They both removed their boots and sat down on the mattress with their backs against the couch, using the pillows for support. Either it was surprisingly comfortable, or just being with him made everything feel better. He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest where she could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart.
She was filled with wonder that she felt so easy with him. When she’d been dating Adam, she’d been uncertain and self-conscious for months, wondering if she was doing or saying things that would turn him off. With Ben, the excitement and sheer pleasure of touching him, and being touched by him, seemed to override her insecurities. Once he’d kissed her, things had changed. It wasn’t just that his arousal had been so evident, but that the power of his hunger had been, too. He wanted her, the woman, but he also wanted her, the person, and that made all the difference in the world.
He rubbed his chin against her hair. “I’ve never been married.”
Interesting. His masculinity was such a magnet to women, she was surprised he was a bachelor. She hadn’t thought he’d always been such a loner, but perhaps he had been. She tilted her head against his shoulder to look up at him, to marvel at the way the firelight played across the hard planes of his face. “Why not? Carol doesn’t call you Hot Buns for no reason.”
He made a sound that was half snort, half laugh, and it warmed her all the way through. “I thought I was Stud Muffin.”
“She has a whole list of names. I think she has some cougar in her.”
“Yeah, I should probably check for claw marks.” A flicker of amusement crossed his face, then was gone. “I was in the military—I was a Marine, and I deployed overseas on several tours. When I was stateside things just never worked out. A lot of women like dating the uniform, but the reality of having a relationship with someone who’s on the other side of the world half the time—it’s more than they wanted to deal with. I didn’t mind. There wasn’t anyone I particularly cared about.”
“What about after you left the military?”
He didn’t move, but she felt the inner withdrawal and knew she’d bumped against his emotional wall. “No one?” she prompted, not willing to let him stall with his thoughts.
“No.” A few beats later he glanced at her. “At all.” He cleared his throat. “I should probably apologize in advance, because—I’d intended to take some pressure off before we got in bed together, but things happened and I don’t want to wait any longer.”
She’d been so focused on keeping him talking that it took a few seconds for his meaning to sink in. Her reaction pinged in several directions at once: astonishment, laughter, profound gratitude that he’d even thought of such a thing. Warmth flooded her and she turned into him, lifting her arm to wrap it around his neck and hug him closer. “I—well. It’s been a while for me, too. Since my divorce, almost five years ago.”
She felt him tilt his head to look down at her. “Why’d you dump him?”
“I didn’t,” she admitted, kind of amazed that he’d immediately come to the opposite conclusion. “He dumped me.”
He drew back, frowned at her. “What is he, brain-damaged?”
Part of her wanted to put the most flattering spin on it, say that she and Adam had wanted different things—which they had—but the past couple of days had been kind of a trial by fire, and if Ben wanted to leave because she wasn’t what he wanted then better she learned that now. “I haven’t seen or heard from him since the divorce was final so he might be by now, but no, when we divorced he had full brain function. I was never enough for him.” There. It was said, and she didn’t feel mortified. If anything, she . . . yes, she felt a little angry—not a lot, because Adam didn’t really matter any longer. “He wanted to do exciting things, interesting things, and I was always too chicken.”
“These exciting things—what were they?”
“Not all that exciting. Snow skiing. Travel to Africa, South America. Parasailing, scuba diving. I know they don’t sound that dangerous, but it all made me so uneasy I just couldn’t do it.” She sighed.
“You didn’t trust him.”
“I—what?” Confused, she tilted her head back to look up at him, her brows knitted.
“I’ve done a lot of stuff, shit that can get you killed. It’s either desperation that gets you through because your life is in danger, or it’s trust in your team to have your back. You didn’t trust him to look after you the way you’d look after him. What was this shit’s name, anyway?”
“Adam.” She’d never thought of Adam as a shit. On the other hand, she’d also never looked at their relationship from the viewpoint of whether or not he’d have her back if she was in danger. If she’d gone scuba diving and something happened to her air tanks, would Adam have shared his air with her if he’d noticed she was having problems? The last was a big “if,” because he’d never been sensitive to her wants or needs, if she felt ill, if she was tired. She hoped he’d have shared his air, but that was a hope, not a certainty.
“Adam Gordon?”
“No, I took back my maiden name.” She could hear the water boiling in the pot, and got up to remove it from the fireplace, using the poker to drag it out. The next few minutes were taken up with making the hot chocolate, then settling back with the warm cups in their hands. As always, it was deeply satisfying to be drinking hot chocolate while the snow was falling, as if some primal need was being met. Sitting so close beside him, in front of the fire, satisfied another deep need. Sexual anticipation sizzled on the back burner, waiting to be brought to a full boil, but for now this slow approach suited her. As much as she wanted him, she also wanted to talk to him, learn the details of what made him unique.
“I’ve always felt like such a coward.” She sipped her hot chocolate and stared at the fire. “Some people charge at life, but I guess I’m a background sort of person.”
He snorted. “Yeah, the background sort of person who offered to sleep with me to get what she wanted, and who held off a group of men shooting at her.”
She was glad the firelight wouldn’t show her face getting red, but she kind of gave it away by hiding her face against his shoulder. The getting shot at—as she’d said, that was unreal, and already at a distance. Offering to sleep with him was much more immediate and personal.
He set his hot chocolate down and stroked his hand up and down her back. “About that. Make sure this is what you want, that you know I don’t look at it as a deal. We can still wait, but—damn it all to fucking hell and back, you got yourself shot at.” His tone turned savage. “You don’t ever do that again, you hear? I aged twenty years getting down that damn mountain.”
Something had to be wrong with her, because she didn’t think anyone had ever said anything sweeter to her. She cuddled closer. “I promise I’ll try to never get shot at again.”
He put his other hand on her throat, used his thumb to tilt her chin up, and pressed a warm kiss on her mouth. The kiss quickly turned hot and deep, his tongue moving against hers, his hand sliding from her throat back to clench in her hair. Her fingers slipped on the cup of hot chocolate and hastily she steadied the cup. With a low, rough chuckle he lifted his mouth. “Don’t spill it.”