Page 159 of Those Who Are Bound

He stepped in closer, body-checking her, his hands gripping her face tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. It wasn’t my intention.”

“Just a natural response, Preacher Man?” she goaded.

“Kitten, please,” he whispered, dropping his lips to hers, his warm breath lingering between them. She could taste his sincerity, his apology; she wanted to drive him further to his knees.

That was the fucked-up part of her. Making him apologize for a situation she was partly—arguably mostly—responsible for, and then punishing him for doing the right thing. Although, dropping her like a hot rock wasn’t right. Stopping was right.

Bracing her hands on his chest, she pushed. “I need to reapply the antibiotic.” Her scrapes weren’t smarting, but it was an excuse to escape his intensity.

“I’ll get it,” he offered.

“I can do it myself.”

His look rebuked. “I know you can.”

She relented; he wasn’t going to give her another inch. Turning, she watched both Lucy and Greg quickly look away, becoming animated over hot dog buns as though they hadn’t watched the whole thing. They hadn’t heard the conversation, but the intensity couldn’t have been missed.

Elliott walked over to Lucy, who forced a smile. Her attention was bouncing curiously between her and where Jonah was retrieving supplies at the canoe. “Hey. Hungry? Everything’s ready.”

Elliott nodded. “Yes, actually.”

“And everything’s okay?”

“Yes.” Then she teased, “Although it might be fun to have a girls’ trip the rest of the way back.”

An arm snaked around her waist, and she was yanked back against Jonah’s solid body. “We’re not switching.”

Elliott tried to pull away, but he jerked her back firmly. It was a move that told her she could try to distance herself emotionally, but physically—for now, at least—he was going to keep her close.

She angled her head to look up at him. He stared back in challenge. Was it sick of her that she liked it when they fought? It was; it was sick. She liked drawing out a darker side of him.

A side that had him grabbing her throat in front of his parishioners. It turned her on.

Again: it was why she needed today to be their last. Because he would only end up despising her, like they all had. His actions a moment ago—he blamed himself for that, but he would catch on that it was her, and he’d hate her. Be disgusted by her. By then, it would be too late: he’d already be broken.

She forced her body to relax against his, her expression softening, then let him tend her scrapes again. When they sat to eat, she didn’t object to his pulling her between his legs, holding her there. The conversation was easy. They laughed with Lucy and Greg over the morning’s adventures and discussed what could possibly be on the menu for dinner that night.

By the time the fire was put out and Jonah dragged the canoe back into the water, the incident was forgotten. Well, not forgotten, but she’d let it go. She wanted the rest of the float trip to be good—for both of them.

And for the most part, it was an easy, relaxing second half. There was another swoon-worthy moment when Jonah had to quickly secure her and the canoe so he could jump out to save two women. Their canoe had flipped, and they were clinging to it and overhanging trees. With ease, he dove into the water, flipped their canoe, and instructed them on how to re-enter the contraption without re-capsizing it. They’d lost an oar, so Jonah dangled off the side and instructed the woman in back on how to navigate with only one. They were shaken, exhausted, and grateful.

After pointing their canoe in the right direction, he shoved them off, then swam against the current back to her. Elliott braced the canoe as he entered, having taken note, so they didn’t end up topsy-turvy.

Shaking his head to dispel the water, he said, “They’re pretty shaken up, but they’ll be okay. At least they’re ahead of us, so if they run into trouble again, we’ll spot them.”

“Not your group,” Elliott guessed.

Pushing his hair back, he looked at her and said gently, “Not our group.”

They eyed each other briefly after his correction. She merely smiled back before turning to face front again, paddling to get them away from the craggy shoreline.

She called over her shoulder, “I have that lady boner thing going again because that… that was hot. Just saying.”

His laugh eased her mind for some reason. She hadn’t been aware that she’d been trying to keep their conversations PG until then; keeping it “safe” because of what had happened earlier. Censoring herself.

“Hmm… what else can I rescue to keep my kitty wet?” he asked suggestively.

She grinned, even though he couldn’t see her. And, damn, the cadence of his voice had her kitty wet already. “Too wet and it’ll be me because I’ll slip right off this metal seat and into the water.”

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