Page 42 of Cold Foot Croc

Smiling to herself, Raynah brushed her fingertips across his shoulders in a silent thank-you and made her way to the bed, where she began spreading the sleeping bags in layers over theair mattress. There was only one pillow, but she wadded up his jacket for a second one. They would make do with what they had.

“It’s a hot tent, so it’ll heat up just fine with the wood stove running for a bit. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” she admitted.

“Here, I’ll tuck you in and then go get snacks.”

Well, that made her nice and mushy. “You’re going to tuck me in?”

He huffed a laugh and hung his head, and she could see the blush in his cheeks from here. “I don’t know why I said that. That was lame.”

“No, no! I…tucking me in would be nice.”

Garret’s teal eyes lifted to hers, and God, he was so hot.

Raynah pulled off her jacket and kicked off her snow boots. When she straightened her spine back up to stretch it, Garret’s hand slipped easily to the swell of her belly. He slid it down slowly to cup her body just above her hips, leaned in, and kissed her lips. When he eased back, it took her a few seconds to convince herself to open her eyes. She loved the way he touched her, the way he tasted, his confidence that warred with shyness, his being a capable man who could make a camp and have deep conversation in such a short span of time. She loved his layers. Every one of them.

Out here, it was just the two of them. Hang the past, hang both of their histories…none of that mattered.

Here, in this tent, in the middle of the snowy woods, the rest of their problems didn’t exist.

She felt drunk with the freedom.

Already it was warming up in here, and the chill had left her. Perhaps it was the crackling wood-burning stove filling this small space with heat, or maybe it was being this close to a furnace of a man. Or maybe it was her blood heating just beingtouched by a man she was falling so hard for. Perhaps it was all three.

Raynah peeled her sweater over her head and reveled in the shaky breath he exhaled as he dragged his attention over her lace-bra-covered breasts.

“Um, I want to take my leggings off, but there is nothing attractive or sexy about a woman tuna-fish-flopping out of these things.”

He laughed and stepped closer, slid his strong hand to her waist, and then leaned in. Lips near her ear, he whispered, “Let me.”

“Spandex is tricky,” she warned him, but that man dropped down to the edge of the air mattress, hooked his fingers into the stretchy maternity waistband, and pulled them down smoothly, but stopped right at the most unattractive part.

He let the tight waist sit halfway down her ass. “I want to see,” he said low, his eyes hungry.

She pulled a face. “I’m trying to seduce you. This is not the way.”

He laughed, but he was nodding as he slowly turned her in front of him. “For me it is.”

Mortified, she turned and stared out the plastic windowpane at the snow falling outside. She couldn’t even imagine what she looked like right now, with her waistband strangling her ass. A busted can of biscuits? Probably.

She squeezed her eyes closed against the embarrassment that threatened to consume her.

When his hands slid across her ass and squeezed, though, she opened her eyes in surprise. He was massaging her above the waist, and below. “Your ass is perfect,” he whispered reverently.

A baffled smile took her lips. “Really?”

“Oh my God, yes, Raynah. Look.”

She twisted around and looked at where he was grabbing his hard cock behind the zipper of his jeans. She could so easily see the outline of it against the denim fabric.

Okay, he was a booty man. Good.

“Can I take a picture of it?” he asked.

“Hmm. Depends on how many girls’ pictures you have saved in your phone.”

He huffed a laugh. “None but yours.” Truth.

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