Page 45 of Evening Shadows

“Turn over and talk to me.”

Face her? In these close quarters? He’d have preferred talking in an intimate setting—maybe the bed after sex—but this setting…. He didn’t know how to describe the turmoil racking his system over Sam… his love for her… her possible betrayal. Making it worse, no matter what she’d done, his body still reacted to her.

Before he turned, they both seemed to remember that he couldn’t lie on his other side due to his injury.

“Sorry,” she said. “Hang on.”

Without turning over, he knew by the cot moving and the noticeable shimmying of her body against his, she crawled from her sleeping spot between him and the wall.

“Scoot back,” she directed in front of the cot.

Although not sure he wanted the nearness or the conversation, he scooted backward with significant pain that radiated not only down his leg but up his side. Renewed sweat broke out on his brow and exhaustion settled inside his body. If he’d had to move further than the foot, he’d not have made it.

Gently, she lowered herself to the cot and lay down.

“How do you feel?” she asked after settling with her arm under her head and a narrow space between them.

“I feel better,” he lied.

“Do you want to talk about your dream?”

Hell nocame to his lips, but he didn’t want to argue with her either. No matter their past, their fears, or the accusations, his feelings for her were real, and right now, he needed the connection with her to focus on anything but their situation for a short while. With that in mind, he held tight to the trust issue and let his heart lead the conversation. “Do you remember the first time we met?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “You had your hair flowing over your shoulders to about mid-back, about the same as you wear it now. The red dress with its frilly sleeves or something that probably has a fashion name I don’t know. I liked that you wore it like a supermodel, but you weren’t overdressed. As for the snug fit…,” he said the last with laughter in his voice.

“If you weren’t hurt all over, I’d smack you for mocking me.”

In mock horror, he said, “Make fun of you? Not me.”

“You used to always make fun of me.” She paused. “You stopped once Lance died.”

He raised a brow in question. “Really?” he asked, wondering if she’d put it together now that he’d told her loved her. “Sam, I think I’ve loved you since you walked into that sports bar. I’ve never stopped. I’ve become the crabby old man I am today because I longed for you to be by my side and safe. Always safe.”

As best he could tell in the dim moonlight streaming in the room, her eyes darkened.

Knowing they could die at any moment, he wouldn’t pass up more time with her, no matter her transgressions. This woman held his heart, and he might not be able to save her life. Maybe she’d been involved in this, but love didn’t always listen to reason.

With a hand that shook a little from his body’s weakness—from blood loss, the beating, and lack of food—he gently placed it on her soft cheek where she’d removed most of her face paint with her sleeve. The strength of his longing moved him forward, but the possibility she’d deny him rolled in his gut. He couldn’t stand denial a second time. “Sam, I’d like to kiss you. May I?”

It took her a moment, and that indecision almost had him pulling back in resignation. Then, she slowly nodded.

Euphoria hit him before he’d even kissed her. Just the fact she’d agreed went a long way to mending his heart.

Leaning forward as if he had all the time in the world, his eyes moved between her lips and eyes. The beautiful blues sparkled in the near darkness. That might’ve been his imagination from years of thinking about them.

Without a care for the small cut and slight swelling, his lips lightly touched the edge of hers and that romantically nonsense lightning struck. He’d heard women talk about it and thought it a fluke the first time they’d kissed, but he’d admit it occurred. Sure,some sense of electrical current could flow between them when they touched, but this….

Her breath caught, and it brought a smile to his face. It’d hit her too. Moving over her lips to the far side, he placed another featherlight touch to her forehead. His slow seduction held equal measures of pleasure and pain. And not from his injuries.

Leaving the far side of her lips and noticing her breath mimicking his, he touched his lips to hers full on, but in a quick kiss.

Pulling back, he looked at her eyes, unsure what he’d see, but he hoped it’d be desire. Something better flowed between them. Something hard to explain but important. He no longer needed the conversation about trust. Seeing it… feeling it in their connection told him all he needed to know. How could he have ever doubted her? They’d always been connected but this new level had feelings so deep and real that surely couldn’t be a lie or anything she could damage or toss away. He believed in her… in them.

A small smile appeared on each of their faces as if both had realized it at the same moment.

He couldn’t wait any longer to savor her kiss and passion that she held away from him. He’d wrangle it at some point soon.

Against her slight smile, he whispered, “I love you.”

His lips reclaimed hers with a long-held hunger, and he enjoyed the sweet taste of her. A taste that he could easily drink every day to work himself into a drunken state.

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