Instant Temptation

In fact, if truth be told, the reality of that night had haunted her through her following sexual experiences. None of them had come close to measuring up.

Which of course, at the time, had only upped her resentment factor.

“If I didn’t hurt you,” he murmured, stroking his hand up her arm to cup her face, “why have you hated me all this time?”

Oh yeah.

That.

She was already sorry she’d turned to face him, and considered switching back around, but his hand went to her hip and held her still as he waited with that bottomless patience she knew he’d earned the hard way.

“I told you, it was fine. I was fine. You were fine, we were all fine. Can you let it go now?”

“Fine,” he repeated, forcing the word out like she’d just insulted his manhood.

“Yes. Fine.” Yet another big fat lie. Which settled it. She was going straight to hell in a handbasket.

Because the truth was, it had been amazing.

So.

Damn.

Amazing.

Not that she intended to share that little tidbit, no sirree. That confession just might kill her. “As for why I was mad,” she went on, knowing he needed to know to move on, “I guess it’s that I got to remember it all this time and you didn’t. I know it’s silly and juvenile, but there it is. So can we stop talking about it now? Or yesterday. Yesterday would be even better.”

He was quiet a moment, and she let out a breath. Good. They were moving on. She began to relax.

“I was out of control,” he said after a few minutes. “And we both know it. I slept with half the population of Wishful and I barely remember a fraction of it.” He sighed, sounding disgusted with himself. “I’ve always said that the past is the past, and it’s never bothered me much-until now.”

She tipped her head up and met his gaze, his filled with regret and a softness that made her heart catch as he touched her face, running a finger over her temple. “I really hate that I don’t remember that night, Harley.”

“I know.” And she did. But it was finally, somehow, okay for her. Besides, she remembered enough for both of them. “Close your eyes, TJ. Go to sleep.”

He closed his eyes, his lashes dark and thick. “In the back of a f**king truck,” he muttered to himself.

She closed her eyes, too, because looking at him made her want to do something stupid, like soothe him, which would be a bit like trying to soothe a wild mountain lion.

“Where it was,” he went on, “apparently, fine.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him speculatively. “Is all this self-flagellation because I used the word fine?”

His wincing expression said she’d hit a bingo, and she had to laugh. “I’m going to sleep now, TJ.”

With that, she turned back over and was very careful not to wiggle. She tried to stay on her side of the sleeping bag, but he put a hand flat to her belly-oh, God-and tugged her back to him.

“For warmth,” he murmured.

Right.

For warmth.

His fingers danced lightly over her skin, and her heart kicked into gear, leaping against her ribs. She couldn’t help it, and she certainly couldn’t control it. His hand was big and warm, his palm was callused, and it felt good.

Too good.

It took her another heartbeat to decide not to fight him, especially since it was warmer all spooned up against him, even if she was incredibly, shockingly, erotically aware of his hand spread wide on her abs, his thumb only a fraction of an inch from the curves of a breast, his pinkie finger actually touching the edging of her panties. She hoped to God that he couldn’t feel her heart reverberating off her ribs and against him.

Exhaustion finally took over, but just as she drifted off, she’d have sworn she heard him mutter “fine” again, like he would an oath, and she smiled as she fell asleep.

CHAPTER 11

TJ was having an excellent dream. He was flat on his back, wrapped in a tangle of warm, feminine limbs, the owner of said limbs working her mouth down his neck toward his chest.

Oh yeah…

She paused to dip her tongue into the hollow of his throat, then sucked a patch of skin into her mouth.

“Mmmm,” rumbled out of him and he rolled her beneath him, slipping a thigh between hers, making her gasp in pleasure as she rocked herself on his leg.

Christ, he loved this dream.

With one hand beneath her panties palming a sweet ass, he ran his lips down her throat, over a narrow collarbone and encountered a bra strap.

No problemo.

He simply nudged it down, and then the silk cup, following its path with his mouth to a warm curve of breast. He swirled his tongue over the tip and felt the nipple pebble. With another groan, he sucked it into his mouth just as two small hands fisted in his hair. Then he switched to the other side, and the warm, sweet body beneath his arched up with a soft cry, riding his thigh for all she was worth.

She was hot and getting wet. He could feel her dampness on his skin.

It was like a drug.

Needing more, his hand came around, slid down her stomach and into her panties in front now, finding hot, wet, silky flesh.

His dream lover’s hands were on the move, too, gliding over his chest, toying with the buttons on his Levi’s, which were damned uncomfortable now that he was hard as a rock.

She got the buttons opened, giving him desperately needed room, and he let out a rough exhale that backed up in his throat when she slid her hand home.

It was getting better and better.