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But that kiss. How was she going to sleep, thinking about that kiss? She was probably over-thinking it, making things up. Ryan couldn't really want her.
She shifted uneasily. But what if he did? That kiss might mean as much to Ryan as it did to her. She might miss out on a second chance, never dreaming she could find another man like Michael. She'd had it all, the best kind of love and lover.
Although Ryan wasn't anything like Michael, except in their attitudes toward duty, honor, and sacrifice. Michael was a big, booming, outgoing man, quick with a joke or a story. He made friends everywhere he went. Ryan was withdrawn and quiet, preferring to stay in the background. Some of that might be his injuries; not only the arm but the head injury he'd suffered during the attack.
Erin tried to recall what Ryan was like at the Alaska crew parties so many years ago. He'd been pretty quiet and unobtrusive, but she dimly recalled he seemed to have fun, smiling and joking with his friends. That meant the injury changed his personality, which wasn't unusual. But it really didn't matter because it was the Ryan of today she cared about. And she cared a lot. More than a boss, more than just a friend.
She huffed. Here she was, back at step one, wanting more but unsure if Ryan wanted more too. Erin closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing, feeling every breath going in and out. She had to stop this merry-go-round and get some sleep. Maybe everything would be clearer in the morning.
Chapter 25
Wish We Were in that Tiny Tent...
Ryan shifted in his sleeping bag, way too aware of the woman next to him. What was I thinking, kissing Erin? Which was a stupid question. He knew the answer. When he'd pulled her back into his body, she'd felt so good he couldn't stand it. At least he hadn't done what he really wanted; kissing across her face to capture her mouth under his.
Erin's reaction wasn't what he expected. He'd imagined either a slap or a joke, but he got wide eyes, a weirdly tentative smile, and lots of glances as she climbed down and walked away. Probably better than the slap but a lot more ambiguous. He couldn’t figure out what her reaction meant.
Ryan used to be confident with women. If he wanted someone, he went for it. And he usually got what he wanted. If he didn't, he moved on. But since he lost his arm, he hadn’t tried, anticipating a reaction like Starla’s. He didn't get a negative reaction from Erin, but he wasn't looking for neutral. He wanted it all with her. Too bad he didn't know what she wanted. Not a clue.
Well, nothing would happen tonight. Not that he'd expected anything. He turned on his side and started on his standby—counting sheep. Hopefully, it wouldn't turn into a nightmare.
"Ryan, wake up. Ryan! Hey, wake up, Ryan." Erin's voice rose.
"Huh?" He blinked and tried to rub his eyes, but his good arm was under something.
"Ryan, wake up," Erin snapped. A hand shoved his shoulder.
The command voice startled him. He shook his head, trying to jar his brain into motion. "I'm awake. What?" The darkness told Ryan it was still night.
"Will you let me go, please?" Strained patience and breathlessness.
What is she talking about? Ryan lifted his head off his pillow. He lay on top of Erin, his head on her chest, his waist snugged between her legs, his arms around her, too. Oops. He rolled off, even though leaving the comfort of her warm embrace was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'm sorry, Erin. I must have been dreaming." She probably thought he was a total pervert. He winced.
"I think you were having a nightmare. Are you okay?" Her tone conveyed quiet concern.
He only remembered the way she felt in his arms—better than any pillow. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay? I'm not exactly light." Erin was soft but firm, and he'd wanted to cuddle with her in the worst way. He wasn't usually a cuddler, but Erin expanded his horizons in a lot of different ways.
She laughed, low and husky. "I'm fine. You're not that heavy. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"
Her laugh made him think of other things. But he couldn't—not in the tiny tent, when he didn't know how she'd react. He couldn't even look at her. "No. I don't remember my dreams. Sometimes I wake up, sometimes I don't, but either way, I don't remember specifics, just danger, the sounds of explosions and screaming." Ryan tried to keep his voice unemotional, but recalling those particular dreams made him shudder. This one had been much better.
"That sucks. I'm sorry to hear that, Ryan."
Her sleeping mat creaked, then her hand closed over his and squeezed. He returned the gesture. "It's okay. It could be worse."
"Can you go back to sleep?"
"Yeah, sure. My heart's not racing, so it should be easy." Although, her hand in his caused his heart to beat harder.
"Okay, goodnight." Erin squeezed his hand again but didn't let go.
"Goodnight." Ryan didn't release hers, either, relishing the feel of her slightly callused fingers on the back of his hand, her palm against his. He'd rather have her back in his arms—or arm—but the simple gesture made him ridiculously happy.
#
Ugh, happy music. What is that? Off, off, off! Ryan blinked in the sunlight and rolled, reaching to swipe his alarm off. But he didn't want to get up. He’d dreamed he was holding Erin, her back against his front. Looking down, he was lying on Erin's sleeping bag, and he'd had to flip and stretch to find his phone.
Ryan's cheeks warmed, and his stomach iced. Maybe he had been wrapped around Erin. If it was true, she hadn't elbowed him to get away or screamed or anything. But he'd had a nightmare earlier, so she probably thought waking him abruptly was a bad idea. Which was true. So she let him hang on. Or maybe she'd been asleep, too. Or maybe it was all a dream, and he'd slid onto her bag after she got up. Too bad he didn't remember for sure.
