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They were about to take complicated to a whole new level.
CHAPTER 11
Londyn had nearly died several times in the past couple of days, but nothing felt as close to transcending to heaven as that kiss.
For years, she’d thought herself cold, passionless and unable to feel deeply about other humans besides her family.
Until she’d met Nash.
From the moment he’d insisted on taking over her protection, she’d been at once annoyed and frustrated. Perhaps that had been why she’d instinctively pushed back, insisting she didn’t need him.
Had her body recognized what her mind had refused to see? That this man could ignite within her core an inferno so hot nothing could extinguish the flame?
She fell into the man, giving everything she had to that kiss, desperately clinging to him as if her life depended on it. Just like it had as she’d clung to his hand in the raging river.
He stepped behind her and closed the stall door. Not that it gave them complete privacy. The stall doors only rose five feet from the ground. Anyone could walk into the barn, peer over the top of the door and see what was going on inside.
Rather than make her want to stop, the idea of someone catching them in the act was titillating, almost dangerous.
Nash broke the kiss and stepped away, his gaze holding hers. Then he grabbed one of the sleeping bags and untied the strap holding it in a tight roll. Grasping the end, he flicked his wrist, popping the bag open.
Londyn reached for the zipper and quickly ran it all the way down the length, around the corner and freed the width. She took one end. Nash held the other, and they stretched the bag out, laying it over the bed of woodchips.
They worked quickly together to spread out the other sleeping bag and laid it over the first.
“I’m going to check on Butterscotch,” Nash said.
A stab of guilt hit her in the gut. “I’ll do it.”
Nash shook his head. “Let me. It’ll give you time to get out of those wet clothes and find something in the items Mitchell sent.”
For a moment, Londyn hesitated.
He held up a hand as if swearing in at a courtroom. “I promise, I’ll let you know if she’s looking any worse.”
Londyn nodded. “Okay.”
Nash left, closing the door behind him. The squeal of metal hinges sounded from the next stall.
Londyn strained to hear his murmured words spoken to the mare. Even talking to a horse, he sounded incredibly sexy.
Though her wet clothes chilled her skin, Londyn was heating up inside. She opened the bag of clothing Mitchell had sent and found a sweatshirt with University of Montana emblazoned across the front. She also found a pair of sweatpants too short for Nash but just right for her.
Londyn kicked off her boots and quickly stripped out of her wet jeans, shirt and bra, hanging them over the sides of the empty trough to allow them to dry as much as possible before she had to put them back on.
She pulled on the sweatshirt, glad it was oversized and fell to mid-thigh, warming her cool skin.
Hinges squealed again, and Nash’s head appeared over the top of the stall door before he pushed it open and stepped inside.
“Butterscotch seems to be doing better. She ate a couple more handfuls of grain.”
“Thanks,” she said, her voice breathy, as if she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs.
His gaze swept over the sweatshirt, down to where the hem brushed across her, mid-thigh.
“You should get out of those wet clothes,” she said, her voice shaking. “Dry clothes are much warmer.” A rush of intense longing washed over her. If they only had one night together, she had to go for what she wanted.
His eyes narrowed. “To be perfectly clear... Are we going where I think we’re going?”
