Whitewater Gorge Floating

Plot twist: Derg could be cocky. Lighting the fuckin’ mood indeed. Suddenly Finley understood a little more what Donovan had seen in him, even if it was, far as she knew, a rarer mood for the scarred male. Even Colin threw in a smile, and now they were playing tag. Near a gorge. In the middle of a journey to a new home.

But clearly, she was outnumbered. It’d been ages since Finley’s last romp, but surely they wouldn’t get away with straying too long? She was about to confirm permission with leadership when something small and wet bopped up against her nose. Tag.

Her tail kept swaying, faster now but still not quite a wag. Fine. If they were playing games, she’d show her how she “played.” Finley drew in a slow breath, as if exasperated (despite her tail’s betrayal)—and without hesitation ducked towards Colin, as if to nip him on the chin. She kept her mouth clamped shut, however; in her version of tag she might have gone for a real bite, but not here. Not now. Derg’s gentle nose had told her this was going to be a very different kind of game.