Australian Escape: Her Hottest Summer Yet / The Heat of the Night

And the thumb at her hip dipped below the beltline of her shorts. He found her button, snapped it open; the slide of her zip rent the quiet river air like a promise.

His hand slid an inch within. Her breath hitched, then he lifted his hand to run the backs of his knuckles over her stomach and her breath trembled out of her.

When his hand sank into the back of her shorts, the calloused pads of his palm cradling her backside with such gentleness, such reverence, she bit her lip to stop from crying out.

Using his teeth, he pulled the other half of her bikini top free, and took her nipple in his mouth, his tongue circling the tip but not quite touching. Right as his hand dived into her shorts and a finger swiped over her, once, then twice, then found her centre with the most perfect precision.

She gave in then, crying out. The crocodiles, wherever they might be, would just have to deal.

The gentle moans that followed sounded as if they were coming from a mile away but they were all her. Coming as they did with every slide of his finger, every lathe of his tongue.

Warmth spread through her, building to a searing heat where he touched, where he caressed, where he coaxed her higher, higher, till she reached a peak of insane pleasure. And there she stayed hovering, aching, for eons. And as she felt herself tip, as she began to spill over the other side he took her mouth, his tongue and touch guiding her all the way until she was left shaking in the strongest arms.

He held her there long after while she found herself gripped by mighty aftershocks. He pulled back only when she had stilled. Lifted her face with a finger to her chin, and kissed her. Eyes open. Such deep, absorbing eyes.

She reached between them, caressed the impressive length of him, wondering how on earth she’d coped with all that the night before. Her pulse quickened with anticipation at doing so again.

Grunting, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, produced a small foil packet, which she snapped out of his grip. And with as much reverence as he’d shown her, she peeled away his pants and sheathed him, stopping every now and then for a sweet kiss, a swipe of her cheek, a lick.

With a growl he pulled her back upright, turned and backed her up against the dash. His eyes were like mercury, all slippery silver as he rid her of her bikini top and her shorts, leaving her naked.

The sun beat down on her shoulders, the dials dug into her back, and there was the occasional splash, the occasional bump of the hull, a possible deadly beast coming to say hello—but she didn’t care.

All that mattered was Jonah, eyes roving over her as if he couldn’t quite believe it. His hands followed, running over her so gently, tenderly, as if he was memorising her shape.

With a hand to his shoulder, she pulled him close, lifted a leg to hook around his hip, and then with a bone-deep sigh he was inside. Filling her slowly, achingly slowly, a sweet scrape that built till she couldn’t stand it. He pulsed inside her, deeper, deeper, deeper than she’d ever been touched.

He came with a ferocity that made her head spin, and half a second later she followed right behind. Sensation imploding until all she could feel was the pulse between her legs. In her belly. In her heart. And Jonah’s heart, thundering beneath her ear as she rested her head on his chest.

As they both struggled to drag in breaths, Jonah laughed, and Avery joined him. She lifted her head to find something fleeting and warming lighting his eyes.

Before she could pin it down he shook his head, hitched his shorts into place, then slumped back on the floor of the boat and lifted his face to the sun. “You’re not the only one having a summer to remember, Miss Shaw.”

Avery kneeled down to kiss him, then stood and spun about the boat butt naked. While Jonah lifted onto one elbow to watch, appreciation and wonder playing about his face.

And Avery wondered where she’d been her whole life.

* * *

Jonah took his time heading back.

One hand on the wheel, the other resting on Avery’s lower back as she leant over the dash in her wild bikini top and short shorts. Sunlight flickering over her through the trees lining the marshy bank; her eyes otherwise cloaked in shadows from the brim of his ancient Akubra, her lush mouth tilted up at the corners.

It was so quiet out on the river, the scenery so rugged and raw they could have been the last two people on earth.

Then a telltale splash tugged at his instincts, and he squinted against the sun beating off the water. “Look,” he said, his voice rough from under-use.

Avery blinked, followed the line of his arm, and saw. A croc. Its long brown body floating below the water snout, beady eyes, and a few bumpy scales cutting through the surface.

She stood taller, her fingers gripping the console till her nail beds turned bright pink. “It’s huge.”

“Twelve feet. Fourteen maybe.”

She tipped back her hat—which had left a red mark slicing across her forehead. “It’s looking right at me. No doubt thinking ‘there’s lunch.’”

“Don’t blame him.”

She flicked Jonah a glance, then licked her lips to cover a grin that made itself felt right in the groin. Then she turned, leant her backside against the dash, her long legs crossed at the ankles. “If, heaven forbid, I fell in right now you’d save me, right?”

“From a croc? Not on your life, princess. If he took you under that’d be it. They don’t call it a death roll for nothing.”

Her laughter was shocked, but the gleam in her eye was not. “How do the ladies resist you, Jonah North?”

“Resist me? Why do you think I let Hull skulk at my heels? Without him I’d be beating them away with a stick.”

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, as if the idea of hordes of women coming after him was not one of her happier thoughts. “Ye-ea-a-ah,” she said. “I actually half believe you. It’s counterproductive, though, you know. Only adds to the tragic Heathcliffian mien you have going on.”

“The what?”

“Nothing,” she deadpanned.

Laughing under his breath, he ran a thumb along the red line on her forehead left by the hat. When her eyes flared at the touch, her breath hitching, her cheeks filling with blood, he tucked his hand back around the wheel.

His parents hadn’t been demonstrative. Till then he’d figured he’d inherited the same. But the urge to touch Avery was strong. Too strong. So he did something he understood, reaching and slipping a hand around her waist, pulling her into the cradle between his legs.

His voice was rough as he said, “I notice Hull didn’t scare you away.”

“I notice you didn’t beat me away with a stick.”

The noticing beat between them like a pulse, until he pulled her in for a kiss. Her hand dived into the back of his hair, tugging till his skin thrummed with the sweet pleasure of her touch.

It took him longer than was smart to remember he was navigating croc-infested waters. He pulled away, thoughts all crooked. The intimacy part of this thing with Avery was so fresh, after keeping off every touch like an electric shock.

And yet he already found himself thinking towards the day her summer ended, while his simply kept on keeping on. Which was all he’d ever wanted. To belong here. In this paradise on earth. Where too much of a good thing was daily life.

The boat finally bumped against the riverbank back where they’d started, and Avery stretched away from him, yawning, leaving him to tie off. And get some space. Not that it seemed to help any. Her imprint lingered. Would do so for some time.

“Well, that was way more fun than I’d expected.”

“Can I quote you for the website?”

The yawn turned into a grin. “Your slogan can be Satisfaction Guaranteed.”

The tour operator called out a cheery welcome back, which stopped Jonah from giving her any kind of comeback. Leaving him to watch her head to the back of the boat to collect her stuff, her short shorts giving him a view of a hell of a length of leg.

She might have felt satisfied, but he felt as if his balls were in a vice.

The taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her stamped on his senses like a brand. So much so he couldn’t remember what any other woman of his experience felt like. Eyes on Avery, it was as if the rest had never existed.