Page 64 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

She snorted, lifting her spear again. “Try telling that to the men living here on the surface.”

I wondered what sort of men she'd known before now, if she’d admired any of them, if they’d ever earned that glowing look she sometimes showed when she was pleased.

The thought unsettled me.

She adjusted her stance again, preparing to strike,but I caught the familiar flicker of hesitation, the way her fingers tensed too soon.

I moved in behind her, close enough that my abdomen brushed her back. She let out a little yip I couldn't define and ignored. I was here to help her. Nothing else. I settled my hands over hers, my body bracketing hers. The top of her head barely reached my chest.

She smelled of the river and a sweetness I still hadn’t figured out but always noticed.

Beth stiffened against me and sucked in a breath. I felt it under my hands and in the tremor shooting through her muscles.

My breathing grew heavy, my grip tightening on her wrist for too long.

Focus.

I pushed through the heat coiling inside me and bent my head, angling my words at her ear. My pulse slammed against the inside of my throat. It was too loud, too much. Her skin was so close, her wrist beneath my fingers delicate yet strong. A breath. That was all it would take. Just one inhale closer to her ear, one moment of foolish indulgence.

“Like this.” Slowly, I guided her arms, forcing her grip to loosen so she wasn’t straining. Together, we positioned the spear at the perfect angle. Her heartbeat thundered, or maybe that was mine.

Her breath caught again.

I ignored the need to let my touch linger.

“Wait,” I said. “Don't move.”

“I won't.”

The river whispered past us, smooth and cold and carrying secrets from time long forgotten. Fishing had existed ages ago. It did so now. She could learn this, learn something that might help her feel independent. I was going to make sure that when she emerged from the river, she felt confident.

A fish drifted closer in the shallows.

“Now.”

Together, we struck, driving the spear straight and clean, impaling the fish. The splash was quick, the final struggle brief, as it should be with a creature created by the fates.

Beth gasped. “I did it. Well, we did it.” She turned and launched herself at me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders, her legs my torso. Laughter spilled past her lips, and joy vibrated through her.

The warmth of her body hit me like a truth I wasn't ready to hear.

Every careful tether holding me in place was determined to snap. I braced myself, but it was useless. If she only knew the war she waged inside me when she did something like this.

I held her the way I'd craved to do from the moment I met her.

She pressed her body against mine, and her damp jeans and shirt clung where it touched my skin. She was small, soft in a way that made my heart hammer out of rhythm.

The people at the firepit cheered.

Chapter 22

Beth

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry.” I eased away from him, planted my feet back on the riverbed, and quickly dragged my gaze from him. I was afraid he’d see the longing on my face.

“You…” He frowned.

While the guests cheered, I hefted the spear I somehow hadn’t dropped, examining the fish that had stopped flopping on the end.

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