Page 12 of A Troll in the Hay

Based on how high his eyebrows rise, my expression must look as unnatural as it feels.

Seven seconds. That’s how long I hold myme-ness in before releasing a pained sigh of defeat. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Do what?” he asks, his eyebrows descending lower than their usual resting place.

“Resist talking. Babbling. Silence isn’t my natural state, as I’m sure you’re already aware. But you’ve stepped out of your lane tonight, and I really want to make an effort to meet you in yours.”

The final word is barely out of my mouth when he wraps one arm around my waist, pulls me tight against him, and kisses me. This time, I don’t need him to adjust our angles, I just melt beneath him, tilting and opening and getting lost in the taste and feel of him.

“Feel free to shut me up that way anytime,” I say when he breaks the kiss, presumably so we don’t pass out from lack of breathing.

The joke falls flat, his eyebrows pulling together at the bridge of his nose as he releases me and takes a step backward. “That is not why I kissed you.”

“I was just teasing,” I say, but it’s not enough to change the way he’s looking at me.

Maybe because he knows it’s not entirely true.

A dog barks as it runs up the beach, the sharp sound bursting the metaphorical bubble around us.

“Sorry to interrupt!” the dog’s owner calls, waving at us as he trails behind his bounding canine. “Have a great night!”

Automatically and without speaking, we return the polite gesture, our arms dropping once the man’s back is to us.

“I would never do something to silence you,” Ogram says before I can get a word out. “I kissed you because I wanted to. In that moment, I wanted to because, eventhough we are just beginning, you once again considered my needs and preferences, and you were willing to put them above your own comfort.”

“An unsuccessful attempt that lasted less than ten seconds, but of course I tried. I’ll continue to try.”

“I don’t want you to do that,” he says, taking my free hand in his. “I enjoy everything about you, just as you are, and I would not change a single thing.”

Swoon. Seriously. “Okay, but if I ever just talk too damn much and you’ve had enough for a while, please tell me, okay?”

“I will agree, though only to give you peace of mind.”

Shaking my head, I snort a laugh. “You’ll get sick of my nonstop talking. Everyone does.”

“I am not everyone.”

It’s true. Not because he’s green and huge, or any of the other superficial qualities that make him different. Because he’s good, kind, thoughtful, sweet, gentlemanly,andsexy, all at the same time. “I know you’re not.”

“Good.” He squeezes my hand gently. “Never curb your expressiveness with me. Your voice is beautiful. Like music to my ears,” he says, angling his head to provide a better view of the tall, pointed green flesh in question. “And trolls’ ears are quite sensitive.”

“Hearing-wise, you mean. Or, as in, sensitive to the touch?”

“Both.”

And now I want to reach up and touch them to see just how sensitive they really are. But if ear play is thething that’ll unravel him, I’d rather not be ankle-deep in a lake when I find out.

Stepping to my side, he tucks my hand through the crook of his elbow, carefully folding my fingers over his massive forearm. “Shall we make our way over to the boardwalk and head back to your cabin?” He tilts his head at the unspoken question that must be written on my face. “Where I will say goodnight to you at the door.”

“You could come in instead. It wouldn’t be a sex date. It’d be a date that includes sex.” I huff when his big body rumbles with amusement. The irritation doesn’t last—it’s just a little sexual frustration. More than a little, actually, and that’s new for me. Sex has always been a take-it-or-leave-it thing. After kissing Ogram, I want to take it all and take it now. “Waiting for another time is important to you?”

“It is.”

“Then it’s important to me too,” I say as we resume walking.

Water gives way to wet sand that squishes up between my toes with each step, then dry sand that sticks to my skin everywhere the water touched. We reach the boardwalk and I rub my feet against the smooth wooden slats. Then each foot against the opposite leg. Some of the sand falls away, but not enough to be rid of the crusty, prickly layer so uncomfortable and distracting, it threatens to suck all the good feelings out of my mind.

“Allow me to help,” Ogram says, crouching before me and placing one of my feet on his knee.