I work the soap between my palms until it forms a thin lather, then drag it across my collarbone, down over my breasts and across my tight, sensitive nipples.
I wonder if he’s watching me. Part of me wouldn’t be upset if he were. Part of me even wants it. I want to think that he’s as distracted by me as I am by him, and that it’s difficult for him to keep from looking at me.
“What happened to the bear?” I ask.
Fox’s voice comes out strained. “What?”
“Tell me what happened to the bear that was eating all the livestock.”
“Oh. I killed it.”
“Of course you did.”
“It was dangerous.”
“It sounds to me like it was just hungry.” I say offhandedly, as I lift my heavy wet hair off my neck to wash behind my ears. “Did you ever think that maybe giving it something else to eat could fix the problem? Maybe it had babies to feed.”
Fox makes an outraged choking sound. “You’re unbelievable. You probably would have tried to make friends with it.”
I make an indignant sound and before I realize what I’m doing, I spin around to glare at him, sending ripples through the pool and tiny waves slapping against the rocks. My breath catches in my throat, and the incessant throbbing between my legs becomes impossible to ignore.
Just like he promised, Fox has his back to me, and I quickly take in everything from the defined muscles of his back, to the black tattoos across his shoulder blades, to the water lapping at the dimples just above the curve of his perfect ass.
My splashing must draw his attention, because Fox turns his head just enough that one ice-blue eye meets mine over his shoulder. His pupil dilates in the split second before we both freeze.
For a long, silent beat we just stay there, watching each other. Fox’s eyes linger on mine, then slowly, deliberately, his gaze slides downward—tracing my throat, my collarbone, my breasts—before snapping back up to meet mine with a question and a challenge written plainly across his face. It’s if he’s asking if I still want this, and in the same breath, daring me to do something about it.
My heart pounds too fast, too heavy, making my chest ache.
Instantly, I’m thrown back to that first time I went to his room, and the thought makes the throbbing between my legs so intense that I have to press my thighs together beneath the water. My entire body is screaming at me to say something—or better yet, do something—but there’s still this little voice in the back of my head who knows it’s a bad idea.
I break his stare, heart stuttering, and dunk my head under the water as if to rinse the last of the soap from my long hair.
I break the surface of the water with a gasp, droplets cascading from my hair, only to find Fox has retreated to the far edge of the pool, one hand already gripping the rocky bank like he can’t escape fast enough.
“Sorry,” he says flatly without turning to look at me.
“Don’t be,” I gasp.
“Are you ready to leave?”
I murmur in agreement, turning to my side of the pool and also climbing out of the water. The cool air immediately clings to my wet skin and I shiver as I reach for my clothes.
We don’t speak at all until we’re back in the tent. My skin is still tingling from the hot spring, and when Fox’s hand accidentally brushes mine as we duck through the tent flap, electricity shoots up my arm.
My thoughts are racing just as fast as my heartbeat.
There’s nothing wrong with a purely physical relationship if we’re both fine with that, I just don’t know if I am. I’m not sure yet if I’m able to keep my feelings separated, and I’m never going to put myself in a position to beg for attention.
On the other hand, there’s no question for me that if we get in that bed together right now, we’re going to have sex—and I’m struggling to remember all my carefully constructed reasons why we shouldn’t. It would be easier to disentangle my feelings if we weren’t trapped here together. I wish I could go anywhereelse to be away from Fox for a while, but of course, there’s nowhere to go.
Fox clears his throat. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” I say, though my stomach feels hollow.
“I am,” he says flatly. “I’ll bring something back for you if you want it later.”
He doesn’t wait for me to say anything back, just ducks out of the tent again, the flap falling closed behind him with a soft thud. Obviously, I’m not the only one who needed a moment alone.
