Marta sat up in the bed, her lower half completely covered by the blanket. She fought tangles in her hair with a brush Liza must have left for her. “This is what happens with curly hair when you spend too much time in the jungle.” She let out a frustrated breath and laid her hands on her lap, the brush still tangled in her hair. “I believe it would be easier to shave it off than to work all the tangles out. I give up.”
“Let me,” he said without thinking. Or rather, he was thinking with the wrong part of his body and walking right into a situation that would not end well for him.
Her eyes rounded. “You’d do that?” She shook her head. “I can’t let you. It’s a nightmare at this point and quite possibly could take the rest of the night.”
“You’ll need to scoot to the edge of the bed so I can reach you.” He moved to stand beside the bed.
“I’ll do one better,” she said and wiggled her bottom toward the center of the bed. Then she patted the spot where she’d been sitting. “Sit. You’ve got to be as exhausted as I am.”
“I should stand.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “If you don’t sit, I’ll just leave the tangles and to hell with them.”
This is a mistake. He knew it the moment he settled on the bed, and she turned her back to him.
He eased the brush out of her hair and started at the ends, working through a strand to gently pull the tangles free. Once he smoothed that strand, he moved to the next. The tangle-free hair sprang back into loose blood-red curls that began drying into dark copper swirls.
Once the back was smooth, he brushed several more times, in slow, even strokes.
“Umm,” Marta moaned. “You’re making magic. I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed since even before I was taken.” She turned to face him and closed her eyes, giving him access to the hair that framed her face.
He worked the tangles free and stared down at her face, marveling at how beautiful she was. No makeup, her hair curling softly around her cheeks, her full, rose-colored lips soft and ready to kiss.
She blinked her eyes open. “All done?” she said, her voice not much more than a whisper.
He nodded.
“That’s too bad. It felt so good.” She pushed the hair back from her face. It slipped back into her face.
“Do you want me to brush all of it back from your face?” he asked.
“Yes,” she smiled up at him. “Please.”
She turned her back to him again and leaned her head back.
He brushed her hair back from her forehead, blending it into the rest. The drier strands sprang up into little curls. Even after he had all the hair blended back from her forehead, he continued to brush.
The more he brushed, the more she leaned back, until her head pressed against his chest and he couldn’t brush anymore. For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t say anything, just let her hair brush against his bare chest, his heartbeat thundering against his ribs.
“Jack,” she whispered.
It was the first time she’d called him by his real name. It sent a different warmth through him. “Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled, his heart swelling with something he couldn’t name. But it felt good. “Anytime.”
After several more minutes, Crusher eased Marta onto the pillow and pulled the blanket up over her. Then he bent to kiss her forehead. Before his lips touched her skin, she tipped her chin up. His mouth came down on hers.
For a second, he froze. Her lips were soft against his.
Her hand came up around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. When her tongue flicked across her lips, he opened to her and swept in, caressing her in long, sensual strokes.
When he finally came up, he stared down into her eyes. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Just don’t tell me it was a mistake,” she said. “It didn’t feel like a mistake.”
He shook his head, his lips lifting on the corner. “It wasn’t a mistake.”
