Chapter 21
Rae panted as Struan led her across the uneven dry mud towards his favourite place in the world.
The dense foliage of the surrounding rowan trees and birches provided enough shelter that the early evening sun couldn’t quite reach them here – the only reason he’d dared lead her along this path at all – but it didn’t help the sweat dripping down his back, thankfully hidden by his backpack.
‘I’m not your friend anymore,’ she stated, batting a branch of berries out of her face. ‘You said it was a short walk.’
‘We’re almost there. Promise.’ The rushing water of Foxglove Falls sputtered through the forest, and he could already taste the fresh damp, feel the soil soften under his soles, with every step closer.
‘I’m going to remind you, again, that I’m still hungover.’
He helped her climb over a cluster of protruding tree roots, all but dragging her past the next turn so that she would finally understand why he’d been so eager to fetch her here.
She didn’t see at first, too busy casting him a scathing glare that, with her beetroot-red face and too-big sunglasses, only made her look more adorable.
And then she must have heard the waterfall, because she pushed her shades onto her head to take in the view.
It was only a small, shallow pool feeding into Belbarrow’s river from the craggy mountains above, which was why few people outside of town had discovered it.
Struan was intent to keep it that way. There was a magic to having a place that was just his – and Harper and Fraser’s once, but he was still in the process of erasing those memories.
It could be hers, theirs, if she wanted it. The orchard would still be baking, and the river wasn’t deep enough at this time of year to dip in much more than a toe. Here, they’d be cool.
And completely, utterly alone.
‘I never knew this was here,’ Rae breathed, inching towards the light-dappled ripples. She placed her picnic basket down on the flat rock that Struan usually perched on. Only here was his mind muted, the birdsong and lapping water loud enough to drown out his usual chatter.
Her awed smile made him smile, too, as he dropped his pack beside the basket. ‘I found it on a hike a couple of years back.’
‘Do you bring your clients here?’
‘No, never. Places like this are better left alone. I love it too much to share it with them.’
‘Ah. So, it’s your sexy time spot.’ She nodded as though she understood perfectly.
She didn’t. Not at all. He perched on the edge of the rock, the day’s warmth seeping through the fabric of his shorts. ‘I can’t say I’m not flattered by this assumption that I’m some sort of wanton sex god with great game, but it’s not accurate.’
Rae was too busy rooting through the basket for the ice pack she’d brought to express any sign of doubt. Only when she’d pressed the freezer block to her neck did she reply, ‘I definitely would never use the phrase sex god.’
‘Never say never.’ His gaze clung to her closed lids and parted lips, all pleasure and relief.
He wanted to make her feel that way. He wanted to make her comfortable, make her moan, make her something other than exhausted and irritated like she was now.
Jesus, she was making him jealous of inanimate objects.
His attention lowered to the hollow of her neck, which was shiny with sweat.
The tan lines on her shoulders left by straps now slipped off.
The red gingham of her dress, tight over his favourite parts of her – her hips and arse.
The hem had ridden up to reveal paler upper thighs and white cycling shorts.
He tugged her closer by the skirt. ‘I’ve never brought anybody here before. Only you.’
An arch of her brow. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’ His fingertips brushed over the edge of the shorts. ‘These weren’t here before.’
Was it some kind of sign to keep out? Had he been too forward by touching her in the kitchen before?
She nestled between his splayed legs, her free hand on his shoulder for balance. ‘The summer is not kind to fat women. My chub rub reached new heights today.’
He chuckled. Many of the women he worked with complained about chafing if they didn’t wear comfortable hiking clothes, so the term wasn’t new to him, but it was just another thing that sounded far more endearing when it came out of her mouth.
He especially liked how comfortable she was around that word, fat.
It wasn’t used as a way of putting herself down, nor had she punctuated it with a space left open for him to disagree, tell her she wasn’t fat, she was beautiful, like women he’d been around in the past.
She was both, and he thought maybe she knew that well enough he didn’t have to say so.
Hoped, at least.
‘I could kiss it better.’ He nudged her shorts up, looking up in asking.
Her lemonade-sharp breath fanned over his face. ‘How are you even thinking about that in this heat?’
‘Around you, it’s hard to think of anything else,’ he admitted. ‘Is it too much?’
Slowly, she shook her head and nudged close enough that his chin rested on the jut of her lower stomach. ‘No.’
She peeled up her skirt in invitation, and he hitched the shorts’ hem higher to place gentle kisses along that sensitive, chafed spot.
She wavered against him until the freezer pack dropped to the ground so she could balance with both arms on his shoulders.
He treated the other thigh with equal tenderness, a hum of hunger coursing through him when he caught scent of her sweet musk just inches away.
His nose followed the seam covering her centre, causing her to twitch against him.
‘Struan,’ she whispered, fingers scraping against his scalp and sending electricity down his spine.
He couldn’t have pulled away even if he’d wanted to, too eager for more.
‘Can I taste you, sweetheart?’ he asked.
‘I haven’t had time to shower since this morning.’
At her blush, he bit down on a grin. As though that would deter him. The sweat between her legs would only make this more enjoyable – for both of them. He wanted to lick her clean until that salt and sugar and earthiness was all over him, inside of him. ‘Good. I want you exactly as you are.’
She shifted. ‘I’m too hot for this.’
‘Aye, you are,’ he agreed, licking over her sore thighs again.
She repeated his name, her groan equal parts pleasure and discomfort. He couldn’t have that.
With that freezer pack by his feet, an idea came to him. He’d watched her pack a bottle of ice cubes for their lemonade back in the kitchen, and his hands closed around it now, the cool damp providing respite for his clammy palms.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he unscrewed the lid.
‘Cooling you down.’ He tipped a cube into his palm, a zap of cold awakening his senses. He couldn’t wait to get under the falls later, but he wanted, needed, her first – and this would be far more fun.
He was proven right when he dragged the ice cube over her stretch marks and she gulped, breath stuttering in her throat.
‘Better?’ he questioned.
She parted her legs a hair further, all the confirmation he needed.
He played like that around her thighs, leaving trails of cool water behind, until the cube was too small to hold without slipping, and then tugged her shorts and underwear down finally.
At the sight of her already soaked, his cock lurched with new desperation.
He’d been so engrossed by her that he hadn’t realised he was hard, but now that want stretched into something painfully taut.
It would have to wait. This was about her, and no amount of lust would overpower his desire to please her first. This obsession, it turned out, spurred a new generosity in him, every moan providing more fuel.
He would only be truly satiated when she was coming against his mouth.
He wouldn’t rush it. He’d soak up every drop it took to get her there.
Licking his lips, he retrieved a fresh ice cube, fingers dripping and pink as he took it, carefully, to the dark hair below her pubic bone. Another sharp gasp, another jut of her hips.
He lowered, opening her up with his free hand so that he could press the ice to her clit.
Arousal glistened all over her pink folds, and he saw her opening clench when hot met cold.
It might have been the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
More when she rocked herself over his fingers, allowing that wetness to spread.
It was difficult to keep the ice from slipping as he worked it over her again and again, exploring every corner of her pussy in an effort to memorise her reactions.
‘It feels…’ she murmured, trailing off for a moment before finishing, ‘so good.’
When the ice dropped, she keened. ‘More.’
‘Yes, chef,’ he replied, using the new ice cube to circle her clit.
‘Fuck, Struan.’ Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, T-shirt bunching in her hands.
‘You’re so pretty for me. Jesus, Rae, you’re ruining me.
’ For anyone else, because nobody could look this breathtaking on his fingers.
Nobody could listen and respond to his own movements so thoroughly.
He would do anything for her if it meant watching her blossom into something made from pleasure and desperation, and a calm he never usually saw in her.
It was a privilege to be able to drive her usual tension away, to see her relaxed and peaceful.
Just him and her, cocooned in sunshine and forest, the cool spray of the falls – and each other.
He teased her entrance with the ice cube, desperate to see that clench again. His own cock twitched in tandem as though it hadn’t yet realised he wasn’t already inside her. As though he was already matched to her rhythm, even before knowing it.
‘Oh my God,’ she was saying. ‘Don’t stop!’
It was hard to keep his strokes steady when he could do nothing but watch her writhe.
Arousal mixed with melted water dripped into his palm.
Soon, she needed his free hand to balance her hips, and only then, when he knew she was close, did he swap the ice cube for his tongue.
She was swollen and hot for him, and so, so sweet.
He devoured her in time to the waterfall’s determined cadence, her wispy noises churning through him like a frenzy. It didn’t take long for her to come, body trembling against him as he worked her through it without ever slowing, until she finally fell slack on his lap.
Her burning forehead rested against his, her taste clinging to his lips as he caught his breath.
He had no idea how it began, or who leaned in first, but then they were kissing, her teeth pinching his bottom lip in a maddening battle of hunger.
Her core ground against his erection over and over, until, strained, he could only say, ‘I need to do something about this.’
He felt like a teenager with no self-control, so horny he might come without even being touched.
She tugged his shorts down, suckling on the hinge of his jaw.
‘Rae, I mean it. You’re going to have to let me go and sort this out, otherwise I’m going to embarrass myself.
’ It would be enough to use his hand under the falls, where it wouldn’t be messy and Rae wouldn’t feel obligated to return his favour.
Now he knew she had little experience, he didn’t want something as unromantic as a hand job.
He wanted to take care of her, only her, wanted to give and give until all she knew was that white-hot fire in her belly.
But he couldn’t do that when he was falling apart at the seams himself, desperate for a release that demanded something from her.
‘You don’t want me to?’ she asked, touch running over the protrusion in his boxers.
‘I want this to be about you. For you.’
‘So make it about both of us.’ She frowned, thumb pressing against his chin to direct his surprised gaze back to her. ‘Fuck me, Struan. I want you to fuck me.’
Struan’s chest cracked open. It was the last thing he’d been expecting to hear after she’d laid her truth down for him this morning.
If they did this, he would be her first – and yet, somehow, it was him that felt vulnerable and inexperienced under her intense, pleading features.
More so because he knew he had to turn her down, a fact he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive himself for.