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If she lay beside him long enough, would she absorb some of that confidence? She could only hope.
She traced her finger lightly over the red line and jerked back in surprise when his eyes opened. “Oh. I didn’t know you were awake.”
“I wasn’t.” He wrinkled his nose and lifted his hand to rub at it. “That tickled.”
She felt her face heat and hoped any redness he saw there he’d attribute to the cold and wind. Of course, she didn’t blush like normal people. Her Morphea made sure the left side of her face never changed color—it was forever a waxy brown-gray and blushing only made it stand out more.
Self-conscious, she pulled her hair down to cover her face. It was such an instinctive move she didn’t even realize she was doing it until Ellis caught her wrist.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered. “Don’t hide. You have no reason to hide from me.”
“But I do.” She hated that her voice wavered. “You’re exactly like all the boys that made fun of me in high school. They called me Beastly Bree. Dent. Two-Face. Picasso. Asking me out was a joke to them, a dare.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled her tight against him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry they put you through that, but I’m not like them.”
She pressed her face against his shoulder. “You look like them.”
“You’re gonna judge me on my looks, huh?”
Realizing how hypocritical that sounded, she lifted her head to apologize but found him smirking. He was gently teasing, nothing more. She socked him in the shoulder and felt the tremors still racing under his skin. She relaxed against him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. She wished he’d warm up and stop shivering.
“You should rest.” She reached over and switched off the lantern and their little haven from the cold plunged into darkness. His hand slid up her back, leaving a wake of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold.
“Bree?” He cupped the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. “When I look at you, I don’t see what you think I see.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to know. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her. “What do you see?”
“A strong, brave, hard-working woman who is a better person than me on every level. I see a woman who shouldn’t give me the time of day— but I want her to.”
Panic swarmed her chest like a thousand buzzing bees. “It’s just the hypothermia talking. You’re confused.”
He shook his head, and his hair tickled her cheek. “The women in my past… they’re like designer dogs. All looks, no substance. No, actually, that’s an insult to designer dogs. Every doodle I’ve ever met had more substance in the tips of their tails than the women I’ve dated. If it could even be called dating.”
He went silent. Was he waiting for her to respond? She didn’t know what to say. He shifted around in the sleeping bag like he was restless, like he wanted to get up and pace, but his current weakened condition wouldn’t allow for it. He wound a strand of her hair around his fingers over and over again.
Finally, he released a long, slow breath. “It was easier, you know? When I left home, I did the military thing because I had nowhere else to go, and then when I got out, I didn’t want any responsibilities anymore. I didn’t want any connections. Those women were convenient.”
She snorted against his shoulder. “And I’m not? I’m the only woman in like a hundred-mile radius right now. I’d say that’s pretty convenient.”
“Hell, no. You’re complicated. You come with history and baggage that I’d normally run from.”
“Huh, thanks. Unfortunately for you, you’re in no condition to run right now.”
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. Maybe I need a bit of complication in my life.”
She pressed her face into his shoulder, afraid to meet his gaze. She tried not to notice how good he smelled. He shouldn’t smell good. Nobody smelled good after a few days in the bush, but he did. “You’re talking crazy. I told you, it’s just the cold. You should—”
He tugged on her hair. Not to hurt her, but hard enough that she had to look up at him. The moon was bright tonight. In the blue glow filtering through the tent walls, she could make out the square of his jaw, the straight line of his nose, the curve of his lips. She didn’t realize his intention until he lowered those lips to hers. If she had, she would’ve stopped him. Would’ve pulled away.
Or so she kept telling herself.
He didn’t demand anything at first. Just kissed her lightly. Once, then again.
When she didn’t pull away, he angled his head to take the kiss deeper and the nervous bees in her chest started stinging. She should pull away. He was dangerous. More so than ice or snow or wild animals. She knew how to deal with all of those. But him? This kiss? She was at a loss.
Dangerous.
So very dangerous.
