, and he had a green cooling towel on the back of his own neck. I wanted to grab the ends of his and use them to drag his mouth to mine.
Jesus Morgan, get a grip. I wanted to hide my face in my hands. Having a cooling towel when I’m sweaty was not sexy. Giving me one was not a romantic gesture. Along his hairline, his auburn hair was darker and curling with sweat. It made him even more handsome. Damnation, I was weak for this man.
“Thanks,” I said gruffly, “let’s keep moving.”
He nodded and I shoved off the tree trunk I had been leaning against and trudged after him. The trail was no joke. After about another half an hour, we emerged through the trees into a clearing