Mariella came up spluttering, soaking wet. At least the water was warm.

  Do you think that’s funny? Waited for me to be off-balance and… my clothes were dry and everything!

  She felt an impulse to slap him.

  “Tybalt, what the—”

  “You needed to cool off,” he said with a strange expression. She realized she couldn’t tell from his tone or his face if he was joking or serious. His gaze had turned strangely intense, but there was a familiar quality to that penetrating look.

  She took a little, involuntary step backward, that idea of slapping him completely forgotten. She didn’t know what was going through his head, and she wasn’t completely confident she knew what was going through her own. All her fire from ten seconds earlier had suddenly dissipated, yet there was a heat between them beyond just the water. Tybalt took two steps closer, invading her space. She felt his heavy breathing inches from her skin. Involuntarily, she remembered how she had felt, in his arms, on the cliffside. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

  She raised a hand, opened her mouth to speak. What she was going to say, she wasn’t sure.

  Before she could say anything, he pushed her against the stone side of the little pool, not rough but with a sort of challenge to the gesture, as if asking, What are you going to do about it? She became very conscious of the fact that she wasn’t fully dressed. And his hand wasn’t leaving her waist, where he had placed it when he pushed her. Her heart began to race. Her mind went to the kisses they had shared earlier, and a heat crept up her face.

  “You’re not going to distract me—” She began to speak. Then she felt his finger under her chin, tilting her face up, raising her mouth to his. She didn’t fight it.

  Their lips met softly at first, noses almost bumping into each other before she tilted her head so their mouths could connect at just the right angle.

  They kissed for ten seconds, almost chastely, if not for the fact that she could feel something electric just beneath the surface, a current running through both of them. The frustration she had felt bubbling inside her just a minute earlier had transformed into something else. Something equally hot but very different.

  I… had missed that. It’s only been a few hours, but… How are his lips so addictive?

  She pulled back, eyes drooping slightly, half-hypnotized.

  “Tybalt…” Her voice trailed off as she felt the intensity of his gaze on her again. It was like she had a thousand eyes on her—yet somehow not unpleasant. She reddened further as she realized she had forgotten what she wanted to say.

  He pressed his mouth against hers more roughly now, his right hand stroking her hair, her cheek, her neck, while his left hand held her by the hip, squeezed her, pulled her closer to him. It all felt a little forceful, but urgent rather than violent.

  The words had left her brain. Every word but Yes.

  This was something she hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for.

  She slightly parted her lips and tasted the mountain water on his skin, fresh and clean. He sucked her lower lip between his and gently nibbled it.

  She made a little pleased noise and opened her mouth fully, let his tongue slip inside. It rubbed up against hers, and then she found herself tongue wrestling with him, pushing into his mouth, giving and receiving in turn, back and forth, in and out, touch after sensitive touch. She became aware of the rest of her body again as she realized that, without her telling them to, her arms had wrapped around his back and his neck respectively, pulling him closer, caressing him.

  She felt his left hand drop lower, from her waist to her ass. A renewed sense of awareness washed over her. She wasn’t wearing pants. His fingers could go anywhere on her lower body. He squeezed and fondled her butt, and she felt a surge of excitement at the intimate touch, more forward than anything she had allowed before. She noticed, with a mix of surprise and pleasure, how her body automatically pushed into his touch.

  She wanted his hand to dare further, slip beneath her underwear, grab her firmly, and pull her into him. She could feel his hardness already, pressing gently against her leg, growing more and more insistent with each passing moment.

  Right. He was already naked.

  There was nothing between them but warm water and that thin layer of wet cloth, easily pulled aside, if the two of them decided to do it.

  I want it, she thought, surprised at herself as she had the thought. I want… Is this me?

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  Eight years of carefully maintained premarital celibacy fought with itself inside her. On one side was the pristine record. All the looks from men that she had forcefully ignored, from the age of thirteen. She had experienced an early puberty, so she’d had no choice but to find some way to deal with unwanted attention from men. Mostly by ignoring it. There was a muscle there, a mental fortitude that she had built up without really realizing she was training it.

  On the other side was a violently intense haze of feelings. Sensations she had denied herself, that only became more intense in her mind from the denial. Years of dreams, the sorts of dreams that her mother had told her were common to all teenagers. The throbbing, wet heat between her legs. She saw an image in her mind of him ripping off her clothes, throwing them away, and then—and then…

  You can’t do this, Mariella told herself. It was her mother’s voice as much as her own in her mind. You’re a lady. Ladies don’t… not like this. Even if…

  His hand moved from her ass to the front of her underwear. With two fingers, he slowly, softly traced her womanhood over the cloth. The gentle caress sent a thrill through her whole body, and without willing it, she found herself pressing into his palm. No hand had ever touched her that way before.

  “Oh… yes.” It was hard to recognize the husky, eager voice as her own.

  Mariella felt some of the strength leave her legs for a few seconds as her knees bent and her thighs sought to envelop and squeeze Tybalt’s hand. There was nothing but hot need in her brain—Touch me, take me, do it, yes—until the quiet inner voice spoke over it.

  You can’t do this! Not here, not with him!

  I want to, she thought. It feels right… I… If not with him, then who? He’s—

  You’re… outside! shouted her mother’s voice absurdly. Anyone passing by could see!

  Some unvoiced thought process played out, and Mariella blinked her eyes open again.

  “Tybalt, st-stop.” The words were muffled by his mouth, still pressed against hers, and by the lack of air in her lungs. She had forgotten to breathe in the midst of everything. “I… you have to…”

  It was hard to speak. She didn’t want to, not really. The intense flux of feelings inside her was still moving mostly in the direction of lust. She wanted him to keep going. Her thighs still pressed themselves around his fingers. Most of her brain was angry at the interruption.

  But some part of her had a different idea from the whole, and it had made itself heard over all the other noises. Maybe it was something as small as the habit that had been ingrained in her for years, of saying “no” to this sort of attention.

  She didn’t even know what she wanted to say next, but his hands stopped moving. He pulled back slightly from kissing her, let her take a breath. She felt a release of pressure on her chest and only realized at that moment that his right hand had wandered down to her breast and had been gently squeezing. It felt good.

  The air entered her lungs in a slow, shaky stream.

  Breathe, Mariella. Think. I was really lost there…

  She took another deep breath, less shaky this time. Her eyes locked with his. She had never stared so deeply into them before. They were so green, like emeralds set in human flesh. She felt his left hand, still on her lower body. Those fingers moved again, gently caressing her outer thigh. So he hadn’t come to a full and complete stop. But compared with what they had been doing, the touch was almost platonic. He probably felt that he had some sort of permission, since she kept leaning into his fingers. But he had ceased the more serious kind of groping at the moment she said the word.

  How does he have that self-control? she thought. Maybe this is just something he does whenever he feels like it, with whoever…?

  Her whole body still trembled with desire. She wanted to pull her underwear to the side and let him have his way with her. If he had just tried to push past the word “stop,” she felt certain she would have enthusiastically continued.

  Don’t think about that. Keep your resolve. You told him to stop. He stopped… What was I upset about before? Something about… skills?

  “It’s all right,” he said.

  The hand that had been stroking her hair, her cheek, and her neck now took her hand and lightly squeezed. He moved his mouth to right beside her ear.

  “Don’t worry, I think I understand why you’re nervous. We’ll have plenty of time. We don’t have to rush into this.” The words caressed her ear, and she shuddered again. The little doubts inside her began to subside. It was safe with him, he was thinking of her as a long term investment, not a fling—and everything was so pleasurable, at the same time. The boiling feeling between her thighs surged to the front of her mind again. She wanted to give herself permission.

  As he pulled slightly back from her, out of her bubble, her lips curled into a giddy smile.

  What was she so afraid of, really?

  “I—”

  I want to, she thought wildly, wantonly. You can—

  She pictured herself with her legs wrapped around his waist. The words were on her lips.

  Take me.

  Then she saw Tybalt’s eyes widen, and he pushed her suddenly to one side.

  A moment later, a bit of wood seemed to grow from the right half of his chest. It took a moment to recognize it as an arrow. The clear pool of water began to cloud with blood. His hand rose to wrap around the shaft. He let out a quiet, pained grunt, swallowed, and grew pale.

  The realization struck Mariella like the blow from an axe. Her would-be lover might be dying before her eyes.

  No… what?!