She dismounted, kicked off her boots, and hesitated for a moment, while Dot bent her head to the dry grasses. Then she thought what the hell and stripped out of her clothes. One step into the cold stream nearly changed her mind, but then she walked on into the water, which was still cold enough to cause her breath to catch in her lungs. “Geez,” she whispered, and Dot nickered softly, as if in agreement.
She waded deeper, sucking in her stomach, then finally taking the plunge and letting her entire body be enveloped in the frigid creek. Beneath the surface, she blew out her breath, watching the air bubbles rise, and couldn’t help thinking back to another time, another place, another body of water.
Don’t go there, she warned herself, but images of the horror of that night, pictures in her mind of a bloody knife, of poor Ruth being raped, of a monster of a masked man intent on murder, all slipped through her mind in a kaleidoscope of brutality.
She flung herself to the surface and tossed the wet hair from her eyes.
For a second, while water drops clung to her eyelashes, she thought she spied the silhouette of a man in the shadows.
Her heart began to pound, and she glanced at her mare, still plucking at a few blades of grass poking up from the ground. Dot was as calm as ever, her bridle jangling softly as she moved toward another riderless horse, Thor, the largest gelding in their small herd.
What the devil— “Hey!” a male voice said, and she gasped just as she recognized that it belonged to Beau. He stepped away from a low branch, and she saw him, all six feet of him, on the bank.
“What’re you doing here?” she demanded, heart still racing. She eyed her messy pile of discarded clothes.
“Spying on you, I guess.”
She hoped the water was moving quickly enough and the evening shadows were long enough that her body was at least distorted. What were the chances of that in this clear mountain water? “Wanna hand me my clothes?” She raised an arm out of the pool.
“Want the truth?” He smiled lazily.
“Come on, come on,” she said, wiggling her fingers.
“Maybe you should come get them.”
“And maybe you shouldn’t be such an ass about it.”
He didn’t move, and that damned smile stretched a little wider. He was enjoying this.
Narrowing her eyes, trying to figure him out, she wondered at the game he was playing, flirting with her when she was pretty certain he resented her being on her mother’s plot and taking up residence in Faye’s house. She laid her hand out flat, and eventually he reached for the pile of clothes—bra, panties, T-shirt, and shorts—that she’d dropped on the bank.
“A shame,” he said, reaching over the water and handing her the clothes.
“Is it? I don’t think so.” She snatched her belongings and, before she could think twice, grabbed his empty fingers with her free hand and yanked. Hard. Momentum pulled him forward, and he tumbled into the pool, splashing and gasping in surprise. “Damn!”
“Serves you right,” she mumbled under her breath as she tried to climb to the shore while keeping her clothes dry.
No such luck. She was halfway out of the pool when she felt strong fingers wrap around her ankle and give a sharp tug.
“Beau!” Falling forward, she lost her footing. Her four pieces of apparel flew upward to flutter down into the water just as she too slid under the surface again. What a colossal mistake!
Why had she baited him? Sputtering to the surface, she found him next to her, his wet face inches from her own.
“To think I was worried about you,” he said.
“Worried? Why?”
“You weren’t at the house, but your Explorer was there.”
“And that concerned you?”
“Yeah, a little. ’Til I saw Dot wasn’t in the herd and figured you might’ve gone for a ride. I rounded up Thor and thought I’d check it out. See that you were okay.”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“I can see that.”
Inching her chin up a fraction, she said, “Trust me, I can take care of myself.”
Again the amused grin, but he was so much closer now, his eyes as clear as the water, his gaze finding hers and causing her heart to beat faster once more.
“I can,” she insisted, though the fact that he’d just toppled her into the pool argued the point.
“Let’s see.” There was a bit of mischief in his expression, a touch of the rebel boy she’d imagined he once was. She wondered fleetingly if, had they met as teenagers, sparks would have flared, if a wild, almost taboo, romance would have ensued? He was, after all, not just Larimer Tate’s son, but her stepbrother as well. Not that it really mattered. Except in her mind.
“What are you thinking?” Geez, did she sound breathless? What was wrong with her?
His gaze took in every dripping inch of her face.
Her blood began to pound in her ears.
Get out of the water, Shiloh. Whatever you’re contemplating, forget it. Any involvement with Beau Tate is a mistake of cataclysmic proportions.
“How about this?” he asked, and before she could back up, he licked a drop of water from her chin. When she gasped, he kissed her on the mouth. Hard. Warm wet lips met hers, and strong arms surrounded her, wrapping around her naked torso and crushing her to him. Though she wasn’t able to stand, he was, and he held her floating above the bottom of the pool.
Her eyes closed, and her mind spun. Despite the cold water, a flush spread up her body, radiating from her core outward, causing her skin to tingle and her brain to fill with the same incredible, erotic visions of her dreams.
This is dangerous, Shiloh. Get out now. While you still can.
Calloused fingers splayed over her back, and she ignored the warnings sliding through her mind, chased them away as she let herself go . . . let herself get caught up in the wonder of him.
Why not throw caution to the wind?
What would it hurt?
Everything. Every damned thing. Think, Shiloh, think!
But she didn’t, and when she felt him start to slide out of his jeans and shirt, she helped him shed the clingy wet clothes until she felt skin on skin, body on body, desire on desire.
He never stopped kissing her. Not when he removed his shirt or kicked off his Levis and boots. Not even when she lifted her face for air. Instead he trailed his lips down her neck to her collarbone, to kiss her chilled skin, causing it to heat, creating a fire within at odds with the icy water.
“I don’t . . .”
“Sure, you do,” he said, and before she could utter another protest, he lifted her upward and settled her onto him, the apex of her legs opening as he thrust hard, upward, and pulled her down against him.
She gasped, her organs clenching around him, her whole body jerking. Shuddering, she closed her eyes and gave in to the rhythmic and sensual rubbing, the fire he stoked brighter and brighter within. Her breathing became rapid and ragged, echoed by his own hoarse breaths. Her fingernails dug into the slick, hard muscles of his shoulders, while the water swirled around them.
Raw emotion captured her soul, while her skin was on fire, and every nerve ending was alive with his touch.
God help me, she thought as control fell away.
All doubts fled as the very center of her universe seemed to be the physical connection between them, the upward thrust, the downward pulls, the pure ecstasy of becoming one.