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Maybe it was the fire. Maybe it was the darkness that made me feel safe or maybe it was the feeling of his hands either side of my face, but it finally hit me.
He really, really cared about me.
Butterflies exploded in my stomach as I leaned into his kiss. My hands crept up to grasp his jacket, the zippers cutting into my palms as the overwhelming sensation of falling hit me.
Not literally.
Emotionally.
It was a wave. Nothing extravagant like a tsunami. It didn’t hit me with a sudden wash of understanding that changed everything I knew in a minute.
No, it was a gentle wave. One that crawled up and covered my toes, breaking as soon as it hit my ankles before dissipating. It came again, this one with a little more power, and the awareness of how I truly felt for Josh spread through my body.
Each wave accompanied a kiss. One after another they spread through me, pushing my feelings for Josh deeper into my bones, into my very soul, until I had no choice but to admit the truth to myself.
I was absolutely, definitely, wholly, undeniably, teetering on the edge of falling in love with Joshua Carter.
Irrevocably so.
Because if I fell, if I was pushed, if I crossed the line, there would be no coming back from it.
If I fell, there would be no way back from loving him.
And I had no choice but to admit to myself that being loved by him would be nothing short of amazing.
A big, fat drop of cold wetness hit me on the cheek, and I jerked back with a squeal. Josh’s alarm quickly turned to bemusement as it kept coming, and it took me far too long to realize it was the rain he’d told me was forecast.
Sizzling filled the air as the rain hit the fire, and the hot wood hissed with every drop that made contact. I understood how the fire felt—my coat wasn’t waterproof, and if I stayed up here any longer, I was going to be a drowned rat by the time we reached halfway down the hike path.
“We have to go!” I squealed, trying to escape his hold.
Laughing, Josh grabbed me harder and, using his body weight, pushed me back. I fell onto the blanket with an ‘oof’ that I felt through my entire being, but it was short-lived. Josh was so much bigger than I was, and he covered my body with his, acting like a human umbrella.
The last thing I saw before he kissed me was his grin.
It split his face and danced in his eyes, and I felt that smile in every single touch we shared. His fingers slid into my hair and around the back of my head. His kiss was heady and consuming, and it was almost enough to make me forget that it was raining.
Almost.
My jeans were soaked through, after all.
Not that it stopped me from kissing him back. I wasn’t sure there was anything that could stop me from kissing him back. It was almost a compulsion. I was beginning to crave the way I felt when his lips were against mine, and it was absolutely terrifying.
Especially when my heart was hammering against my chest the way it was now.
“Josh,” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“I’m wet.”
He pulled back to look down at me, his lips curving into a smile. “Oh, yeah.”
I ran my tongue over my dry lips. “My clothes. My clothes are wet.”
He wiggled his eyebrows.
“From the rain, Joshua.”
With a laugh, he got up and rummaged in his duffel bag. As I sat up, I saw the tell-tale sight of an umbrella being undone and opened, and I glared at him.
“Are you kidding? What? You couldn’t make out with me under that instead?”
He positioned it so it was over my head. “I thought women liked to be kissed in the rain.”
“We do, but if there’s an umbrella available, we’ll take it.”
“You say it like you’re speaking for all women.”
“I am.” I nodded and took the umbrella. “Trust me, I am.”
“Well, sue me for trying to book-woo you.”
“Book-woo me? What on Earth is book-wooing?”
He moved the umbrella so we were both covered by it. “Book-wooing: the art of applying fictional romantic notions to real life to woo someone.”
I blinked at him, fighting back a smile. “You made that up, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. It’s cute, huh?”
“Yes,” I muttered. Begrudgingly. The last thing I needed was for him to start swiping random scenes from books or, worse, scenes he’d read about on the Internet.
If he walked into my bedroom with a flogger and nipple clamps, we were going to need a come-to-Jesus moment.
“So what is this so-called art?” I leaned against the huge log behind us and nestled into Josh’s side when he wrapped his arm around me. Despite the fact we were now cloaked in darkness aside from the dying embers of the fire and it was raining, it was weirdly cozy up here.
