"I-I'll tell you my name," she offered, and winced when her voice squeaked.

"Don't bother. Where are you stuck?"

Swallowing hard, she fixed her gaze on one of the flat metal buttons trailing down his shirt. As for the tight bands of muscle rippling beneath the dark blue cloth... well, she refused to notice them at all. "Amanda Lennox. That's my name."

"That's dandy. I repeat: Where are you stuck?" His hand came out of nowhere. His index finger hooked under her chin, dragging her gaze up. His warm, sweet breath blasted over her face when he said, "Better give some thought to answering me this time, princess. You've got exactly ten seconds to tell me what's going on under this water. After that, my hands start doing some exploring of their own."

"My right leg," she whispered hoarsely, trying to ignore the way his calloused thumb was stroking the very tip of her chin—as well as the way her skin smoldered in response. "Actually it's my foot. It's stuck in... something. I don't know what."

"What does it feel like?" His hand turned inward, slipping lower. His thumb nestled the base of her throat, pushing against the pulse that leapt wildly in the creamy hollow. The rest of his fingers hooked behind her neck. He exerted no pressure.

"A hole," she said, her voice so shaky and soft now it was almost nonexiste

nt. "It feels like a hole."

"What kind of hole?"

"A-oh!"

A change in the current pulled their bodies together, then just as quickly pulled them apart.

She gasped.

He tensed.

A strained moment passed. Time was marked by the cold water lapping at their bodies.

His hand dropped away. Amanda almost cried with relief... until she felt those same strong fingers hauling her water-heavy skirt and petticoat up to her waist. Her knees buckled.

"Goda'mighty, lady, stand up, open your eyes, and pay some attention to what we're doing here. That's better. Now, hold this damn thing out of my way."

The "damn thing" in question was her skirt. He coaxed her cold, waterlogged fingers around fistfuls of the saturated cloth. Amanda wasn't sure which was worse; holding her skirt up so a complete stranger could have free access to her naked legs, or watching the man's head dip as he hunkered down in the water and pressed his cheek against her stomach. His breaths seeped through the damp cloth in rhythmic waves, searing the sensitive flesh beneath like a white-hot brand.

He shifted, pressing closer. Amanda almost toppled over. Only the sinewy arm he coiled around her waist kept her upright. The feel of his warm, slippery fingers skimming beneath the hem of her skirt did not fortify her liquidy knees.

His fingers caressed her naked thigh as he adjusted her weight, moving her until her abdomen ground against his shoulder. Against her will, her gaze dipped. The water lapped at a spot below his shoulder blades, soaking the tips of his hair and making the fringe ride the twisting currents. He didn't seem to notice that. She, on the other hand, noticed everything; like the way his hand strayed very slowly over the outer curve of her hip and down her thigh, the way his fingers tickled past the back of her knee, then slid unhurriedly down her calf.

When he reached her ankle, Amanda noticed something else. Pain, and a lot of it. She winced and put her hands on his shoulders for balance. Her fingers curled inward, making deep grooves in his hard, unyielding flesh. She didn't cry out until she felt his fingertips probe her tender, swollen ankle.

"That hurt?" he asked.

"God, yes!"

He sighed.

She shivered, but this time entirely from pain.

"All right. I'll try and be gentle, but... Jesus, lady, how the hell'd you get your foot stuck in a tree?"

His voice was muffled from where his mouth pressed into the side of her waist. Amanda felt every movement of his lips. Oddly enough, that overrode the pain stabbing up her leg, as well as the disgust that was evident in his tone.

She glanced down, intending to glare him into silence. The thought wilted when she saw the way they were entwined. The water licked at their bodies like a lover's caress. His arms were around her, pinning her intimately close. She could feel each breath rush from his chest. The way she was forced to either arch her hips into him or risk tumbling backward was... well, it was indecent. It was also shockingly nice.

The tightening of his body said she wasn't the only one to think so. "I can't pull your ankle out—it's too swollen," he said gruffly "I'll have to cut the bark away. Think you can hold still long enough?"

"Do I have a choice?"

He pulled back only far enough to glance up at her. "You want to get out any time soon?" She nodded. "Then no, you don't have a choice. Hold still. It'd be a damn shame if I cut into all that sweet white skin of yours instead of bark."

Tags: Rebecca Sinclair Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net