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“You’re right. Nice one, Shyla,” Jericho agreed, eating with gusto.
Even Dante nodded to concur, and it was that silent assent that actually gave Shyla the biggest thrill. Still, she shrugged off the praise with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure anything would taste good after going without food for this long,” she replied.
Lazarus shook his head. “Don’t put yourself down, Shyla,” he scolded in a surprisingly commanding tone which had her ovaries sitting up and taking notice. Shyla herself kept her head down and said nothing as her cheeks heated. She just wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment at her response or from the arousal itself.
Down girl! She silently reproached herself.
“Well, let’s hope the soup is as good,” she said, trying to get her mind off her traitorous body. Damn! It was bare hours since she’d been lusting after Jericho. What the heck was the matter with her? Sex was not normally high on her agenda. Maybe it was a near death experience thing.
She leaned forward under the pretense of checking the pan that sat on the hearth into which she’d put the dried lentils, onions, and mushrooms to soak.
“I’m sure it will be,” Jericho said amiably and even those innocuous words stroked over her skin like a lover's touch.
Jeez, she really must have banged her head harder than she thought.
Despite the fire, the temperature dropped, and night seemed to fall early. The guys decided to get the bed ready, even though it wasn’t late, but Shyla was quietly pleased. Despite doing nothing all day she still felt tired and drained from the stress and strain of the past thirty-six hours. She could sleep.
She gratefully snuggled down into the makeshift sleeping pallet, sandwiched between Jericho and Lazarus, just like the night before. Except this time, she was awake.
They were all wearing thermal tops, underwear, and socks. Shyla had removed her jeans, since they were far too uncomfortable to sleep in. Well, that’s what she told herself anyway.
And of course, as soon as she tried to settle down to sleep, the tiredness she’d been feeling fled and all she could think about was the two strong bodies pressed against her.
She tried to stifle the urge to wriggle, conscious of every tiny movement any of them made, but it seemed like an arduously long time, filled with an arousing hyperawareness, before she finally managed to fall asleep.
She wasn’t sure what woke her. One of the guys moving perhaps. She realized as she came drowsily to awareness that despite all her good intentions, her body had simply taken over as soon as she was asleep. Shyla’s head had somehow found a home on Lazarus’s shoulder and her legs were tangled with both men’s. Jericho was pressed firmly against her back with his hand curled over her abdomen and she realized that it was Lazarus, getting up to put more wood on the fire which had woken her, since she was so closely wrapped around him
“Sorry I woke you,” he murmured quietly as he crawled back into the bed.
“My fault,” Shyla whispered back. “Sorry I was using you as my own personal pillow.”
Lazarus grinned. “That was no great hardship, sweetheart.”
Shyla shivered as frigid air swept over her when he lifted the blankets and once Lazarus had laid down again, he lifted his arm in a silent offer for her to retake her previous position.
She thought about it for a split second, then decided she liked being snuggled up to him and ducked under his arm, laying her head on his warm, solid chest.
In the flickering light from the fire their eyes caught, held, and Shyla sucked in a breath as that arc of awareness spun between them, settled, and sent a thrill which made her tummy flip.
Damn, he was handsome.
Her eyes flickered to his mouth, just for a moment, and she wondered how his lips would feel on hers. But when she glanced back up, she saw his own intense gaze had followed hers.
Her breath caught, their eyes clung, and she didn’t know who moved first, but the next moment his mouth was on hers. Or maybe her mouth was on his.
There was nothing tame or cautious about the kiss. No gentle build up or tentative exploration. They devoured each other. Teeth clashing and nipping; tongues dueling.
Passion flaring.
Her nipples pebbled and she arched into him in an attempt to rub them against him and find a little friction.
The movement pulled her away from Jericho’s hand… except it didn’t.
His fingers flexed and tightened around her midriff and too late she realized that the way she’d arched had forced her butt against his groin. Now the tell-tale evidence of his own arousal made itself known as the hard ridge of his cock ground against the crevice of her buttocks.
Shyla trembled, her arousal escalating. She didn’t think or second guess herself. She simply thrust her arm back and groped until she found his ass and pulled him closer against her, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she welcomed his inclusion.
Jericho gave a low growl that rumbled in her ear and sent goosebumps chasing across her skin before he swept her hair to one side and sank his teeth into that sensitive area where her neck met her shoulder.
