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I look into his dark eyes that are heavy lidded with arousal. And I see…truth. He believes what he says.

“I want to come,” I pout. I sound like a child who was taken to an ice cream shop but not given a cone.

He kisses my lips this time—just a simple peck, but it jolts straight between my legs. Then his mouth is on me, tongue finding mine. Licking into me. I whimper at the feel of him. The need that practically vibrates through the water.

“We were interrupted last night, weren’t we?”

I nod, rolling my hips with eagerness for what we did.

Slowly, he slides his hand down my body and between my legs. “You want me to touch you here again?”

He glides his fingers over my panties and the heat of it—even in the cool water—is striking.

I grip his biceps.

“Please,” I beg, my pussy clenching.

He slips beneath the edge of my panties and finds my center. I’m wet for him—and not from the pool of water—and his fingers sink into me easily. I go up on my tiptoes as he does something magical.

“Austin!” I cry out.

“You’re clenching me so tight. You have a greedy pussy, baby.”

I do. I so do, for Austin. And his fingers. And his thumb which now circles my swollen clit.

Just like that, so fast… “Oh God, I’m going to come.”

He brings me to the brink so easily. He doesn’t torment me at all, just quickly and thoroughly pushes me over into my first manmade orgasm in… ever.

“Yes!” I practically scream, pleasure coursing through me more than I ever imagined.

Austin whispers dirty things in my ear as I clench around his fingers deep inside me. Only when I set my forehead on his chest does he still and then slip out from me.

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs.

I have to smile because I’m satisfied and relaxed. Content and in a handsome man’s arms. I reach between us to reciprocate, but he takes my hand and raises it to his lips. Kisses the wet knuckles.

“I need a bed and hours of time for what I want to do to you.”

I have to nod, but I can feel the hard prod of him as he tips my chin up to kiss me.

“I understand better now.” He pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. “Thank you for sharing, so now it’s my turn to share too.”

I lean into him and brush my lips over his chest and the smattering of dark hair. “All right,” I sigh. “I’d love to know you better. But even though you don’t want me to touch you, you can still touch me while you share.”

He laughs and lifts his hands—both of them—back to my breasts.

God, yes.

As we stand close, the still water surrounding us, he talks to me. No, he talks to my breasts, his gaze focused on his hands cupping them. His thumbs sliding over the nipples. He weighs them, kneads them, caresses them, all the while the sound of the waterfall is like a shield, blocking out the outside world.

I’m in a dazed state of sexual bliss and simmering arousal.

He talks to me about his home in Seattle. About his seaplane business. About flying and how much he loves it.

And then his voice softens, and he tells me about his mother, Diana Lovering.

His mother, who was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and who can no longer fly the planes she loves.