Page 5 of Under Pressure

I follow him and watch his broad muscles shift under his T-shirt. He steps into the cave, and I nearly crash into him when he comes to an abrupt halt. “Shh, hear that?” he asks.

“Oh my God, Cole.” I practically crawl up his back. “Is it singing? Tell me it’s not singing,” I say, my voice bordering on hysteria.

Cole laughs, and the sound echoes in the cave as he slides his hands around his back to hold me. “No, it’s not singing. It’s silence. We’re the only ones here, Reesey Piecey. Relax.”

“I hate you,” I say, then pinch his side for teasing me, although what I really want is to pinch his ass, thanks to the way it looks so cute in his shorts. “You scared me half to death.”

He flinches. “Hate you, too. Now come on, let’s get some food. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.” I curl his shirt in my hands and follow him. I tug when he goes too deep. “Let’s stay close to the mouth of the cave, just in case.”

With light pouring in, I let him go, find a flat spot, and sit crossed leg on the cool ground, a nice reprieve from the heat outside. Cole moves in beside me and I ditch my hat. When he looks at me, I run my fingers through my hat hair and try to fix it. The man has seen me at my worst. Cripes, he’d even held my hair back the night I turned sixteen and thought it would be a good idea to drink a few shots of Patron. So I have no idea why I’m suddenly trying to make myself presentable.

Because you want his damn body.

Oh, right.

As that shocked realization settles in my passion-rattled brain, I open the backpack and pull out our sandwiches, compliments of our hotel. Cole takes a long pull from his water bottle and hands it to me. We’ve drunk from the same bottles since we were kids, swapped a ton load of spit, yet it never felt intimate before, like it does right now. I take a drink and recap it.

Cole repositions himself until his back is against the rock wall. “Come here,” he says, and I shuffle until I’m beside him, our thighs touching. Hyperaware of everything Cole—his breath, his body, his every movement—I bite into my sandwich and try to push the bread down my tight throat.

“We have the safari tomorrow,” I say as sexual tension fills the small cave.

“Yeah, I know.” Why does his voice sound so much deeper? Oh, probably because he must feel this sexual shift between us, too.

Cole’s hand lands on my bare thigh, his thumb sweeping back and forth, brushing my tingling skin. Does he even know he’s doing that? I’m not sure he does, but the hungry spot between my legs is well aware what his innocent touch is doing to my body. Odd really, considering he’s caressed me like this numerous times before—a friendly, caring touch—and it never melted my bones the way it does now.

“Why do you think my friends keep putting me in dangerous situations?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “They all know you’re a chickenshit, so I’m not really sure.”

“I’m not a chickenshit,” I counter, and whack his stomach.

Big mistake.

He grabs my hand and holds it to his body. Unable to help myself, I rub the back of my knuckles over his six-pack. God, he is so hard and yummy. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from moaning. A growl rumbles in Cole’s throat, and I steal a quick glance at him in time to catch the tortured look crossing his face.

Holy hell!

I shake my head, hardly able to believe Cole Rayburn, my best friend, is groaning as I touch him. What the ever-loving fuck is going on between us? A flapping noise comes from somewhere deep in the cave, and my heart leaps.

“Cole,” I say, and practically scurry into his lap. “What was that?”

“Probably just a bird,” he mumbles. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

His arm goes around me, and he’s rubbing my side, a long slow sweep, that brushes along my outer breast. My nipples tighten painfully, begging for his hand, his mouth. His head turns, and with enough light shining in through the mouth of the cave, I can see the turbulence in his eyes. His jaw clenches and he turns away. His breathing has changed, become more erratic.

“Cole?”

He scrubs his chin and exhales sharply, less composed than I’ve ever seen him. “Yeah.”

Trembling with a need so foreign to me, I lean into him, even though every instinct I possess is screaming in warning.

“You okay?” I ask, positive neither of us is currently in our right minds. Must be something in the air. Has to be. We’ve never acted like this around each other before.

“I don’t think so,” he says as heat simmers between us. The cave is suddenly so hot I can’t breathe.

He turns my way, shifts his body until we’re both sitting crossed-legged facing each other. His hand goes to my cheek, a soft touch as he slides his big palm around my neck.

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