Page 5 of Leaping Into Love

She works with her hands, yet they are the softest thing I’ve ever touched. That band of skin she’s grazing with her fingertips would surely be even softer.

I’m in the middle of a mating call when she slides her fingers beneath the waistband of her little shorts. Not just the tips of her fingers, her entire hand disappears beneath the material. Frog vision is highly attuned to motion, and no movement has ever held my attention like Tiana’s fingers inside the front of her shorts.

Upon discovering fate had chosen a human female as my one true mate, I devoted all spare minutes to learning every intimate detail about their needs and desires. That’s how I know what her fingers are doing beneath the shifting fabric. Even from this distance, her scent fills my nostrils, bringing my cock to a full stand. My legs coil, ready to leap to her so I can unfurl my tongue and taste my mate’s sweet arousal before mounting her. Pleasures I have never experienced.

Her chest rises and falls faster with each second, her breathy sounds carrying on the night air like beautiful music to my tympana. Instinctively, I adjust the cadence of my call to her breathing, and the moment we are in sync, an erotic moan leaves her parted lips.

Underwater, I grip my cock, sliding up and down its length while I speed up my song to match her building pace. Her panted broken words and choppy breathing give way to one long, throaty, sensual moan as her hips buck wildly against her touch. In perfect harmony with my mate, I throb my release into the cool water, slowing my call in time with her gentling breaths.

“Holy shit, what the hell was that? Did I just get off to the sound of a frog?” she whispers into the night before giggling softly. “Must be something in the water here, I guess—only literally. Thank you, Mr. Frog, wherever you are, and, um, same time tomorrow night?” With another giggle, she slips her hand out of her shorts, rises from the lounge chair, and goes into the cottage. Standing at the screen door, she stares out into the darkness, her gaze focused on the reeds hiding me from her view.

I know she doesn’t see me. Can’t see me. It’s fully dark out, my legs and hips are beneath the water’s surface and my torso and head are concealed among thick bulrushes. But she senses my presence. I’m certain of it.

“Same time tomorrow,” I say quietly. The croak that follows is anything but quiet.

“Good night, Mr. Frog.” Another giggle floats from her lips—straight to my heart—then she turns the lights off and disappears into the darkened room.

Is it possible she wouldn’t recoil from me if she knew what I am? Even if I wished to take the chance, it is beyond my control. The old magic protecting Rita’s Hollow controls the glamour altering what Tiana sees here; it is beyond any monster’s means to override. Only the old magic or Tiana’s love can break the spell.

But I have hope, more now than ever. I also have the best memory of my life.

chapter four

tiana

When I step out of the cottage, Henry is already in the yard. Even though it’s barely past dawn, he’s sitting on a flagstone patio at a café table that’s either pristinely vintage or an incredible replica, reading an actual newspaper while sipping from what has to be an antique china teacup. Once again dressed in dark trousers with suspenders over a button-up dress shirt, he could be the main character in a scene from a period drama.

“Good morning.” He raises the cup like a salute as I cross the swath of immaculate lawn separating the sprawling manor house from the perfect little cottage at the edge of the swamp. “You’re welcome to join me for breakfast if you’d like. I didn’t see a cooler among your things when I unloaded the trailer, so I imagine you don’t have much in the way of groceries on hand.”

“Your imagining is on point,” I say as I take the chair opposite him. Why my statement causes him to blush, I have no idea, but it’s adorable.

There’s something about him—or maybe it’s several somethings—that makes it easy to be around him. Whatever it is, there’s a sense of ease and comfortableness, as if I’ve known him a long time. As if he’s a part of my personal landscape, not just the man who hired me to take care of his.

“I have a well-stocked kitchen, and I haven’t had an opportunity to prepare food for someone else in a very long time, so tell me what you’d like and I’ll hop inside and get it ready for you.”

Hearing him use the word “hop” brings my escapade on the porch last night rushing to the front of my mind. There’s no way Henry could have seen or heard me masturbating to a frog song because I waited for all the lights to go off in the manor house before I went outside.

“It’s already quite warm out,” I say, fanning my face with my hand to give a credible reason for the color rising in my cheeks. “Not that I’m complaining. I love the summer months.”

“As do I.” Blinking those wide-set eyes at me, he sets his cup on the marble tabletop and leans forward slightly. “Should you ever feel like a refreshing dip, there’s a spot where the bank is clear of reeds and plants, with a walk-in access point for the pond.”

Now it’s my eyes that feel wide and froglike. “It’s safe to swim in the pond?”

“Yes, quite. The water quality and pH levels are very important to me, and tested regularly. You’re at no risk of becoming ill, though I’d advise against drinking more than an accidental mouthful.”

“What about other safety factors like snapping turtles or poisonous plants?”

“There are no snappers here, I assure you, and we’ve always taken measures to ensure there are no plant species that can cause real harm.” One hand rises to his mouth, where he taps a finger against his wide, full lips. “However, there are water snakes. They pose no danger to humans, but they can be curious when there’s movement in the water.”

“Meaning, I might feel one slither up against my leg underwater?”

“Possibly, yes.” He doesn’t come out and ask if I’m okay with that scenario, but the patiently expectant expression on his face is a silent question.

“When I was young, my grandparents had a cabin on a lake, and I’d spend every summer there. Those three months of the year were the best times of my life, and it’s where I became a nature girl. Snakes were a normal part of the day, whether I was wandering the woods or swimming in the lake. If one of the cold-blooded local inhabitants wants to say hello while I’m enjoying their habitat, I look forward to meeting them.”

The way Henry looks at me when I finish is… not relieved or satisfied. He looks jubilant. As if my answer were some great news he’s been waiting to hear.

Of course, that can’t be what it really is. He’s probably just happy that I turned out to be a legitimate nature lover, not just someone with a handful of green certifications who’s only truly interested in the green going into my bank account on payday.