by Lori Foster
He lifted her foot to place it on his muscled thigh. “This is the sore one, right?”
She nodded, unable to speak. Evidently, muscled thighs had that effect on her.
“Stop me if this hurts.” He loosened the soggy lacings and gently pulled the boot from her foot. She winced when he rolled the drenched sock down her ankle and laid her bare foot against his thigh.
“Do you think it’s broken?” she asked in an attempt to get her mind away from the feel of his warm skin against her foot.
“I don’t know, but you’d better keep your weight off of it either way.” He removed the other boot more quickly then looked up at her. “You really need to get those clothes off. Your skin is like ice.”
She knew that was true, but when she attempted to unbutton her blouse, her stiff fingers couldn’t force the button through the wet fabric no matter how hard she tried.
“Let me help.” Brodie reached for the button, but she stopped him by clutching the button in her palm.
“I don’t think that would be appropriate, do you?”
He pulled his hand back and sighed. “Maggie, I’m not going to hurt you. You were like a kid sister to me. Now, let me help you, or you’re going to get sick.”
Maggie hesitated for a moment, weighing his words, before she dropped her hand to allow him to help. He should have been relieved that she’d finally given in, but at the moment, relief was the last thing he felt. A dry, fully clothed Maggie was tempting enough. This wet, partially naked one was killing him.
She’d watched him undress. He had felt her gaze and heard the tiny gasp when he’d dropped his pants. A gentleman would have wrapped the blanket around his waist before he’d done that, but gentlemen led boring lives. A gentleman also would have warmed her hands in his until she could finish undressing without assistance.
He unbuttoned her blouse.
Would a gentleman close his eyes? If so, he would miss the white chemise peeking from beneath the blue chambray and the rounded tops of her breasts just below his fingers.
Thank God he wasn’t a gentleman.
“I can manage from here,” she said.
Damn.
“How about your belt buckle?”
“Oh.” She looked down at her waist. “I might need help with that.”
He lifted her to her feet, steadying her until she could balance herself without putting weight on her swollen ankle. Then he turned his attention to pulling the wet leather of her belt through the buckle.
She watched his hands tug on the belt.
He watched her breasts rise and fall with each breath she took.
By his estimation, he had a much better view.
“Thanks,” she muttered, and he realized that sometime during the rising and falling of those breasts, he had finished unbuckling her belt.
“Do you want me to help get your pants unfastened?”
“No. I think I can manage.”
He paused for a moment, not wanting to step away from her but knowing he had to. It would be easier if she wasn’t looking up at him with doe-eyed wonder, her lips parted slightly and a drop of water trickling down her jaw. He brushed the droplet away just as a gust of wind and a loud clap of thunder brought his mind back from the thoughts of ravishing the wet woman in front of him.
“It seems to be getting worse,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she was referring to the storm outside or the one brewing in him.
Step away, Brodie. She no doubt blames you for ruining their lives. You don’t need that or her.
He brushed his hair back from his face then gestured toward the opposite side of the cave. “I’ll be over here if you need me.” As if there was anyplace else he could be.
Damn, he was turning into an idiot. He returned to his side of the cave, keeping his back to her while she removed the rest of her clothing, but the sounds of rustling fabric painted erotic pictures in his mind. Firm white breasts, nipples puckered from the cold, long lean legs leading to rounded hips and … hell. This wasn’t helping anything.
“Are you finished?” His tone sounded a little harsh, even to his ears.
“Yes.”
A deep breath and a personal reminder of who she was helped calm his body. Then, he turned around. She’d removed her clothes, laying them across the boulder to dry. Blouse, pants, chemise, socks… chemise… chemise. Hell. She’d removed everything. He’d told her to, but she’d never listened to him a single time when she was a kid. Why did she have to start now?
He returned to her and asked, “Are you warm?” Another stupid question. Women with blue lips were rarely warm.
Maggie swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with his proximity. She wasn’t sure if her shivers were because of the cold or because of Brodie. He stood just in front of her, and the only things separating them were a couple of wool blankets.
“I’m warmer,” she said, but she could tell by his expression he didn’t believe her. She pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders, painfully aware that it stopped just below her knees, leaving her calves and feet bare.
“We would be warmer if we sat beside each other,” he said.
He was right, of course. It was highly improper and would be dangerous if it were any other man, but Brodie had said she was like a sister to him. Luckily, he had no idea her thoughts were far from sisterly. She nodded and allowed him to help her to a dry spot where the boulder lay against the wall of the overhang. The huge rock blocked the wind that occasionally whipped into the cave.
She settled against the rock and adjusted her blanket while Brodie dropped down beside her and did the same. The cave to her left, Brodie to her right, she truly was between a rock and a hard place.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked.
She couldn’t very well tell him she was thinking about how hard his body was, so she said, “I’m just glad you found me.”
Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned his head against the bolder and said, “Me, too. I’d lost your horse’s tracks about a mile away from the canyon, but once I made it that far, I knew you’d be here. You always loved this place as a kid.”
He remembered. She hadn’t even been aware that he knew she loved the canyon. Not only had he known, but he remembered. That thought pleased her for some ridiculous reason. “It’s a big canyon. How did you find me in the stream?”
“I didn’t at first. I was just about to leave when I heard you yell.”
“I yelled?”
He chuckled and turned to face her. “Yeah, you yelled ‘no.’”
She vaguely remembered yelling. Too many other memories were vying for her attention. Like the fact his lower lip was slightly fuller than his upper, and that when he grinned, his mouth turned up a little more on the left side than the right. She remembered his scent, the rumble of his voice, and the flecks of gold in his eyes. She remembered the barbed wire fence that had given him the small scar on his chin.
Still grinning, he said, “Do you remember the time I found you when you’d run off after getting mad at Leo? You’d shimmied up a tree like a little squirrel.”
Yep, she remembered that, too.
“I thought the wolves were going to eat me.”
His smile grew wider. “Wouldn’t have been enough there for a full meal.”
“Are you saying I’m too skinny to feed a wolf?” She bumped her shoulder against his in a playful manner that just slipped out. She shouldn’t be so casual with him, despite their history—or maybe because of their history. Either way, it bordered on flirting, and a naked woman shouldn’t flirt with a naked man unless she meant business.
He laughed, thankfully. But his smile softened quickly when he said, “You used to be too skinny to feed a wolf, but you’ve filled in nicely over the years.”
How should she respond to that? Thanking him was out of the question. A lady doesn’t thank a gentleman for making an intimate comment about her body.
Should she chastise him for looking at her when in truth it flatte
red her to no end? Scolding him would also be hypocritical, considering she’d been looking at his body every chance she’d gotten. Luckily, he shivered, allowing her a chance to change the subject.
“You’d be warmer if you’d wrap your blanket around your shoulders.”
He lifted his brow. “Somehow, I doubt it.”
She glanced at the blanket wrapped around his legs. Most of it was dark with wet spots from the rain. How had she not realized that sooner? He had given her the blanket from the inside of his bedroll, leaving the outer one for himself.
“You gave me the dry blanket,” she said.
He shrugged. “You were cold.”
And now she sat warm and dry while he shivered. And night was falling and the wind was howling and it was getting colder …
“You can share my blanket.”
Lord, have mercy. Had those words just come from her mouth? Did she actually offer to let Brodie slip inside her blanket? Her face suddenly heated as she thought through the ramifications.
Brodie cleared his throat. “I, uh, don’t think that would be wise.”
He kept his gaze riveted across the cave as he spoke, like he was too embarrassed by her offer to face her. She should be relieved by his refusal, but the darkening cave was getting colder by the minute, and she could see the gooseflesh rising on his arms, despite the fact he had them folded tightly across his chest. He was refusing her offer of shared warmth because of some misplaced sense of decency. They were adults, for goodness’ sake.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she said.
Slowly, he turned his head to face her, his brows rose. “You think I’m being ridiculous?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, bracing for an argument. “It’s getting colder in here, and you’re going to catch your death if you don’t share my blanket. These are unusual circumstances. It’s not like we’re children, Brodie.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked into hers and said, “You aren’t the least bit concerned about allowing a naked man to share your blanket? Because we can’t do that without being next to each other.” He paused for a second before he added, “Skin against skin,” in case the image wasn’t clear enough for her.
“You’re cold.” She repeated the point, though she wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or hers. But his expression didn’t change. The man was still as ram headed as ever. So she cheated. “I’m cold, too.”
And that changed everything, as she knew it would.
“You are?” he asked with genuine concern.
She nodded, then shivered a little—not too much, Brodie wasn’t stupid. “Besides, I trust you to be a gentleman.”
Damn. Of all the things the woman could have said, that tore apart Brodie’s excuses quicker than anything else could have. She left him with no options except to crawl under her blanket to warm her or admit that trusting him to be a gentleman was the worst decision she could’ve made.
“Why don’t you put your blanket under us,” she said, “and we’ll use mine to wrap up in?”
That was a logical and sound plan. It would give a layer of blanket between them and the ground, but, “There would be nothing between us,” he reminded her.
She rolled her eyes as though he truly was being ridiculous. “I’ve been married. It’s not like I haven’t been next to a man before. I’m sure I can fight the temptation.”
Ouch. She said it as though he held no appeal to her at all, as though being against him would cause no desire or lust in the least.
“I’m sure I can, too,” he lied, standing to remove his blanket.
Her eyes opened wide. “What are you doing?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Putting my blanket down to sit on, as you suggested. What did you think I was doing?”
“Nothing. You just caught me by surprise, is all.”
Brodie might have believed her act of indifference had Maggie not squeezed her eyes shut when he stripped his blanket off to lay it on the ground. “Well, are you going to share your blanket or are you going to leave me hanging, so to speak?”
Her cheeks turned red enough to see even in the dim light of the cave. Eyes still shut, she felt the ground for his blanket, then scooted over to sit on it. In a move that could only be described as amazing, she managed to hold one edge of her blanket across her body while she opened the rest for him to snuggle in.
This was his last chance to do the right thing. He looked at her—her lashes lying against her cheek, a long sleek leg peeking from beneath the blanket, her arm extended to welcome him …
“Hell,” he muttered, wasting no more time in joining her. He pulled the blanket around him, nestling into her cocoon, and he had to admit the heat felt good. Too good.
“See? That wasn’t so difficult,” Maggie said, once some adjusting had taken place. “We can keep each other warm without anything indecent happening.” Her posture contradicted her words. She sat stiff as a board, careful not to touch him under the blanket. Apparently she wasn’t as indifferent to his nearness as she’d claimed.
And apparently Brodie was much less of a gentleman than even he had realized. “We would be much warmer if we wrapped our arms around each other.”
“I’m warm. Aren’t you?” she said, a little too quickly.
He didn’t chuckle, but he rather enjoyed the hint of panic in her voice. Even as a kid, it had been fun to tease her, though he never dreamed he’d be teasing quite like this. “I’m still cold. I guess jumping into that icy river then giving you the dry blanket chilled me more than I realized.”
Using guilt was cheap but effective.
A timid “Oh” slipped from her lips, causing him to notice they were no longer blue, but a nice kissable pink.
“Of course, if you don’t think you can fight the temptation…” He shrugged.
She cocked her chin and said, “Of course I can,” which was exactly what he knew she’d say. Then she wiggled closer to him to prove her point, but if anyone was going to do any point proving, it was going to be him.
He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and slipped the other around her waist to pull her against him. She gasped and suddenly the game wasn’t funny anymore. Silky, soft, and smooth, her body melted into his like it had been there many times before.
Her breasts pressed against his chest and one leg curled across his instinctively. Only a few inches separated their mouths and the inches were disappearing fast. Neither spoke as they stared into each other’s eyes.
A kiss. Just one kiss, then he’d pull away and quit teasing her before things got carried away. He leaned toward her, giving her a chance to pull back if she wanted to, but she didn’t. Instead, she moved her mouth toward his.
Their breaths mingled then their lips touched, and all his intentions of pulling away vanished. Tipping his head slightly, Brodie deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth to taste her. Maggie met him stroke for stroke, and her acceptance heated his blood even more. Cautiously, he brushed the side of her breast, growing bolder when his caress was met with a moan instead of a slap. He cupped her breast, lifting it as his thumb teased her nipple to a hard tip.
He broke free from her mouth to trail kisses down the column of her throat and across her collarbone. Lingering kisses. Nibbling kisses that didn’t stop until they found her breast.
Maggie couldn’t contain the gasp that slipped from her throat when he licked her nipple, then pulled it into his mouth. Fiery tingles shot through her body, landing with intensity in the juncture of her thighs. His mouth tugged and suckled her breast, stealing her thoughts and sending her body reeling with sensations. He caressed her thigh, moving slowly upward until his hand was a hair’s breadth from her folds, and knowing he was so close yet not touching her intimately, made her hurt for want of him.
She shouldn’t be allowing any of this, but despite how hard she fought to think of a reason to stop him, she couldn’t find one. She couldn’t find a reason to stop him from doing anything he wanted to do, because
she wanted it, too. She had for years. Even when her husband had made love to her, it was Brodie’s hands she had imagined on her body. But her wildest imaginings couldn’t compare with the reality and now she knew why. She loved Brodie Grant.
Always had, probably always would.
With a masterful move, he twisted until she was on his lap, giving his hand more freedom to explore her curves. She cradled his head like she’d always dreamed of doing while he ravished her mouth, and his hand glided between her legs to tease a fire that was already to the point of explosion. He stroked her, and the moisture he encountered had nothing to do with the stream. His hand was calloused but gentle, his movements both languid and intense. With the skill of a master, he coaxed her body to a blinding need for him.
Then, he slipped a finger inside her … then another.
“Maggie,” he whispered, his fingers still inside, “if you want me to stop, I will, but this is your last chance.”
Stop? Unable to speak, she shook her head then kissed him while she ran her hand down his body to his arousal. She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked his length, marveling at the heat and hardness of him. He groaned into her mouth, his body tensing with need until he could take no more. Laying her quickly on the blanket, he nestled between her legs and in one quick thrust entered her.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she rode him with more passion and fire than she’d ever felt with her husband. More than she ever knew existed. Each rocking thrust drove her toward a pinnacle of excitement until finally her body exploded with racking shudders, causing her to yell Brodie’s name as he poured into her, and his groans joined hers in the darkness of the cave.
Then it was quiet. No sound except for their breathing and the drumming of the rain. He lifted his head from the curve of her neck where he had nestled it during their lovemaking and looked into her eyes. “Are you all right?”