“Not likely.” Dallas came up behind her and handed her the pole with the little yellow frog-looking thingy dangling from the end. “Hold this in your left hand, and grasp the reel in your right.”
Simple enough. “Like this?”
“Yep. Now push that button with your thumb, pull the rod back to the side and let it go, but not over your head or you’ll hook me.”
She did exactly as he’d instructed, yet nothing happened. “I knew I wasn’t cut out for this.”
“I don’t mind helping you out.” He moved behind her, wrapped his hand around the rod below her hand and replaced her thumb on the release with his. “It’s just one smooth action,” he said as he cast the line in the water with ease.
He didn’t make a move away from her. In fact, Paris would swear he moved closer. “Okay. What now?”
He rested a palm on her belly and pushed her hair to one side with the other. “It’s a top-water jig, so the fish will hit it on top of the water.”
“How long does that take?”
“Until the fish decides to bite.”
When Dallas rimmed the shell of her ear with his tongue, Paris almost dropped the pole. “So it might take a while.”
“Probably not.”
After Dallas dropped his arms from around her, Paris glanced back to find he’d removed his shirt. And oh, what a sight to behold. He had a board-flat belly and a chest that wouldn’t quit. “Hot already?”
“Lady, you have no idea how hot.”
She had a sneaking suspicion she might soon find out when he came back to her and began kissing her neck again. “What are you up to, Dallas Calloway?”
He moved flush against her back. “Pay me no mind and watch your line, in case you get a bite.”
“Aren’t you going to fish?”
“Maybe later. I have something I’d rather do at the moment.”
Paris held her breath when he tugged the string at her neck and unclasped the strap at her back. Now the bikini top lay in a pool at her feet and she found herself exactly where she’d been last night—naked from the waist up.
“Dallas, are you sure no one will see us?” Her voice sounded tinny, thanks to the cowboy’s hands roving over her breasts.
“George left for Kerrville this morning to visit his mother.” He feathered more kisses along her neck. “Besides, the possibility of getting caught makes this a little more exciting.”
Her legs began to shake like a leaf in the breeze. “Any more excitement and I might actually not be able to stand.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t fall. Just relax.”
Relaxing proved to be impossible when his palm came to rest on her midriff and began to drift lower...and lower. “What are you doing now?”
“Scratching your itch.”
When he slipped his hand beneath her bathing suit bottoms, Paris was powerless to stop him. When he began to stroke her softly, she could no longer hold onto the fishing pole. After she dropped it on the deck, she reached back and wrapped her hand around his nape to ground herself. She briefly envisioned how this would look to a passerby—him with his hand down her pants and her in the throes of a sexual frenzy—and that only amplified her need for release.
In a matter of seconds, her pulse accelerated and her respiration picked up speed as the impending climax began to build. The orgasm slammed into her hard with a series of strong spasms that seemed as if they went on forever. She literally shook from the force of it and Dallas, as if he sensed she might not remain upright, turned her into his arms and kissed her.
She came back to reality slowly and broke the kiss to tip her forehead against his shoulder. “Wow.”
“Been a while, has it?”
“Try never. At least not with Peter.”
He set her back and stared at her. “He never got you off?”
She shook her head. “Sadly no, because he really didn’t try, or care. And go ahead and say it. I’m a fool for staying with him as long as I did.”
His expression turned somber. “Then why did you?”
“Because I’d convinced myself I couldn’t do any better.” An admission she’d not made to herself, much less to another soul.
He hugged her for a few moments then pulled away to study her eyes. “Sweetheart, you deserve better. You deserve to have a lover who takes care of you first and puts himself second. That’s the way a man should treat his woman, especially a woman as special as you.”
His woman? Once upon a time she would have made a snide comment about beating his chest, but oddly she liked the sound of it. “Thank you. That means more than you know. But I’m nothing special.”
He looked mock serious. “Yes, you are, and don’t argue with me.”
“I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Macho. Not after what you just did for me.” That brought about an important question. “Speaking of that, what about you? You’ve clearly got an itch that needs scratching, too.”
“True, but I’m fine for now.” He grinned. “Later this evening is another story altogether. We still have a whole lot of exploring to do, if you’re game.”
Paris imagined giving him the pleasure he’d just given her and that made her tingle. “I’m definitely game.” The sound of the reel suddenly drew her attention and prompted her to snatch the rod off the ground. “I think I have something. What do I do now?”
“Bring it in, darlin’.”
“How?”
Without responding, Dallas stepped to her side, took the pole and turned the reel’s handle until he brought up the line, a smallish silver fish dangling from the hook. “Not quite big enough for dinner.”
“It’s so cute, but hurry and take it off.”
“It’s a baby,” he said as he unhooked the bass, crouched down and released it into the water. “Grow up, bud, and maybe I’ll catch ya later.”
That made Paris smile. “I’m glad you let him go.”
“I don’t like fishermen who hang on to undersized fish just because they can. It’s a waste, and I don’t like waste.”
She liked him more and more with each passing moment. She predicted that beneath the tough-guy exterior resided a heart of gold. “It’s nice to know you have respect for wildlife. And women.”
He offered her the pole. “Want to try for something bigger?”
“Are you referring to a fish?”
