Page 44 of Lost Girl

“Going overthat.I amnotthe most coordinated.”

The way she says it, in that proper British accent. It’s so cute. “It looks taller from here. I promise it’s not that bad,” I chuckle.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m not an outdoorsy girl, Tavi. I don’t climb, I don’t hike, none of that. And there’s a reason for it—my uncoordinated arse can’t do it.”

“You’ll be fine.” I’m full-on laughing now, tugging her along the last few feet until we reach it. “See? Just a few steps up. I’ll help you over, okay?”

“Was that not the plan all along?” she questions candidly. And the smile that follows?

Just damn.

“Yeah,” I smile back, “I guess it was.”

Wasn’t entirely so easy, though. Helping her up and over was nothing. Getting her down, however?

One helluva tease.

Had to slide her down the length of my body until she could stand on her own two feet, leaving me to reign in the rush of desire that ripped through me.

Less than five minutes later we’re halfway down the beach, the cliff’s edge shrinking beside us on our right. Wendy’s hand has once again found its way into mine and once again, she’s gone rather silent. Perhaps it’s because we’re not shrouded by darkness, but I don’t mind it this time around.

We carry on this way up the clearing to higher ground and through the sparse tropical forest near the bottom of Hook’s Cascade until we hit the edge of Lost Lake. There isn’t a dock on this side, but a small row boat always rests on its shoreline, awaiting anyone who might need it.

“I hope you’re not afraid of deep waters,” I quip jokingly, guiding her to the boat’s edge.

“How deep?”

“No one knows. That’s why it’s called Lost Lake.”

“That sounds promising,” she mutters, using my grip for support as she climbs in.

“We’ll be fine,” I assure her, withholding my amusement.

As soon as she’s seated, I untie the rope wrapped around a lone wooden beam and push the vessel into the water. Hopping in, I grab a hold of the oars on each side. All the while, she’s watching me intently, hands grasping the edge of the bench, her legs between mine. The hem of her pale blue dress has ridden up a ways, revealing the creamiest thighs I’ve ever seen. I have to swallow past the lump that forms in my throat at the thought of what they might feel like beneath my touch.

Or wrapped around my neck.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me?

I’m on a serious mission for crying out loud, am supposed to be paying attention, keen on our surroundings at all times. Yet with every mile closer to home, she becomes more and more alluring, and I lose more and more of my focus.

There’s something about her.

“Can I ask you something?”

The query pulls me out of my own head. “Of course,” I reply, pushing the oars, then pulling them back, my knuckles white from the strain.

The strain to keep my ass in check and my head in the game.

“What’s going to happen when they realize I’m gone?” Judging by the anxious look in her eyes, I can tell she’s been mulling it over for quite some time.

“Nothing.” I shrug.

Wendy cocks her head aside, lips curling dubiously. “Ihighlydoubt that.”

“Hook isn’t here,” I remind her. “His bloodsucking monkeys won’t react without his permission, meaning they’ll need to wait until he and Tinksley return. Getting messages across the portal isn’t easy without the right tool.”

“What’s the right tool?”

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