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“Ever since you crawled across this tent, I’ve had this image I can’t get out of my head.”
“Me, too.”
“I wonder if they match,” he said, and lifted her onto her hands and knees again.
Then he waited, touching her nowhere but his palms at her hips. She felt his heat, the pulsing weight of his erection so close but still so far. She wanted him inside of her.
“Yes,” she said, then, as he pushed fully within, “yes.”
Though this had begun as just sex, rooted in a need to forget, to avoid, perhaps even to break free, it changed. One instant she reveled in the sharp slap of flesh, the pulse and the push that ground so deep. The next he had curved himself over her, chest to back, fingers to breast, lips to neck, and her chest, her belly, her very being, stilled.
“Gina,” he whispered in a voice full of wonder, as if he’d seen a shooting star, a meteor, or maybe just her.
His other hand settled atop hers where it rested on the ground, and without thought she linked their fingers together.
The catch in his breath rushed along her skin, giving her goose bumps despite the seeming heat, then he throbbed, once, twice, again, and she was falling, rising, coming as she reached for a place where she no longer remembered anything but him.
* * *
He shouldn’t have touched her with so much strife between them. But one look into her endless eyes and Matt had been lost.
Or maybe he’d merely been found. Because making love to Gina had felt like coming home.
Ridiculous. He’d never had a home. How could he possibly know what coming back to it would feel like?
Gina stirred at his side, and he tightened his arms around her. He didn’t want her to move. Not now. Not ever.
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He kissed her and again experienced that tug in his chest that made him want to hold on, to never let go. She’d told him that she’d rarely had a second date with a man; he’d rarely had a second date with a woman.
Because no first date had ever felt like this.
She licked the seam of his lips as she lifted her mouth. He could see nothing beyond the slightly darker outline of her head, but her breath brushed his cheek, her hair stroked his chest, and his body yearned all over again.
“I need to check the horses,” she said.
“I’ll do it.”
Her laughter flowed across his skin, and his penis leaped. He reached for her, but she was already rolling away, grabbing her jeans, her shirt. “I won’t be long.”
Matt lay back, hands beneath his head, and listened to her move about the tent. His mind wandered, as it often did, and he remembered what he’d asked right before she’d suddenly kissed him.
“What happened?” he repeated. “Beneath that tree. You can tell me.”
The rustling stopped. The tent flap opened. She stepped out; the scent of rain rushed in.
It took Matt several minutes to realize she wasn’t coming back.
CHAPTER 13
A loud crack sounded directly above; then rain fell in a deluge and the heavens erupted with lightning. Gina caught a glimpse of the horses, standing with their butts to the wind, heads down but calm enough, right before the world went dark again and she ran.
You can tell me. In other words … you can trust me.
But she couldn’t. Mateo Mecate was after one thing, and it wasn’t her. It had never been her.
Sure, she’d been the one to kiss him. She’d wanted to forget. And she had.
