Artfully Yours by Joanna Lowell

Author:Joanna Lowell [Lowell, Joanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-02-21T00:00:00+00:00

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Nina already regretted her boldness. The lake was inky black and cold as January. When she flexed her feet, pain went shooting through the soles. Her veins felt like needles. Had the blood in her toes frozen?

She was still dizzy from whirling in Alan’s arms, and she was drugged from the scent of his banyan, and from the expression on his face when he rose from the water, hungry and determined.

He wanted her.

Here it was at last. Something she might turn to her advantage. A man in lust was easily led.

Nausea bubbled up at the thought.

As he reached her, she made to pull back, too late.

His large wet hands gripped hers. Her heart twinged, and she brushed her thumb over the swollen knuckles of his left hand.

“Ready?” He leaned in, scattering her with droplets. “We’ll start with a leg stroke.”

“Is that wise?” She frowned. “My feet might break off. They’ve turned to ice.”

“Details,” he said. He released her hands and stepped around her, lifting one of the kettles from the bank.

“Follow me.” He brushed past, wading out into the lake. His bathing costume was sleeveless, knee-length, the black fabric suctioned to his broad back, to the curve of his high, round bottom. The water rose up his thighs. He turned to face her. That crooked smile—it hooked her like a fish.

Drat it. If only she were a fish. It would be more apropos. And fish weren’t frauds.

She sucked in her breath and she went to him. Her skin was wincing. She held her arms out stiffly as the water sloshed to her hips. The silk tugged at her shoulders. Her stockings sagged. Clearly, the lake wanted to slurp her down.

“Swimming.” Alan pronounced the word grandly, as though the lake were his lectern. “That special mode of progression that enables a person to derive entire support from the liquid in which he is immersed.” He looked at her with a widening smile.

She yanked at the banyan, tucking the halves more tightly under the knotted belt, narrowing the closure, keenly aware of his gaze. His pale irises had caught some of the night’s wan light. They seemed, suddenly, like chips of the moon.

“You, however, are going to rely on me for partial support as you practice your kick.”

She flexed her feet again. Definitely frozen. Her nod was reluctant.

“You’ll take hold of my waist. For the kick, you’ll draw your knees toward your hips, then shoot them backward.”

“Like a frog.” She could picture the motion.

“Like a frog,” he agreed, and twisting, he lowered himself gently into the lake, onto his back. One arm stroked the water, the other held the kettle just above the surface. He was moving slowly toward shore.

Take hold of my waist.

She lunged forward and grasped him, his motion pulling her onto her chest. A frigid wave slapped her breasts and belly, broke against her mouth, and she sputtered.

“Bring up your heels, then push back,” he said. “Heels up, push back.”

His legs were moving somewhere beneath hers, propelling them along.

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