Kate Hoffmann - Who Needs Mistletoe?

“What should we do?” he asked.

“There’s not much you can do,” Sophie replied. “There’s a gel that I have at home that stops the sting…but that’s at home.” She leaned back, bracing her hands behind her. “You could always pee on it,” she suggested. “That’s supposed to work when you don’t have anything to relieve the sting.”

“You want me to pee on your foot?” Trey shook his head. “No, I’m not going to do that. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a limit to how kinky I go and that’s beyond my limit. There has to be something else.”

“This isn’t sexual,” Sophie said. “It’s medical. I need something acidic and that’s all we have.”

“No, it isn’t,” Trey said. He took the steps two at a time and returned a few moments later with a bottle of red wine. “We have this.”

Trey made quick work of the cork, then dumped the wine over her foot, the liquid running down the steps and into the sandy ground. He took a quick swig for himself, then handed her the bottle and she did the same. “Is it feeling better?”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “I think so.”

“How about you? Do you feel all right?”

She nodded. “I don’t think it was poisonous. Really, you don’t have to worry.”

He sat down on the steps and stared at her foot, trying to control his frustration. Why was she taking this so lightly? Didn’t she realize how serious it could have been? It would kill him if anything had happened to her and he wasn’t able to help. Trey took another gulp of the wine, hoping that it would calm his nerves. “From now on, we stick together. You don’t go anywhere without me. Understand?”

“I’m not a child. You don’t have to talk to me like I am.” Her chin was set at a stubborn angle and she looked at him through narrowed eyes. The sweet, funny Sophie he’d known was suddenly replaced by a obstinate, dismissive, fiercely independent woman.

He wanted to lash out at her, to scold her for her part in this all. She’d made him care about her, made him want to protect her. And now he’d been forced to face the fact that he did care-more than he wanted to.

He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the soft skin above her knee. “You have to be more careful,” he murmured, hoping to defuse the situation.

Sophie ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his eyes, her lips pressed into a pout. “Don’t order me around. You have no right.”

“I’m sorry. So, what can I do to make you feel better?”

“Can I have more wine?” she asked.

He held the bottle out over her foot, but she grabbed it before he could pour and took a long swig. Sophie pointed to her sole. “Can you see any stingers? If you take the blade of the knife, you should be able to scrape them off.”

Trey held her foot up to the light and shook his head. “I don’t think so. But you probably shouldn’t walk on it for a while. I’m going to get a fire going and then we’ll figure out what to do about the plane.”

T HE RAIN BEGAN SHORTLY AFTERthey returned from the beach. Within seconds, a few droplets had turned into a deluge, with water running off the tin roof in sheets. Trey had jogged to the other side of the lagoon and pulled the plane over to the submerged pilings. Relieved, Sophie had thought her worries were over.

But when Trey returned to the cottage, he’d informed her that the wood pilings were so rotted, it was impossible to tie it down securely. In the end, he had done what he could, but wasn’t confident that the plane would stay where it was.

Sophie rested her back against the weather wall of the cottage, freshly picked flowers from the vines scattered around her as she wove them into a wreath. They’d finished the first bottle of wine and Trey had opened a second. He occupied himself with tearing the canvas tarp into strips, intent on fashioning a hammock by weaving and knotting the canvas together.

She watched him surreptitiously, wondering at the argument they’d had earlier. She thought she knew him, enough to assume that he didn’t have a quick temper. But his anger over her trip to the beach and the jellyfish seemed completely out of character. After all, what right did he have to chastise her like that? She wasn’t a child. And it wasn’t her fault the jellyfish had picked that place to die.

Perhaps this was a character flaw coming to the surface, she mused. Though Trey might appear to be easygoing, he showed a possessive streak that she didn’t care for at all. Had she even been considering him as boyfriend material, that characteristic alone would have disqualified him in an instant.

Sophie grabbed the wine bottle and took another sip. Either she was getting drunk or her foot was feeling much better. Or maybe it was both. A tiny hiccup slipped out and she covered her mouth with her fingertips.

She glanced over at Trey. His back was braced against the porch railing, his long legs crossed in front of him. The pareu barely hid his assets and Sophie allowed her gaze to drift.

She wondered what he was thinking. Was he only pretending to concentrate on the hammock? Or was his mind caught up in some sexual fantasy? If he was thinking about sex, then he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. Perhaps she’d have to give him a little nudge. Sophie stood and stretched her arms over her head, then began to unknot the shirt.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his attention suddenly sparked.

“To take a shower,” she said, letting the shirt fall to the floor of the porch. She skimmed out of her thong and dropped it on top of his shirt. “The rain will wash off the salt on my skin.”

She wandered down the stairs, then stopped and tipped her face up, letting the downpour soak her thoroughly. The rain was warm, the water fresh, and Sophie closed her eyes and opened her mouth, letting the drops fall on her tongue.

She didn’t want to look to see if he had followed her. But a few seconds later, she felt his hands on her shoulders, the heat of his body against her back. Trey’s palms smoothed over her skin, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she sighed softly and arched back against him, an invitation for him to go further.

His fingers tangled in her hair as he held it out, letting the rain fall through it. Everywhere he touched, Sophie’s nerves tingled, her body came alive, her senses aware. His path wasn’t deliberate, moving from her breasts to her feet and then back up to the nape of her neck, as if he couldn’t decide which spot he liked best.

When she turned in his arms and looked up into his eyes, she saw the desire there. In a heartbeat, he captured her face with his hands and pulled her into a deep, mind-numbing kiss. He seemed desperate to possess her mouth, demanding that she meet his need. But there was something else there-a need to set things right between them again.

Sophie opened beneath the assault and let the kiss consume her. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the power of his touch over her body. In the past, men had come and gone from her life without a sense of loss. But already, Sophie had to wonder how she’d deal without this chaos he’d created in her body. Every cell of her being seemed to surrender to him, to ache for what they shared. She thought nothing of resisting his charms the first time, but now Sophie knew she’d completely lost that capacity.

Breathless and dizzy with desire, Sophie pressed her hands against his chest. He pulled back and smiled, the droplets of rain clinging to his dark lashes. She smoothed her fingertips along his torso, then untied the knot in the pareu.

She slowly circled around him, washing the salt off his body with the damp fabric, running it over his muscled back and arms. It felt good to be clean again, to be able to press her lips to his flesh without tasting the ocean.