Page 49 of Isla

He shrugs. "Anything."

"You know that night you and your brothers came to the pub?"

"Last summer?"

I nod. "I couldn't get you out of my head, and when I got home–" I stop, swallowing hard, suddenly unsure if I should share this.

"You better finish that sentence, Isla," Henry says, dropping the tackle box and stopping me with a hand around my wrist, his fingers brushing over my racing pulse.

"I got myself there thinking about your hands on me. Your mouth." I look up at him, biting my lip.

"Fucking hell, Isla," he growls. "I would have gladly tongue-fucked you that night and then thanked you for the opportunity."

Heat pools between my legs, the ache almost unbearable. I pull my hand away and keep walking before I do something stupid like push him down right here in the open. "Your turn.”

"When Theo told us the sale of the pub went through, I had a dream about you." He pauses, licking his lips. "In that dream, I proposed to you with a ring I carved from a piece of wood. It stuck with me ever since.”

“Go on,” I say when he doesn’t continue.

“I brought a piece of driftwood back to the house the day we met on the beach."

"And?" I ask when he pauses, my heart pounding in my ears.

"I finished it this morning." He fishes in his pocket, depositing a delicate band gingerly in his palm.

My mouth drops open.

"I'm not proposing," he says as he drops to one knee.

"Then why are you on one knee?" I ask, my voice cracking. This feels like a dream. The colors are too bright, the air too crisp, the distant sound of burbling water too loud.

"God, I don't know. This was a horrible idea." He starts to get up, but I put my hands on his shoulders, stopping him.

"Say what you were going to say."

He takes off his hat, running his hand through his hair nervously. "I just want you to have something that reminds you of how much you mean to me. When you're having a shitty day, youcan look down at it and remember that you mean the absolute world to me."

"Fuck," I whisper, blinking back tears. "I think that's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me."

He slides the ring onto the middle finger of my left hand, then stands and pulls me against him, squeezing tight. I look up at him, registering the heat in those impossibly blue eyes. He holds my gaze as he lowers his mouth to mine, humming his approval as I bite his lower lip, his eyes fluttering closed. It only takes one slow, languid slide of my tongue against his, and his hands are in my hair, angling my head, dragging me deeper. When we finally break apart for air, we're both breathing hard, hair disheveled, pulses pounding. "I don't know what I was thinking bringing us out here," he groans, palming my ass and pulling my hips flush to his. "I should have booked a hotel room and had my way with you."

"This is perfect," I promise, giving him one last peck on the cheek before picking up the tackle box and heading down the path. If I don't put some distance between us, distract myself by attempting to catch some fish, I'm going to do things I'll regret. Like having our first time be on a gravel path in the middle of a field with all of God's creatures as witnesses. Henry catches up with me, winking one of those big blue eyes, sporting a smirk I'd like to ride right off his face. Jesus. I clear my throat, my cheeks heating as images of us in all sorts of compromising positions flash through my head.

"You okay?" he asks, dimple flashing.

"No." The river comes into view, and I start running, dropping the tackle box and rod into the grass, pulling the elastic out of my hair, and stripping clothes off as I go. I hop on one foot, then the other, pulling off my sneakers and then wiggling out of my cutoffs. I don't look back to see Henry's reaction to me standing here in my skivvies before I jump. Freezing cold water envelops my body, closing over my head. I push up just in time to watch Henry strip his T-shirt over his head, those 8-pack abs shifting as he tosses it aside.

"Did you think you could get away from me that easily?" he asks,raising one dark eyebrow. I don't say anything–I can't– as he toes off his shoes and drops his shorts.

Holy fuck. I don't think I'll ever get used to the amount of muscle this man has. His thighs...god. He takes two running steps and leaps through the air, tucking his legs up for a perfect cannonball. I shriek, laughing as I shield my face from the wave of water. He grabs me around the waist and hauls me up as he stands, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, tracing my lower lip with his thumb. “My tiny water sprite, a flame-haired delight, with eyes so green, and a magical bean.”

"Henry!” I flick water into his face, laughing. “I don't know what to do with you." I bite my lip, trying not to smile like a fool.

"Love me," he says without hesitation, crushing his mouth to mine.

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