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“So you were being a good coach,” Constance offered. “And a good friend.”
At first, Rhett’s face was tight, like he was waiting for the hidden trap. Then it relaxed. “Okay,” he said, then shrugged. “I wanted you to see the spot.” His voice was low. “The place where I saw the horses.” He gestured toward the outdoors.
“Why’d you want me to see it?”
Rhett gave a soft laugh. “Because.” He scratched the back of his head. “Because,” he repeated. “Because it’s my spot.” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know how to say it. Sorry if that’s dumb. If dragging you down here just to see some sand and shrubs was...”
Constance let the towel fall to the floor.
Rhett eyed her naked body up and down. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Constance could tell he tried not to stare, but failed. Eventually, his gaze settled with her own. The intensity she felt, when he chose to look into her eyes, was so strong the back of her neck started to sweat.
Constance didn’t move to lift her towel and cover up, or even to find a set of clothes to put on. For the first time in a long time—maybe ever—she was completely comfortable being totally bare. He’d liked her in the My Pretty Pony shirt, and all of Dad’s old tees. He’d liked her in the bulky sweats she wore on their very first run together. He’d liked her in anything. Which meant he didn’t care what she wore. What size she was. How far she ran. He just likedher.
Rhett’s jaw tightened. He swallowed hard.
“Well, at least tell me what you think.” Constance didn’t know why he stood there, in silence, looking angry and frustrated and helpless all at the same time. She closed the distance between them and took his hands in hers. “Am I not horrible?”
His warm fingers traced up her palms, which sent gooseflesh over her skin.
Constance felt like they were back in the gym, alone in the quiet. He’d just taught her some combat moves and they were staring at each other, unsure how to handle the heat and energy that grew between them. It got hard to breathe. “Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad.”
“What are you, then?”
Silence.
“Remember when you kissed me during Combat?”
“Of course.” She almost smiled, but kept it to herself.
“Do you think about it?”
“Yes.” Her pulse was loud in her ears. “Do you?”
He ran a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. “Every single night.” He leaned in slowly, but stopped, just shy of her lips. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes.” Constance’s voice was a whisper.
“It’s hard to breathe.”
She waited, her blood growing warmer with each passing second. He was teasing her on purpose, but still, she waited. She’d kissed him last time. She wanted him to kiss her this time.
Her eyes closed. After an eternity, his lips touched hers. Contact was like a glowing poker, straight from the fire, right to her core. That moment of intensity when you can’t tell if you’re frozen or burned, but it doesn’t matter because the effect is the same: it’s almost too much.
Almost.
Rhett’s kiss deepened slowly. He took only a little at a time, like he absorbed her in pieces. Constance’s fingertips and palms rolled over Rhett’s body, beneath his shirt, touching all the places she’d already touched before, but in a new way. His lips found her neck, the curve of her shoulder, her collarbone, his touch light and coaxing, exploratory, inquisitive.
“You really want me to tell you what I think?”
“Yes.” Constance opened herself. Whatever he said, whatever he did, good or bad, she would take it.
He sank down, to his knees, and drew her against him. Constance’s hands went into his hair, thick and damp. His scents filled her nose and his warm, wet lips trailed over her abdomen. She tilted her head back and gasped softly. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. Her legs shook, making it hard to stand. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful. From the second you stared up at me, from the floor of my gym, drenched in sweat, I was lost.” His hands lit on her wrists and pulled her down against him, into his lap.
He kissed her again, firmer this time, his lips urgent but sweet, his energy roaring over her like a wave at high tide or winds out of control. Constance was caught up in the storm, her only choice to ride it out. She stripped his clothing, one piece at a time, parting from him only long enough to rid them of the irritating material that kept her from being completely bare against him. He felt hard and smooth, tasted like warm skin, lavender and beach air.
A perfectly good bed remained untouched, the sheets still made from this morning, as Rhett flipped her beneath him on the floor, cradling her neck in his arm.
