Page 31 of Hooked On The One That Got Away
He kissed her again.
‘And I’d like to be on top, so I can be in full control …’
Charlie’s hands slid down to her rear and his grip tightened.
‘And I’d like you to touch me everywhere you can reach …’
Charlie pressed his mouth against her neck and let out a small groan.
‘And, I want to be able to touchyou,particularly–’ She whispered in his ear. ‘And, of course–’ Another whisper.
Charlie shuddered. ‘Shit, Willow,’ he breathed. ‘I’m hard as a rock, and I genuinely think my balls are about to go off like grenades.’
‘I’ll call the restaurant for delivery,’ she said, reaching for her phone. ‘I’ll ask them to leave it on the doorstep. Pretty sure we’ll be done before it gets cold.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘This water’s likeice!’ Charlie exclaimed. ‘How do youdothis without a wetsuit?’
‘Once you’re in, you quickly warm up,’ Willow said.
Charlie dipped his toe – ‘There, I’m in’ – and removed it. ‘Now, I’m out. Which ismuchbetter.’
‘Chicken,’ said Willow. ‘Lily-livered giant weenie.’
‘Madwoman,’ Charlie retorted. ‘Ice bath-loving nutcase.’
Willow dived in, swam a few strokes out, then turned and bobbed in the water, grinning at Charlie, who was making a point of shivering dramatically on the bank. He had on a pair of blue swim shorts that would have shown off his gorgeous body if his arms hadn’t been wrapped protectively around his chest and he hadn’t been scowling like a sulky toddler.
‘Don’t think about it,’ Willow called out. ‘Just jump in.’
She could practically hear Charlie’s inner argument – macho bravado versus a reluctance to die of hypothermia. Willow floated on her back until, inevitably, macho bravado won out and Charlie snapped on his goggles and jumped in.
‘FUCK!’ he yelled, causing a couple of ducks to take flight. ‘It’sfreezing!’
‘Swim!’ Willow ordered. ‘Get moving!’
‘I’D RATHER BE FISHING!’ he yelled back, but he got moving.
Willow did, too, making sure she kept ahead, so as to encourage his competitive instinct and prevent him from making a beeline back to the safety of the bank. She’d chosen the stretch of river that led up to the lock. It had sentimental meaning now – it was where she’d been fished up by Charlie, where she’d witnessed him in one of his darkest moments, where she’d kissed him for the first time in nearly a year and knew for sure that he still loved her, and she still loved him.
It was a stunning summer morning, and the water in fact wasn’t cold at all. Wait until Charlie tried it in winter, Willow thought. Shewouldlet him a wear a wetsuit then. Probably.
The river was busy, a small pleasure craft slowly cruising, rowboats, kayakers and a wobbly paddleboarder. Joggers sweated along the towpath, skirting walkers, dogs, baby buggies and wayward toddlers. There were several other swimmers, some serious-looking triathlon types and a gaggle of elderly women, chatting while they breaststroked along. One was wearing a swim cap studded with bright rubber flowers. Willow was envious.
She paused every so often to check her route ahead was clear, and to check on Charlie, still behind her, despite his best efforts to catch up. He had good technique, Willow observed. But it seemed his goggles weren’t fitted correctly, and he had to keep stopping to tip water out of them. Or else he was puffed and using that as an excuse to take a breather. Willow recalled her early days of river swimming. Six strokes and she’d been knackered. She’d come a long way, in every respect. She’d proved she could be tough, and loyal, and determined. Willow was proud of herself.
She was also not above being petty. Charlie had stepped up the pace, and she was in danger of being caught by him. Willowwaited until he wasalmostbeside her, then she outstripped him with a series of strong, swift strokes.
Willow made it to the spot where they’d need to turn around. The lock was in sight, and there were a lot of people on the overbridge. She trod water until Charlie caught her up. He ripped off his goggles and glared at her.
‘You did that on purpose,’ he accused.
‘Whatever can you mean?’ said Willow, with a grin.
‘You waited for me, then took off like a missile,’ said Charlie. ‘Or a swordfish, whatever. Something streamlined and mean.’
Willow paddled over to him and leaned in for a kiss as they both trod water. Charlie’s lips were cold, but his tongue was warm.
