Dance Away with Me(80)

“Of course you will.”

She’d replied too quickly, and he frowned. “I will. Once I have some peace and quiet.”

“It won’t be long.” She gazed out at the land—the trees and crags, ridges and valleys. “Wren and I should be resettled at the cabin in the next day or two.”

“Then what’ll my excuse be?”

His brutal honesty touched her. “You’re finding your way. Those beautiful drawings of Wren . . .”

“And of you,” he said scornfully. “Sketches like that are a dime a dozen.”

“You’re the authority, so I suppose you’re right. But I love them.”

The sun slipped behind the hills. Straws of pastel light reached into clouds that looked as if they’d been splashed by Easter egg dyes. The back of his hand brushed her neck as he picked up a long lock of her hair. It curled around his finger, and gooseflesh pebbled her skin. She took in his fierce nose and graven jaw; the whittled lines of his cheekbones; those enigmatic eyes. This was a face that had learned at a painfully early age to obscure its emotions. The face of a man who would only give up his secrets with his artist’s tools.

What was he seeing when he looked at her? Was he seeing the smudges under her eyes from worry and interrupted sleep? Was he seeing how ordinary she was?

He kissed her. The lightest brush of his lips on hers. He drew back and gazed into her eyes. “Say ‘stop’ whenever you need to.”

“Go,” she heard herself whisper.

“Don’t let me rush you.”

He couldn’t rush something she’d been waiting so long to enjoy.

He kissed her again. A deeper kiss. His fingers eased into her hair. His tongue slipped through her parted lips. He explored, taking his time, sending her into a slow frenzy. His big hands moved to her shoulders, down her back, drew her closer until her breasts pressed into his chest. It was only a kiss. Just a kiss. And yet she thought she would expire from it.

She needed to take over. To do her job as she was meant to. To repay him. And she would. Any second now. As soon as this kiss ended. But for this moment, she would enjoy.

The moment ended as he rolled them both to the floor of the platform. He angled his body under hers and pulled her over him as if she weighed nothing. It was a position she knew all too well. Forever on top. She straddled him, ready to take charge. She owed him everything, and she had to do this right. What would he like the most?

He liked kissing. She could definitely do that.

Her hair made a private curtain around their faces as she leaned forward and touched her lips to his. He liked deep kisses, but she didn’t have much practice using her tongue. Thank god she’d only had wine and no cheese. Cheese mouth would be disgusting.

How deep should she go? Not far, or she might choke him. But she didn’t want it to feel like a dental exam, either.

Trying to do everything perfectly had cooled the fire that had been burning inside her to ash. She needed to stop thinking so much and rely on her instincts to restoke that fire. But her instincts wanted her to get off him, climb down the ladder, and hurry to the house in a haze of disappointment.

He spoke against her barely parted lips. “Where are you?”

She pulled her head back. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“Are you?”

She reared back on his hips. “Are you going to critique me?”

He smiled, but she wanted to cry. She scrambled off him, determined to get to the ladder before she completely humiliated herself. He reached up and caught her by her wrist. “Hold on.”

“Let go,” she said.

He didn’t.

“I told you to let go!”

He came to his knees, still clasping her wrist. “I will. I promise. But can you give me thirty seconds leeway?”

“To do what?”

“I don’t know. Mess around. Tell a knock-knock joke. Do my Thomas Edison imitation.” He released her wrist. “I need to think about it.”

Her urge to cry disappeared, but she refused to let herself smile. “Nobody does a Thomas Edison imitation, and your thirty seconds are already up.”

He looked offended. “It’s my understanding that the timer doesn’t start ticking until I’m done thinking.”

The heaviness in her chest had disappeared, and she managed a surly growl. “I guess.”

“Great.” He sat back on the blanket, one leg extended, the other knee bent, and pretended to go into deep thought only to shake his head. “This isn’t working. I need some inspiration. Would you mind taking off your shirt while I think? No harm in that, right?”

Where was the grim-faced stranger she knew so well? This man seemed to have given up hiding behind grunts and snarls. Was she going to play his game? She was.

“I s’pose not.” She went to her knees at the edge of the blanket and crossed her arms over her chest. “You might want to prepare yourself. I’m not wearing my sexy bra.” She pulled her shirt over her head to reveal a plain white underwire with an edge of limp lace spilling over the tops of her breasts.

He regarded her bra so uncritically. “That’s a problem for sure. How am I supposed to get turned on when you’re not wearing your sexy bra?” His gaze didn’t wander from her breasts. “Before you answer that, I need to know— Are you wearing your sexy panties?”