Page 18 of Those Who Are Bound

He didn’t take the bait. “We’re walking, my feisty wildcat. Now, hold out your arms.”

Elliott tried not to smile at the possessive pronoun; he’d called hermyfeisty wildcat. She found that she liked it. And the order. Obediently, looking up at him, she stretched out her arms.

“Bug spray.” He held up the bottle for her inspection.

She looked at it. “That doesn’t look like a national brand.”

“It’s not. This is environmentally friendly,” he informed her as he pumped liquid onto her arms. He set the bottle on the Jeep’s bumper and started rubbing the repellent into her skin, looking into her eyes as he did so, his greens unflinching and warm. “It’s people friendly, too.”

She blushed. “But does it work?”

“It does.” He moved to her other arm.

Elliott was fighting hard to act normal when her entire body was buzzing.

“Chin up.” He reached for the bottle again.

She tilted her chin back, and he pumped the stream on to her neck and chest. She was eagerly anticipating him rubbing it into her neck, chest, and exposed cleavage; her nipples were straining against the sports bra as testimony to her enthusiasm for his continued ministrations. So when he grasped one of her outstretched hands and laid it on her chest, she frowned in confusion.

“Make sure you rub it in,” he instructed, fighting to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Well, hell.

Elliott did as he instructed, the disappointment shooting through her.

He knelt in front of her and sprayed her yoga pants-encased legs. The scenarios jamming through her head made it difficult not to roll her hips toward him in an invitation to relieve a sudden ache.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

Oh, god. Panties soaked. He was trying to protect her from Lyme disease, and she was halfway to an orgasm.

The pump of the spray continued across her backside, and then stopped. She sensed him standing and assumed he was finished, so she jumped when a few more quick squirts landed on her back. He mumbled an apology seconds before his warm hand rubbed in the liquid; it felt far more sensual than clinical, and she leaned into it.

The bottle was tossed into the Jeep, and both hands were now on her back, up between her shoulder blades and over her shoulders, evenly spreading the repellant. Elliott’s senses were on high alert, and her head felt light. Before she melted down completely, she grabbed at any asinine thing she could think of and asked, “Do you sell this in your shop?”

“I do,” came the highly amused response.

So much for playing it cool; he was aware that she was enjoying this more than she should be.

Please, shove me in the back of your Jeep and relieve this tension right now.

At the thought, she looked into the back of the vehicle, and her heart stuttered. The blood rushed to her head and then as quickly back out to every extremity, nearly causing her to black out. His trunk was half-covered with various coils of rope. She recognized the jute for what it was; the other two, she wasn’t sure. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing away Lucy’s teasing words that he had a rope fetish.

Jonah stepped away. “Okay, you should be set. I have water and energy bars. Ask if you need either one; or, will you ask?”

Elliott looked back at him and tried to play along, even though her heart was about to pound through her ribs, and her thighs were tensing. “I’m not completely foolhardy.”

He gave her a playful look as though he wasn’t certain he believed her. “All right, then. The trailhead starts here. We’ll walk toward the river and head up to the Bluffs Trail, go to the observation deck, and follow the pavement back down by the Tobacco Barn.” He reached for the glass top to close the back of the Jeep.

Elliott couldn’t help herself.She leaned over and reached into the back, touching the cords reverently, noticing the slight tremor as she ran her fingers lightly over the rope closest to herself, the black one. “That’s a lot of rope, Jonah.” Her voice was low, husky; she hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.

Jonah looked at her, noticing her flaming cheeks, and her voice had obviously been strained. Shifting his attention to the neat piles in his trunk, his expression turned grim, his answer telling her that he misinterpreted her husky reply as a fearful one. “I didn’t think about it; I don’t think about them. I should have been more thoughtful, considering your concern yesterday about hiking with a stranger.” Taking a clear step away to give her space, he pointed out, “Climbing rope, p-rope or parachute rope, and jute.I’m a session leader for a rope challenge course; I use all types. I also climb; rappel.”

Elliott felt the heat of his perusal, his curiosity regarding her reaction. She snatched her hand back. “Ah.”

“You good?”

Forcing herself to turn her back on the Jeep and the rope, she gave him awhy wouldn’t I belook as she answered, “All good.”

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