inappropriate.
The top of the hill confirmed that it would be impossible to tackle the last part of the way in the truck. I cleared a spot on the side of the road and parked. I turned off the ignition, reached to the backseat and handed her snow pants, a jacket, a beanie, and a pair of gloves.
“You’ll need these.”
I reached for my snow pants and, unzipping the ends, maneuvered around the wheel, pulled them over my boots, lifted my hips off the seat and buckled them on. “When did you start sleepwalking?”
“When my mom died.” She zipped up her coat. “She walked to the ocean in her sleep and drowned. I was twelve.”
Tough break. “Do you remember the first time it happened to you?”
“How could I not?”
“Well?”
She hesitated. She really did have a trust issue going on, but hey, so did I, so I couldn’t blame her. The struggle on her expressive face was easy to read. I could almost hear her mind working, trying to figure out if she wanted to tell me and how much.
“I woke up eighteen miles away from home,” she said, “at the cemetery, on my mom’s tomb, drenched from the rain, with my bare feet all cut up. I had no memories of how I’d gotten there.”
Jesus.
She squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I have no idea why I just told you that.”
“Because I asked you.” No way but forward. “What about sex? Had you ever had sex in your sleep before?”
I could see the blood flushing through her face’s capillaries.
“That’s a rude question.”
“In that case, you don’t have to answer it.” I’d just hit her wall.
I opened the door, but before I could climb out of the cab, she reached over and put her hand on mine, a touch that rattled my body and rerouted my circulation.
“It’s okay.” I laid my hand over hers and willed my heart to slow down. “You can tell me.”
“Once.” She swallowed with an audible gulp. “It happened once before, only once.”
That’s why she’d been so upset. That’s why she’d warned me to lock the door before she passed out in the truck. That’s why she hadn’t told me about her condition, because something similar had happened to her while she sleepwalked way before we met and her experience had marked her.
I knew exactly when it happened. When she was nineteen, when she married the son of a bitch. The sadness I spotted in her green eyes sparked my protective instincts. Had she been hurt?
Nobody was ever going to hurt Summer again, not while I was around. Nobody. The short marriage had puzzled me from the beginning, but with her admission, her character came through loud and clear. The last time she’d had sex while walking in her sleep, she’d married the guy.
“Thank you,” I said.
Her eyebrows rose on her forehead. “For what?”
“For telling me the truth.” I kissed her gloved knuckles. “And by the way, so that you know? The next time I make love to you, I promise, you’ll be wide awake.”
Chapter Six
The pristine landscape flew by as we ripped through a sea of white, trailing a wake of shimmering snow. Our tracks were the only marks on an immaculate geography. The snow machine roared between my thighs like a powerful beast. I clung to Seth, enjoying his heat. The ride was almost as thrilling as the feel of his body in my arms and, I swear, even though I couldn’t recall squat about last night, my body remembered everything.
Oh, lord. Why was this happening to me? Not content with the sleepwalking episode, I now floundered while awake. The conversation we’d had in the truck echoed in my ears. He wanted to get to know me. He’d said so. He wasn’t freaked out. He liked me. Me.
Could I really believe him?
I was in deep trouble and I knew it. I couldn’t trust him, I couldn’t trust anyone outside my family. If nothing else, life had taught me that. But every time he looked at me, something inside of me reacted with visceral longing. He was right. There was a connection between us. And his touch—it
The top of the hill confirmed that it would be impossible to tackle the last part of the way in the truck. I cleared a spot on the side of the road and parked. I turned off the ignition, reached to the backseat and handed her snow pants, a jacket, a beanie, and a pair of gloves.
“You’ll need these.”
I reached for my snow pants and, unzipping the ends, maneuvered around the wheel, pulled them over my boots, lifted my hips off the seat and buckled them on. “When did you start sleepwalking?”
“When my mom died.” She zipped up her coat. “She walked to the ocean in her sleep and drowned. I was twelve.”
Tough break. “Do you remember the first time it happened to you?”
“How could I not?”
“Well?”
She hesitated. She really did have a trust issue going on, but hey, so did I, so I couldn’t blame her. The struggle on her expressive face was easy to read. I could almost hear her mind working, trying to figure out if she wanted to tell me and how much.
“I woke up eighteen miles away from home,” she said, “at the cemetery, on my mom’s tomb, drenched from the rain, with my bare feet all cut up. I had no memories of how I’d gotten there.”
Jesus.
She squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I have no idea why I just told you that.”
“Because I asked you.” No way but forward. “What about sex? Had you ever had sex in your sleep before?”
I could see the blood flushing through her face’s capillaries.
“That’s a rude question.”
“In that case, you don’t have to answer it.” I’d just hit her wall.
I opened the door, but before I could climb out of the cab, she reached over and put her hand on mine, a touch that rattled my body and rerouted my circulation.
“It’s okay.” I laid my hand over hers and willed my heart to slow down. “You can tell me.”
“Once.” She swallowed with an audible gulp. “It happened once before, only once.”
That’s why she’d been so upset. That’s why she’d warned me to lock the door before she passed out in the truck. That’s why she hadn’t told me about her condition, because something similar had happened to her while she sleepwalked way before we met and her experience had marked her.
I knew exactly when it happened. When she was nineteen, when she married the son of a bitch. The sadness I spotted in her green eyes sparked my protective instincts. Had she been hurt?
Nobody was ever going to hurt Summer again, not while I was around. Nobody. The short marriage had puzzled me from the beginning, but with her admission, her character came through loud and clear. The last time she’d had sex while walking in her sleep, she’d married the guy.
“Thank you,” I said.
Her eyebrows rose on her forehead. “For what?”
“For telling me the truth.” I kissed her gloved knuckles. “And by the way, so that you know? The next time I make love to you, I promise, you’ll be wide awake.”
Chapter Six
The pristine landscape flew by as we ripped through a sea of white, trailing a wake of shimmering snow. Our tracks were the only marks on an immaculate geography. The snow machine roared between my thighs like a powerful beast. I clung to Seth, enjoying his heat. The ride was almost as thrilling as the feel of his body in my arms and, I swear, even though I couldn’t recall squat about last night, my body remembered everything.
Oh, lord. Why was this happening to me? Not content with the sleepwalking episode, I now floundered while awake. The conversation we’d had in the truck echoed in my ears. He wanted to get to know me. He’d said so. He wasn’t freaked out. He liked me. Me.
Could I really believe him?
I was in deep trouble and I knew it. I couldn’t trust him, I couldn’t trust anyone outside my family. If nothing else, life had taught me that. But every time he looked at me, something inside of me reacted with visceral longing. He was right. There was a connection between us. And his touch—it
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