blanket.
“Best get some sleep, princess. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” He pillowed his arms beneath his
head, his eyes narrowed as he watched her. Tory picked up his discarded jeans, folded them, then
placed them by the water bottle and picked up his shirt. It smelled like him, hot and sexy. She forced
herself to fold it neatly on top of the jeans.
“I slept all day. I’m not tired.” There was nothing else to tidy. While the idea of leaving her brother
wherever he was made Tory’s heart falter, she had to trust that Marc knew what he was doing. But
waiting until dark to go looking again meant an entire day trapped in the cave with Marc. Her
grandmother would have said she had ants in her pants. She would have been partially right.
It annoyed her that he looked so relaxed while she was as wound up as an old-fashioned watch spring.
She wished that he’d left his jeans on. Unwillingly, her eyes traveled down the long length of his
practically naked body.
“Come over here, then,” he said, his voice silky soft in the half-light. “I’ll show you what we can do
instead of sleeping.” Tory grabbed the bar of soap out of the pack and picked up a damp towel. “I’m
going to take a bath.”
Marc closed his eyes, a small smile playing around his mouth. “Don’t wake me when you come to bed.”
He made it sound so…intimate. She scowled as she walked out of camp. As soon as she saw the hot
steaming water in the small circular pool she started pulling the damp sweatshirt over her head. The jeans
came next. It was a good thing she could use her arm a little now.
Sliding slowly into the water, she rested the cast on the ledge of rock and closed her eyes as the hot
water soothed her aching muscles. The water was relaxing. She started soaping herself before zoning out
in the soporific heat of the water. Her skin jumped as her soapy hand skimmed her body.
What would it
be like…? She pushed that thought out of her mind. Marc Savin was dangerous; he made her think of
things she’d never imagined. He made her want things that she’d only read about. How could just
spending a few days with the man turn her thoughts from rational to irrational?
The thought of his hand on her breast made her skin shiver. Oh, God. All she could think about when he
was anywhere near her was his touch on her bare skin. The way his hands had felt caressing her hair.
Somehow the combination of danger and the proximity of Marc were enough to make her crazy. Only a
crazy woman would be fantasizing about a man who couldn’t be more wrong, more ill-suited for the life
she’d chosen for herself. She wanted nesting and consistency. Home and family—things a man like Marc
probably mocked in his sleep. Correction—he probably mocked them openly—Lord knew he wasn’t
one to keep his opinion to himself.
So, it had to be a situational psychotic break. There was something compellingly erotic about the danger
mixed with an unhealthy dose of pent-up sexual frustration on her part.
She played the What If game in her mind. She’d never fit into his life. He liked danger.
She’d seen the
anticipation on his face as they’d surveyed the sleeping town of Pescarna.
She just wanted to find Alex and go back to her quiet, predictable, normal life. She wanted to go back
to her color-coordinated wardrobe—so what if it was all neutrals? She wanted her safe, comfortable
eight-to-five job at the auto-parts store.
She didn’t like adventure. It was fine to read about it, but she was already good and sick of living it. And
Marc Savin scared her, most of all. It wasn’t just the fact that he held a gun like a natural extension of his
arm. When he’d kissed her she’d forgotten every single thing her grandmother had ever warned her
about. And there had been a ton of overprotective warnings delivered over the years.
Shivering despite the hot water, she laid the tie from the end of her braid carefully on her
“Best get some sleep, princess. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” He pillowed his arms beneath his
head, his eyes narrowed as he watched her. Tory picked up his discarded jeans, folded them, then
placed them by the water bottle and picked up his shirt. It smelled like him, hot and sexy. She forced
herself to fold it neatly on top of the jeans.
“I slept all day. I’m not tired.” There was nothing else to tidy. While the idea of leaving her brother
wherever he was made Tory’s heart falter, she had to trust that Marc knew what he was doing. But
waiting until dark to go looking again meant an entire day trapped in the cave with Marc. Her
grandmother would have said she had ants in her pants. She would have been partially right.
It annoyed her that he looked so relaxed while she was as wound up as an old-fashioned watch spring.
She wished that he’d left his jeans on. Unwillingly, her eyes traveled down the long length of his
practically naked body.
“Come over here, then,” he said, his voice silky soft in the half-light. “I’ll show you what we can do
instead of sleeping.” Tory grabbed the bar of soap out of the pack and picked up a damp towel. “I’m
going to take a bath.”
Marc closed his eyes, a small smile playing around his mouth. “Don’t wake me when you come to bed.”
He made it sound so…intimate. She scowled as she walked out of camp. As soon as she saw the hot
steaming water in the small circular pool she started pulling the damp sweatshirt over her head. The jeans
came next. It was a good thing she could use her arm a little now.
Sliding slowly into the water, she rested the cast on the ledge of rock and closed her eyes as the hot
water soothed her aching muscles. The water was relaxing. She started soaping herself before zoning out
in the soporific heat of the water. Her skin jumped as her soapy hand skimmed her body.
What would it
be like…? She pushed that thought out of her mind. Marc Savin was dangerous; he made her think of
things she’d never imagined. He made her want things that she’d only read about. How could just
spending a few days with the man turn her thoughts from rational to irrational?
The thought of his hand on her breast made her skin shiver. Oh, God. All she could think about when he
was anywhere near her was his touch on her bare skin. The way his hands had felt caressing her hair.
Somehow the combination of danger and the proximity of Marc were enough to make her crazy. Only a
crazy woman would be fantasizing about a man who couldn’t be more wrong, more ill-suited for the life
she’d chosen for herself. She wanted nesting and consistency. Home and family—things a man like Marc
probably mocked in his sleep. Correction—he probably mocked them openly—Lord knew he wasn’t
one to keep his opinion to himself.
So, it had to be a situational psychotic break. There was something compellingly erotic about the danger
mixed with an unhealthy dose of pent-up sexual frustration on her part.
She played the What If game in her mind. She’d never fit into his life. He liked danger.
She’d seen the
anticipation on his face as they’d surveyed the sleeping town of Pescarna.
She just wanted to find Alex and go back to her quiet, predictable, normal life. She wanted to go back
to her color-coordinated wardrobe—so what if it was all neutrals? She wanted her safe, comfortable
eight-to-five job at the auto-parts store.
She didn’t like adventure. It was fine to read about it, but she was already good and sick of living it. And
Marc Savin scared her, most of all. It wasn’t just the fact that he held a gun like a natural extension of his
arm. When he’d kissed her she’d forgotten every single thing her grandmother had ever warned her
about. And there had been a ton of overprotective warnings delivered over the years.
Shivering despite the hot water, she laid the tie from the end of her braid carefully on her
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