Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [87]
She looked comically at Jago’s fingers, but he smiled and lifted his eyebrows. “Anything sticking out? Delightful possibilities there, lass.”
As Asha pulled back the stairs to go down into the galley, she nearly screamed as something popped out. “Damn it, how did you get in there?”
Jago spun, still on the bow. “Who?”
“Him.” She pointed as the fat cat waddled to the mid-ship. The feline hoisted his rotund self onto the backbench and stretched out. “You really need to name him, Jago. It’s hard to fuss at him when he doesn’t have a name.”
“Me? I’m new at this cat business.” He laughed. “Silly beast. He must’ve crawled in there when Liam and I were carrying on the food and beer and gassing up the boat.”
Asha shook her head. “Well, hie yourself off and go help gather wood. I’m sure your cat is as hungry as I am. He hasn’t eaten anything in a couple hours.”
Going down into the small, but luxurious cabin, Asha headed to the built-in refrigerator for a can of Pepsi. Popping the top, she took a deep drink to kill her thirst. Prickles tickling the back of her neck, she knew Jago had followed her. Even so, her heart skipped a beat when she turned and saw he blocked the doorway. He had that hungry tiger grin on his face again.
“This damn boat is a male’s wet dream,” he said. “You have the entertainment center, refrigerator, and head within arm’s reach of the bed. You and I are going to have to gag your brother and kidnap this boat. ‘Counting’ on a boat could be a lot of fun,” he kidded.
“Could be, but if your nameless cat sprays anything, Liam will have a hissy fit.”
Jago tilted his head in playful calculation. “Hmm . . . but maybe if my cat damages his precious toy, he’ll sell it to me.”
“There you go. Of course, you could buy your own boat. Crownline does make more.”
“Oh yeah, that’s the ticket—one longer and with three times the bells and whistles.” Ducking, he came down the steps. “It wouldn’t be half the fun if it didn’t make Liam pea green with envy.”
She sniggered and lifted her soda in salute. “Want a Pepsi or a beer? One-up-manship is thirsty work.”
Removing the can from her hand, he sat it in the sink. He then reached out and took her waist, pulling her against him. “What I want is you. I can’t stop craving you.”
Jago’s mouth covered hers, taking it with the same raw passion that had pushed them this morning. All the desire, all the grinding sensations came roaring back one hundredfold. Pure agony. Pure rapture. And Asha couldn’t get enough. Her hands clung to his back, digging her fingers into the strong muscles, tasting him, yearning for him until it was sheer madness.
The boat rocked as heavy-footed Liam landed on the deck. “Hey, Puss, didn’t know you came along,” they heard him say.
Jago broke the kiss, but still held her tightly to him. “Can we bolt the door and do a one-two-three . . . cha cha cha? It might save my sanity.”
“Hey, down there. You guys coming?” Liam called.
Jago groaned, then laughter rumbled in his chest. “This guy sure the hell is trying.”
A last kiss to his neck, Asha sighed and stepped back. Picking up the Pepsi, she took a big drink and then pressed the cold can to her forehead. “Suck it up, Sexy Lips. Let’s go feed me lunch, and then we can see about drowning him in the lock.”
Asha moaned, eating her third marshmallow. It was slightly charred, just the way she loved them. She didn’t really have room for another, but it had been a long time since she’d had marshmallows toasted over an open flame. “I’m not sure, but I think food tastes better cooked over a fire the way our ancestors used to do it.”
They’d roasted large chunks of steak in the kebobs, and eaten the delicious meat with potato salad, slaw and baked beans they’d brought. Now as the afternoon slipped away, they toasted the treats and just enjoyed the soothing sound of the falls.
Jago took the other marshmallow off his skewer. “I didn’t know anyone liked theirs incinerated like I do.”
“Yeppers, toasty is not nearly enough.”
Liam handed one—not charred