“You looked like you needed a friend,” he said softly against her ear, shooting pleasurable tingles down her spine. “I’m glad I was here.”
“Me, too.” She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge how it hurt that she liked him so much and her duplicity had destroyed any chance they might have had of taking their friendship further.
16
“TIME TO wake up, everyone! Breakfast in twenty minutes.”
Paolo’s cheerful voice drifted through the closed tent flap and Brett slowly came awake, wincing at the stiffness in his back. The problem with sleeping on the damn ground was that when you awoke, you felt as if you’d slept on the damn ground.
But then something warm and soft and fragrant moved against him, and his discomfort evaporated like water in a desert.
Kayla.
He breathed deeply and the luscious, clean scent of her filled his head. She lay next to him, on her side, her cheek pillowed against his shoulder, one slim hand resting on his chest, one leg nestled between his thighs.
His arms tightened around her, absorbing the sensation of her pressed against him. Of waking up with her in his arms after sleeping together.
And only sleeping.
When the fire had died down to nothing but glowing embers, leaving the air around them cold, he’d risen, then helped her to her feet. Shadows of exhaustion had shaded violet circles under her eyes, and without a word, he’d taken her hand and led her to his tent. After helping her remove her coat and boots, he’d removed his own, then they’d slipped into his sleeping bag. She’d instantly snuggled close to him, and seconds later her deep, even breathing indicated she’d fallen asleep. He’d gently kissed the top of her head, and joined her in slumber.
Now she stirred in his arms, and a wave of contentment such as he’d never known rolled through him like warm honey coursing through his veins. They were fully clothed, hadn’t shared so much as a kiss last night, yet he felt profoundly satisfied.
In spite of last night’s lack of lovemaking, they’d still shared something very intimate and special. He wasn’t sure what name to assign to an evening such as the one they’d spent, but he knew the end result was that he felt closer to her than to any woman who’d come before her.
And it was getting damn difficult to imagine another woman coming after her.
She stirred again then raised her head and blinked. Red curls were flattened where she’d pillowed her head against him, and on the other side, they sprang wildly up like miniature corkscrews. Lids still heavy with sleep half covered her eyes, but he was relieved to note the dark smudges beneath them were gone. She looked rumpled and adorable and sexy as hell.
Their gazes met and a slight smile curved her full lips.
“Hi,” she murmured in a sleep-roughened voice.
One word. One look. That’s all it took and he felt turned inside out. Brett brushed back her hair, his hand lingering over her velvety cheek.
“Hi,” he managed to say.
He shifted onto his side, urging her onto her back, then lowered his head, sinking slowly into a deep, lush, openmouthed kiss. It felt like a reacquaintance after a long absence, a languid exploration of lips and tongues, a leisurely build of arousal.
With that same wordless lack of haste, gazes clinging, they removed their clothes. Brett slid a condom from his backpack, and after rolling on the protection, settled himself between her splayed thighs.
He entered her slowly, shuddering at the silken glide into her wet heat. He stilled for several long seconds, absorbing the satin pleasure of her grip. Then he slowly withdrew, sank deep again, watching every nuance pass over her features, concentrating on breathing in tandem with her slow, deep breaths.
Her breathing grew more rapid and he increased the pace and depth of his strokes to match the tempo. A flushed sheen colored her skin, and her eyes glazed and darkened with need. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled his mouth to hers for another deep, intimate kiss. When she arched beneath him, he swallowed her low groans, letting himself go at the first pulsing squeeze of her orgasm.
Still buried in her slick heat, heart still pounding, he lifted his head. And found her looking up at him through green eyes still hazy with arousal. And knew in that moment that there was no better place on the entire damn planet than this-stretched out over her warm, soft body.
He wanted to say something lighthearted, toss out some quick-witted quip, but he had nothing. A veritable beehive of unfamiliar feelings buzzed through him, but not one of them could be described as lighthearted.
She reached up and traced her fingertips over his face, as if trying to memorize his features. “What am I going to do,” she whispered, “when friends ask me what my favorite part of this trip was? How can I tell them that even amidst all this history and scenic beauty, my favorite part was falling asleep in your arms? Waking up wrapped around you? Soft, slow, morning sex with you?”
He had to swallow to find his voice. “I don’t know. When you figure it out, pass it along, because I’ll need to know what to tell my friends when they ask me that question.”
A tiny frown creased her brow. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For last night. For holding me and keeping me warm and…being my friend.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “Thank you for letting me help. It felt good to be needed.”
The sound of muffled voices drifted in through the tent flap. Brett raised his head and sniffed. “Hey. I smell bacon. And coffee.”
She raised her head and sniffed, then her eyes widened. “Me, too.” She shot him a devilish grin. “Bet I can get dressed and make it to the bacon and coffee before you can.”
“A princess like you?” he said with an exaggerated scoff. “I don’t think so. Especially seeing as how you’re on the bottom.”
“I won’t be as soon as you reach for your clothes.”
“You’re dealing with a man who really likes bacon. And really needs a cup of coffee.”
“You’re dealing with a woman who really likes bacon and who really needs a cup of coffee. Care to place a wager?”
“I’m not normally a gambling man, but hell, this is like shooting fish in a barrel. What are you willing to lose?”
“What do you want?”
You. The word jumped into his mind, reverberating through him. Since the answer was so glaringly clear, he said it out loud. “You.”
“Ah. A flesh payment.”
“Correct.”
“And if I win, oh great professor of chemistry, what are you willing to lose?”
He shot her a slow grin. “I’m not going to lose.”
“Humor me.”
“Okay, princess. What do you want?”
“You.” Her eyes filled with mischief. “Twice.”
“You realize that’s a win-win for me. Literally.”
“Never let it be said that I’m not willing to share the prize.”
“And if I refuse your wicked demands?”
“Then I won’t let you have any of my bacon after I get to the kitchen tent first.”
“You’re very confident for a woman who’s going to get left in the dust.”
“You’re very confident for a man who’s going to have to pleasure me for hours-in the method of my choosing.”
He raised his brows and nodded approvingly. “Dealer’s choice?”
“Absolutely. Any complaints?”
“Hell, no.”
She smiled up into his eyes, and his heart executed that crazy acrobatic maneuver it had taken to performing every time she looked at him.
“May the best man win,” he said.
“May the best woman win,” she corrected. “Ready?”