“Oh, really? I thought it was kissingyouthat made all the difference.”
He faked a thoughtful frown. “We probably should test your theory.”
“Well, yeah. Just for, you know, science and all that.”
“All right then. Here’s the plan. This time I won’t walk. I’ll just stand right here, holding you—which feels amazing, FYI.” His feet were numb, but who cared at this point? “Afterward, we’ll decide if the walking made a difference.”
“Go for it.” She puckered up those beautiful lips at him and squinted her eyes closed.
He took that gorgeous mouth.
There was no laughing this time.
Just the sweet taste of the right woman, all eagerness, so soft and welcoming. He speared his tongue in and she met it. The constant roar of the ocean, the frozen state of his feet, the smell of seaweed and wet sand, it all flew away.
They might have remained there, kissing into the next morning—if not for the sudden, big wave that came out of nowhere, flinging cold seawater on them, soaking them from the shoulders down.
She screamed and he let out a bellow. Then they both started laughing again.
“Look at it this way.” He nudged a string of seaweed off her shoulder and nuzzled her wet, salty neck. “I think that wave washed the beer off your shirt.”
She dug the fingers of her free hand into his hair and pulled, so he lifted his head to her. “Smart-ass.” And she kissed him, quick and hard. “Okay. Let’s get moving before a bigger wave comes and drags us out to sea.”
He lowered her feet to the sand and they ran up the beach, away from the untrustworthy waves.
“Well?” he asked when they reached the little pile of his boots and her shoes. “Walking or kissing? Which is responsible for your attitude adjustment?”
“Let me see.” She made a show of considering the weighty question, bracing a thumb under her chin and tapping a finger against her cheek. All the while, she was shivering, wet to the ends of her hair. “Scientifically speaking....”
“Scientifically. Of course.”
“Kissing. No doubt about it. In fact, I’m thinking that we should do it again in order to keep my spirits up.”
Now that was an excellent idea. He pulled her close and she lifted her angel’s face to him.
That kiss was slow and deep and endlessly sweet. He didn’t want it to end. He forgot his frozen feet and their waterlogged clothes.
But eventually, they came up for air and she started shivering again.
He bent, grabbed her shoes and handed them to her. “Let’s get you inside before frostbite sets in.”
Chapter Six
They dropped their shoes outside the door.
Sten gestured Madison in ahead of him, pulling the door shut once he was inside. She continued to shiver, feeling glad he was with her, hoping he would stay.
“Give me your beer,” he said. “And your phone, too.”
She pulled her phone from her dripping pocket. The screen lit right up when she swiped it, none the worse for getting wet. She handed the phone and the beer over.
He set them on the table along with his beer, checking his phone as she had hers and then leaving it, too. “Come here.” Those blue eyes of his promised all manner of scary, wonderful things.
She stepped up close. He took her soggy T-shirt by the hem.
“Lift your arms.”
She did and he eased it up and away. And there she was, in her wet bra and her baggy canvas pants, no doubt looking like a drowned rat.
