Page 22 of Enticing Her Love

“Don’t let it go to your head, but you missed your calling.”

“Too late. My ego is blowing up.” He imagined her rolling her eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“How can you possibly know I did that? You can’t see my eyes.”

He couldn’t resist grabbing hold of those silky strands and turning her head so she was looking over her shoulder at him. Either he was seeing things, or that little tug had caused a spark of desire. Fuck, he liked that. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

She stifled a smile.

“I guess I know you better than you thought.” He went back to massaging her scalp, taking his time despite the rain, enjoying the soft sounds of appreciation she made and the way she leaned into his touch. Oh yeah, she was into him. This was dangerous. He gathered her hair in one hand, holding it over her shoulder, as he leaned in and spoke into her other ear. “All clear. I’m going to check out the rest of you now.”

“Uh-huh.”

He had no idea how two syllables could sound so lustful and tried not to think about it or about the feel of her body through her thin shirt as he brushed the dirt off her shoulders and back. But memories of her wet and naked from the hotel room pressed in on him, making him want so much more. When he reached her waist, her breathing hitched. So damn sexy. He didn’t want to stop touching her, but he didn’t need to get sued for sexual harassment. Placing his hands on her hips, he drew her back against his chest and felt her heart hammering. “Do you want me to keep going and do the rest, or do you want to do it?”

She looked over her shoulder, their gazes colliding with the impact of a lightning storm. “I want you to get everything off me.”

Holy hell. He wanted to take that literally, and the look in her eyes said she wanted him to, too. But she’d fucked with his head just enough for him to doubt himself, so he erred on the side of caution.

As he brushed the dirt off her ass, trying not to notice her soft curves, she sucked in a sharp breath, breathing harder with his every touch. Moving lower, he wiped off the backs of her hips and thighs, feeling the tightening of her muscles and hearing every sexy little gasp as if magnified. It was fucking torture.

When he finished cleaning her off, he stepped away and turned around, trying to regain control of the desire coursing through him. He took off his shirt to shake it out, and her soft hands touched his back. “Sutton, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she said breathily.

He had no idea if there was dirt on his back or not, and he didn’t care, because her touch was electric. She took her sweet time, too, running her warm hands over his shoulders, lingering on every muscle, tracing them, as if she were memorizing him. Her hands trailed down his back and along his sides. His jaw clenched at the desires mounting inside him. She didn’t stop to ask about wiping the dirt off his ass, and the minute her hands were on it, his dick wanted in on the action.

“That’s good. Thanks,” he gritted out, stepping out of her reach and shaking out his shirt.

Her gaze traveled to his chest and down his abs, leaving fucking flames in their wake. As if she caught herself staring, she tore her gaze away and headed for the tent. “I can’t believe people live like this.”

He wanted to say, Fighting an attraction that has been building for a year and a half? Yeah, it’s fucking torture. But he kept that to himself and took the appropriate route. “Because of the bugs?”

“The bugs, the rain, the constant fear of what’s lurking around you.”

“I don’t see a lot of people living here.”

“The tribes,” she clarified. “I know the importance of retaining their cultures and remaining in the rainforest, but some of them don’t even wear clothes. I can’t imagine running around here naked.”

That’s funny. I like imagining you running around naked.

He gritted his teeth.

It was going to be a long damn night.

Chapter Eight

THE RAIN AND other night sounds were nearly drowned out by Sutton’s anxious breathing. She’d directed Flynn to turn his back in the small tent and had used the body wipes she’d brought to clean herself up before changing into a clean shirt and cotton pants to sleep in. She’d offered Flynn some wipes, and he had to admit, it was nice to wash up. Although he hadn’t asked her to turn her back while he used them or when he’d changed into sweats. She’d chosen to do that all on her own. He didn’t bother with a shirt, knowing he’d be hot enough sleeping next to Sutton. She’d used a flashlight while writing in her journal, and he’d wondered if that was her nightly ritual. He’d hoped after that she’d feel more comfortable and be able to relax. But he was worried about her. She was zipped inside her sleeping bag like a mummy and still flinched at every little sound.

“You okay, Steele?”

“No. I thought I’d feel safer in this thing, but I feel trapped and it’s freaking me out. Are you sure nothing can get into the tent?”

A sharp set of claws could tear that tent apart in seconds, but that wasn’t what she was asking, and he wasn’t about to make her more nervous. “As sure as I can be. If anything gets in, it’ll probably go after me first, since I’m so sweet.”

She laughed softly, then groaned and unzipped her sleeping bag, kicking it off with a loud exhalation. “That’s better. It took me a solid two months to learn how to quiet my mind when I first started doing yoga, but then I mastered it. I really thought it would help while we were here. But my mind is like a dungeon of worries.”

“Wild animals might have something to do with that.”