Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Amusement curls his lips, and he glances at the waterfall before looking back to me. He might not be able to read minds like Misha, but right now he doesn’t need to. “Afraid you might beg me to touch you again?” he asks.
I scoff. “Do you get tired carrying that ego around with you everywhere you go?”
“You better hurry,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “They’ll come looking for us if we take too long. I’d hate to lose the little privacy we can get.”
I swallow hard, not wanting to let my thoughts linger on why we might want privacy. “Turn around,” I say.
He doesn’t. Just folds his arms and keeps his gaze locked on mine.
I scowl. “So I can undress?”
He still doesn’t move, except for his lips, which slowly curve into a mischievous grin. I tug off one boot and hurl it at him.
He snatches it from the air, chuckling, but finally gives me his back.
I’m all too aware of his presence as I unzip my dress, careful to drape it over a rock so it won’t get dirty; then I peel out of my thick socks and stockings. I’m greedy for the feeling of cool water on my skin, but I leave my undergarments on. At least they’ll provide me with a bit of modesty, and I can slip them off before putting my dress back on.
Only when I’m in as deep as my neck do I realize my mistake. “Stay there,” I shout before Finn can turn around.
“Is there a problem?” Finn asks, amusement curling his words.
I glance down at the clear, clear water and the very thin, now translucent material of my undergarments. I might as well be naked. “Why don’t you wait on the shore,” I say. “We’ll take turns.”
Slowly, he turns to face me. “Then who would wash my back?”
“You should ask Juliana. She seems like she’d like to wash any part you asked.”
His lips part, and he blinks at me. “Jealous, Princess?” He stalks toward the shoreline, shedding his tunic and unbuckling the bandolier of knives from his waist.
“No. You can do what you please, with whomever you please.”
“What I please? So, joining you in this lake—”
“Still wouldn’t be . . . proper.”
That grin grows wider, and he comes closer, discarding another item of clothing with each step. “And since when did you care about propriety?”
I bite my lip. The reasonable thing is to insist that he stay put. He would respect my wishes if I pushed the issue . . . But after all those hours riding in front of him on his horse, feeling the heat of his body and the strength of his legs cradling me? The reasonable thing doesn’t even resemble the thing I want.
So I don’t object. But I am feeling a little shy, so when he moves to peel off his pants, I dive under, distancing myself from the shore. When I surface, he’s in the lake, three feet from me, his curls wet, rivulets of water rolling down his face. That grin falls away as he studies my expression, and his eyes turn hot as they trail down to the water—to everything I know is all too exposed beneath the surface.
I splash him, and he jerks back, as if yanked from a stupor. “Eyes to yourself,” I say.
“But the view is so lovely out here,” he says. “I should thank you for not using that impressive magic of yours to hide it from me.”
My magic. Of course. With a single thought, I cast shadows around myself, weaving a gown of darkness from above my breasts to below my knees.
He brings his gaze up to meet mine. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
I shrug, then turn away from him, swimming toward the waterfall and the steady thrum of the water pounding the rocks. A moment later something grabs my foot. I draw a big breath of air before I’m pulled under. I spin beneath the surface to see what—who—has ahold of me, and Finn’s silver eyes glow back at me, somehow sparkling even down here.
He smiles as he swims toward me, catching me around the waist before he pushes us both back to the surface. I pull in a breath, but don’t have a chance to say anything before his mouth crushes down on mine. One hand grips my waist, holding me close, and the other slides into my hair as he tilts my head and slants his mouth over mine.
The water is cool, but my skin is warmer than it was on the sunny ride here—hot and needy all at once just from the brush of his tongue against mine and the feel of his hand wrapping around my hip.
When he tears away, he’s panting, dragging in big gulps of air, as if we were underwater for much longer than we were. His gaze drifts to the shore and stays there for a beat.