“Adam?” she whispered.
The sound of his name in her low, sensuous voice was doing him in. This time he had to clear his throat. “Yeah?”
She licked her dry lips, just a quick dart of her tongue, and he nearly groaned. “We’re a bad idea. Right?”
“The worst.” But here was the thing. Some of his worst ideas had turned into really great ones. Sure, he’d been burned by most of them, but there was something in the way she was looking at him.
It was an invite that he couldn’t refuse. Cupping her jaw, he leaned in and covered her mouth with his. When she gasped in pleasure, he took full advantage, stroking her tongue with his in a deep, hot, wet kiss. No niceties. It had been a damn long time since he’d kissed her. Years. Something in him reared up and itched to remind her that once upon a time they’d been damn good together.
She murmured his name in the sexiest, softest murmur and dug her fingers into his biceps, squirming to get closer. Closer worked for him, and he let himself do what he’d been thinking about doing for hours—he touched. He touched whatever he could reach, letting his hands roam her glorious body, losing himself in her soft warmth.
She moaned into his mouth but slowly pulled back. Breathing unevenly, she shook her head. “That’s not the bad-idea part.”
“No?” Good. He leaned in to kiss her again but she put a hand to his chest. “I meant, the last time, it took…it took me a long time to get over you leaving like you did. No looking back. No letters. Nothing.” She paused. “I got that you had to go, that the judge made you, but…”
The judge hadn’t made him. That had been a necessary lie, so she wouldn’t realize he was walking away from her by choice. He hadn’t been able to make himself do that to her. Not loving this little walk down Guilt Row, he drew a deep breath. The way he’d left—no loose ends—had been the only way he’d known to handle the situation. It had been hell. His own doing, of course. He’d always been his own worst enemy. But even back then he’d owned up to his mistakes. He’d made a plan—get out of Sunshine and make something of himself—and he’d executed the plan.
Besides, she’d been made for better things than being with him. Far better. Life with him would’ve been a one-way ticket to Loser-ville.
Getting out of Sunshine had been good for him. The military had taught him discipline, how to make things happen, in a good way, and she had to know that. He’d trained. He’d fought. He’d learned.
What she didn’t know was that he’d done it all with a good part of his heart back in Sunshine. “How long could it have taken?” he heard himself ask. “You were married less than a year later.”
Her gaze whipped to his, and she flattened her hands on his chest, giving a good shove.
Still holding on to her, he didn’t budge.
She made a noise of frustration and pushed again. “Let go.”
He lifted his hands.
She stood up, crossing her arms over herself as she turned away. “It was more than a year.”
Not much.
“Maybe we should try to get to Kaniksu right now,” she said quietly.
Clearly, they were done with this conversation. Worked for him just fine—except now she wanted to try to get to caves. At night. His biggest nightmare, of course. “You want to move across twenty miles of rugged, isolated terrain in the dark.”
“Fine. Stupid idea.” She looked around at the fire, at the dilapidated ranger station that was little more than a three-sided hut, at the million acres of remote, isolated, rugged forestland surrounding them. “Could really use some more sugar,” she said.
He started to rise to go to his pack, but she put out her hand. “No!” She shook her head. “God, no. Don’t you dare bring out any more. My jeans are too tight as it is.”
Not from where he was sitting…
She yawned and then sighed. “Do you really have more candy bars?”
“I’ve got a lot of things.”
“Like?”
“Spare clothes and gear, topo map, compass, water, knife, first-aid kit, rope, rations…” Condoms…
“You’re practically a Boy Scout.”
Yeah, not exactly. He watched her fight another yawn and gestured to the shelter. “Go to sleep, Holly.”
She pulled her sleeping bag from her pack and headed inside the shelter.
Adam gestured to Milo, and the dog followed her, sitting in the opened doorway where he would act as dubious guard dog. Adam stayed at the fire’s edge, figuring that was the safest place for him. The air was still now and very cold. There were no sounds except the crackle and pop of the fire, and his own thoughts. It was damn rare that he allowed himself the luxury of what-ifs, but he was slammed with them now. What if he’d not broken up with her? What if he’d kept in touch? What if he’d told her how he felt? Would she still feel the same about him now as she had then, or would she have eventually dumped his sorry ass?
And the biggest question of them all—would they still be here, right here, caught up in the tangle of memories and emotions he no longer had the capacity for?
From where he sat, he could hear her tossing and turning. He knew without looking over there that she was cold. He grabbed his sleeping bag, and moved to her. “Get up a second.”
“I’m not taking your sleeping bag, too,” she said.
“Not taking. Sharing.”
She sat up slowly, warily, watching as he unzipped his bag and then pulled hers off her body. She’d kicked off her boots but other than that remained fully dressed. He unzipped her bag, too, and then laid his flat, with hers on top.
Holly stared at the makeshift bed as if it were a poised rattlesnake, then unzipped her jacket—his, actually. He forgot to breathe, torn between wanting her to keep going and stopping her.
She wriggled out of the jacket, then carefully rolled it up. She set it in the middle of the opened sleeping bag like it was the border crossing of Baghdad—except maybe even more guarded.
“No crossing the line,” she said.
He met her gaze. “Are you worried about me or you?”
She crossed her arms. “I’m not that attracted to you.”
He toed the jacket. “You don’t need this—you’ve already drawn the line in the sand. I think I can control myself.” He was ninety-nine percent sure.
Okay, seventy-five.
Pointedly leaving the jacket in place, she slid between the opened sleeping bags and lay down, facing away from him.
He stared at her stiff spine and then found himself smiling. “I get it. You’re not worried about me. You’re worried about you. You can’t control yourself.”
She let out a derisive snort that didn’t fool him for one moment. But the humor passed quickly because with neither of them trustworthy, he couldn’t lie down.
“Where are you going?” she asked when he moved to the doorway again.
“To bank the fire.” And to take a minute. A long one. He needed to think. It had taken her a while to get over him? Well, it had taken him a while, too. But he had gotten over her. He’d gotten over everything.
And she could do much better than being with a guy who now chose to feel nothing at all.
Nine
Holly watched through the open wall of the hut as Adam poked at the flames. He wore multiple layers, including his down jacket, so she could only imagine the muscles of his back bunching and working, but her heart still skipped a beat, anyway.
Ridiculous. She’d given away far too much of herself to this man. Then. Now.
No more.
She sat up, arms clasped around her knees, concentrating on breathing evenly. Was he going to sleep out there? Then he’d be the cold one, and she wouldn’t be able to relax worrying about him.
Holly, Holly, Holly, she chided herself. You’re not worried about him being cold so much as him not coming back in here.
As if sensing her gaze, he rose and turned to her. It was snowing again, she realized, as he stepped under the dubious protection of their shelter, approaching in his usual silent way.
There’d been a time when just watching him had upped her pulse rate, when one look from him could melt her clothes away. Remembering that, what they’d had, yearnings assaulted her, no matter that she didn’t want to feel them. He had a back-off demeanor now, which contrasted with the way he touched her as if she meant something to him. It confused her.
Hurt her.
And worse, she had no one but herself to blame. His words, when he’d chosen to give her any, had made things clear. He had no interest in a relationship of any kind. This was about finding her father.
That was all.
The fire’s glow reflected off the fine sheen of melting snow covering his hair, face, and arms. The light played off the angles of his face as he came to a stop at the foot of their “bed.” He unzipped his jacket, spreading it out on his pack to dry overnight. Next, he pulled off his sweatshirt. Beneath, he wore a thin long-sleeved shirt that clung to his every muscle. Using those muscles, he bent and untied his boots.
A sound involuntarily escaped her, and he glanced up.
She shook her head. Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, she was just sitting here…
He kicked off the boots and rose. She wondered if he was going to lose anything else. Her body voted for the jeans, and at just the thought, she shivered.
“Cold?” he asked.
No. She was actually having quite the hot flash—not something she planned on admitting.
Adam checked on Milo, curled up by their packs. He stroked and praised the dog, then dropped to his knees at Holly’s side. Little droplets of melted snow flew off of him, a few hitting her, sizzling on her heated skin.
“Sorry, I’m all wet,” he said.
Yeah. And he wasn’t the only one, she thought wildly as the fragrance of damp Adam drifted over her.
Heaven.
He stretched out on his side of the bedding, and when he came too close to the boundary of the United States of Holly, she adjusted the folded jacket.
He slid her a look.
She didn’t care. She was taking no chances with herself. She would never survive a sexual encounter with him. And there would be a sexual encounter if they touched in the night. She could feel it. She—
A sound escaped him, one that seemed to be a low laugh. Startled, her gaze jerked up to his.
Yeah, he was definitely laughing, the bastard, chuckling low in his throat. Momentarily stunned at the smile on his face, the kind that included his eyes and affected her heart rate, she blinked.
“You’re thinking so loud I smell something burning,” he said.
“This really isn’t very funny.”
“You’re right.” He sat up in the middle of his designated area and folded up his discarded sweatshirt. Flashing her another rare smile, he placed it down as his pillow, and lay on his back, feet casually crossed, arms up behind his head. His shirt molded to every line of sinew on him.
She stared at him, eaten up with jealousy once again, this time over his “pillow.”
“Problem?” he asked.
Oh, hell no would she admit that she wanted to share his pillow. “Not as long as you stay on your side.”
He turned to face her, propping up his head with a hand. “You’re such a liar.” He was still smiling when he leaned over her, bracing his other hand on the ground at her far hip to give her a quick, hot kiss on the lips.
She gaped up at him in shock. Actually, she nearly moaned. “What was that?”
Still holding himself over her, he’d gone still, staring at her mouth as he slowly shook his head.
“Adam—”
“Shh a second,” he said, and just looked at her. Then he lowered his head again. He started with small, brushing kisses, but it wasn’t enough and she opened her mouth, touching her tongue to his lower lip.
A low sound escaped deep in his throat and he kissed her until her toes curled in her boots.
She had one hand in his hair, the other on his chest. Beneath her fingers, she could feel his heart pumping. The realization that she had every bit as much power over him as he had on her was heady. Closing her eyes, she let herself live in the moment, soaking up his taste, his touch, his scent, the heat that radiated off his body, all combining to rob her of the ability to think, to do anything but feel. And oh boy, the things she was feeling. He was deliciously hard, everywhere, and her hands were roaming south when he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. After a minute, he lifted his head, shaking it as if befuddled.
Then he kissed the tip of her nose and…lay down.
While she continued to stare at him, he made himself comfortable, flat on his back again, all long-limbed, easy grace. And then he closed his eyes, his breathing immediately slowing and evening out, his body relaxed.
She stared at him, boring holes into him with her eyes. Because how could he relax? She couldn’t relax, not with her body humming with a tension she didn’t want to name, and her heart flapping ineffectively against her ribs. And then there were the other reactions, the ones she hadn’t had in mixed company in a very long time.
Adam’s hands were clasped on his flat stomach, his feet crossed. And if he breathed any slower, she’d have to check him for a pulse. He was clearly already deeply asleep, and this was as irritating as everything else about him.
“Lie down,” he said, a quiet demand that had her nearly leaping out of her own skin.
She rolled her eyes at him, which was a waste because his eyes were still closed, but she did lie down. She tried flat on her back, but there was a rock beneath her butt. And she was cold. She wished she hadn’t been so adamant about the barrier. In hindsight, that might have been cutting her own nose off to spite her face.