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Tom led her into his tent. He found his headlamp and turned it on, hanging it from the loop on the ceiling to cast a feeble light on his familiar belongings. Lexie pulled off her shoes and sat cross-legged on top of Tom’s sleeping bag, feeling unsure and suddenly awkward.
Come on, Lex. You’re sleeping with me. There was more than one way to take that, and she would very much like to know which one he’d meant. But whatever spark of brazenness had launched her into his arms back in Idaho had long since gone out, and the surge of emotion that had allowed her to press her face against his chest by the campfire had ebbed, too. She watched Tom zip the tent closed, rearrange a few of the flaps, and then finally settle down on his haunches across from her.
One of them had to say something. Probably it should be her. She’d always done most of the talking with Tom. But it was hard to decide where to start. She’d lied to him for weeks and had practically thrown herself on him behind the bike shop. Now he’d found her with Lance after she’d promised to ride with Paul—Lance who had proven himself to be less than a knight in shining armor. She couldn’t imagine what he thought of her, but for her part she was fairly disgusted with herself.
Might as well start with the obvious. “What are you doing here?”
He answered with a question of his own. “Who’s James?”
“He’s my brother. Sorry.”
Tom’s lips twitched. “Don’t be too sorry. It’s not exactly bad news from where I’m sitting.”
She looked down at the floor of the tent as she tried to formulate a proper apology. Nothing brilliant came to mind. She glanced up at him. “Cards on the table here, okay?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t want to sleep with you. The best way to make sure I didn’t was to pretend I was married. But it was cowardly of me not to tell you the truth, and I’m sorry I made you feel like you were doing something wrong.”
A deep crease appeared between his eyebrows, and he frowned. “Let me make sure I have this right. You want to sleep with me, but you don’t want to want to?”
She tilted her head in acknowledgment.
“Why not?” When she didn’t answer right away, he reminded her, “Cards on the table, Marshall.”
“I didn’t want everything to get complicated,” she admitted finally. “The ride’s the important thing, and I don’t need a boyfriend or a … whatever you’d be afterward. I’m not looking for all that.”
He nodded again, silently considering her explanation.
She still needed answers of her own. “So why are you here?”
“For you.”
The way he said it—flat, expressionless—it was the least romantic declaration she’d ever heard. But then he reached out to cup her chin, his hand warm and gentle, long fingers curving around to her jaw. She leaned into the touch. When their eyes met, she saw a fierce desire that matched hers, and something else she couldn’t name, something that spoke to the part of her that didn’t like being so out of control. Whatever this was between them, he was in it, too, and he didn’t have any more of a handle on it than she did. It should have been scary, but it was actually a relief.
“I missed you,” he admitted. The low rumble of his voice made her nerve endings hum. He began stroking her jawline with his thumb, a light caress she could feel everywhere. Lexie closed her eyes.
“Let me make a suggestion,” Tom said after a moment. His fingers trailed down her neck, his thumb brushing her throat. “We don’t have to make this complicated. You and I will be … companions, let’s say. We’ll ride together, we’ll sleep together, and when we get to Yorktown, it’ll be over. You’ll go home and find somebody else for your happily ever after. But until then, I get to have you.”
It was a blunt proposal. It was also exactly what she needed to hear to settle her fears and dissolve her resistance. They could both have what they wanted. They wouldn’t let it get complicated. Tom could keep his secrets and his feelings locked up tight the way he liked them, and she wouldn’t have to worry about any of the relationship stuff she was trying to avoid. Nobody was going to fall in love with anybody. They’d just have lots of hot, steamy sex. Perfect.
She met his eyes. “I want you to have me.”
He didn’t move.
Rising to her knees, she curled her trembling fingers around his shoulders and scooted forward to straddle his lap, her dress bunching high on her thighs. She inched closer until her breasts brushed against his chest and the heat of his body seeped through the barriers of their clothes. “I want you to have me,” she murmured again, tucking her face against his neck.
For a long moment, he was still, and she held her breath.
Then his arms came around her, pulling her tight against him. He wanted her. She could feel the evidence pressing against the thin cotton of her panties, and her body responded with a rush of wet heat.
“Tell me again,” he said quietly. “You have to mean it, because if I kiss you, I’m not going to be able to stop.”
There was absolutely no question.
She leaned back and reached down to pull her dress up over her head. “I want you …” Her hands found the clasp of her bra. “… to have me.” She let it drop beside her dress. “Now would you please kiss me?”
His mouth met hers, and the spark caught, heating her up so fast she thought she might spontaneously combust. Their tongues tangled urgently together as his callused fingers roamed over her, memorizing her, claiming her. Her body reacted as if it had known him forever and had missed him for far too long to be patient now. There was a familiarity to the hard press of him against her, and accompanying it a frenzy so completely outside her experience it made her lightheaded. Fumbling with his fly, she tried to get him undressed as fast as possible. “C’mon, Geiger,” she said, a little breathless. “Pick up the pace.”
