Page 46 of I Do, I Do, I Do
Oddly, she had also assumed they would agree on everything. She felt let down. Disappointed. Tom’s expression told her he felt the same way.
They scattered the wood ash in front of the glacier, almost like an offering before they packed away the plates and mugs. Zoe waited beside the gelding while Tom buried a handful of food scraps.
When he returned, he walked toward her with a purposeful stride, his gaze on her face. Before she understood what he intended, Tom had placed his cold hands on either side of her face and tipped her mouth up to his.
“For years I’ve promised myself if I ever had a chance to kiss Zoe Wilder, I’d do it or kick myself forever after. I never thought that chance would come.”
He gave her a moment to understand, a moment to pull away. But surprise and—curiosity, perhaps?—rooted her to the frozen ground. Her gaze locked to his, and her eyes widened—her lips parted.
He didn’t hurry. When he realized she wouldn’t step free, he stroked the back of his hand across her cheek, traced his thumb along the curve of her lower lip.
Gently he pulled her past the edges of his duster and into his body, reached beneath her cape to circle his hands around her waist.
Zoe drew a quick sharp breath. This was wrong. She knew it, knew she should pull away before they crossed a line they could not uncross. But his green gaze trapped hers and held her powerless to resist.
His hands on her waist pressed her tighter against the hard length of his body, slowly, deliberately. There was no awkwardness, no need for adjustment. They fit together easily, magically. Tom held her close until they began to feel each other’s heat along their hips and stomachs, and he gazed into her eyes while nerves ignited and two mouths dried.
Finally, when Zoe feared the tremble building inside would erupt into outer shaking, when she thought her heart might pound through her chest, he lowered his mouth to hers.
The hot thrill of his lips shot through her body, and she forgot that they stood in the shade of an ice wall. The heat of his mouth and body enveloped her, set her skin aflame. And an unexpected jolt of yearning brought her arms up around his neck.
What began as a gentle, tender kiss deepened into something Zoe could not have predicted. Sudden, overwhelming desire rocked her body. Tom’s hands tightened on her waist, then he cupped the back of her head in his palm, kissed her hard, and moved against her as if he needed to be closer, closer. And heaven help her, that’s what she wanted, too.
When they pulled back to look at each other, their breathing was quick and ragged.
“My God,” Tom said softly.
Zoe couldn’t speak. She sagged in his arms and lowered her forehead to his shoulder. Tears choked her.
Everything about this moment was wrong. Tom was a Newcastle boy who prided himself that he would always be a Newcastle boy. Zoe was a married woman. She had lied to him about her status, could not confide the truth about coming to the Yukon to find and kill the man she had married.
“Please,” she whispered, stepping out of his arms. “Please don’t do that again.”
It seemed that a lifetime passed during the time he stared at her. Then his expression stiffened, and he apologized.
Quickly, she placed a finger across his lips. “No, don’t. I’m as much to blame as you. I could have stepped away. I could have said no. I should have.”
“Why?”
Right now it didn’t matter that she had agreed with the others not to tell anyone they were all married to the same man. Right now, pride stopped her tongue. Her battered self-esteem wanted Tom to believe she was desirable. She didn’t want him to know how blind or deluded she had been, or that her husband had abandoned her without a backward glance.
“I’d like us to remain friends,” she said, turning from him.
“We’ll always be friends.”
“Friends don’t kiss like that. It’s better to pretend it didn’t happen.”
For a full minute he remained silent. Then he touched her shoulder. “Something happened, Zoe. I didn’t imagine it, and neither did you. Pretending isn’t going to change what I felt.”
“I think we should leave now,” she insisted, blinking hard as she walked toward the gelding. He wanted her to admit that she’d felt something, too. But she couldn’t.
Maybe she still felt a minuscule dollop of loyalty toward the man she had married. Maybe it felt indecent to press her body and her lips to one man while she wore another man’s wedding ring. Maybe she simply did not want to admit she could desire a man from Newcastle.
Silently Tom mounted the gelding, then extended his hand to swing her up behind him. After a tiny hesitation, Zoe wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his back.
Tears burned her eyes. If Jean Jacques Villette had appeared right now, she could have killed the bastard without a pang of remorse.
Chapter 11
