hungry?”
“I guess.”
He shrugged off the backpack and unloaded sandwiches, oranges, and two Cokes from an icepack. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, she tossed an orange between her hands. He leaned against the trunk, stretched his legs out, and popped the top of the Coke, the can already sweating.
She dug a thumb into the orange and pulled off the skin piece by piece. The tangy scent drifted to him on the breeze, and he closed his eyes.
“Have you ever seen a ghost through all your crypt wanderings?”
“Like in The Mummy or something?” He smiled.
“You don’t believe in them?”
He opened his eyes, and her intense stare seared his smile away. She was serious. “I’ve never seen one. Or felt the presence of one for that matter, and I’ve been in some creepy places. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“No.” She popped an orange section in her mouth. “But it’s almost as if this place is haunted by us . The old us. As if time stopped before both our families were destroyed, and we both left something of ourselves here. Does that sound crazy?”
It did a little, but the feeling also rang true somewhere deep inside of him. Maybe that was the source of his melancholy. Maybe he’d come out here to find the part of himself he’d left behind. His heart hitched, and he closed his eyes again to get a hold on his breathing. It was rarely the physical, but the emotional that triggered an asthma attack these days.
Her heat radiated into him as she scooted next to him. His arm came up automatically to circle her shoulders and hug her close. She notched her head under his chin and snaked an arm across his chest to lay on his shoulder.
The careening between past and present was giving him emotional whiplash. The past grew distant, and he became aware of the woman in his arms, her breasts pressed into his side, her long, bare legs beside his, the scent of her surrounding him. Her hand snuck over to his neck, her fingers playing in the hair at his nape.
He was usually careful and methodical with his decisions, yet he stood at the edge of the cliff, contemplating jumping. A kiss would change everything. Or would a kiss change nothing? He wasn’t sure which outcome scared him the most.
He set his Coke down. Whispering her name, he cupped her cheek and tilted her face to his. Her green eyes blinked languorously as if she were caught in a spell. He’d always known her eyes were pretty, but with her face dappled in sunlight, he could see the shades of brown and blue that hid in the green. Beautiful eyes. Complicated eyes.
She was why none of his relationships had ever lasted. He hadn’t left part of himself on the river, he’d left part of himself with her.
Chapter Seven
Dear Lord, Nash was going to kiss her. The intent in his eyes was clear. His lips parted, and it was all she could do not to jerk him closer, faster. The pure animal in her wanted him to take control and drive her crazy—if she didn’t already qualify—but the part of her that this jaunt down the river had uncovered cowed in fear, already overwhelmed by a flurry of emotions.
Nash was her anchor—solid and logical and dependable … and sexy as all get out. She’d always thought of herself as a daredevil. She’d done things without thought to the consequences her whole life—jumped off bridges, climbed water towers, smoked pot. Even once she was grown, she wasn’t afraid to take chances. Starting her gym business had been a huge risk, but she’d approached it with total determination and no fear.
His lips were a whisper away. She could almost taste the tangy orange on his tongue. Her blood fired and sped through her veins like a rain-swollen river.
Kissing Nash was too scary to contemplate.
A noise came from her throat as she pulled away and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her body’s protest. It longed to stay pressed against his hard, hot body. She rocked on the mossy ground for a moment before standing. Facing the river,
“I guess.”
He shrugged off the backpack and unloaded sandwiches, oranges, and two Cokes from an icepack. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, she tossed an orange between her hands. He leaned against the trunk, stretched his legs out, and popped the top of the Coke, the can already sweating.
She dug a thumb into the orange and pulled off the skin piece by piece. The tangy scent drifted to him on the breeze, and he closed his eyes.
“Have you ever seen a ghost through all your crypt wanderings?”
“Like in The Mummy or something?” He smiled.
“You don’t believe in them?”
He opened his eyes, and her intense stare seared his smile away. She was serious. “I’ve never seen one. Or felt the presence of one for that matter, and I’ve been in some creepy places. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“No.” She popped an orange section in her mouth. “But it’s almost as if this place is haunted by us . The old us. As if time stopped before both our families were destroyed, and we both left something of ourselves here. Does that sound crazy?”
It did a little, but the feeling also rang true somewhere deep inside of him. Maybe that was the source of his melancholy. Maybe he’d come out here to find the part of himself he’d left behind. His heart hitched, and he closed his eyes again to get a hold on his breathing. It was rarely the physical, but the emotional that triggered an asthma attack these days.
Her heat radiated into him as she scooted next to him. His arm came up automatically to circle her shoulders and hug her close. She notched her head under his chin and snaked an arm across his chest to lay on his shoulder.
The careening between past and present was giving him emotional whiplash. The past grew distant, and he became aware of the woman in his arms, her breasts pressed into his side, her long, bare legs beside his, the scent of her surrounding him. Her hand snuck over to his neck, her fingers playing in the hair at his nape.
He was usually careful and methodical with his decisions, yet he stood at the edge of the cliff, contemplating jumping. A kiss would change everything. Or would a kiss change nothing? He wasn’t sure which outcome scared him the most.
He set his Coke down. Whispering her name, he cupped her cheek and tilted her face to his. Her green eyes blinked languorously as if she were caught in a spell. He’d always known her eyes were pretty, but with her face dappled in sunlight, he could see the shades of brown and blue that hid in the green. Beautiful eyes. Complicated eyes.
She was why none of his relationships had ever lasted. He hadn’t left part of himself on the river, he’d left part of himself with her.
Chapter Seven
Dear Lord, Nash was going to kiss her. The intent in his eyes was clear. His lips parted, and it was all she could do not to jerk him closer, faster. The pure animal in her wanted him to take control and drive her crazy—if she didn’t already qualify—but the part of her that this jaunt down the river had uncovered cowed in fear, already overwhelmed by a flurry of emotions.
Nash was her anchor—solid and logical and dependable … and sexy as all get out. She’d always thought of herself as a daredevil. She’d done things without thought to the consequences her whole life—jumped off bridges, climbed water towers, smoked pot. Even once she was grown, she wasn’t afraid to take chances. Starting her gym business had been a huge risk, but she’d approached it with total determination and no fear.
His lips were a whisper away. She could almost taste the tangy orange on his tongue. Her blood fired and sped through her veins like a rain-swollen river.
Kissing Nash was too scary to contemplate.
A noise came from her throat as she pulled away and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her body’s protest. It longed to stay pressed against his hard, hot body. She rocked on the mossy ground for a moment before standing. Facing the river,
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