But never mind that, because beyond some fabulously sexy outdoor sex in the jungle, this would never work out. A shame, really, because in my entire life, I've never felt as confident or as beautiful as I do when he looks at me. Over the past few days, I've gone from being a burden to being his partner. He respects me for my abilities and for who I am, not what I am, which is like the world’s strongest aphrodisiac for someone like me.
We built this shelter together, and we built the raft together—both projects that required me to use my muscles for once. And today, he’s trusting me to make the fire, which isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. It’s actually quite hard, even with the lighter. It sounds like a silly thing to feel proud of, but I can’t help it. I’m proud of my newfound skills.
I strike my lighter, then set the flame to the bamboo shavings I've made, and gently blow on them until they catch. A few minutes later, I see Will coming through the rain, all wet and manly. Sigh.
“Hey, nice fire, Drew.” He crouches down and makes his way under the shelter, and out of the pouring rain. “You're getting good at that.”
“Drew?”
“As in Barrymore. You’re a lot like her—tougher than you look and she has some serious fire-building skills.”
“So, after two days, that’s what you’ve landed on?” I ask. “Giving me the name of a Hollywood actor?”
“You’re right. I’ll keep thinking.” He sets the wet pieces of dead bamboo he's gathered near the fire so they can dry, then starts unpacking his bag. “I’m going to make you a proper high tea today, since we have nothing much else to do.”
I grin and fight the compulsion to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him hard on the mouth. Instead, I watch as he sets a large bunch of small leaves and some dark blue berries on the floor.
“I won't be able to make scones, but I almost think I might be able to make you a decent cup of tea with these peppermint pelargonium leaves. Well, it'll be hot water with some colour to it, anyway,” he says, shaking his head a little.
I grin up at him. “Sounds lovely.”
“These are black nightshade berries. They’re kind of like a cross between a tomato and a blueberry. They’re rich in vitamin C and antioxidants.”
“Nightshade? Why does that sound familiar?”
“Probably because people sometimes get them mixed up with the deadly variety of nightshade berries—Atropa belladonna. They look almost identical.”
Oh dear. That doesn’t sound very reassuring. “You know I have to ask, right?” I say.
Nodding, Will chuckles. “I’d sure as hell ask. The answer is yes, I do know the difference. The safe ones grow in bunches. The poisonous ones grow alone.”
“Ah, okay, and these were …”
“Definitely in bunches.”
“And if you did somehow mix them up?”
“At best, something we don’t discuss in polite society.”
“Ah, I see.” I wrinkle up my nose a bit.
“Both ends.”
Holding up one hand, I say, “No need to go into detail. Worst case scenario?”
“Death.”
“So, no berry picking for me then,” I say.
“Of course you can pick them. Just don’t eat them until you check with your handsome guide.”
I look around, craning my neck. “Where is he? I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”
“Oh, very funny. Here I am trying to fix you a fancy tea and you’re making fun of me.”
“But only for my own amusement.”
He tilts his head. “In that case, please carry on.”
“I think I shall.”
“Did you notice the chimps across the river?” he asks.
“No,” I say, suddenly feeling very excited. Or scared. So hard to tell sometimes.
“Right there,” Will says, pointing to a tall ironwood tree on the other side of the rushing water. I move toward the edge of the lean-to so I'm right next to him, our arms touching. Neither of us makes any effort to pull away. I've noticed this happening more over the last couple of days. We both find little reasons to be close to each other, and it's almost like an unspoken game of chicken to see who will move first. Each round gets longer and longer. A terrible idea, I know, but when you're stuck in a tiny space without much to do, you make your fun however you can.
It takes me a moment to find the chimps among the lush, green branches. It’s a small group. One is grooming the other. I pick up the GoPro and turn it on, zooming in as best I can to capture them.
After a moment, I say, “I don't think those are chimps. I think we’re actually seeing bonobos.”
“Really?” he says, narrowing his eyes to get a better look. “Hey, I think you're right. That's a pretty lucky find.”
“Yes, they’re extremely rare. I was seated next to a primatologist at a fundraiser once. She did her dissertation on bonobos.”
“Tell you what,” Will says. “You film them and do some narrating while I put the kettle on.”
He sets to work while I swell a little with pride at this small, but meaningful, gesture. It's as though he’s actually accepting me as a co-host. Yay, me!
Hmm, but now that I’m in charge of narrating, I don’t know what to say. Will must know I’m flustered, because after a minute of me filming without speaking, he says, “Just pretend you’re on a call with your Gran and you’re describing what you see.”
Oh, well, that sounds much easier. “Okay, here we go. We’ve been camped along the river in a rainstorm that moved in yesterday afternoon. It’s afforded us an extremely rare opportunity to observe a small family of what we believe to be bonobos. Bonobos are a very close relative of the chimpanzee and, in fact, for many years, scientists didn't distinguish between them and chimps. But this amazing group of primates has some important differences. First, they only exist in this one small area of the world. They’re slightly smaller, for the most part, than chimps. And you can't tell at the moment because they're not walking, but when they do, they tend to use a more upright posture than most other primates.”
“Is that so?” Will asks, from the ‘kitchen’ area of our little home.
“Yes. In fact, they favor walking only with their back legs and swing their arms the way humans do, rather than using them to help propel their bodies forward. They’re also known as a peaceful, relaxed animal, which is probably because the females of the species are in charge.”
“Really?” Will asks. “I did not know that.”
“It's true,” I say, turning to look back at him for a second. “Primatologists have a motto for the bonobos—make love not war.” My cheeks turn red, but I force myself to continue, on the basis of educating people. “They actually use sex to resolve tension within and between groupings.”
“You're making that up.”
“I swear it. When they meet up with another group, the alpha females will approach each other and then … well …” Oh, God. Why did I bring this up? This is awful. Just stop talking.
“They what?” he asks, looking very serious even though I can tell he’s enjoying making me squirm like this.
Fine, two can play that game. “Touch each other in the … you-know-where and …” Nope. I cannot talk about this. And yet, something about the amused expression in his eyes brings out my defiant side. It’s just science, Arabella. Don’t be a prude. “They pleasure each other to reduce tension and show acceptance.”
“I really can't help but feel like you're making this all up,” Will says.
“No, it's true. They're very sexual. It's why you don't see them in zoos. Because it’s far too uncomfortable for people, especially if they’re on an outing with their children.”
Will busts out laughing, and I see one of the bonobos up in the tree turn her head to look. She stops grooming the other one and stares back at us.
I zoom in on her with the camera, and gasp a little, whispering, “I can't believe this. We’re actually looking at each other. How amazing is that?”<
br />
Will comes to sit next to me and the two of us watch her together.
“This is incredible,” I say. “She is staring right at me. It’s like she’s trying to communicate with me somehow.”
The bonobo tilts her head, then starts to … Oh, dear! I quickly put the camera down and turn to face the other direction.
“Is she …?”
“Yep. Let's give her some privacy, shall we?” My entire body feels hot with embarrassment, but Will seems to find the entire thing hilarious.
He’s laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and silent tears pour down his face. “I think she likes you, Arabella.”
“Shut up.”
“Maybe she has a thing for royalty,” he says, laughing some more.
I fold my arms and glare at him. “It's really not that funny. It's just … nature.”
“And that particular bit of nature was absolutely turned on by you. In fact, she’s still going for it.”
I slap him on the arm. “Stop that. Don't stare at her while she's … you know …”
“What? Take it as a compliment. You’re empirically attractive to all species. You should be thrilled.”
“All right, that's enough out of you.”
“I think you should do it back, so she knows we’re friends.”
I growl in response.
His smile fades. “I just thought of something,” he says. “What if they decide your lack of masturbating is a sign of aggression, and they come over here to attack us?”
“Weren’t you making tea? I think you've lost your focus.”
“Can you blame me?”
* * *
Well, this is just ridiculous. There is literally no way I'm going to be able to resist this man now. He has fashioned little teacups and saucers out of bamboo and made stacks of sliced fruit and yam cakes for us to eat. He's even sweetened them with a piece of a honeycomb he managed to procure. When I asked him how he did it, he said, “I don't want to talk about it. Let’s just say it was not pretty.”
So now, the two of us are sitting near our fire in our cozy, delightfully-dry lean-to, sipping what is quite possibly the most disgusting tea I have ever tasted in my life and eating tiny slices of bananas, oranges, and berries together while the rain falls around us. This is the most romantic moment of my life, and I don't know if that makes me incredibly lucky or extremely pathetic, but at this very second, I feel nothing short of elation. I don't want the rain to ever stop because I just want to stay here with him in this place forever.
“You don't have to drink the tea,” he says.
“But I want to. It's so delicious.”
“It's disgusting and you know it.” He gives me a half grin that I find irresistibly sexy.
“No, it's … amazing.”
“Is that why your face winces every time you have a sip?”
“Well, it might be just a tad tart for my taste, but I am rather picky, so I don't want you to feel at all bad. It's the thought and all the effort that counts.”
“You’re a true diplomat.”
“It’s one of the few skills I have perfected.”
He snaps his fingers. “Let's add some more honey to it.”
“Yes, thank God! Because it really is awful.”
We both laugh, then share one of those gazing-into-each-other's-eyes-longingly moments that have been happening more and more often over the last two days. I want him so badly, there is literally nothing I can do to keep the thought of our nude bodies doing very naughty things to each other out of my mind.
“I found something while I was out getting that honey. I thought you might like to know about it,” he says in a low tone.
“Really?” I swallow hard, finding myself slightly afraid of his answer.
“Remember how, in your entire life, your greatest wish has always been to go skinny dipping?”
“I remember saying something to that effect.” My heart pounds in my chest while I wait for what he’s about to say next.
“There’s an extremely beautiful lagoon about half a mile from here.”
“Is there?” I ask in a breathy tone.
Nodding, Will says, “Crystal clear blue water fed by a gentle waterfall, surrounded by lush, green foliage.”
“Well, that sounds like the perfect place to …” I pause and stare him, then remembering myself, I say, “Wash our clothes.”
He gives me the sexiest look I have ever seen in my entire life. “Definitely. You know, you can wash your clothes in the rain?”
“Can you?” I ask, my voice thick with lust.
“Oh, yes, you definitely can, especially in a nice warm rain like this. You can get everything very clean.”
“Well, I do want to be clean again.”
“Then maybe we should go wash up…”
Say no, dummy. Say no. This is a terrible, horrible, deliciously wonderful idea. “Okay.”
20
Irresistibly Sexy Lagoon Sex
Will
Dear God, please let us be talking about the same thing. Because if she’s actually talking about washing out her dirty clothes and giving herself a scrub down, I am going to be super disappointed.
We hurry in the direction of the lagoon. The rain has now slowed to a soft patter while I do my best not to seem too eager, even though what I really want to do is toss her over my shoulder and sprint all the way there.
She just smiled at me, and that smile did sort of say ‘sex is on the menu for this afternoon.’ But honestly, it’s so hard to tell. For a woman like her—someone used to being clean and done up at all times--this type of life must be awful for her. Not that she looks awful, because she definitely doesn’t look even close to what anyone could call awful. And that’s saying something because we’ve been out here for days now and most humans, including me, tend to look pretty rough by this point. But not Arabella. She’s got this natural beauty that … I should not be noticing.
“How much farther is it?” she asks.
“Just around this bend. I’ll race you,” I say, tapping her on her shoulder, then sprinting ahead.
She laughs, then says, “No, thanks, I’m not really a runner.”
I stop, doing my best not to seem too disappointed.
Do not blow this, Will. Seriously.
That was a message from my penis, who has been struggling to stay down for the last few days. I mean, think about it—four days alone in the jungle with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I haven’t been able to touch her or even relieve my own ‘stress.’ It’s not like I can leave her alone and disappear into the bush for a quick wank. Because, not only would that be extremely creepy, it also would put her life at risk, so up until a few minutes ago, I had resigned myself to just putting it all off until we got to town and I could be alone in my hotel room.
But maybe I won’t have to wait because she has just caught up with me, and taken off ahead, laughing.
“Wha—? You cheater!” I yell, jogging after her. I catch her just as we reach the lagoon, wrapping my arms around her, lifting her off the ground, and setting her down behind me. “I win.”
Arabella’s eyes grow wide. “Weasel!”
“I’m tempted to say, ‘takes one to know one,’ only that would sound juvenile.”
“Says the man who just challenged me to a race.”
I stare down at her, watching drops of rain slide over her ivory skin. “God, you’re pretty.”
She blushes a little and looks down at the ground—a simple movement that makes me want to have her, but at the same time, makes me positive I shouldn’t. I can’t use her and say goodbye. I just can’t.
My smile fades and I say, “Okay, well, you can go first. I’ll turn around and stand guard for you.”
Her face falls a little, then she nods. “Righto. That makes sense. I’ll go first, then you go, and I’ll watch for trouble.”
“Not that there will be any, I don’t think,” I say. “It’s daytime and most animals p
refer to hunt when it’s not raining.”
I gaze at her, hoping she’ll invite me in, but she doesn’t, so I turn my back and try not to pout visibly, even though, on the inside, I’m crushed.
Okay, just stand here and don’t imagine her taking off her clothes. That would be a horrible, horrible idea.
I hear a splash and I bite the side of my finger. She is definitely naked.
“So? How is it?” I ask over my shoulder. Oops, I just saw some side boob. Some very lovely, perky side boob. Bad, Will, bad!
“Amazing. The water’s perfect.”
“Skinny dipping, right? It’s pretty awesome.” Pretty awesome? Smooth, Will. Very fucking smooth.
“Would you please hand me the soap?” she asks.
“Certainly,” I say, turning and taking in the sight of her bare shoulders and her pale skin disappearing into the blue water. Her hair is wet and she’s lazily treading water while she smiles at me.
I take a few steps toward the edge of the lagoon, then reach out to hand her a few shavings of soap. “It’s biodegradable.”
“Is it?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, completely mesmerized. “It works as shampoo, too.”
“Does it?” she asks with a grin.
I nod, unable to force myself to look away. “I’ll just turn around now.”
“Okay.” She shrugs like she doesn’t mind if I don’t.
Staying perfectly still, I say, “Because turning around would be the right thing to do.”
“Yes, it would,” she answers, rubbing soap onto her arms.
Oh, that is so hot. Seriously. I can’t even … “It’s … um …” I swallow hard. “Important to do the right thing.”
“Always.” Her hands disappear under the water as she starts soaping other areas.
I turn quickly, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’ll just be right here. Let me know if you need more soap. Or if you need a hand for any of your hard-to-reach places.”
Royally Crushed: A Crazy Royal Love, Book 1 Page 15