by Caro Carson
“Yes, damn it all to hell, we do.” He glared at her in the patchy moonlight. “This closeness is killing me, Rebecca, because it’s not close enough. I want to touch you. I want to be inside you. Damn it, if we had clothes, a frigging pair of boxer shorts, anything—” He cut himself off.
She stared at him. His breaths came loudly, harsh in the cold air, puffs of vapor disappearing as quickly as he breathed each one out. He closed his eyes and dropped his head.
“I didn’t mean to say that.” He grit the words out through his clenched jaw.
He didn’t want to have sex with her. Her touch had driven him out into the cold.
“I’m sorry,” she said, in a small voice. “I won’t touch you. I’ll try not to move at all. Please, don’t freeze to death because of me. I’ll be good.”
“You’ll be good?” He looked away from her and laughed, a short sound with no humor. “Rebecca, it takes two. You’ll be good, but I’ll try to change your mind. I’ll succeed. We’ll make love.”
Yes, let’s make love.
The thought was immediate, and true. Now she was the one who breathed harshly into the cabin.
Trey took one look at her face and left the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Eight
The wood was too wet too burn.
Rebecca watched Trey spread the sticks and branches out on the floor, much as he’d spread their clothes on the wall. He’d said it might dry enough for them to get a fire started in the morning.
When he finished, he stayed crouched before the fireplace in the Navajo blanket, brooding at the cold hearth as if it had dancing flames to ponder.
She’d had enough time to ponder things herself after he’d stomped out the door, and she’d reached two conclusions. First, after hours of holding her nude body, he’d apparently felt some sexual urges toward her, and they’d horrified him so much, he was risking hypothermia to avoid her touch.
Second, she’d realized that when he was out of her sight for more than a minute, she was irrationally petrified that she would die. She knew that wasn’t healthy, but the bottom line was that she’d been close to dying before he’d found her. Now that Trey was here, she was alive. It was unfortunate for him that he found her so repulsive, because she was going to stick to him like glue, anyway.
“Are you going to come back in the sleeping bag now?” she asked.
“In a minute.”
“Come in now, and we’ll trade places.”
That got his attention. “You can’t spend the night in this blanket, not even for a short time. It’s not warm enough for me, or else I’d use it. Look, Rebecca, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I say things without thinking, but I don’t have any problem controlling myself. Forget that part about me trying to change your mind. I won’t try to seduce you, and I’d never force you to do anything.”
“Okay, fine.” He didn’t need to keep telling her how much he didn’t want to touch her. “I need to use the blanket for something else, if you know what I mean.”
He frowned at her for a moment, until understanding dawned. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go outside on your own.”
“You made me drink a canteen and a bottle of water. I don’t have an option.”
He sighed and got to his feet. She wriggled to sit up in the sleeping bag. He was so darned tall, that only put her face above his knee.
He announced his plan. “We’ll stay as warm as we can under this blanket together. We’ll just step onto the porch. Half the boards are missing, so you can find a spot—”
“No way. I’m not that fragile.”
“I’m not risking it.”
“You think you’re going to stand next to me?” The idea was outrageous.
“I won’t look.” He had the nerve to act like she was the one being unreasonable.
“Trey! I’m not going to be able to go if you’re standing there.”
“This is survival. You can’t stay warm in the sleeping bag by yourself. I’m not sending you out there alone in a blanket.”
This was it, a new all-time low in her life of being obedient. She would have to pee where she was told.
To heck with being good; she let herself get mad. “Actually, I’ve been staying warm in this sleeping bag all by myself while you’ve been out there gathering wood to get away from my repulsive, non-teenager-like body. I’ve had a lot to drink and eat, and I’m feeling much stronger. This entire debate is ridiculous. Maybe little Becky would put up with this, but Rebecca won’t.” She unzipped the sleeping bag and stood tall.
Okay, it was the first time she’d actually ever stood next to him, and she hadn’t realized just how huge the guy was. Still, she had righteous indignation on her side. She yanked the blanket from around his body and wrapped it around herself. Head high, she opened the cabin door.
“Your boots!” he hollered at her.
“Keep the sleeping bag warm.” She slammed the door behind her.
Holy moly, it was cold outside. She two steps to the nearest gaping hole in the porch and quickly took care of business. Thirty seconds, max, was all she was outside, but that was long enough to know he’d been right about the boots. Her feet were freezing on the planks of the porch, so she ran inside.
He was holding the flap of the sleeping bag open. She ditched the blanket and dove inside, plastering every square inch of her body to his. All thoughts of sex and modesty were irrelevant.
“Oh my gosh, it’s cold out there.”
“Told you so.” He sounded grumpy and just a little bit arrogant, but the fact that he was holding her made her heart hurt less.
“Fine,” she said generously. “You were right. My feet are frozen.”
He didn’t laugh at that, but slid her up his body until he could reach her foot with his hand. He squeezed gently. “I’m afraid you might have frostbite.”
“They’re warming up already. All of me is warming up. I think I’m just normal cold, not cold cold.”
“I think you’re right.”
“It’s a relief to just be normal cold.” She owed it all to him, and she’d never, ever forget that. “Thank you.”
Because he’d slid her high enough to reach her feet, her head was above his. She could have tucked the top of his head under her chin the way he’d been tucking hers, so she kissed his forehead gratefully, and she did.
The new position placed his mouth just above her breasts.
“Are we back to the thank-yous? You really need to get those out of your system.” He said it lightly, with mock grumpiness, but his breath fanned across the top of her breasts as he spoke, and she couldn’t laugh.
“Rebecca,” he said, so quietly she might have imagined it, but she felt his breath with each syllable. He put his hands on her hips and drew her back down until they were once more face-to-face, the way they’d started.
This time, Rebecca paid attention to where and how they touched. Nose to nose, they were nearly shoulder to shoulder, and her arm wrapped around him naturally. Her feet tangled with his calves, but the lower half of his body did not touch her. She realized he’d been keeping their distance with a hand on her hip, or on her knee, or by rolling away, the entire time. She wriggled forward, and although his hand was on her hip, he did not stop her from getting too close.
Against her thigh, she felt him. She was no expert, none at all, but she’d read the educational books, and knew men got erections. She’d read novels, and knew about velvet over steel. That was surely what she was feeling, heavy against her thigh, warmer than all the other warm skin on his body.
Her lower belly reacted with something very like a shiver, and she nestled closer to him, the tips of her breasts flattening against his chest. In the dim light, she saw his eyelids close halfway, as if they were heavy with s
leep, but otherwise, he stayed very, very still.
“I thought you didn’t want to have sex with me,” she whispered.
“I didn’t say that. I know I didn’t say that, because I’ve never had that thought.”
Confusion warred with the sweet sensation of being desirable. “Then are you committed to someone? Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No. It just wouldn’t be a good idea. You’re about to start a whole new chapter in your life. Starting tomorrow, you’ve got a lot of thinking to do. You have to decide where you’re going from here.”
“Maybe I’ve decided the first thing I want to do is have sex with you.” She couldn’t believe how easily she said those words. The darkness gave her courage, perhaps, although she wished she could see his face better.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know so much about you. You saved me.”
“I think there might be a little bit of that syndrome—what is it called?”
“Stockholm syndrome?”
He chuckled, breaking the tension, and gave her hip a playful push. “No, that’s when you fall in love with your kidnapper. Nightingale, that’s the one.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Florence Nightingale? Falling in love with your nurse?”
“With whatever person saved you.” He spoke kindly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I don’t need sex from a woman who’d really just be saying thank you. You’d regret it in the morning.”
She let that sink in. It sounded so reasonable. She was grateful to him for saving her.
Into the silence, Trey spoke with authority. “Get some sleep. You’re exhausted.”
Frowning, she didn’t object when he rolled her away with a gentle push. She turned her back to him, so they were spooning in the sleeping bag—except, of course, he kept his hand at her waist and he scooted his hips back, away from the curve of her backside. It wasn’t what she wanted.
Tomorrow, they’d build a fire and dry their clothes. They’d drive the ATV back to the house. She wondered if his family would still be there, the aunt and the uncle. And then the lightbulb went off in her head.
“You’re wrong, Trey.” She propped herself awkwardly on her elbow and twisted her face toward his, although it was dark. “What if your uncle had found me? Do you think I’d be so grateful that I’d want to have sex with him? What about your cousin Emily? Do you think if she’d come riding up on that ATV, I’d suddenly have a thing for her? That Nightingale syndrome is an insult. You’re saying I’d want to be with any person who found me.”
He rubbed his jaw, so heavy with stubble that she could hear the abrasion in the dark. “What if another cowboy found you? A guy your age, blond, good-looking?”
He had no clue, this man she’d gotten to know so well. She frowned at him and hoped he could see it. “That all depends. When I tell him about my life, does he listen, or does he interrupt? When I’m mad at my own stupidity, does he tell me I’m a good survivor, or does he warn me not to do it again? Look, I’m not going to beg you to have sex with me, but don’t insult me. I know what I want, and I want you, Trey Waterson, not just any old rescuer.”
Tears were blurring her eyes, not that there was much to see in the night, but then one plopped on Trey’s arm, so she knew he was aware. “And just so you know, I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m so damned frustrated with you. I couldn’t have sex with you now if I wanted to, I’m so mad. So good night.”
And then she turned her back to him once more, and dropped her head onto his arm to use as a pillow.
She was determined not to cry in the arms of the man who refused to be her lover.
* * *
Trey was stunned.
Rebecca was furious with him, lying against him with a tension he could feel humming along the length of her body.
But he felt a different emotion entirely. She’d slayed him. She’d hovered over him in the dark, and shown him what a fool he was with a few choice words. She was no innocent babe, unsure of the world. She knew herself, and she knew him, and he’d never been so wrong before.
She wanted him, and he was starving for her.
“Rebecca,” he murmured, and he kissed her perfect ear. He inhaled the warmth of her neck, exposed as it was while she lay with her back to him. He tasted the skin of her shoulder, savoring it, saying her name, apology in every syllable. “Rebecca, Rebecca.”
He moved his hand to cup her breast, holding its soft weight, learning her every dimension. “I didn’t know how you felt until you told me. I want you, too. I know you, too.”
He’d be her lover, because she’d demanded it. He wasn’t surprised when she turned toward him and pressed him flat on his back. In the safety of their sleeping bag, she lay atop him, chest pressed to chest, her knees on either side of his hips.
She slid slowly up the length of him, and exhaled shakily. Sexily. Then she moved again, gliding up his length, and he sensed she was too close to the edge already. He gripped her hips to stop her motion.
As she leaned over him, she spoke in his ear, intimate words between lovers. “I’ve changed my mind, Trey. This isn’t going to be sex. This is making love. Emotional, involved, sloppy lovemaking, where I tell you how much I love you. I know there’s some hero worship in there, but I really don’t care, because my heart wants you even more than my body does. We’re alive, Trey, and we fit together. You know we do. Let’s make love. Right. Now.”
He’d already positioned her. Controlling her hips with his hands, he brought her down on him as he thrust himself into her. Her swift intake of breath was one of surprise; the small sound that escaped her throat told him the rest. The significance almost overwhelmed him, but knowing that she’d chosen him increased his passion, this driving need to make her his. Her first, her first, her first time—
He spent himself swiftly, not wanting to cause her more pain, and then it was his turn to speak, to murmur in her ear. With his fingers, he searched for the spot that would bring her pleasure as he held his body motionless inside her. He didn’t have to censor himself or be careful about what he said, because he wanted her to hear the truth. As his fingers circled and her excitement built, he told her she was perfect and he was happy, so happy, to be with her, that she felt amazing and she was amazing. As she reached her peak, he told her how beautiful it was because he was still inside her and felt it all.
And then, there was silence. He held her and was held by her, and their breathing slowed. They kept each other warm.
With the side of her face pressed to his throat, he could feel the tickle of her eyelashes as she blinked. “Close your eyes, sweetheart. Go to sleep.”
“I don’t want to close my eyes. I knew when I was standing by that tree that if I fell asleep, I would never wake up.”
He stroked her hair. “I promise you, you’ll see the morning. As long as we’re together, Rebecca, we’ll survive. Close your eyes, and rest.”
Chapter Nine
The fire was going strong, burning brightly as the early-morning light poured into the cabin along with the cold air. The wood hadn’t dried much overnight, but Trey had brought an artificial fire starter that had ignited the first piece. Once that blazed, Trey had been able to carefully add one damp piece after another, building the fire steadily. The wet wood hissed steam, but it also provided the heat they needed, as long as Trey went about it methodically, carefully. He could not rush.
“Could you hurry that up a little bit? I need to use the blanket, if you know what I mean.”
Trey smiled at Rebecca’s words. For a woman who’d been raised to be patient and silent, she sure was eager and energetic around him.
“If you want it, come and get it,” he said. The fire would keep him warm enough for a few minutes. He was rewarded with his first good look at his naked Rebecca, all smooth skin and tousled
hair, as she bounded from the sleeping bag to him. The smile on her face stole his attention from her shapely legs. She snatched the blanket from around his shoulders and whisked it around her own, but she didn’t turn to the door immediately.
Trey realized she was checking him out, too, getting her first look at his body in the daylight. He stayed as he was, crouched on one knee, and tossed another stick on the fire. His bent thigh, he knew, was blocking some of what she was probably curious to view, but as he slid a glance at her, she was smiling.
It turned out that his innocent porcelain angel could execute an excellent wolf whistle. “I sure did get a good-looking cowboy.”
As she turned and walked out the door, he yelled “Boots” over his shoulder.
“I know. I’m a fast learner.” She stomped them on, and left.
A good-looking cowboy. Trey rubbed his forehead, and fed the fire. He wasn’t a damned cowboy. He was a landscaper in a medium-sized town in Oklahoma. He planted trees and maintained some nice plants around office buildings.
Worse, he was a landscaper who had to hire someone else to total the checks and send out the bills, because the boy who’d once aced calculus couldn’t keep a simple ledger. He was a landscaper who asked each new client to write their address for him on their contract. He rode in the passenger seat of his own trucks, and handed the written address to whichever crew member he’d put in the role of redneck chauffeur.
He was less than a landscaper.
Yet he’d taken an irreversible step with Rebecca last night. He’d seen the evidence of her virginity on his body this morning, and the emotions had hit him square in the chest. He’d felt honored. Responsible. But mostly, possessive. Insanely possessive, in the most primitive way, for she was his woman, and his alone. The idea of another man touching what only he had touched sent a fighting dose of adrenaline through his system.
That was a problem. He and Rebecca would break up one day. There would be no forever for her with a man like him. The humiliation of his handicaps was not to be shared. Given their circumstances and geography, he and Rebecca would part company sooner rather than later.