His smile should be bottled and sold back in the city. Her thighs were now becoming too warm while bracketing his. “I wish you’d let me in about Hank.” Unable to resist, she flattened her hand over the wound too close to his heart.
“Hank’s off-limits, but you can get in any other way you want.” He leaned in, his breath warm on her lips. “I know another way we can spend the rest of the night.”
Desire, full and languid, spread through her, warming her faster than any fire. Temptation had never been so painful before, but morning always came, and she couldn’t do her job with regrets. Although, a guy like him might be worth it. “Not without trust, Brock.”
“Fair enough.” A veil dropped over his eyes. “We’re both warm enough for it to be safe to sleep now. How about a kiss goodnight?”
Well, a kiss didn’t take trust. Plus, if Brock sucked at kissing, she could get over this attraction to him and concentrate solely on the job she’d been assigned. “I guess one kiss would be okay.”
He settled his broad palms on her bare hips. “Better than okay, I hope.”
She lifted a shoulder, trying not to enjoy the feeling of him holding her in place. “You’re probably too good-looking.”
His upper lip quirked. “Huh?”
She placed her other hand on his chest, marveling at the strength. “Really good-looking guys, especially ones in the service, often don’t have to try very hard with the ladies. Maybeyou’ve just skated by.” Why he brought out the imp in her, she’d never know.
He smiled, his gaze glittering. “Let’s test that theory.”
“Sure.” She leaned in, pressing her mouth to his, wandering along his lips. Firm and full. When he smiled against her, she felt the sensation in her heart. Light and sweet.
Without moving his hands, he tilted his head, forcing hers to the side. Then he kissed her. Real and deep, full of intent and seeking. No longer sweet. He tasted of male and snow and mint, of everything that was Brock Osprey. Without moving a muscle, he took over the kiss, sending commanding need through her so fast she could only shut her eyes and let him give. And take.
Finally, he released her.
She panted, caught up, realizing belatedly that she’d pressed against him—all of her against all of him. His erection prodded her through his boxers, full and hard.
He swallowed, his eyes a deeper green than she would’ve thought possible. “How’d I do?” His low and rough voice licked across her skin.
She couldn’t talk.
Amusement melded with the lust in his eyes. “I’ll take it.” He exhaled slowly, his hands still on her hips. “We continuing this or going to sleep?”
She couldn’t. Oh, she wanted to, but she couldn’t take that risk with him keeping secrets. Yet words still eluded her.
He slowly nodded. “All right. Sleep it is, then.” In one smooth movement, he turned her, settled her down to face the fire, and spooned around her, providing warmth and safety.
She stared at the fire, her body hotter than the flames and ready to go. A tree cracked outside as the storm grew louder. That fast, she remembered the danger hunting them. “Who do you think shot at us?”
“You. They shot at you,” he said quietly.
That’s what she had thought.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Brock stacked new kindling and logs in the now-dead fireplace for the next poor sucker who needed fire as Ophelia took care of business outside. He’d already searched the area for the shooter, finding nothing. The storm had cleared, leaving a bright and freezing-cold day. Their clothes had dried through the night, and he couldn’t see any evidence of frostbite on either of their bodies.
Once he’d settled her down to sleep the night before, he’d found the box of flares and fired the purple one, letting anybody looking for them know they were okay and not to take drastic measures. Ace and Christian must’ve believed him because they hadn’t shown up, which was good since the storm had raged for hours.
Ophelia walked back inside, wearing her snow gear and his coat. “I’m not taking your jacket today.”
“It’s clear but cold, and I’m wearing long johns, a T-shirt, and a flannel, city girl. What about you?” He moved slowly in the morning, but a good meal and a workout would get his blood pumping again. As usual, his left leg hurt, but that’d never change. Sometimes, a bullet made itself known forever, and the one that had hit him while on a mission in Afghanistan wouldalways leave an ache. But he’d left that world behind when the Navy honorably discharged him.
She huffed. “Just a sweater.” Then she kicked her foot in a move that could only be interpreted as adorable.
Man, he had to get a grip on himself before he screwed everything up. “Exactly how long do you want to argue about this before we get going?” He needed coffee.
She lowered her chin, her skin a healthy hue, and her eyes clear. “Has anybody ever told you how stubborn you are?”
