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Only now I’m awkwardly straddling him while my hands are firmly placed on his bare pecs, and is it just me or is he looking at me funny? I quickly climb off him, pick myself up, and inhale a long breath.
Logan does the same, and we both stare at the spot where the stone was, which now reveals the first step of a stone stair.
“What now?” I ask.
“Let’s gather our things,” Logan says. “We don’t know what might await us down there.”
We quickly collect our belongings, dividing them evenly between our two backpacks. And, to my dismay, Logan puts his shirt back on… only to find it hangs around his chest in tatters, leaving me a clear view of his six-pack.
Small victories.
Logan shakes his head and ties a few strands together.
“Are you going for the fifties-housewife look?” I tease.
“Right now, any look is better than corpse-in-a-chamber, wouldn’t you agree?” he says, and smiles at me.
A real, megawatt smile. One that transforms his entire face, brightens it even in the semi-darkness, and—oh gosh! I seriously need to rein in the lust.
Or scratch the itch! the evil little voice in my head suggests.
Yeah, right. As if.
I internally shake my head at the possibility and look at the hole in the floor. “So we just follow the stairs?”
“Of course,” Logan says, and picks up the camera-turned-flashlight. “I’ll go first.”
“Careful where you put your feet,” I say. “I don’t want you to fall down and break your neck.”
Logan’s answering grin is wolfish. “Wow, worried about my safety now? I’m touched.” He puts a mocking hand over his heart.
“Annoying as you are.” I scowl. “I’d still rather not be left down here alone.”
“Yeah,” Logan says, his predatory grin shifting into something softer. “You’re growing on me, too. Let’s go?”
I didn’t say he was growing on me—Oh, wait. I’m growing on him? Was he serious?
I don’t have time to dwell on the answer, as Logan is already descending the first step of the stone stairs.
I follow him and, by the time we’ve reached the bottom, I’ve counted thirty steps.
“Decision time,” Logan says, stopping.
The dim glow of the screen illuminates a T-intersection, with narrow tunnels running off in both directions. Logan stands in the middle of the new passage, very still.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Trying to decide if we should go left or right?”
I scrunch my face, perplexed. “How?”
The way I see it, it’s just bare walls. With no sign whatsoever which direction will lead to safety and which to a horrible death trapped in the bowels of this temple.
“I’m trying to gauge which way the draft is coming from.”
“Any luck?”
“No, it’s too faint. Wait!” He hands me the camera, then rummages in his backpack and pulls out a lighter.
