He was right, and I couldn’t tell him he wasn’t.
He pushed off the door and crossed the room, and I watched him come because there was nothing worth looking at in this camp besides him. He stopped an arm’s length away.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“Katarina.”
I sat, but not because he ordered me to. “The top strap is too tight.”
“Tell me if this hurts,” he asked as he loosened it. “Better?”
“Yes.”
He stayed where he was, crouched between my legs with his palms on the arms of the chair.
“Tell me the rest of what you came here to say.”
“That was all.”
“Katarina.”
How could his simple utterance of my name make me want to do everything he told me to? Was it because his eyes were the color of whiskey and they hadn’t moved from mine since he knelt in front of me?
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I confessed.
“Neither do I.”
He raised his hand, traced my cheekbone with his thumb, then he kissed me.
Not the way he had in the stateroom when he’d taken rather than asked. This was different. His mouth didn’t claim mine without consent. This kiss was mutual.
I fisted the front of his Henley and brought him closer.
With one arm behind my back and the other under my elbow, he brought me to my feet, then moved us so I was up against the wall. He used his knee to spread my legs, then rested it tightly between my thighs.
His mouth trailed from my lips, down my neck, and he slid his hand under my sweater. His palm was warm on my bare skin, and he spread his fingers to keep my body flush with his.
I pulled at his Henley until it came free of his waistband and got my hands on the skin above his belt.
“Katarina,” he groaned as he lifted me in his arms. He shouldered open the bedroom door, carried me to the bed, and set me on the mattress. The Hudson Bay blanket was turned down at the corner as though he’d been expecting company.
He rested beside me, and when I spread my legs, he positioned himself on top of me, holding his weight off me with one arm. Our mouths fused together in an endless kiss. Even when he rolled to his side, our tongues still wove around each other’s.
I’d planted one hand on his chest. I slowly moved it farther down his sternum to his belt. My fingers were on the buckle when his closed around my wrist.
He brought my hand to rest above his heart and held it there.
“Not tonight,” he whispered.
I tried to jerk my arm away, but he held tight.
“Katarina. Look at me.”
My eyes met his.
“Just be with me.”
