Read Online The Water's Kiss by Harper Alibeck - Free Book Online

is.” Evan skipped a few stones on the water, his skill yielding three, four shallow skips. Ripples of chest muscle danced across his skin as he stretched his arm for the throw. She wanted to lick him, kiss him all over, throw her body on his and –
    Claire’s ears perked. Was that a sound? Alarmed, she stared at Evan, who leaned in as if to kiss her again. The bushes rustled; he stopped, having heard it too. They split in two, each rushing to their respective clothes piles. Each was dressed in seconds, separated by yards of vegetation.
    She looked around wildly and then – there. A deer. A doe and her baby. Both stared intently at the humans, then the doe nuzzled her babe, shooing it away from the alcove. Claire sighed, then looked at Evan, who just shrugged.
    Tears filled her eyes. He frowned, a look of compassion and empathy, of heartbreak and loneliness. “Oh, Claire,” he sighed, taking her into his arms, an embrace not of passion but of sadness. Melting, she let the tears spill over, felt them dampen parts of his dry shirt, felt herself empty a tiny part of her that needed so much more.
    A rooster crowed in the distance. Time. Oh, how she needed more time. But what she needed she rarely received, and this would be no different. “I must go.” A quick kiss on the cheek was all she could muster before she broke free and ran, madly seeking speed to replace despair.

    Ah, God, he was absolutely blind with arousal. So blind he didn’t see the tree root in his path, the thick trunk tripping him, sending him elbows-first into a thorny thatch of branches. Extricating him took more mental power than he retained, and soon he found himself helpless, like a ten year old ensnared in a loose clothesline, a hot temper ready to blow from sheer stupidity and overwhelm.
    Breathe, Evan, breathe. The dark cyclone of fury slowed to a gray wind, a shadow of a storm within, and in short time he pulled away the prickers and stood, tiny threads torn here and there on his coat but none the worse for wear. Scratches dotted his unclothed skin and that suited him just fine; the niggling pain took his mind off the emotional torment of Claire.
    Of course he wouldn’t give her a baby! Was she mad? He knew they could not consummate until they were wed. Oh, how he knew it, restraint fraying at the edges of his world, like a loose thread so fragile that one small tug unraveled all.
    Her skin. Her face. Her body in his, thick, round cheeks of her back side in his hands, palms filled with her curves, his lips on the pulse of her neck, his body touching hers as the rush of climax overtook her, wanting so much to be the source of that, wishing to be in her, to thrust and –
    Damn it, he was hard once more.
    The walk home became all the more uncomfortable. Stings from scratches were preferable to this. He shifted himself, setting his trouser buttons in a more aligned manner and walked fast, then jogged, hoping the exertion would pump his blood elsewhere, anywhere but there.
    Hopeless. Not only was the situation without a shred of a chance, he himself was pitiful. Holding a woman under the waterfall as she...though it had been an amazing experience, it had provided him with no closure.
    Thunder rumbled overhead and he picked up his pace. Just what he needed – a storm to chill his bones. Illness was preferable to this. As he walked briskly another clap of thunder struck and then, as if it hit the perfect frequency to make a pitch strike a chord within him, he –
    Dear God.
    He knew how to make this work.
    Running home, he wrote the letter in his head, knowing exactly what to say to put his plan in place. The risk was all hers, though. Would she take such a high-stakes chance?
    He could never live with himself if he did not try.
    And, he suspected, neither could she.

Dear Claire,
Meet me you-know-where tomorrow.
Yours,
E.
    Bridie had delivered the sealed note just now, a puzzling conspirator’s smile on her face, only hours after Claire’s