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She nodded, and strands of her silky hair drifted over his lips. Cam tightened his arms around her.
He’d known all kinds of women in his life. He wasn’t a fool: he knew that a beautiful woman could also be strong, but he hadn’t expected it from Salome.
She looked delicate, but she’d held her own from the moment she’d threatened him with that ridiculous nail file. No tears. No complaints. No asking for favors because she was female.
Cam shut his eyes.
God, yes. She was very female. She even smelled good, a minor miracle because he doubted anyone could make such a claim for him. But Salome… Salome smelled of flowers. Vanilla. Woman.
The beat of her heart slowed as he stroked his hand up and down her back.
“I bet you could use a tall glass of orange juice.”
Her sigh was almost a groan. “That’s it. Torture me.”
“And a steak.” He kept one arm around her as he reached for the knapsack. “How do you like your steak, Salome? Rare? Well-done?”
“Rare,” she said with a little sigh. “But charred on the outside.”
“Why, ma’am,” he said, putting on a drawl, “y’all must be from Texas, jest like me.”
She looked up. “Are you really from Texas?”
“Uh-huh. Dallas.”
“Aha. That’s why you wear those boots.”
“You mean, that’s why I wore them,” he said dryly. “But you’re right. No self-respecting Texan goes anywhere without his boots.”
She smiled. Cam wanted to applaud, which was ridiculous. Why did he give a damn if she smiled or not? It just made sense to take her mind off their problems for a little while.
“Here,” he said. “Drink some water. More,” he added, when she began to give back the bottle. “Now for that steak.”
He held out the chunk of halvah. She took a delicate bite. A tiny crumb adhered to her upper lip and she swiped at it with the tip of her tongue, then closed her eyes as the sweet taste bloomed on her tongue.
When she gave a little hum of pleasure, Cam remembered her making that same sound when he’d bared her breasts and sucked her nipples into his mouth.
The candy was sweet, but the taste of her had been sweeter.
His body sprang to full attention.
He swung away, tilted the water to his mouth for one quick gulp, then capped the bottle and stuffed it into the pack along with the remaining halvah.
“Okay,” he said briskly, “time to move out.”
“You didn’t drink enough water. And you didn’t eat anything.”
“I’m fine.”
Leanna stared at Cam. He was telling the truth. She’d been shaking with cold and exhaustion; her muscles were on fire and her feet, despite the clever thing he’d done to her sandals, felt as if they were being rubbed raw.
He had nothing on his feet. His T-shirt was insubstantial. He’d set a killing pace but he didn’t look as if this was anything more than an easy stroll.
Maybe all those rippling muscles were for real.
“You—” She cleared her throat. “You do this kind of thing often?”
She sounded so serious that he didn’t have the heart to laugh. “Well, let’s see. Last time I escaped from a lunatic and crossed the desert with a beautiful woman was, oh, maybe two, three weeks ago. So I’d say, yeah, pretty often.”
