The cot was barely wideenough for one of them, never mind both. But it was the only sleeping surface in the cabin besides the floor, and Cross had insisted she take it. So naturally, she’d told him to shut up, and she made room for him as well. There was no way he was sleeping on the floor because of her. It would be too much like she owed him something.
Now they lay side by side beneath the mosquito net, the gauzy fabric draped like a ghostly veil around them. The air inside was thick with heat and humidity, and every breath felt as if she were sucking in soup. Outside, the symphony of insects never stopped—buzzing, clicking, whirring in a rhythm as steady as her pulse. Which was currently galloping, thanks to the man less than six inches away.
Drew kept her back to Cross, one knee crooked, one arm under her head. She pretended to be asleep. Had been for what felt like an hour now. But her body refused to shut down. His presence was too much. Every inhale drew in his scent—something citrusy, swamp water, and whatever soap he’d used when he cleaned up. His bare arm brushed hers each time he shifted, and she was hyper-aware of every accidental touch.Every flare of heat where their skin met. The thin tank she wore might as well have been tissue paper.
Like a current running under the surface, the tension rose between them. Neither of them said a word. But it was there. Palpable. Suffocating. She tried to remind herself that she’d heard him call Tessahoney. He was involved with someone else. She was over him. What did it matter?
Except it did.
When he shifted again, she felt it—the barest graze of his hand along her hip. Not on purpose. Not exactly. But enough to set her nerve endings on fire. She exhaled slowly, trying not to give herself away.
“You asleep?” Cross’s voice was low. Rough. Too close to her ear.
Damn it. “Trying,” she muttered.
A beat passed.
“How’s that goin’ for you?”
She turned her head slightly, glancing at him in the faint moonlight that filtered through the slatted walls. His eyes were open, watching her. His expression unreadable, but his gaze? That gave everything away.
She swallowed. “About the same as it is for you.”
His mouth curved slightly. “Yeah.”
Another long pause. Her skin tingled where the sheet didn’t touch it. The cot creaked as he shifted again, his hand brushing her stomach this time and not by accident.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she said, her voice husky.
“Doing what?”
“Being close.”
“I’m trying not to fall off the cot.”
She rolled onto her back, and suddenly his face was right above hers, his upper body propped on one elbow. They were nose to nose now, breathing the same thick air, eyes locked.She could’ve pushed him away. Logically, she knew she should. Could’ve rolled over and told him to knock it off. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached up and touched the side of his jaw. “This is a bad idea.”
“Probably,” he agreed and then kissed her anyway. It started hesitantly. Testing. Like he was waiting for her to stop him. She didn’t.
Their mouths found each other again, hungrier this time. The kind of kiss born of tension stretched too long, too far. She ran her hand up his chest and over his shoulder, pulling him closer. His weight settled over her, his knee between hers, his hand sliding up her ribs. Instinct overrode caution, and her body arched against him. He tasted like tea and trouble and memories. So many damn memories.
His hand slid beneath her tank top and—A sharp knock on the cabin wall cracked through the moment. Both of them froze. Another knock followed, firmer this time.
“Cross!” a male voice called. “You awake?”
Drew sucked in a breath and shoved at his chest.
He muttered a curse, rolled off her, and sat up. “Yeah! Gimme a second.” He grabbed a shirt off the chair and ducked under the mosquito net. Drew stayed where she was, heart pounding, pulse thudding in her ears. Her body still thrummed, skin heated and desperate for something she wasn’t going to get now. She exhaled slowly, sitting up and leaning against the wall. Damn good thing they hadn’t gotten around to shedding any clothes, or so she told herself.
Cross opened the door and stepped out into the night. “What’s going on, Rick?”
The voice that answered was deep and gravelly. “Didn’t mean to bust in on you. Just wanted you to know some shady characters were asking about you in town.”
“Yeah, they found me and shot up my place.”
“I heard,” the voice responded. “This was after that. They’re offering a lot of money if someone will tell them where you might be hiding. They think you aren’t too far away.”
“Shit,” Cross growled. “Is anyone talking?”
