Page 44 of Risk It All
Quit being ridiculous, she scolded herself before turning onto her side so she was facing away from him. The problem with that, she soon discovered, was that she was now looking right at the French doors of doom. Not only was the darkness outside eerie and filled with possible dangers, but the flickering firelight created spooky, shifting shadows around the loft.
She closed her eyes, which helped shut down her imagination as far as murderous intruders went, but it made her so much more aware of the other person sharing the bed with her. Even though she was on the very edge of the bed, he was close enough that she could feel his heat on her back, radiating more warmth than the woodstove downstairs. He didn’t move, didn’t shift or squirm or even breathe audibly, and she found herself straining to hear him.
Even as aware of him as she was, she jolted, her eyes popping open, when a huge hand settled lightly on her upper arm.
“We’re safe here tonight,” he rumbled quietly. “No one’s out looking in this snow. Even if they were, they couldn’t find us. Go to sleep, and stop worrying.”
Her exhaled puff of air came out too fast. “I can’t just stop worrying because you order me to.”
His only answer was a pat on her arm before his hand withdrew. She immediately missed it, the way his broad palm covered most of the space between her shoulder and elbow. Even with her long sleeves, she could still feel the comforting heat of his hand. He was still and quiet again, and she was back to staring tensely at the shadows, which wasn’t helping her attempt to sleep. Giving up, she rolled to her back and then to her other side, making sure to stay in her little section of the too-narrow mattress.
“How long do you think we’ll be hiking tomorrow?” she asked, more to break the charged silence than anything else.
“Hard to tell.” He was staring at the lofted ceiling. Even in that position, flat on his back, he still looked huge to her. “Depends on how much snow we get, what the terrain’s like, what obstacles we encounter.”
“Obstacles like big rocks or obstacles like bears?”
In the dim, red-tinted firelight, she could see the corner of his mouth twitch. “Hopefully neither.”
“Hmm.” The way the past twenty-four hours had gone, she wasn’t going to rely on hope or luck. “I think I’ll expect the worst. That way, I’ll be happily surprised when we’re not dismembered and eaten.”
“Probably a good idea.”
Cara realized that despite the gory subject of their conversation, talking to Henry had relaxed her. Now that she was facing him, she couldn’t see any of the shadowed corners of the room, which helped settle her imagination as well. Having the bulky shape of his body under the covers was comforting, and she closed her eyes again—this time because she was truly tired, and not just to hide from scary things. To her surprise, she was actually relieved to be sleeping right next to Henry. Now that they were all tucked in, it didn’t seem like the unbearable temptation that she’d expected.
Chapter 14
She’d worried about being able to fall asleep with Henry, but it turned out that wasn’t a problem. Waking up…nowthatwas a problem.
It was her own fault. For some reason, her unconscious self thought it would be a fantastic idea to wrap herself around him like a four-armed octopus clinging to a treasured toy. More of her was stretched on top of Henry than was on the bed. Her head was using his chest as a pillow, and she’d even grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and was clutching it in her fist. She kept her eyes closed for a moment, not wanting to move. She hadn’t felt so comfortable and safe in…well,ever.
When she finally allowed her eyes to open, she blinked as she adjusted to the thin early-morning light. Most of what she saw in front of her was his borrowed shirt, stretched too tightly over his endless expanse of chest. Luckily, she didn’t see any sign that she’d drooled. Worried that he’d wake up and see how she was clinging to him, she decided to just peel herself away from him as quickly as possible, like pulling off a body-size Band-Aid.
The problem was that she didn’t really want to move. Her spot on top of Henry and under the covers was lovely and warm, and the air stinging the tops of her ears had a cruelly cold edge to it. She knew the floor would be icy against her bare feet, too. It didn’t help to know that this would most likely be the last time she was warm and comfortable that day, since it’d be filled with hiking and fording rivers and dodging bullets and probably more hand grenades when Abbott caught up to them.
Her body tensed, so she pushed thoughts of Abbott away. If these were the last comfortable moments for her, then she was going to enjoy every one. She relaxed against Kavenski for a few indulgent minutes. Without lifting her head, she couldn’t see whether he was awake or not.
He was still on his back, unmoving except for the rise and fall of his chest under her cheek. One of his arms was draped over her waist. Although he wasn’t holding on to her, she doubted she’d be able to slip off him without waking him—not with his ninja reflexes. That was another good reason for her to stay exactly where she was.
Not knowing whether he was awake or not was making her aware of every tiny motion she made. Even breathing took on an intensity with her chest pressed against him. Overly conscious of all the places where they touched, she found herself holding her body completely still.
Quit being ridiculous, she scolded herself. Bracing her hands, Cara pushed off his chest enough that she could look at his face.
He was wide awake, watching her.
Ofcoursehe was. Although she knew he couldn’t stay awake all the time, she couldn’t imagine him ever sleeping. Being unconscious would make him too vulnerable.
Their eyes locked, and hergood morningevaporated along with every thought in her head. All she could focus on was the obvious desire that filled his normally stony expression. All that intensity, all that desperate hunger was forher—boring, cautious, lackluster bounty hunter and wannabe kindergarten teacher Cara.
He wanted her.
Without even realizing what she was doing, she lowered her head toward his, drawn in like iron to a magnet. She stopped when their lips were only a breath apart, never breaking their connected gaze.
What are you doing?a tiny, practical part of her screamed—the part that usually ran her life in an ordered and measured way. For once, she ignored it. She knew that this was dumb. It was foolhardy to involve herself any more with Henry Kavenski, who’d already swept her up into his personal tornado of trouble. Because of him, she’d been kidnapped, almost shot, almost blown to bits, driven off a cliff, and dragged through a blizzard wearing sleeves on her feet. A smart person would try to get far away from Henry as fast as she could. A smart person wouldn’t be a fraction of an inch away from kissing him. A smart person wouldn’t like him so darn much.
“Guess I’m not that smart,” she whispered, making Henry’s mouth quirk slightly.
“I disagree. You’re too smart to get involved with me,” he said, as if every one of her thoughts had flashed across her forehead like a digital sign.
