laughed. âReally?â
âYes. Just because we view sex differently doesnât imply that itâs meaningless. We believe just the opposite: that the joining of two bodies forges a deeper connection between their souls. There are no walls in the moment of release, Miranda.â He didnât add that his walls always came back up following the afterglow.
âYou really believe that?â she scoffed.
âYes. Sometimes words are inadequate between a man and a woman. They obstruct the essential truth. Sex is honesty. Pleasure is truth.â Yet sex was really only a transitory escape from loneliness.
âDonât play with me,â she whispered. âI donât like gamesâor being the brunt of jokes.â
âYou think Iâm playing games?â
âI think Iâm convenient . If we were anyplace else, you wouldnât look twice at me.â
She was wrong. He had noticed her before, and sheâd rebuffed him . The rejection had surprised as much as stung him.
âThatâs not true,â he said. âMaybe you donât remember the first time we met?â
âYes, I remember all of it,â she answered.
âAnd?â he prompted.
âI didnât trust you.â
âWhy not? You thought I only wanted to use you?â
âYes.â
âAnd now?â he asked.
She hesitated. âI donât know. You made it obvious from the start that you didnât want me around. I donât understand the sudden turnabout. Iâm not sure what I think.â
âAs I said before, you think too much.â
* * *
Miranda was freezing cold, but she was also terrified. Of him. Of the feelings heâd roused in her.
He reached out his hand, beckoning softly. âDonât be foolish, Miranda. Come and get warm.â
Tamping down her trepidations, she rose and settled herself lengthwise beside him. His arm came around her, wrapping her in his blanket, and instantly cocooning her in his body heat. He pulled her closer against him and nuzzled into her hair. âI donât understand you at all, Mirandaâ¦but I like how you smell.â
She relaxed. âYou do?â
âYes. I do.â He burrowed into her neck, his breath hot and his lips soft. âVery much.â
She whispered back, âIf weâre making confessions, I like how you feel.â
âIs that so?â He rolled her onto her back so that his body lay on top of hers. His mouth stretched into a slow smile. âIs there a particular part of me you like?â
Her face heated. If sheâd had any doubt his desire was real, the proof was palpable through two layers of thick denim. âUmâ¦maybe that didnât come out quite right. I meant that you make me feel safe.â
âSafe?â His thumb skirted softly over her lips. âMaybe you arenât as safe as you think.â He added in a tone that made her shiver with anticipation, âI think perhaps Goldilocks is about to discover that the old woman is really a big bad wolf.â
âYouâre mixing up the stories, Keith. Goldilocks was with the three bears. Little Red Riding Hood was with the wolf.â
âYou make films your way, and let me tell the stories,â he said. âStorytelling is in my blood, after all.â
âAll right, then. Have it your way. Tell me this story about Goldilocks and the Big Bad Wolf.â
He flashed a big, bad lupine grin. âMy version begins much the same as what you have heard before, but when Goldilocks enters her grandmotherâs tepee, she exclaims, âHuttsi, what large hands you have!â
âAll the better to touch you with, my child,â the wolf replies.
âHuttsi, what a big mouth you have!â
âAll the better to kiss you with, my dear!â
âHuttsi, what a long tongue you have!â
âAll the better to lick every inch of you, my sweet.â â
His eyes gleamed
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