“Don’t you get cold without a shirt?”
Blue eyes gleamed. “With you snuggling that world-class ass of yours up to me? Not likely.”
She was absurdly pleased that he thought her ass was world class. She’d never thought about it much one way or the other, unlike her lack of boobs, which was right out in front for her, and everyone else, to notice. Todd had never said anything about liking her butt. He’d made the usual statements men knew they were supposed to make about small boobs—anything over a mouthful was a waste, et cetera—but he hadn’t been very convincing, especially when she’d see him checking out women who had bigger busts. Todd hadn’t been the cheating type, she’d never suspected him of that, but still it had hurt that her body hadn’t been visually appealing to him.
She stared at Dare as the truth dawned. “My God. You’re an ass man.”
He snorted. “No shit. What gave me away? The three thousand comments I’ve made about your ass, maybe?”
“Men usually like boobs, that’s all. I’m surprised.”
“I like boobs. Yours are pretty, but your ass is a work of art.” He sat down on the mattress and began unlacing his boots, set them aside. He turned off the heater and the lantern and in the darkness lay down beside her, curling his heat and strength around her like before. Once again she felt his mouth on the back of her neck, then his arm tightened around her waist and he tucked her in tight against him.
“Good night,” he murmured, his rough voice low.
She put her hand on top of his, replied “Good night,” and closed her eyes, but she didn’t think she would be sleeping any time soon, not with her thoughts churning the way they were.
He didn’t go immediately to sleep, either. He was relaxed, but he wasn’t asleep. She could feel him waiting for her to make a decision she hadn’t, until now, realized was so immediate. He wasn’t forcing the timing in any way, if she wanted to go to sleep he would, too, without a word.
But tomorrow, if she could get her boot on, they’d be leaving here. Circumstances would be different. The world would intrude again.
Did she really need to decide, or just trust the decision that had already been made?
Temptation beckoned, a lorelei that was as much emotional as physical. She was at least halfway in love with him, and she shouldn’t take this final step unless she was willing to commit herself to what loving him could mean. Everything wouldn’t suddenly become all sweetness and rose petals. A relationship with him would inevitably include some rocky portions, because he wasn’t and never would be an easy man, but neither was she a smiling Stepford, so she couldn’t expect him to be what she herself wasn’t. The legal issues could be worked out, whether or not their relationship was temporary or permanent. All she had to do was take that step.
Was it a matter of trusting him, or of trusting herself? More than anything, she had to trust herself, trust that she had chosen the right man this time. Todd hadn’t done anything heinous; Dare was right about that. If she’d truly loved Todd, she might have kicked him in the shin, but in the end she would have forgiven him for not understanding, for not being as perceptive as he could have been. If he’d truly loved her, he’d have kept his word. What they’d had together had been Love Lite. Whether or not it would have grown into more was something she’d never know.
Because, now, there was Dare—Dare, who had come searching for her in the middle of a horrendous storm, who had carried her for miles on his back, then continued taking care of her, in ways that hadn’t even occurred to her. Dare had done something that even her friends hadn’t done: He’d taken her side. He trusted her judgment even when she herself didn’t.
Angie opened her eyes and lay staring into the darkness, which wasn’t as absolute as it had been, with starlight now filtering through the windows. Things were changing, time was moving on; she sensed that she needed to reach out and grasp life now, or lose this opportunity perhaps forever.
She could hold herself apart, not take a chance, but it seemed to her that not taking the risk, not trusting both Dare and herself, would be a far greater mistake than taking the chance and perhaps striking out again. It might not work out; if it didn’t, she would still have had the experience of loving him. If, in the end, he didn’t love her enough to want more, well, that would be his mistake, not hers.
Before she lost her nerve, she shifted in the darkness, turning over and putting her arm around his neck, and pressed her mouth to his.
No words were needed, not when they had touch, and need, and desire. He slipped his hand around the back of her neck, his long fingers sliding under her hair and clasping her skull as he took control of the kiss, angling his head and deepening the pressure. The warmth and taste of him filled her, easing a hunger that needed to be fed.
In the darkness there didn’t seem to be any hurry. They kissed and touched, exploring, and Angie lost herself in the tactile magic of it. His hands were on her, sliding over every curve, and her hands were on him. The differences of his body from hers both shook and thrilled her to the core: the heavy muscularity of his shoulders, the hardness of his chest and abdomen, the spinal groove down his back and the thick pads of muscle that laced each side. One at a time, they shed their garments. Her shirt went first and then she was lying with her bare breasts nestled against him, the sensation making her move and slide so she could feel more of the electrifying friction of skin against skin. Her nipples ached and throbbed from just that, then he added the abrasion of his rough hands, the hard pull of his mouth.