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Unfortunately, that hadn’t made him feel any less horny, which surely meant he needed to be sectioned. Everything was way too raw at the moment to even contemplate sex with Halle. She might as well have a neon sign on her forehead saying ‘Danger: Drama Ahead’.
He’d spent the past sixteen years carefully separating sex from emotion precisely because it could lead to this sort of situation. And he wasn’t about to break his own rules just because he felt a little horny.
He dragged the kayak onto the bank and fastened it securely.
Halle wiggled back out of the tent and unrolled the sleeping bags. Then paused to hold up the two bags. His breathing stopped as he willed her to unzip them and turn them into one bag.
OK, a lot horny.
The bags remained unzipped, and she flung them into the tent. Side by side. The tension in his gut, though, didn’t ease.
She stood to brush the sand and bits of leaves off her pyjamas. ‘It’s getting chilly,’ she said, squinting into the dying light.
Without the shield of immaculately applied make-up she usually wore, she looked younger, and more vulnerable, the reddened patch on her chin where she’d hit the deck earlier matched by a scratch across her cheek.
The sunset illuminated the golden strands in her hair for a few seconds. She’d rinsed the blonde mess before cooking supper, making it spring around her head in a mussy halo. Wild and only partially tamed by the loose knot.
She toyed with the bottom button on her pyjama top, which she’d fastened right up to her neck. Decorated with dancing pink elephants, the cotton pyjamas were cosy and girlish and more than bulky enough to disguise her lush curves.
She shouldn’t have looked the least bit hot.
He’d never seen anything so hot in his entire life.
She glanced at the tent. ‘Right, we’re all set. I’m gonna crash.’
And that was all the encouragement his cock needed—never the smartest part of his anatomy—to get thick and heavy in his shorts. ‘Go ahead, I’ll be in in a minute.’
‘Fine, but don’t wake me up, even if a bear decides to come calling.’
‘I hate to break it to you, but my bear-wrestling abilities are fairly minimal, so I may have to wake you up if one decides to drop in for a visit.’
Was he actually hoping for a bear attack just so he’d have a reason to wake her up now?
Apparently, with Halle, your libido is still stuck in a nineties time warp.
‘I wasn’t expecting you to wrestle the bear,’ she said. ‘I was expecting you to present yourself as bait.’
He laughed, the sound strained. ‘Right, I guess I can manage that much.’
‘Good.’ She jerked her thumb towards the tent. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’
‘Sleep tight.’ Because I won’t be.
She was curled up like a boiled prawn when he edged into the cramped space twenty minutes later. The blonde fuzz was the only thing visible above the lump of her sleeping bag. He kicked off his boots, pulled off his shirt and shorts and shuffled into his own sleeping bag, shivering in his boxers. He stared at the dancing light of a firefly through the thin tent fabric, listened to the sibilant sound of her snoring and closed his eyes. Tight.
While on assignment, he’d slept soundly in a bombed-out building in Gaza, in a favela during the Rio Carnival and at a Woodstock revival concert in Upstate New York with a thousand geriatric hippies outside his tent singing ‘Blowing in the Wind’ at top volume as they got stoned for old times’ sake.
He could manage one night sharing a two-man with Halle with a raging hard-on.
If he had to.
Chapter 15
Call me, bleep me, if you wanna reach me.
Lizzie hummed the theme tune from Kim Possible, emboldened by the image of the kung-fu-fighting high school secret agent as she slotted in behind an ancient Asian lady on the escalator. Her gaze remained riveted on Trey as he stepped off thirty steps above her. Darting out from behind her cover, Lizzie leaped up the stairs two at a time, racing to catch Trey before he exited the tube station.
Move over, Kim Possible. Lizzie Best is on fire.
