Brett blinked away the unsettling image of her wrapped around someone other than him and forced a smile. “I’m fine.” He ran his hands over her bare butt, and hauled her tighter against him, telling himself that the gesture wasn’t as possessive as it felt. “Thanks to you.”
“And thanks to me, we have another condom.” She waggled her brows. “And I’m willing to share.”
With him. Some of the unwanted tension eased from his shoulders. “Sharing is good.”
“I agree. So why don’t we share a cold bucket shower then see if we can’t find a way to share the condom I brought?”
His fingers flexed against her soft skin. “Like I said, sharing is good.”
13
“OH. MY. GOD.”
The words exploded from between Kayla’s lips with what little breath the icy water sluicing down her naked body had left in her lungs. Rivulets streamed down her wet hair, over her goosebumped flesh, and she clasped her arms around herself in a vain effort to stave off the chill. She glared at Brett, who stood-grinning, damn him-several feet away, holding the empty bucket. “That is crazy cold.”
“It’s a little chilly.”
“A little? Feels like it came from a freakin’ ice floe.” She eyed his wet nakedness with a combination of flat-out admiration and deep suspicion. “You didn’t say boo when I tossed a bucketful on you, nor did the frigid temperature rip the air from your lungs. What are you, made of steel?”
“Men possess more body heat than women.” His gaze ran down her naked form with unmistakable appreciation. “Besides, looking at you supplied a lot of heat.”
Teeth chattering, she grabbed her soap and quickly lathered up, watching Brett squat down along the river bank to refill the bucket from the rapidly moving water. A bit of her chill was forgotten when he stood and walked toward her, tall and leanly muscled, deliciously wet from the dousing she’d given him, and clearly not suffering from shrinkage.
When he stood in front of her, he set down the bucket. “Need some help?”
Before she could reply, he cupped her soapy breasts and flicked his thumbs over her hard nipples. Heat instantly shot through her. “You should have warned me how cold that water was,” she said, trying to sound stern, an effort that was lost when her words ended on a low groan as his magic hands roamed her wet, soapy skin.
“If I had, you never would have let me dump a bucket of it over your head. And look at the fun we’d be missing out on now.”
True. There was no way she could deny that his touch was incredible and warming her up fast. In gratitude, she slowly rubbed her bar of soap across his chest. His strong fingers massaged their way down her sore, tired back, dragging a groan from her.
He looked at her hands gliding across his chest. “You’re getting me all in a lather,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his mouth over hers. “In more ways than one.”
Her gaze flicked down to his arousal which rose between them, hard, wet and so very tempting. She moved her slick hands slowly downward, palming the bar of soap, leaving a trail of suds down his taut abs. When she encircled his erection in her slippery fist and gently squeezed, he sucked in a hard breath and his eyes slammed shut.
Encouraged by his response, she grasped him lightly, moving her hand slowly up and down, from the base of his shaft to the tip, while she ran the bar of soap between his legs. A long groan escaped him, and he thrust into her hand, all while his fingers played over the base of her spine, which, no doubt about it, was highly sensitive.
“You know,” she said, her voice husky with arousal, “this hiking gig is turning out much better than I ever thought it would.”
“No argument here. Ahhh…that feels really good.”
“This?” She tightened her fingers slightly around his shaft and circled the pad of her thumb over the engorged head.
“Yeah. That.” His fingers slipped lower, over her buttocks, then between them to stroke her from behind. The soap slipped from her hand and she raised her leg, hooking it over his hip, opening herself to his wickedly arousing touch. Leaning down, he lightly grazed her neck with his teeth. “Really glad you brought that second condom,” he murmured against her ear.
“Me, too. I only wish I had it in my hand right now.”
“Personally, I really like what you have in your hand right now.”
Her chuckle turned into a sigh of pleasure when he eased two fingers inside her.
“Still cold?” he murmured against her neck.
“No. God, no.”
His magic fingers brought her to the edge, but just before she plunged over, he stopped, pulling his fingers from her body and a moan of protest from her throat.
“Hold that thought,” he said, the glitter in his eyes letting her know he knew exactly where he’d left her. He moved to her shorts, snatched the condom from her pocket, then returned. After tucking their towels under one arm and lifting the bucket of water by the handle, he took her hand and led her to the large rock several feet from the riverbank where he spread the towels across the gray surface, then stepped up behind her.
Peeking over her shoulder, she saw him bend down, then a gentle trickle of cold water touched her shoulder, meandering downward, eliciting a gasp. He rinsed all the soap from her body with that same unhurried drizzle, walking slowly around her so as to rinse everywhere, the leisurely trails of cold water an erotically charged contrast to her overheated skin, invigorating and stimulating as they coasted downward.
When all the soap was washed away from her tingling skin, Kayla returned the favor, pouring a snail-paced stream of water over his body, watching the suds cruise down his taut muscles, leaving him clean, wet and more beautiful than any man had a right to be. His gaze never left hers, his eyes dark with desire, his chest rising and falling with his increasingly rapid breaths.
The sight of the suds trailing down his body, so tight with arousal and with his obvious effort to remain still, shot arrows of fire through her. By the time she finished, she was all but panting to feel him inside her. In spite of the cold water and the approaching chill in the air as the sun’s light waned, she felt hot. Desperate. The folds between her legs swollen, heavy and pulsing. She dropped the bucket. It fell to the ground with a dull thud, and she reached for him.
“Brett…”
His name passed her lips, a husky murmur filled with the need she couldn’t have hidden even if she’d tried, and the fire already burning in his eyes flared brighter. Without a word he stepped behind her, pressing his front against her back. Heat emanated from his wet skin, shooting fevered shivers through her. Helpless to remain still, her hips circled against his erection which nestled against the base of her spine. She heard his quick intake of breath, and he smoothed his hands down her arms, entwining their fingers. He then leaned forward, bending her body beneath his, setting her palms against the towels covering the rock.
“Don’t move,” he whispered against her ear.
“Who wants to move?” She felt him straighten, and in a haze of lust, heard the condom wrapper being torn open. Bent at the waist, she looked over her shoulder. Saw him roll on the protection. Their gazes met and held. Then, grasping her hips in his large, strong hands, he stepped behind her.
Anticipation that bordered on pain curled through her, and she widened her stance, arching her back, her body screaming for him, for release, as if she hadn’t been touched in years.
His first thrust was a long, slow, delicious slide that dragged a ragged groan from her throat.
“Again,” she whispered.
He withdrew, then sank into her again and again, his strokes leisurely, teasing, each one pushing her closer to a climax she desperately wanted, yet also wanted to postpone for as long as possible because he just felt…