tighter. Like a cat who’d finally wandered home after being lost, she snuggled right into her old spot. Nose to his neck, ear to his cheek. Right there where problems fled and everything felt peaceful and safe. All the more when Tobin rested his head on top of hers and slowly let his stiff muscles loosen up.
“Mmm,” he hummed.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing,” he sighed. “Just mmm.”
She looked up and found him smiling at her.
She flicked her fingers along his forearm. “You’re wet.”
“You’re wetter.”
She laughed. A good, resounding laugh that felt like a million bucks. “Am not.”
“Are too,” he scolded. “It’s all this hair.” He ran his fingers through her locks, sending warm tingles through her body. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of him, that close. His fingers massaging her scalp, tucking her hair back into place.
“God, I’m a mess.”
“I like you a little messy. It’s cute.”
Her heart skipped into a happy little dance. Maybe there didn’t have to be anything complicated about loving him. About letting him love her all over again.
“Only you would find this cute,” she murmured.
He looked at her, and his eyes danced.
Yes. Yes, I do.
Chapter Seventeen
Tobin reached behind her. “Better dry you off.”
He dabbed at her with the towel he’d found. Gently, carefully, he chased the rivulets of water that streamed over her face and down her neck. When he rubbed under her chin, she couldn’t help but lean into him.
The rain tapped on the roof in urgent little bursts and splattered in the puddles building outside the thin walls. The whole rain forest hushed under the deluge.
She leaned closer and closer as he worked the towel over her shoulders and down her back. The sound building in her throat was part purr, part lusty growl, and the lean became more of a squeeze as she pressed her chest to his. Tobin’s hands were magic, just like his voice. Just like his smile, his touch.
Then she wasn’t just warm, but hot. Hungry. She smoothed her hands over his chest. Ran her fingers down until they found the hem of his shirt and worked it up. The wet cloth rolled reluctantly, and she could relate. If she were plastered that tight against his body, she wouldn’t go without a fight, either.
“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” she whispered, peeling the shirt away. Underneath was a wall of taut, tanned skin, and part of her sighed, being this close to him again. This intimate. No banter, no jokes. Just a couple of lovers pushed by the same primal desire.
“Cara.” His hands closed around hers, but she pulled free. Another inch of shirt gave way, revealing a flat, hard nipple backed by solid muscle. With it came the hot memory of the time they’d holed up in a Colorado ski hut and—
“Cara.” His voice was low and a little rough.
I want this, Tobin. I need this.
She almost said it, but caught herself just in time. Tipped her forehead forward to his shoulder and took a couple of deep breaths.
Me, me, me.
God, when had she become so selfish?
His hands massaged her shoulders, telling her it was all right. That was the problem: Tobin made it easy to take, and take, and take. He gave everything, asked for nothing.
“I’m so sorry, Tobin.” She shook her head against his shoulder — the next best thing to crawling into a hole and hiding in shame. Fighting back the tears welling up.
“Sorry for what?” he whispered. The man’s warmth was a drug, but she knew she had to resist. Had to finally get this out and get it right.
“Sorry for everything,” she mumbled. Truly everything. “Making you come out here to help me,” she started.
He smiled, and her hair shifted under his cheeks. “You could be in Timbuktu and I’d come for you.”
He meant it. God, he really meant it. She blinked, and the first tears made their escape.
“Not just that.” She clutched his shirt tighter. “For everything. For not
“Mmm,” he hummed.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing,” he sighed. “Just mmm.”
She looked up and found him smiling at her.
She flicked her fingers along his forearm. “You’re wet.”
“You’re wetter.”
She laughed. A good, resounding laugh that felt like a million bucks. “Am not.”
“Are too,” he scolded. “It’s all this hair.” He ran his fingers through her locks, sending warm tingles through her body. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of him, that close. His fingers massaging her scalp, tucking her hair back into place.
“God, I’m a mess.”
“I like you a little messy. It’s cute.”
Her heart skipped into a happy little dance. Maybe there didn’t have to be anything complicated about loving him. About letting him love her all over again.
“Only you would find this cute,” she murmured.
He looked at her, and his eyes danced.
Yes. Yes, I do.
Chapter Seventeen
Tobin reached behind her. “Better dry you off.”
He dabbed at her with the towel he’d found. Gently, carefully, he chased the rivulets of water that streamed over her face and down her neck. When he rubbed under her chin, she couldn’t help but lean into him.
The rain tapped on the roof in urgent little bursts and splattered in the puddles building outside the thin walls. The whole rain forest hushed under the deluge.
She leaned closer and closer as he worked the towel over her shoulders and down her back. The sound building in her throat was part purr, part lusty growl, and the lean became more of a squeeze as she pressed her chest to his. Tobin’s hands were magic, just like his voice. Just like his smile, his touch.
Then she wasn’t just warm, but hot. Hungry. She smoothed her hands over his chest. Ran her fingers down until they found the hem of his shirt and worked it up. The wet cloth rolled reluctantly, and she could relate. If she were plastered that tight against his body, she wouldn’t go without a fight, either.
“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” she whispered, peeling the shirt away. Underneath was a wall of taut, tanned skin, and part of her sighed, being this close to him again. This intimate. No banter, no jokes. Just a couple of lovers pushed by the same primal desire.
“Cara.” His hands closed around hers, but she pulled free. Another inch of shirt gave way, revealing a flat, hard nipple backed by solid muscle. With it came the hot memory of the time they’d holed up in a Colorado ski hut and—
“Cara.” His voice was low and a little rough.
I want this, Tobin. I need this.
She almost said it, but caught herself just in time. Tipped her forehead forward to his shoulder and took a couple of deep breaths.
Me, me, me.
God, when had she become so selfish?
His hands massaged her shoulders, telling her it was all right. That was the problem: Tobin made it easy to take, and take, and take. He gave everything, asked for nothing.
“I’m so sorry, Tobin.” She shook her head against his shoulder — the next best thing to crawling into a hole and hiding in shame. Fighting back the tears welling up.
“Sorry for what?” he whispered. The man’s warmth was a drug, but she knew she had to resist. Had to finally get this out and get it right.
“Sorry for everything,” she mumbled. Truly everything. “Making you come out here to help me,” she started.
He smiled, and her hair shifted under his cheeks. “You could be in Timbuktu and I’d come for you.”
He meant it. God, he really meant it. She blinked, and the first tears made their escape.
“Not just that.” She clutched his shirt tighter. “For everything. For not
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