And what were they talking about?
Right. The lie he would tell if Dillon came looking for her during the night. “I, uh… Well, Josh. Lying is not good.”
“Very true.” He tipped up her chin and brushed those warm, soft lips back and forth across hers.
“So. Um. You know. We shouldn’t…”
“Rile.”
“Hmm?”
He nuzzled her cheek with that fine, bladelike nose of his. “Dillon won’t wake up.” His breath was warm against her skin. “And if he does, I’ll handle it. You have my word on that.”
A tiny moan escaped her. Because, well, she had no backbone at all. She was going to give in to her longing for him. She was going to give in, and she knew it.
Because…
Well, what could it hurt in the greater scheme of things to share one more perfect night with him? A perfect night after a beautiful day at his place. The truth would still be there in the morning.
Josh stepped back a fraction. He slid his jacket off his shoulders and tossed it to the leather chair a few feet away. “Hey.”
“Hmm?”
He stepped in close again, bringing a faint hint of woodsmoke from the campfire and his own scent of leather and evergreen. “Please stay.”
That did it. How could she possibly refuse him when he asked her so tenderly?
She lifted her arms and twined them around his neck. He took that as a signal to pull her in close. With a sigh, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “For some reason, I cannot resist you.”
“Good,” he replied. “That makes us even.” She looked up at him again, planning to argue some more. But he was right there, all warm and tall and manly. Her objections died unspoken.
He took hold of her jacket, pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms. Then he tossed it on the leather chair with his.
And then he kissed her.
That kiss?
It wiped her brain clean of everything but desire.
His mouth played on hers, and she opened for him, eager now. Giving herself over to the beauty of the moment, shepressed herself closer and murmured his name against his parted lips.
Her feet left the floor. One arm at her back, the other under her knees, he carried her to his king-size bed, a gorgeous, rustic creation made of reclaimed wood. Gently, he set her down and then knelt at her feet.
Before dinner, she’d swapped her waders and rubber boots for old jeans and comfy Tecovas. She stared down at his bent head as he pulled off her left boot. A moment later, the right boot was off, too, as were her heavy socks.
Rising again, he took her hands and pulled her up with him.
“Too many clothes,” she whispered, impatient now to dispense with every last barrier between them.
He made a low, gruff sound. “Let me help you with that.”
They laughed together as he undressed her, peeling off the layers, unbuttoning, unzipping, unhooking and undoing. In a few short minutes, she stood there wearing nothing but a wide, silly smile.
“My turn.” She put her hands on his hard shoulders and pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed. Dropping to a crouch, she pulled off one boot. The second boot resisted. She finally got it loose, ending up on her butt in the process.
He laughed at that, and so did she as she gave another hard tug and the boot slipped off. The socks gave her no trouble at all. She peeled them away and threw them over her shoulder, not once glancing back to see where they landed.
Chuckling, he rose yet again and took off his shirt. She admired the view. He had those abs you could scrub your laundry on.
