When his surprised gaze met hers, there was a challenge in her expression.
Somewhere far away, the helicopter’s engine growled, back within earshot. Or maybe it was just that his ears suddenly worked again.
He ignored it. Not blinking, not breathing. Just waiting, watching, his skin prickling, antsy with cold and anticipation.
The air was different, muskier, more alive than it had been in forever—with movement and scents, sounds, and a light, chilly breeze. Birds cawed to the west, just over the crest of this mountain, while the aircraft circled back from the east. They’d have to land on top of him to get him to move right now.
“Do it.” His voice was a raw, open thing, more vulnerable than the wound she’d just covered. Want wasn’t something he allowed himself. Wasn’t much point when everything worth wanting was out of reach.
Only it wasn’t right now. It was right here. And he couldn’t remember wanting like this—ever.
He put out his hand, let his fingers curl around her perfect ear, let them drag along the soft, brown skin. He gently pinched the lobe, testing its softness, before cupping her ear again, the fleshy part of his palm flush with her jaw.
Her eyelids dropped, opened, stayed at half-mast, and then, like a dream he’d wake up from feeling empty and lost, she pushed back, giving him the weight of her head, the curve of her cheek.
She lowered her head.
“One kiss.” The words were a hot breath on his belly, fanning his hair, tightening his abs.
Instead of rising over him and planting those lips on his, she dipped, paused, burned a path over his skin with her eyes, then pressed her mouth right where his pants ended low on his hips.
***
Leo had had no intention of doing any of this. She’d planned on bussing his cheek, just to tease him, maybe to motivate.
She most definitely hadn’t meant to put her mouth in this prematurely intimate place, where his happy trail disappeared, not here against his smooth, fragrant skin. Not in the wild, on the damp ground while the helo swooped toward them like a marauding bird of prey. It was so close now, she felt the thrum through her knees, the ground, his midsection.
Still, she didn’t lift her head, couldn’t draw away.
It might have been his scent that made her act like an idiot. Or maybe these fascinating muscles—born of the hard labor of a life lived alone. It could have been the sweet, high pink she’d seen in his cheeks before she’d lowered her face, telling her just how much he’d wanted this.
But she knew it wasn’t any of those that made her do this stupid, stupid thing. It wasn’t the light, crisp nap of his hair that made her put her tongue to skin and taste. It wasn’t the way his rough fingers cradled her ear—gently, like she was something fragile to be cared for and worried about. Taken care of, instead of doing the caring, which had always been her role.
No, she admitted, behind the safe haven of her own closed lids, what had sent her to this unexpected place was the look in his eyes. The man may have been close to forty, with the wear and tear to prove it, but his expression when she’d hovered over him had been so raw, so earnest, the yearning so pure and close to the surface, that she’d have done anything for him in that moment, given him whatever the hell he’d wanted.
The sound of the aircraft above was almost deafening, as if the bastards were homing right in on their perch here. And instead of running, she was tasting him.
What an absolute fool.
The sound grew louder, forcing her to put a hand to the cold, wet ground and press up, half expecting him to urge her back down. Something like disappointment washed through her when he took his touch away. As soon as she gave him space, he rolled to his side and sat, his body moving fast, though his eyes watched her as if they had all the time in the world.
She couldn’t seem to move, despite doom’s pressing arrival. If she moved, it would be over—the moment gone, blown apart by stark reality.
Once he’d reached standing, he offered his hand, casting his eyes to the sky. He didn’t have to tell her they’d be seen under these sparse branches. Christ, this day had taught her exactly how it felt to be the prey on the ground, scurrying like hamsters in a maze. She accepted his firm grip, wishing she could feel something aside from rough gloves, and let him pull her up, almost against him. Another second was wasted while she soaked up his closeness—her chest near enough to his to feel the heat, his height making her feel small, though she wasn’t.
Together, they dragged his pack into the shelter of the alder shrubs, sinking into the devil’s club’s spiny embrace.
They were camouflaged enough. She hoped.
She turned. What was missing? Something was wrong.
“See Bo?” Elias’s voice rumbled.
Thatwas it. She shot a quick look around. “No.”
“Shit.”
With a suddenness that felt almost apocalyptic, the helicopter blotted out the sunlight, its shadow taking over the mountainside like a biblical swarm of insects. She’d never shied away from the end before—always looked it right in the eye—yet something pushed Leo to tuck her head into the crook of Elias’s shoulder and close her eyes.
