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When she shut her eyes and sighed with her mouth slightly parted, Luke swallowed. Hard. Hell yeah, he remembered those kisses.
She turned her troubled gray gaze to the fire. “But then I want more. I want to feel his hands all over my body. I want to be naked. I want to be horizontal. Or not,” she shrugged. “It depends. And I don’t want to leave until I know all of his kinks and erogenous zones and he knows that I like it when he talks dirty to me as I’m about to come and we’re lying in an exhausted heap barely able to breathe.”
Luke didn’t say anything as she stared into the fire. Her voice had become husky and he could hear a hitch in her breathing. Her admissions sent all the blood rushing from his head and other areas of his body straight to his dick. There was none left for his vocal cords, which seemed to have gone into some weird kind of paralysis.
She sighed and looked at him. “Gateway drug.”
He cleared his throat. “Right,” he said and hoped it came out a lot more manly than it sounded.
“You know what bugs me?” she asked. “Men think because we’re women, we don’t understand what it’s like to be ruled by our libidos. That we don’t need sex as much as them.”
She snorted and Luke blinked at the vehemence of it. “That’s just crap, you know? ’Cause I can tell you, after twelve months of dating and really trying hard to find the one and failing miserably, my libido is really freakin’ loud.”
She looked him up and down, her gaze fanning over every inch of his body, and Luke’s belly clenched at the sudden clarity and frankness there. “How about it?” she said, zeroing in on his mouth like she was already kissing it deep and wet and hungry exactly the way she’d described to him.
Every single cell he owned screamed yes. He’d been in a war zone for nine months and getting laid had been pretty much at the top of his things-to-do-when-I-get-home list. His dick was definitely voting yes.
But he couldn’t do it.
She was drunk. Amusing, cute, and funny as hell with it, but still obviously under the influence. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out Tamara was a good girl who was really going to hate herself tomorrow when she remembered this conversation.
She stood abruptly, things shifting nicely beneath her shirt, her face contorting and looking crazy-fierce for a moment, and Luke knew if she jumped him, he’d be a goner.
It was almost a relief when she said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Chapter Three
Fourteen hours ’til midnight
Tamara barely ma
de it to the bathroom before hurling up her liquid breakfast. It came up a lot rougher than it had gone down.
“I’d offer to hold your hair back for you but...”
“Go away,” she said grouchily to the voice coming from somewhere behind her.
As if it wasn’t bad enough having a hot man oozing testosterone all over the small cabin when she was at the mercy of her sex-starved hormones, now he was watching her throw up as well. Even with her eyes shut she could see him lounging against the doorframe in his snug jeans and white tee.
She could also see herself peeling them off with her teeth.
Spent, she flushed the toilet, dropped the lid back into place, and sat down heavily, keeping her eyes shut as everything spun. The bathroom was chilly and it felt heavenly against her flushed cheeks.
“Better?” he asked.
She shook her head, but stopped immediately when her stomach protested. “Nope.”
She heard him laugh and cracked open an eyelid as he approached. “Come on,” he said. “Brush your teeth, then go to bed. You’ll feel better.”
His hand was at her elbow helping her upright. “I doubt it,” she said as she meekly allowed him to guide her to the vanity.
“Trust me, I know a thing or two about overindulging.”
Tamara snorted at his reflection as she squeezed a huge dollop of toothpaste onto her brush. She just bet he did. The man had a body that was built for overindulgence. She dropped her gaze as the temptation to let it roam all over him took hold. He was broad and tanned, and vitality oozed from every muscle. She had a foaming mouth and really bad hat hair, and was weary to her bones.
Ducking her head, she brushed, spat, and rinsed, then gargled with the mouthwash she’d brought for extra insurance. When she raised her head she realized he’d been watching her every move. Sexy. Real sexy. She looked at them side-by-side in the mirror. Why was it that he looked like the responsible grown-up, his arms crossed against his chest, a slightly amused smile playing on his very kissable mouth, and she looked like the trashed teenager?
Her vision blurred for a moment and she blinked a couple of times to clear it only to be confronted by a hint of color just visible through her top. She blinked again, peering hard to ascertain the origin through fuzzy vision and jumbled gray matter. It took a couple of seconds for her to realize it was the merest hint of nipple.
