Merciful Buddha help him, but he was about to do it. Actually turn around and feast his eyes on what he’d been dreaming about for the past two years. His fingertips itched at the thought of how her skin would actually feel to his touch.

At that moment, Inara reminded him, “Mal, did you want to wash off?”

He cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Uhh…yeah. I’ll just duck behind the bushes over there.”

He quickly shed his clothes and wrapped the towel around his waist, praying to his forgotten god that she had gotten out of the creek and was now wrapped up in that robe, more for his sake than hers. He knew of a certainty that if she wasn’t all safely tucked away in that terrycloth, he’d very well do something they’d both regret.

Hell, Reynolds, nothing to fuss about. She ain’t the least damnable interested in…

His train of thought derailed as he came back out from the bushes to find her still standing knee-deep in the water. With not a scrap of terrycloth on her.

“Hey, uhh…thought you were done there.”

“Do you want me to go and leave you in privacy, Mal?”

“Well, I could use some help with washing my back…”

She smiled and held out her hand. If he just could make himself focus on the water running off her elbow, it might distract him from other places on her with water dripping down.

“Well, hand me…is that one of my soaps?”

Mal at least had the good grace to blush.

“Yep. Guess I am a petty thief after all. That mean you rethinking the back-washing offer?”

“Only one way to find out, Captain.”

He decided that meant she was OK with back-washing duty. Then he realized that he’d have to drop the towel in order to get that back wash. Was one thing when she saw him buck-naked after Saffron ditched him, because at least then, she’d been fully clothed. Quite another with her as naked as he was, knowing that his body was damn near about ready to betray his thoughts on that matter.

On the other hand, she’d agreed to the back-washing proposition. And in her line of work, not like she’d never had a fella stand at attention and salute her. Besides, the longer he stood there, slack-jawed, the more likely she’d go back on the whole back-washing notion.

Now or never, Reynolds. Call it.

And with that, he carefully unwrapped the towel from around his middle, folded it neatly on top of her basket at the edge of the water, and waded in. The water was clear and warm, and washed away some of the hurt of the past month or so.

Almost like being baptized all over again.

He made his way into the water until he was up to his shoulders, then dove under, swimming back toward where Inara was waiting in the slightly shallower water. She held out the soap and a small washcloth.

“Ready, Mal?”

“Ready, willing and able, darlin’.”

And how...

Mal was damn proud of himself that he managed to keep that hard-on reigned in tight while she worked on his back. He mighta been white-knuckling it more than a little, but he somehow managed.

Until he felt her hand graze across his hipbone. And what little willpower he had left to stop his body from responding floated away in the river current.

Sweet Jesus! Tell me she didn’t do that on purpose.

He gently stilled her hand.

“OK. I think I’m clean enough now.”

Inara looked confused.

“But I’ve not finished…”

“Darlin’, you’ve got two choices. Either we stop this right here and now, or things are very rapidly gonna ride into territory that is bound to lead both of us to regret the consequences. And I ain’t rightly sure either of us is ready for that.”

“Mal, what do you want?” A whisper, making him wish even more he didn’t give a damn about the consequences.

“You know damn well what I want. And if I were more of a bastard than I tell myself I am so that I can sleep at night, I’d have had it by now. I’m doin’ my damndest to be a gentleman. But right now, it is sorely being tested. So it’s your call.”

She took a deep breath and finally lifted her eyes to look at him.

“Shepherd Book told me one time that every action we take in life has consequences. And it’s not about whether or not there will be consequences, but what we choose to do about them that matters.”

Mal gently lifted her chin with his thumb.

“That a yes, sweetheart?”

She nodded. Barely so, but by that point, Mal was almost past the point of caring.

“Tell me this is what you want. Whatever in hell this is between us. Or so help me, even if it kills me, I will be the one to walk away this time.”

He knew he was in a bad way when he was making promises he wasn’t rightly sure he could keep.

“Yes. This is what I want.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before he did the only thing he could do – the only thing he’d been dreaming about since she had left. She didn’t taste anything like he’d experienced. Jasmine and musk and honey all rolled up into one.

His lips traveled from hers across her jawline and down her neck, nipping gently. The very last coherent thought he had before anything beyond the ache to bury himself inside her took over was that he wanted to mark her on the neck as his. So that any other man who even so much as thought about her in that way would know that he had gotten there first. So that none of the others who came before him would matter because none of them would dare do such a thing.

In Mal’s dreams, he would have taken his sweet time about it. Explored every curvaceous inch. The reality, however, was that there was too much pent-up lust between them for them to go slowly. When he felt her lift up and then slide down him until he was up to the hilt inside her, he knew everything his Ma had told him about those deadly syrens was absolute truth.

Except when she started to move, and he then realized that the stories were nothing compared to the real deal. Had any other woman felt this good, this right around him? He couldn’t remember and really didn’t care.

What mattered was here and now. Her taking all his pain and hurt and making it not matter. Making her the only thing that mattered. Maybe even making them the only thing that mattered.

And then none of it did, save for the almost painful rush of coming so hard, he thought he might just black out from it. He’d have to thank her later for taking his mouth with hers right as he howled out his release, lest his crew come running.

When coherent thought returned, he was still standing, although somewhat shaky, in waist-deep water with Inara’s legs firmly wrapped around his waist. He very carefully made his way to shore, carrying her.

“Darlin’ my legs are about to give out. What say we stretch out on the sand for a bit?”

She nodded, unwound herself from around him and spread out the towels for them to lie down on. Several hours later, after at least two more rounds (including one glorious time in which she rode him like a horse at branding time) and falling asleep exhausted, Mal finally woke up just as the sun was setting.

“Sweetheart, we gotta get back. Rest of the crew will start wonderin’ what happened and there’ll be hell to pay.”

Inara smiled sleepily, as they both got dressed.

The following day, Mal woke up to one helluva sunburn on his back. Even wearing his softest cotton shirt was sheer agony. He finally gave in and hunted down Simon to get some relief.

Simon smiled knowingly as he pulled a tube of anesthetic cream out of a drawer.

“Very odd, Captain. Inara was just here as well with a sunburned back.”

Mal grabbed the tube out of Simon’s hand.

“Yeah. Odd indeed, doc.”