Page 43 of Vanished in the Mist
He drew a ragged breath, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being a jerk. I don’t mean to be, I just…do you have any clue how utterly frustrating it is that we’re both going to sleep in the same tiny cabin tonight and knowing I shouldn’t touch you?”
She had to curl her hands at her sides to keep from reaching for him. “Shouldn’t? Why?”
He frowned, as if the answer was obvious. “Why? I live in Charleston. My business is there.”
“So?”
His frown deepened. “You live in West Virginia.”
“Yes. And? What’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem? Seriously? Our businesses, our livelihoods, are a day’s drive apart. We could never be… It wouldn’t make sense to… Ah, hell.” He yanked his hands free and scrubbed his face that was already showing signs of needing a shave. “I’m sorry. This is… I never should have said anything. I was just sitting on my boat and thinking about you here, and me, tonight, and I couldn’t… I wanted… Damn. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
She took a step closer, then another, until her breasts pushed against his chest.
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his gaze dipped down.
“Kaden?”
He shuddered and seemed to struggle to force his gaze up until he was looking at her face. “Shanna?”
The way his voice caressed her name had her flushing hot all over. This time, she was the one who traced the outline of his cheek, feathered her hands down the side of his neck, then across his lips. A bead of sweat ran down his cheek even though it was cool inside the cabin.
“Shanna, I don’t… It wouldn’t be right to start…something between us that has no future. You get that, right? I don’t want to hurt you, or treat you with anything but respect. You deserve to be protected, cherished, not used for a night when there’s no possibility of a future relationship.”
She stared up at him, searching his smoldering gaze. “You want me.”
He swallowed. “Yes.”
“And I want you.”
His nostrils flared, but he remained silent.
“But you’re holding back because you feel I deserve respect, and to be…cherished?”
His hand shook as he reached for her. Then his fingers curled against his palm and he dropped his hand to his side without touching her. “You deserve so much more than I can ever give you.”
She stared at him in wonder. “Wow. Why couldn’t I have met you when I was sixteen?”
He frowned. “Sixteen?”
“When I was a champion swimmer with a gazillion swim-meet medals to my name. Did I ever tell you that?”
He slowly shook his head. “No. I thought you were terrified of the water.”
“I am. But back then, I wasn’t. I loved the water, swimming, diving, anything I could do to feel it rush through my fingers as I pulled myself forward faster and faster. I wanted to be an Olympic champion. But it wasn’t meant to be.” She cupped his cheek in her hand, unable to resist the desire to touch, to treasure.
To cherish.
“What happened?” His dark eyes searched hers, the desire tempered with concern.
Because he cared about her.
It was a heady knowledge to have.
She slowly slid her hand down the side of his neck, as he’d done to her earlier, delighting at the feel of his pulse speeding up beneath her fingertips.
“For my sixteenth birthday, my parents threw a pool party at our home and invited all my friends. Once everyone left, I was in the pool getting all of the floats out, when one of my friend’s brothers who’d come with her to the party suddenly appearedin our backyard. He’d made advances earlier. But I told him I wasn’t interested.”
