She clasped her hands together. “I think it might have been lonely.”
He sat up. “You get lonely, Doc?”
“I have a fulfilling career, good friends and colleagues. I travel, but I keep a home on the world I grew up on.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She sat up too. “I think everyone gets a little lonely sometimes.”
He studied the lines of her face. “I don’t. I have two brothers and a cousin who are underfoot more than I’d like. If they aren’t around, it’s always easy to find people out for a good time, or a new adventure to take on.”
“Always on the move. Never stopping long enough to let anything matter to you.”
He arched a brow even as her words stung. “It’s what I like. What I’m built for. I don’t have it in me to offer more.”
“I think you’re running from your past.”
His heart gave a hard thud. “I could say it right back to you.”
She shot to her feet and stalked around the fire, her feet kicking up sand. Her toes bumped his. He looked up the length of her curvy body. God, she was magnificent all riled up.
“I love the past.” She threw one arm out. “I loved my mother and I cherish her memory.”
“I think you use her memory as a shield. Her passions as your own.” He set his beer bottle down, twisting it into the sand. “All an excuse not to let anyone close enough to ruffle your emotions or mess up your tidy little world.”
“How dare you?—”
He gripped her leg and overbalanced her. She fell on top of him with a short scream. Her legs settled around his hips, her hands gripping his shoulders. Their faces were inches apart.
“Prove me wrong, Doc.” He leaned in close, their lips brushing. “Show me you aren’t afraid to touch and be touched.”
“Frustrating, irritating man.” Her hands tangled in his hair none too gently. “I thought you were the one who was afraid.”
Maybe she was right. “I’ve regretted it every minute not finishing what we started in that bathtub.” He yanked her forward.
The kiss was fast, furious, and with an edge of anger. He let her attack his mouth, her tongue dueling with his. God, she tasted much better than the ale.
He let his hands slide down her body to grip her curvy hips. She moved, brushing against his cock that was rapidly getting hard against his fly. A groan tore from his throat.
She pulled back. He expected a tart remark, a curse.
“I want you to touch me, Dathan.” She moved against him. “Please.”
The plain, honest request ignited something inside him. He kissed her again, hard and long, then scooped her up and stood. He skirted the fire and set her down on the blanket. His hands found the buttons of her shirt.
Her fingers grabbed his. “What about your brothers?”
“Tucked up tight for the night in the ship. There’s just you, me, and a whole lot of sand.” He worked the first button free. “Ever made love outside?”
Her hand dropped away. “No.”
He flicked open her next button. “Let me show you how good it can be.”
She moved to help him, but he gave one shake of his head. “By the way, I have a Naamah implant.” It protected from pregnancy and disease.
“Me too,” she said.
He gripped the sides of her shirt and yanked. As buttons popped off onto the blanket and the sand, she gasped. Then she was bared to his view. More golden-tan skin. The swells of her breasts pushed against a lacy, gold bra.
