Forbidden River (The Legionnaires #2.5)(27)
When her release came again, it was more of an implosion than an explosion, her body splintering in on itself. At that point, she did close her eyes—and held her breath to stop from crying out with the exquisite force. He moaned, crested and collapsed on top of her. She wrapped her arms tight around his wide, slick back and he slid to one side, easing his weight off her. She slung her bad knee over his hip, ignoring its half-hearted protest, and he sought her gaze again. Swallowing, he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and trailed his hand down to her waist. She adjusted the sleeping bag to cover them again—not that she needed the warmth—and they lay still and silent as the night re-formed around them, a frown caught on his forehead like he was trying to figure it all out.
Good luck with that, Cowboy. A breeze caught the ferns bordering the clearing, the brush of the fronds echoing the rush of the water beyond. Somewhere far away a female kiwi trilled. Tia listened for the mate’s reply but it didn’t come.
She was grateful Cody didn’t talk. Let their bodies have the last word, let their connection remain unspoken, let the beauty of it breathe. What good would come from words—a joke to break the spell, a briefing of tactics for tomorrow, the inevitable panicked disclaimer? You know I’m not in a good place for a relationship, right? But this was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.
She realized her eyes had drifted shut when he shifted onto his back and she jolted out of the delirious dawn of a dream. He shushed her, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in so her body pressed into his side, her cheek on his chest. He kissed her crown for a long moment.
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, snaking her arm across his waist, giving in to the weight of sleep, to a sweet bliss that wasn’t hers to keep.
CHAPTER TEN
CODY CROUCHED AT the junction of stream and river, watching colors seep into the landscape after the gray dawn, long enough to be satisfied their stalker wasn’t lying in wait. If Cody was doing the sniping, he’d set up in that dip between the boulders on the far bank, in that clump of ferns upriver, on that rocky bluff.
The concrete sky sagged. The forest drooped with dew, as if salivating at the promise of rain. Far away one of Shane’s dogs barked, the echo bouncing around the valley. Cody turned his head to one side, listening. More barking. They were still a fair distance upriver but it was time to push on. He stood, rolling his shoulders. Time to wake Tia. He’d packed everything in the kayaks except the bedding.
He followed the stream back up, rubbing his nape. He’d hardly slept, but when did he ever? Having Tia naked in his arms was enough of a recharge. He’d lain there thinking too much, listening to the piercing calls of night birds, the hoot of a tiny owl that swooped in and out of a tree, the trickle and rush of water, the odd scraping and shuffling that had him on alert.
At the clearing, Tia sat studying the map, crunching into the apple he’d left for her, along with a nut bar and water. The sleeping bag, mat and tent were neatly stowed. She’d pulled back her hair, and her face was fierce with concentration. It was true what he’d said—she wasn’t like any woman he’d met. Tough and passionate. It’d take one hell of a man to count as her equal—and not a guy who’d spent six years on the run. You can’t shovel that shit while you’re swimming in it. Was that his problem? He was counting on time and distance to heal him, but the farther he ran from his guilt and grief, the heavier it got.
Tia looked up, rubbing her lips together as she spotted him. How would this go? It wasn’t your usual morning after. They’d crossed a line last night, and not just a physical one. The last couple of years he’d watched his best buddies hook up with the right woman at the wrong time. Never thought it’d happen to him.
And it wouldn’t happen. It wasn’t happening. Like she’d said, this was a fling between a local and a tourist, the kind of thing that happened every day—had probably happened that very day to a thousand people, from Kenya to Manhattan. Two people pairing up, having a good time, moving on. Happy blips. The what-if moment was inevitable but you pushed on through.
“We’ll need to bust a gut to get to the falls,” she said, snapping her gaze back to the map. “There’s a river crossing right before it—a swing bridge. I’ll feel better when we’re past that.”
He crossed the clearing. So that’s how it’d be—they’d forget it ever happened. Well, he’d never forget, but he could pretend, if that’s what she wanted. He’d also be good with stripping naked and resuming where they’d finished up last night, but maybe it was lucky they couldn’t.
“A bridge,” he said, catching up with her words. “Does that mean there’s a track?” Another escape route?
“Yeah, but it’s rough. An old hunting track that goes nowhere to nowhere, slowly.” She stretched her legs out. The dressing was soaked with blood. “The river’s still our best bet.”
“Want me to change that?” He nodded at her leg.
“Nah. It’s holding. We should go.” She went to push to her feet and stopped, wincing. He held out a hand. “I’m fine.” She tried again, smacked onto her ass, swore.
“It’ll take a while to loosen up again, after a night’s...rest,” he said.
Sighing, she clapped her hand into his and he pulled her up. He liked the weight of her. He liked that they were nearly eye to eye when standing. And he liked it even more when she gave in to a shy smile, pulled him closer and kissed him, as tender and intimate as sex had been last night. Is that what a relationship with her would be like—hot and fun but calming and fortifying, too?