Page 80 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

The wind has increased again, too, and the hut groans and creaks. I bury my face in his neck. “I wish it would stop. I feel as if we’re being hunted.”

“I know what you mean. But these places are built to survive the worst conditions. We’re safe here.”

I’m sure that’s just a platitude, but I appreciate his attempt to comfort me.

My arm is around his waist, and I’m pressed up against him. I move my hand around his ribs, across the warm skin of his back, and slide it up the length of his spine.

He sighs, but doesn’t object, so I splay my fingers in the middle of his back, then brush them across from one shoulder to the other. I can feel him breathing, his chest rising and falling against mine, his breath brushing my cheek. I have one arm curled between us, and when I lift it a little, I can feel his heart beating against it, comforting in its slow rhythm.

He’s stroking my back, too, and I shiver as he trails his fingers from the nape of my neck all the way down to the base of my spine. When he gets there, he waits for a moment, then lifts the hem of the hoodie. Next I feel his hand on my back again, beneath the hoodie, but on top of the T-shirt as he strokes up.

We lie there like that for a long time, just touching each other, warm and cozy beneath the thermal blanket. I explore his body slowly, making my way from his back around his ribs, up to his collarbone, over his shoulders, and down his arms. He stays on top of my tee, and he doesn’t come further forward than my ribs, but he does the same, running his fingers up my arms, over my shoulders, beneath my neck, up my jaw, and around my ear.

There’s something heavenly about this, about being so close, and knowing, just knowing, where this is going, but fighting it a little, making ourselves wait, drawing the moment out. Eventually, though, I can’t wait any longer. My mouth is already only inches from his throat, and so when I shift a little closer on the mattress, I can easily press my lips to his skin, just below his Adam’s apple. He murmurs his approval, and so I do it again, touching my tongue to the hollow of his throat before kissing up to his mouth.

When I reach his lips, I wait there for a moment, enjoying the anticipation. He doesn’t move either, and we continue to stroke each other’s backs, our breaths mingling, which makes me think once again of us sharing his air tank, that slow, oddly sensual ascent through the water, and the moment where we paused so close to the surface, looking into each other’s eyes while he caressed my hair.

As if he’s thinking about it too, he slides his hand into my hair, which is nearly dry now, and runs it through his fingers. For a moment I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t move, and eventually he says, “We can’t, Zo.”

I lift my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t have sex.”

Disappointment flows through me. “Why not?”

“I don’t have any condoms.”

We study each other for a long while.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, caressing my face.

I drop my gaze to his mouth. The longing inside me is almost as great as the physical ache that’s grown while we’ve been kissing. I want him so badly.

But enough to be honest with him?

I wasn’t going to tell him. But here, in the seclusion of the cabin, it’s as if we’re the only two people in the world, and having secrets just feels foolish.

I take a deep breath. “I can’t get pregnant.”

There’s a long silence, punctuated only by the rattling of the windows in their frames from the wind.

Eventually, I lift my gaze to his. I can’t read his expression.

“You’re on the pill or something?” he asks.

I should just say yes. It would be so much easier. He’d believe me, and then I wouldn’t have to open up to him at all. And I don’t want to spoil the sexy mood by getting all heavy and serious.

But lying there, in Joel’s arms, after he’s saved me multiple times, I can’t bring myself to lie to him. I don’t want to start our relationship like that.

“No,” I say softly. “I can’t have children.”

He stares at me. Then he moves back a little, so he can look at my face. “How do you know?”

Thunder booms, and I jerk in his arms. He rubs my back, and that sweet, innocent gesture is enough to convince me.It’s now or never, Zoe.

I clear my throat. “When I was a teenager, I got pregnant. The baby came early, and during the birth I had a uterinerupture and massive internal bleeding. They couldn’t stop it, and so in the end I… I had to have an emergency hysterectomy.”

His eyebrows rise, and his jaw drops. “Zoe…”

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