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‘We should get going.’ He got up and marched over to the laurel bush to whip his dry boxers off the branch. ‘I’ve gotta figure out how to use the two-way and tell Bill where to pick us up.’ Then he strode into the undergrowth, obviously to put his boxers back on.
Subject comprehensively closed.
She lifted her own underwear off the bush, contemplating her next move as she put her bra on under her T-shirt and stuffed her knickers into the pocket of her shorts.
His explanation wasn’t just cheesy, it was half-arsed. And if he thought that was all he was going to say on the subject, he had another think coming.
But she needed to be careful and protect herself before she had that discussion.
As they trudged back along the trail towards their pick-up point, she comforted herself with how much better able she was to hear the truth now than she had been sixteen years ago.
She wasn’t that reckless girl any more, increasingly scared and anxious, beaten down by the responsibility of a child and terrified of losing the man she loved. Whatever Luke had to say on the subject, if she could shoehorn it out of him, she certainly wasn’t scared of hearing it any more. Her need to know now was mere curiosity.
Maybe it was time to get in his face, instead of staying out of his way. Why shouldn’t this communication thing, the communication thing he’d started by getting her here, work two ways?
Obviously, she’d be a fool not to acknowledge the sexual tension. But she could handle it. She was a mature woman who didn’t have sex for the sake of it any more. Especially not with men whom she already knew weren’t good for her.
Holding back a branch of laurel that hung across the path, Luke beckoned her to precede him. As she stepped close to him, she inhaled his scent. Lake water and laundry s
oap and fresh sweat, overlaid with the cinnamon smell of the gum he was chewing. The sinew in his forearm stretched, making the muscles in his shoulder bunch. She caught his gaze on her before it flicked away. The look in his eyes was both wary and intense.
Moisture collected as her naked and unprotected vulva rubbed against the rough linen seam of her hiking shorts.
Awareness snapped in the humid air between them, until his gaze connected with hers again. His jaw moved, working the gum.
‘Take out the gum.’
He looked puzzled, but he obeyed, licking his fingers to extract the wad. ‘Why?’
She placed her hands on either side of his face, letting the rough stubble abrade her palms.
His jaw tensed. ‘Hal, what are you doing?’
He sounded concerned. No wonder. With one arm occupied stopping the branch from whacking them both in the face and the other hand busy holding the gum, he was entirely at her mercy. She took a moment to appreciate the rush of power and to consider her purpose.
Because she had something vitally important to prove.
She might be a smidgeon sex-starved. And far too aware of those intoxicating pheromones that had always hovered around Luke in a cloud, prompting women to do stupid things. But she wasn’t afraid of the siren call of her own senses any more. She’d already come a cropper on those rocks once. She wasn’t about to go sailing that way again. She was in command of her libido now, and she was immune to Luke’s charms. Or immune enough. And here was her chance to prove it.
Then she stopped thinking and let instinct take over. Rising on tiptoes, her chest brushing his, she heard his sharp intake of breath before her lips settled over his.
His mouth pursed into a tight line as she pressed against it. So she licked along the seam of his lips. They opened at last on a tremulous sigh, which brought with it the taste of cinnamon and need. Their tongues tangled briefly. Tip to tip. Cautious, gentle, coaxing, at first. But then the need turned to exploration, and exploitation, their tongues duelling as he delved deeper. Demanded more.
And a part of her wanted to give in to the demand. To lose herself forever in the kiss.
The part of her that had been romantic and foolish at sixteen, and stupid enough not to have an ounce of forethought or self-preservation. The same part of her that in moments of extreme stress even now wanted to devour Luke because he was a man, a man she desired and had always desired. And who had always tasted so good.
OK, stop tasting him. You’re going under.
She wrenched herself away, stepped back and released his cheeks—the tiny tremors racking her body like a heroin addict going cold turkey.
‘What was that about?’ he asked, the pale blue of his irises vanished behind the dilated pupils.
That was to prove a very important point.
‘That was an apology,’ she said, grabbing hold of the first viable excuse. ‘For slapping you so hard.’ She patted his cheek, which appeared to be thankfully unbruised.
He scowled. ‘Then thanks, I guess … Although I thought we agreed I deserved that slap.’
