“Hollywood,” he said with a sigh. “This isn’t a trip. It’s an escape.”
“Oh, yeah.” She knew that. Of course she did. It wasn’t her fault that there were parts of her escape she found exciting. Like seeing the white-lipped peccaries, the macaws, and the otters. She glanced up at John out of the corner of her eye. Yeah, there was a lot about this escape she found thrilling.
“Come on, crazy woman, let’s get cleaned up.”
“And catch fish,” she said hopefully as she followed him to the water’s edge.
“And catch fish.” He sounded so defeated that she almost laughed.
Chapter 17
They took turns washing in the lake, while the other kept a lookout. Because Beast was worried that som
ething would bite off his dick while he was in the water, he convinced Belinda they should keep their underwear on. It’d been partly true and partly out of desperation. He knew seeing her naked wasn’t going to do anything for his self-control, and he was already on edge when it came to the woman. One false move and he would fall.
They dried off on the edge of the lake, using the two parts of the ripped sheet.
“I can’t stand it,” Belinda said from behind Beast. “I need to wash my underwear too.”
He stilled. “You’re getting naked?”
“Yes. If it bothers you, don’t look, but I’m washing everything,” she declared. “I don’t know how well it will dry in this humidity, but I can’t stand the dirt anymore. We can camp here for the night, can’t we? I don’t think the otters will be back, but if we camp away from the lake, we should be fine. I don’t know what we’re going to sleep on, though. Do you think this water is safe to drink? It should be, shouldn’t it?”
He was becoming used to her incessant chatter when she was nervous. Sometimes, it even amused him, but right now, he was still focused on the naked part of their conversation.
“Are you sure about getting naked? Something might eat you.” Yeah, he really shouldn’t have put that thought in his head.
She laughed. “Don’t be daft. Now, do you think we can drink the water?”
Beast tried valiantly to drag his thoughts away from her stripping off the last of her clothes. He could do this. He could keep his eyes off her. It wasn’t hard.
“Not sure I want to drink water that had six huge, furry otters swimming in it,” he said. Good, he sounded calm. In control. He broke out in a sweat, as he realised it wouldn’t last.
“I don’t see any bamboo,” she said. “Our only option is lake water, and I can’t remember how to make a filter. Oh, maybe there’s a little stream going into the lake. We should look for one. Running water is cleaner than sitting water, isn’t it?”
How the hell would he know? As far as he was concerned, water came in two forms—out of a faucet and in a bottle. He heard the rustle of clothes behind him, then splashing in the water. Don’t think about her naked. Don’t imagine all that creamy, smooth skin. Don’t think about what she’d taste like. Don’t remember what she felt like coming apart in your hands…
“Are you even listening to me?”
No. He wasn’t. He was trying very hard to shore up his self-control, so that he didn’t lift her naked body and impale her on his now painfully hard cock.
“Sure. Filter. Water. Something about a…” Don’t say bed. Don’t even think about a bed. “…place to sleep.”
“Oh, John.” A warmth seeped through him at the way she said the hated name, as though it was something precious. He gave himself a mental slap on the back of the head, hoping it would knock some sense into him and stop him mooning over a Hollywood star. “I was too busy dealing with myself and excited to bathe. I didn’t look at your back. You’re all scratched and bruised.”
He was wrapped up in his own thoughts and wasn’t aware of her approach, until he felt her hand on his back. He froze, his whole world suddenly reduced to the delicate touch of her fingertips on his skin.
“That shirt was no protection for you on your slide down the slope.”
He heard the sympathy in her voice. Empathy over cuts and bruises he barely felt. Sure, he was a bit banged up, but it was nothing compared to what he endured during a fight. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” she said. “Do you have any idea how easily things can become infected in this environment? I don’t even have any antiseptic cream in my bag. Wait! I do have something that will help.”
She ran off, and Beast turned to see what she was doing. It was a mistake. The woman was indeed stark naked. In one split second, the blood that enabled coherent thought drained to his already hard cock and made it throb with desperation.
Satin skin flowed over curves made for a man’s hands to caress. Full breasts with dark pink nipples swung as she ran. And when she turned to dig something out of her tiny bag, Beast’s mouth fell open at the sight of her nipped-in waist, gently flaring hips and perfect heart-shaped ass.
An image popped into his mind. He saw himself coming up behind her, running his hand down her spine, pressing between her shoulder blades until her breasts were flush against his bed. His black sheets would make her pale skin glow. In a soft, low voice, he would tell her to turn her face until her cheek rested on the mattress, her golden hair spread out behind her. That way, he could watch her face as he grasped her hips, pulled her up and angled her to just the right position for him to drive into her. She would gasp and flex around him, sending agonising ripples of delight throughout his body, a sweet agony of sensation he knew would be his addiction. And then he’d withdraw, slow, smooth, controlled, and listen for that breathless moan she made when he built her orgasm with his touch. And he’d—