Page 42 of Risk It All
She wasn’t sure where to look, so she settled on right above his eyes. There couldn’t possibly be anything sexy about eyebrows. “Umm…” Her brain hunted for something—anything—to say, but all she could concentrate on was how incredible his lips had felt against hers. His forehead creased, and his eyebrows pulled together, his silence continuing until she couldn’t help but meet his eyes again, needing to know what he was thinking. As soon as she did, she wished she’d just kept kissing him, because the hot hunger in his gaze was quickly being replaced by resignation. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Yeah, you’re right.” He moved away from her, and she pushed up to sitting, drawing her legs in closer to her chest. Instead of sitting next to her on the couch, he moved to the armchair. Even though the practical part of her knew that this was best, she still hated how cold she felt without his huge body pressing her so securely into the cushions.
Cara blinked as his words finally registered. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking that we shouldn’t have done that.”
Her first instinct was to argue, but that logical part of her brain had been telling her how stupid getting physically involved with Kavenski would be. Even though the rest of her was screaming at the reasonable part to be quiet and let her enjoy their explosive chemistry, she couldn’t deny that going any farther—or even just continuing the kiss—would be monumentally dumb. Her tumbling thoughts and conflicting emotions kept her quiet.
Henry dipped his chin as if agreeing with something she didn’t say. “Like I said, you’re right. You’re already much too involved in my mess.” He stood abruptly. “We should get some sleep. Expect an early start tomorrow.”
“Okay.” The mention of sleep set off a whole new avalanche of heated mental images, but she tried to hide the direction of her thoughts. “I’ll stay down here. You can have the bed upstairs.”
He frowned at her. “It’s going to be hot this close to the stove.”
“I’ll be fine.” Despite her words, she could already feel the radiating heat baking her skin.It’s just residual kissing heat, she assured herself.As soon as he leaves the room, I’ll cool down again.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said. She glared at him, but he just scowled right back and continued, “You’re going to cook down here.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again as too many responses ran through her head, her thoughts jumbling before they could make it out of her mouth. If she kept protesting, she’d sound like she was being stubborn for no reason or, even worse, make it obvious how much she wanted him. Finally, she just threw up her hands. “Fine.”
His glare still in place, he hesitated for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected her to give in so easily. She hid a tiny smile, glad she was able to throw him off-balance, even if just for a moment. Quickly, he seemed to shake it off and headed over to add more logs to the fire.
“Want some water?” she asked, heading to the kitchen and opening cupboards until she found a couple of water bottles.
“Sure. Thank you.” Again, there was a tension-filled pause, making her wonder if he was feeling as tempted as she was. A glance at his closed-off expression made her quickly dismiss the crazy thought. Henry Kavenski never lost his cool, rational head—at least not while she’d been around.
At the sink, she filled and capped the water bottles, and she decided to make it her personal mission to get Henry to lose a little bit of his self-possession. Now that his facade had cracked, showing her the blazing emotions behind his mask, she wouldn’t be satisfied until she broke through completely. A wicked grin spread across her face. Of course, surviving the hike to Red Hawk tomorrow would be the priority, but if she could get an expression or two out of the man on the way, that would be a bonus.
“What?” he asked suspiciously as he accepted the filled water bottle she offered. Her smile must’ve lingered.
“Nothing.” She tried to put all the innocence she could in that one word before heading up the stairs, feeling his eyes on her back the whole way.
Once she saw the bed again, her skin prickled with renewed heat. It just looked sosmall, especially because Henry was sobig.
“Act like an adult,” she muttered under her breath. “He’s obviously not bothered by the possibility of temptation, so you need to just suck it up and keep your hands to yourself. Of all the bad things that happened and the even worse things thatcould’vehappened today, having to share a bed with a hot guy in a luxurious cabin with a bathroom and a decent supply of board games does not even belong in the negatives column.”
“Are you talking to me?”
Henry’s voice was so close that she jumped a foot and a half before whirling around to see him at the top of the stairs.
“No.” Her mouth wanted to open again to spew out guilty-sounding nonsensical babble to relieve the growing pressure the situation was building inside her. Having him standing there, looking so kissable, was not helping matters. Somehow, she managed to snap her jaw closed after the one word, but that left a sizzling, almost unbearably charged silence in its wake.
His eyebrows rose a fraction in a way that looked almost amused. Reaching back, he grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Before Cara could close her eyes, she had the image of Henry’s broad, hair-dusted chest imprinted onto her brain.
“A little warning next time you decide to get naked would be nice.” Her voice sounded choked to her own ears as she whirled around to face the bed. Her body heated from the inside out.
The sound he made could’ve been a scoff or a laugh or even a suggestive growl, but Cara dragged her brain away from the strip show happening behind her and tried to think about other things. She had to, or she would self-combust immediately.
“What side of the bed do you want?” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to slap a palm over her face. Why was she making this so weird? The only reason they were in this situation was because they were trying to survive, but her brain kept insisting on turning everything into a scene from a romantic comedy.
When he didn’t answer, she risked a glance at him, making sure to keep her eyes above chin level. To her relief—and disappointment—he’d pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Both fit much too tightly, and the pants barely covered his shins, so she assumed that the original owner must be a quite a bit smaller than Henry.
He looked back and forth between the spiral stairs and the French doors leading out to the balcony. “I’ll take the side closer to the stairs,” he finally said, although he didn’t sound happy. “Too many possible points of entry into this place.”
“You weren’t complaining when you broke in earlier,” she said, placing her water bottle on the nightstand next to her side of the bed.
His scowl deepened. “Not helping.”
