Leave Me Breathless

‘Chunky Monkey for breakfast?’

I flash her the inside of the tub. ‘What about it?’

The small laugh she allows to escape lights up her face, and it’s truly a sight to behold. ‘Well, I just wanted to break the ice.’ She waves a hand between us. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude on Thursday night, or in the shop Friday morning.’ She frowns. ‘Or in the pub Saturday night.’

‘I didn’t think you were rude. Shy, maybe.’

‘I’m not shy,’ she retorts, far too quickly. Defensively.

‘Okay.’ I plunge my spoon in the tub and set it on the picnic table next to me. She’s definitely shy. And maybe awkward. ‘How’s your knee?’ My eyes drop down to her leg and find a pretty pathetic dressing covering it.

‘Fine.’ Her stare is back on my chest, her nervous fingers twiddling.

Then . . . silence. And it begins to get awkward again.

So I intervene. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi,’ she says, looking up at me as she blinks rapidly. ‘I think I need some abs.’

I choke on nothing. ‘Sorry?’

‘Water!’ she yells, taking a blind step back as she proceeds to laugh, a little deranged.

She’s not looking where she’s going. She’s flustered. Embarrassed. I can see what’s about to happen, all so very clearly. ‘Hey, watch the—’

I’m too late. Her foot lands on the branch, her arms begin to flail, and she starts to fall backward. Fucking hell, she’ll be injured again, and once again it’ll be my fault.

‘Shit,’ she yelps. I lunge forward and catch her hand in the nick of time, hauling her forward with a little too much force.

Mistake.

Now she’s flying toward me, and when her body crashes into mine, I stagger, catching my own damn foot on a branch and falling to my back on the dirt. I wince at the impact, leaves and dust wafting up around me, twigs digging into my skin.

‘Fuck,’ I curse, my eyes squeezed shut. And when I open them, I find her plummeting face-first toward me. Oh shit. My muscles lock naturally, bracing for impact.

I note her wide eyes. I note the mortification on her face. I note my blood warming.

She lands right on top of me with a thud, and I grunt before forcing myself to be still, mindful there is only a tiny towel around my waist. Good God. I gulp and breathe in, slow and controlled, as she remains with her face squished into my chest.

‘Water,’ she murmurs eventually. ‘I meant to say I need some water.’ Placing her palms into my pecs, she pushes herself up and looks at me, her face crimson, her fingers flexing a little into my flesh.

And I find myself laughing on the inside, though I keep my face straight. ‘You’re feeling me up, and I don’t even know your name.’

Cringing all over me, she quickly removes her hands and sits up. She cringes harder. ‘And now I’m straddling you,’ she sighs, her shoulders slumping, though I get the feeling she is past being embarrassed. ‘My name’s Hannah,’ she mumbles.

‘I’m Ryan.’

‘I know.’ She shrugs when I cock my head in question. ‘The girl in the shop told me.’

Interesting. Is that because she asked? Quite unexpectedly, my thoughts go into overdrive, thinking how good she looks straddling me. Adorable, messy, and good. I find my arms lifting and folding back under my head as I admire her. ‘Nice to meet you, Hannah,’ I say flatly, and she rolls her eyes dramatically.

‘I would say the same, but . . .’ She drifts off as her eyes drift, too, roaming the lengths of my arms until she finds my eyes. ‘Nice to meet you, too.’ And she chuckles, her head shaking in dismay. The sound is clean, pure, and if I don’t remove myself now, she’ll find out that it’s also gotten my blood pumping. So begrudgingly, I engage my muscles and she takes the hint, lifting her arse from my stomach. Though she flinches as she stands, prompting me to rush to help her with the one hand that’s not holding my towel in place.

‘Okay?’ I ask, running my eyes over her gorgeously bedraggled body.

She nods and steps away. ‘I caught my knee on the way down.’

I quickly find the graze, noting that the bandage is hanging off and the scrape is bleeding again. She reaches down and pats around the edges of the dressing, trying to refix it. ‘Damn it.’ Giving up, she lets the dressing flop down, and I wince when the wound comes into view.

‘Did you clean it?’ I ask, taking her arm and leading her to a nearby log.

‘Yes.’ Her arse drops to the wood, and she gazes up at me.

Her impossibly big blues are wide in surprise as I lower to my haunches before her, getting a better look. ‘What did you clean it with?’ I reach forward and dab at the edge, not liking the sight of raw flesh.