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soaked and they had nothing to do with the bathwater. But, oh god, Leif was pretty, and touching him was sheer joy. I couldn’t help myself.
    My wet fingers trailed down one muscular bicep, and I sucked in a breath when it flexed in response.
    Leif looked over his shoulder at me, and his eyes were slitted, his expression impossible to read under that growth of heavy beard. “Want to do my front for me?”
    I blushed.
    That was forward of him. And yet…wasn’t this entire bath thing a little forward? I knew he was turned on just by looking at him, and he’d know I was turned on just by smelling my scent. I considered for a moment, but I wanted to do his front more than anything. So I swallowed hard and said, “Turn around.”
    He did…and those blue eyes seemed to glitter as they focused on my face. I dipped the washcloth again, noticing that the water was getting cooler — and dirtier - by the minute. But I continued to soap it, and when it was ready, I reached out and pressed the cloth against the base of Leif’s neck, against his pulse.
    He swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob just inches from my wet fingers. My hands moved on his chest, soaping with one hand and exploring with the washcloth with the other. This was incredibly erotic, and I suspected that we both knew we’d gone from ‘bath’ to ‘foreplay.’
    But neither one of us was stopping the other.
    It was impossible to ignore the hard length of his cock that jutted from his crossed legs. It pointed upward, the shaft thick and throbbing, the crown a deep purple. I kept glancing at it, fascinated despite myself, and my soaping hands slid lower, brushing over Leif’s stomach and hips, and then moving down his thighs.
    He didn’t stop me, just remained completely still while I explored him. I wondered how much he’d let me dare. It was just the two of us on this island, in this tent, in the world. There was only Leif and myself.
    In that moment, I felt incredibly connected with him, and intensely aroused.
    So I soaped up my washcloth one more time, dropped the bar of soap into the water, and then placed both hands on his straining erection.
    Leif groaned. His hands moved forward and grasped my shoulders, and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me, his lips mashing to my own.
    I was so startled that I couldn’t respond at first. I just sat there while his mouth moved over mine.
    He seemed to realize that I wasn’t kissing him back as boldly as I’d touched him. The kiss changed, gentled, and his tongue flicked against my lips in a silent question.
    I opened my mouth to his, my answer to that question an unequivocal yes .
    Leif’s kiss became deeper, gentler. His tongue stroked against mine and I moaned at the feel of his mouth, the wiry bristle of his beard against my cheeks. The need banked in my body had turned into a full-fledged roar, and my wet hands tightened around his cock, holding him as we kissed. His hands dragged over my breasts, cupping them and then teasing the nipples, trying to give me the same pleasure I was giving him in return.
    Oh god, Leif’s mouth felt so good on mine. I sucked on his tongue as it slid against my own, thinking how perfect he was for me. He’d be ideal for my heat. He’d…
    I pulled away so fast that our lips made a wet sound as we separated. And I stared at him in horror.
    He had no idea why he was responding to me like this. Just being around me was going to arouse him, because of the state my body was in. And I felt…ashamed at that.
    Leif didn’t even remember that he was in mourning, and here I was, molesting him to suit my own needs.
    God, that made me a shitty person.
    My hands slid off of him as guilt surged to the forefront. “Why don’t you finish cleaning yourself?” I said, jumping to my feet. I sounded breathless. “I think I need some air.”
    And I turned out of the tent and ran.
    I hated myself for being so manipulative to Leif. He didn’t remember the last sixteen years.