“Except tighter. I won’t let go of you, Harper.”
She glanced soberly to the right. The ledge of the cliff was three feet away.
“I promise,” he added.
He felt her fear bubbling just beneath the surface.
“Okay,” she finally said reluctantly.
He let out a sigh of relief.
“Wait,” he said when she started to shuffle cautiously over the ledge, her face pale.
“What?”
“We . . . we have to . . . we have to take our clothes off first—or at least some of them,” he said in a desperate burst. “I only had room in the packs to bring us one extra shirt, some socks, and some extra underwear for me, but I didn’t have any for—”
“For me. I know,” she said, her cheeks coloring. She looked down at his chest. “It’s weird, wearing jeans without underwear. Your jeans,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Sorry.”
She looked up at him. “It’s not your fault. I know you just want to do this because you don’t want me to freak out if—” She blew deliberately out of her mouth. “Right. So we’ll take off our jeans, since they’re the only bottoms we’ve got.”
“And our socks and shoes,” he said. “They pop off in the water. Trust me.”
“We’ll go in with everything else on. The clothes will get a wash that way, just like us,” she said, attempting to sound firm and practical, but still coming off shaky. Jake got the impression it helped her, to make some of the decisions on her own.
“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. For a few seconds, they both hesitated self-consciously, still embracing each other. Then they stepped back at once. Jake kicked off his tennis shoes and pulled off his socks, keeping his head lowered. After he’d removed his jeans, he dared to look up cautiously. She was standing there looking as serious as a judge, clutching the edge of his Mountaineers T-shirt against pale thighs. His gaze dropped over her naked legs without him telling it to. He’d never thought about legs being pretty until Harper.
“Ready?” he asked gruffly, stepping toward her. He’d never been more self-conscious in his life, but he knew he couldn’t come off that way. He knew that jumping off the cliff was a relatively easy maneuver. At all costs, he needed to make Harper feel some of his confidence.
She just nodded and stepped toward him. He’d heard the phrase heart in your throat before. He saw Harper’s neck convulse thickly, and thought that’s what she must be experiencing. He determinedly put his hands on her waist, again feeling that amazing swell of her hips.
“We have to get next to the ledge,” he said, holding her stare.
She nodded, but looked unwilling.
He edged them over carefully. Her head turned. She whimpered softly as they neared the drop-off.
“Don’t look at that. Look at me,” he said sharply.
Her gaze darted to his face. He saw her wild anxiety.
“It’s gonna be fine. I’ve told you how many times I’ve done this before. You know how to swim, don’t you?” Why didn’t you ask her that before, idiot?
“Yes. I’m a good swimmer. I’m on swim team.”
“Okay. Then there’s no problem. Keep looking at me. Over just a few more inches . . .” He scooted them closer to the cliff. Her stare on him now was focused, like it was a lifeline she was clinging onto. Her face looked pale and rigid with fear.
“Put your hands on me,” he said when they’d come to a halt.
She grasped onto his waist tightly.
“Come closer,” he said.
She hugged him. Their fronts sealed tight. Her breath tickled his nose and lips. Her small, round breasts pressed against his chest, the tips pointed and hard. He opened his mouth to instruct her—
“Your eyes are so pretty.”