“I need your help.” She raised the edge of the sheet. “In here.”
Jean couldn’t see his expression, but his lower body quickly moved into view. “Take your shoes off first,” she ordered. “And your outside clothes.”
“Oh.” He hesitated only briefly before stepping out of his pants.
“Glasses,” she reminded him.
“Right,” he said, in asilly metone. Charlie climbed under the covers, scooting down until they were both hidden beneath the top sheet.
“We’re not wearing clothes,” he said when the rustling subsided, like he needed confirmation.
“Fewer places for a snake to hide.”
“Ah. Do you think she’s in here?” he whispered.
“I sure hope not.”
“Should I get a flashlight?”
“We don’t need it.”
“Pit vipers are really good in the dark.”
The blood in Jean’s veins turned to ice chips. “Are you telling me Emma is a viper?”
Her question seemed to amuse him, which made one of them. “Oh no. She’s a corn snake. Very sweet. Loves to burrow.”
Slowly, Jean drew her knees into her chest, removing her vulnerable toes from the darkness at the bottom of the bed.
“It’s just an interesting fact about certain types of snakes,” Charlie continued, like they were standing in front of a display at a nature museum. “Boas and pythons do it too—hunting in the dark by sensing the body heat of their prey.”
“Awesome.”
“It really is. The theory is that they use the pit organ—” He broke off when Jean’s questing fingers found his mouth. “Too much snake talk?” he mumbled into her hand.
“It’s the context.” She removed her hand. “I don’t like thinking about deadly creatures that hunt in the dark when I’m in the dark.”
“Don’t worry. You’re much more likely to run into a rattlesnake around here.”
He couldn’t possibly mean that the way it sounded. “You have a rattlesnake in your room?”
“No, I meant it’s the only venomous snake in South Dakota. The prairie rattlesnake, to be more specific.Crotalus viridis viridis.”
Although hearing Charlie speak Latin usually did it for her, this was not how Jean had envisioned the scene playing out. She slid her hand across the sheet until it hit flesh. A little more poking identified it as an arm.
When she ran the pads of her fingers up to his shoulder, he stopped breathing.
“Charlie.”
“Yes?”
She wormed closer, hips then shoulders, straightening her legs to press her whole body against him. “You’re into me.” There was no mistaking the evidence.
“Yes.” He inhaled, deep and unsteady.
They stayed like that, breathing in and out, his chest expanding against hers. It felt like wave after wave washing overher, the sensation of being skin to skin with Charlie. What was the plan again? The strategic part of her brain had turned to white noise.
The bed shook as he scooted down. Jean sensed his mouth seeking hers (and thought briefly of pit vipers) as his breath fanned her lips.
