Page 29 of The Bachelor
Was she really this interested in learning archery? Or was she deliberately trying to get into his embrace so she could torment him for the trick he’d played on her?
If the latter was her strategy, it was working. This close to her, he could smell her light, lemony scent and feel her satiny curls brush his neck.
God help him, but having her lush body against his made him want to—
Concentrate, man. Don’t let her get the best of you.
“You draw it back like this,” he said. “You see? Not that far. I told you, there’s no need to bend the bow in half.”
“Blast! Now I’ve dropped the arrow.”
She bent over to pick it up, and he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. It would be so easy to put his hands on that sweetly shaped bottom of hers and then—
Bloody hell. He slid back from her as she straightened. He had to get some distance or find himself doing things he’d later regret. Unfortunately, now that he was to the side of her, he could see how the tip of her tongue slipped out as she focused on nocking the arrow into the bowstring.
He wanted that tongue twirling with his so badly he could taste it.
“This is harder than it looks,” she muttered. “Who would ever guess that keeping an arrow positioned properly in a bow would be so difficult?”
“Try parting your lips—” He groaned as her startled gaze shot to him. “Your fingers, I mean, so that your index finger is on top of the arrow shaft and the rest of your fingers on the bottom. It’s called split-finger shooting. You can put all of them on the bottom, but you may find it easier to hold the arrow in place the other way.”
“All right.” She repositioned her fingers and let the arrow fly. This time it actually hit the edge of the target.
She beamed at him. Seeing that sunny smile, he would have thought she’d hit the bull’s-eye. Her palpable delight did something dangerous to his peace of mind. Like make him wonder how it would be to see that delight come over her face in bed.Hisbed. Preferably soon.
God, she was driving him mad, which was undoubtedly her purpose.
“Give me another arrow, if you please,” she said.
He handed her one from the quiver, but as she reached for it, she paused to regard her gloved hand with a frown. “I wish you’d told me what we were really doing today. I would have worn thicker, better gloves, instead of these old worn ones. Now the glove on my draw hand is getting cut up from the bowstring.”
“Here.” He tucked the arrow under his arm so he could look at her hand.
When he drew off her glove, she blinked at him. “What are you doing?”
He pulled off both of his gloves. “You can use mine. They’re sturdier.”
“Very well,” she said, and took off her other glove.
But before he let go of his, he looked closely at her draw hand to make sure she hadn’t cut her skin. She breathed in sharply, and suddenly he became aware of the intimacy in holding her bare hand. His was callused and rough. Hers was . . . not. The delicacy of her soft skin fascinated him, and he wished he could feel it on his face, his chest . . . his cock. Damn.
He dropped her hand and thrust the gloves at her. “See if they’ll do.”
After she put them on, she laughed. “They’re huge.” She held up her hands, which looked clownishly large with his gloves on them.
He fought a smile. “But will they work?”
“I think so.” She nocked another arrow in the bowstring, once more sticking out a bit of her tongue.
This time, however, she ran it along her lips. He groaned as his body responded to that little motion. Bloody hell. One would think he’d never been around an attractive woman.
“Am I doing it wrong?” she asked. Clearly, she’d heard his groan.
“No, but let’s try it with your thumb here.” He put her thumb into the position so she could get a feel for it. “How is that?”
She let her arrow fly, then crowed her satisfaction when it hit closer to the bull’s-eye.
“Well done,” he choked out. “See? You’re already getting the hang of it.”
