Read Online Hummingbird Lake by Emily March - Free Book Online Page A

paintings hanging on my wall.” He finished off his sandwich, then added, “But I can’t do fairies, Sage. Or butterflies. Don’t you paint anything else?”
    A vision of her nightmare paintings floated into her mind, but she firmly shut them out. “I don’t want to be on your wall, Rafferty.”
    He waggled his brows. “Holding out for my bed, are you?”
    “Very funny.”
    He rolled to his feet and slung his backpack over his shoulder, then held out his hand to her. “Let me show you the other pools. The Quiet Pool at night is one of my favorite places in town.”
    She put her hand in his, and he pulled her to her feet. He kept a firm grip on her hand as they crossed an open area to a pool with multiple fountains, and Sage’s artist’seye noted the visual illusion of a floor of tiles created by sprays of water collapsing in on itself. “How fun. It looks as if you could walk right across it.”
    As they moved closer, their path took them beneath the spreading branches of oak trees. Away from the cascading water of the Active Pool, Sage now became aware of the squeaks, whistles, and croaks of birds in the trees above. Must be dozens of birds , she thought.
    “Down this way,” Colt said, leading her toward a set of stairs that narrowed as they descended, the spatial change intensifying the noise made by the birds. At the bottom, a turn took them into a sunken garden where water flowed down angled walls and tall, knobby-kneed cypress trees ringed a rectangular turquoise reflecting pool like sentries. “Oh, the colors,” she murmured.
    “I knew you’d like this.”
    They were alone. Hand in hand, they strolled beside the pool, where an elevated bank rose a foot or so off the ground. The nighttime lighting was muted but for the underwater lights that caused the water to shimmer. Despite the noise from the flock of chattering birds above, the place was tranquil and serene—and also the most romantic spot she’d found herself sharing with a man for years.
    She turned to discover him watching her. “You brought me here with an ulterior motive, didn’t you, Rafferty?”
    “Yep.” He reached for her free hand and tugged her around to face him. “I’ve replayed that kiss we shared in September dozens of times in my mind. Refresh my memory, Cinnamon.”
    Rafferty wasn’t the first man to assign her a nickname based upon her hair color, but he did get points for originality. Cinnamon. She kinda liked it.
    His hands moved to her waist and he pulled her close, aligning her body to his so that her soft, feminine curvesmet his firm, masculine angles. Her heartbeat began to thrum and she lifted her arms, swaying into him, clasping her hands behind his neck.
    His lips brushed across hers, just a whisper, but enough to cause heat to flare within her. Then, again, as soft as a feather, testing and teasing and prolonging the anticipation.
    She’d missed this, Sage admitted as she allowed her hands to skim across the breadth of his shoulders. His clever fingers answered by skimming up and down her spine, leaving tingles in their wake.
    He nibbled her lips, traced them with his tongue, then finally, finally , fitted his mouth against hers and swept Sage into a storm of pleasure.
    A glorious warmth flowed out from her center as she lost herself in the moment. Colt Rafferty might be at times obnoxious and infuriating, but my oh my, the man knew how to kiss. He bombarded her senses in a way that praised and promised and proved irresistible. Only a fool would avoid this caress, this mouth, this man.
    He wasn’t in any hurry, savoring her mouth in such a way that allowed her to savor in return. To take pleasure in the strength of his embrace. To relish the taste of him, the scent of him, and to bask in the sound of his desire.
    He wanted her. She felt it in the taut muscles and hard angles pressed against her, heard it in his low-throated moan. She listened to him. Listened to the sound of … birds … hundreds of birds