She knew him so well—this man-sized version of the boy she’d adored—he was familiar in so many ways. The sound of his voice. The intoxicating scent of him. The smile that lit his entire face and sparkled in his eyes. The bottomless dark brown depth of those eyes, and the decadent length of the lashes that surrounded them. His nose, his chin, his lips... The way he laughed with his whole body, and talked with his hands.
Familiar hands, yet the way Thomas was touching her now was breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly new.
The way he was looking at her made her feel beautiful. Desired. He was setting her on fire.
And God, she wanted more, more... She heard herself moan.
“Shit, I gotta...” he said, suddenly pulling away from her.
Her first thought was bad time for him to remember he really didn’t want to do this, even though she was already working to enunciate actual words instead of consonant-free sounds of pleasure to tell him that it was okay, she understood, and to apologize again for pressuring him too far too fast.
But when she pushed herself up on her elbows, she realized that he was reaching for something on the coffee table—a condom. He tore the little packet open as he sat back in order to...
Okay, like that wasn’t sexy as hell, watching the muscles flex in his shoulders, chest, and arms as he covered himself.
And God, the smile he gave her redefined hot as he caught her gazing at him, with everything she was thinking and feeling no doubt plastered all over her face.
He’d really meant it. His want to.
That condom had been right there. Ready. At hand. It hadn’t been placed onto the coffee table by accident—Thomas had taken it from the box on the storage shelf and put it there. On purpose. To use. With her. He’d planned for this to happen.
But even more importantly, he was finally ready to let her show him, in this beautiful, sacred, intimate way, exactly what she meant when she said I love you.
Tasha didn’t hesitate. He was barely finished before she scrambled up, toward him.
“Your knees,” he warned.
“I don’t care,” she said, straddling his lap as she reached between them and pushed him deeply inside of her.
And yes, her recently scraped knees may have complained, but dear, sweet God, the rest of her felt so good.
Thomas made a sound that was surely one of agreement as his hands found her hips and held her there, firmly in place. But his eyes were tightly closed, like maybe he didn’t want to look at her, or God, maybe he couldn’t look at her because this was so weird for him, and all of her doubt came crashing back.
There were more options than have to and want to. There was also got to while we can, in terms of now-or-never and...
Oh, shit!
“You think we’re going to die,” Tasha blurted.
His eyes opened wide. “What?”
“That’s what this is. We’re only doing this—” she gestured between them rather unnecessarily because they were undeniably joined “—because you think—”
Thomas caught up fast, exhaling his surprise and disbelief as he cut her off. “I absolutely do not think—”
“—we’re gonna die.” She swept her hair back from her face and accused him. “You’re granting my dying wish.”
He laughed. “Tash.”
And yeah, she’d heard herself saying that, and it sounded extra-crazy, and even though that made her laugh a little, too, he reached out to pull up her chin so that she had to meet his eyes.
“Okay,” he said slowly as his own eyes reflected the fact that he could see from looking at her that no, she wasn’t joking or intentionally being silly. “I guess we’re gonna have a debate right now. Not entirely unexpected, but okay. Let’s do this. I believe the rebuttal is mine. Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “So I’m gonna go with... I have no intention of letting either of us die.”
“I get that,” she said, knowing that if they were really going to properly talk, she should get off him and cover herself. But he’d gone back to holding onto her hips, so she focused on staying very still. Because, God, if she moved, even just a little... “I’m with you. I have that same intention—to do whatever I can to make sure we survive. But when we leave here, before dawn, we have no idea what’s going to happen. We don’t even have a weather report.” She knew that was a sore point for him as the consummate planner, and sure enough, his mouth tightened. “We could evade the hostiles and die in a blizzard, even with the super-pants and blanket socks.”
Except now he was shaking his head, about to argue, so she got to her point.
“This feels like a bucket list thing,” Tasha said swiftly, searching his eyes. “I mean, you selflessly fulfilling my bucket list, just to be kind?” But then she heard what she’d said.
Thomas couldn’t hide his smile. “You gotta admit, that one goes in the euphemism hall of fame.”
She couldn’t keep from laughing.
Which made her move. Just a little.
Just enough to make his eyelids lower and his hips go up, possibly involuntarily, because he murmured, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” even as she said, “oh God, yes,” as she also couldn’t stop herself from pushing him even more deeply inside of her.
She heard herself moan again, and he took that plus her yes for the permission to proceed that she hadn’t truly intended it to be. And when he pulled her down for a brain-melting kiss as he moved beneath her, she moved against him, too, because God, she really wanted this, and God, it felt so good.
But she wasn’t done arguing and as he freed her mouth to kiss and lick and suckle her breasts, she gasped and then breathed into his ear, “But it’s a euphemism... for a... for a pity fuck.”
He lifted his head at that. “Oh, nah, Tash,” he said, stopping his movement and holding her tightly in place so she couldn’t move again either. “Ah, God... Okay, okay... That is not what this is. No. Nope.”
He was sweating—she was, too—as they stared at each other, immobile again, like they were playing some truly masochistic adults-only version of freeze-tag.
She wanted to believe him, she really did. “But you said you wanted to wait, to take it slowly, and I’m the one who—”
“Yeah, well, sometimes life doesn’t cooperate, so you gotta revise and adjust,” he told her. “In a perfect world, I’d do a lot of things differently. In a perfect world, I would’ve gone to talk to you years ago and woulda not only sat there and listened, but I would’ve heard you and realized everything I’d gotten so damn wrong about who we are and... what we could be.”
He’d said something similar before, but Tasha knew that she would’ve fled the scene if he’d ever showed up to talk. It took being locked in with him for enough hope to grow—enough for her to find the courage to risk her heart again. But at the core of that was another truth—one that she hadn’t dared yet to put voice to. So she took a deep breath and said it. Or at least tried to. “But I quit on you. If this hadn’t happened—this trip and the... this? Being locked in, together?” Their connection never would’ve happened, and she probably would’ve gone ahead and married Ted, who didn’t love her, whom she didn’t love. That was the part that was really hard to say aloud. “I gave up on us, Thomas. I ran away. I let you go, and I let me go, too. I don’t deserve your... kindness.”