It took half an hour to land their first fish, but he explained to her they were either here or they weren’t. And he was right—once he caught the first one, the next ones followed quickly. They found a rhythm eventually. He caught the giant fish and pushed the net toward her where she pulled them out as best as she could manage and cut the gills with a knife he’d packed.
Usually, fishing was tedious and boring for her because she spent the entire time on the pole, thinking about all the things she still had to do back at the homestead. But today, she was having a blast. Ian knew the area and knew the exact fishing technique for this spot in the river, and they were on the fish. Each one they caught would feed them for several meals. Plus, she knew her workload at the homestead had been cut in half with Ian’s presence, so she could let the never-ending to-do list go for a while and just have fun.
For hours, laughter mingled with the soft gurgling sound of the river as she and Ian teased each other. He was hard to look away from, smiling like this. He had dimples, which she would’ve never guessed under his beard. And time and time again, his eyes were drawn to her, as if he was having the same trouble keeping his attention away.
Finally, Ian said, “I think we have as much as we can carry.” He hopped easily up the boulders, jumped the stream over to her, and pulled her against his chest, swaying as he dropped the net to the muddy bank. “You are my good luck charm. I don’t think I’ve ever caught so many on one trip.”
“We make a good team,” she murmured happily. He was getting her all wet, but she couldn’t even muster the energy to care. She was tired, hungry, and her arms shook with fatigue from hauling the heavy fish, but she hadn’t ever been so happy. Maybe Ian was magic.
“You know what I keep thinking about?” he asked in a naughty, low voice as he scanned the woods behind her.
Oh, she could guess, but she would play along. “What?”
Ian dipped down and sucked on her bottom lip, grazing his teeth against her before he eased back with a wicked grin. “You touching yourself.”
“I thought you said that wasn’t appropriate talk for our first date,” she joked.
“I changed my mind,” he whispered, then kissed her again, deeper this time.
“Mmm,” she moaned helplessly as he guided her backward. Her shoulder blades bumped against the rough bark of a tree, and she stretched up on her toes and whispered against his ear. “I’d like it better if you touched me.”
Ian froze for just a moment before he leaned against her and asked, “Really?”
Elyse nodded and ran her hands up under his damp shirt to his warm skin underneath. His muscles were hard as bricks, and she flattened her palms against his abs just to feel them flex with every ragged breath he drew. Ian’s lips were on hers again, kissing her slowly, thoroughly, as he popped the snap of her jeans open. He smiled against her lips and pulled her zipper down slow. Holy hell, she was desperate for his touch. Shifting his weight to the side, he slid his hand down the front of her pants under her panties.
“Cold!” she gasped out as his river wet hand cupped her sex.
“Sorry,” he murmured, but he didn’t sound sorry at all. He had that sexy, growly voice again.
Slowly, he slid his hand upward and back down, brushing her clit softly. “So wet already,” he murmured, dragging a trail of fire down her neck with his lips.
“Please,” she begged, needing more.
“Please what?” he asked innocently.
“Inside,” she said on a breath.
His response was instantaneous, and so was the curious humming in his throat. He pushed his finger into her, and she cried out at how good it felt. She hadn’t been touched like this in so long, and Ian had been building a slow burning fire inside of her since the day she’d met him.
“Noisy mate,” he said.
Mate? Her thoughts were swirling. His words didn’t make sense, but right now, with him moving his finger inside of her, it was hard to care. She moaned and closed her eyes, tilted her head back to give him access to her neck.
A low feral sound filled the air, and he whispered, “I like when you give me your neck, woman.”
Desperate to feel more of his skin, she pushed the hem of his shirt upward, over his head, and threw it on the ground beside them with a wet sound. His arm and chest were flexed as he worked her closer to release, but the hard definition of his muscles weren’t what had her drawn tight like a bow. He was marked up by dark red scars. Four long ones across his chest, and a mess of them across his ribcage. She wanted to know what happened—wanted to know everything, but not when she was so close to release. Right now, she wanted to appreciate his rugged sex-appeal. Burly, dominant, scarred-up man who had softened for her.