Misha watched Bella's fingers, as they curved over the smooth, wet glass of the bottle's neck. Her fingers were like everything else about her, delicate and careful, moving as though they were dancing. It made his body warm just to watch her, although of course the sun didn't help matters.
"I'll have to trade you sometime," he teased, finally draining the last of his cider and then standing up. He nodded his head toward the water.
"So how about it, little fish. Come swim with me."