by Katie Ruggle
A small smile appeared for a microsecond—just a tiny flicker before his typical scowl returned—but it was enough to warm her insides and erase all her annoyance at losing her destroyer so quickly. When it only took four more turns for him to find her submarine, however, all that irritation returned in a hurry.
“How have I still not found any of yours?” she grumped. “C-eight.”
His eyebrows bunched together. “Hit.”
Her hand, which had already been reaching for yet another white peg indicating a miss, paused. “Are you serious?”
His crabby look was answer enough, and she gave a victorious whoop as she grabbed a red peg. It didn’t even sting as badly when his next guess hit the middle of her sub.
“C-nine,” she guessed, unable to hold back a grin. She wasn’t winning, or even close, but it was fun to finally find one of his ships.
“Miss.”
That took the wind out of her sails a little, but she was still hopeful, even when his next turn sank her submarine.
It took only two more turns for him to stumble onto her battleship, but she almost didn’t care, since her next guess had to be a hit. “B-eight.”
“Miss.”
“Wait…what?” She stared at the top of her board. With the latest miss, the single red peg was completely surrounded by white ones. “That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not. You missed.”
“I can’t have missed. There aren’t any ships with only one hole.” When he lifted one shoulder in a shrug, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re cheating!”
“Am not.” He widened his eyes in what she thought was supposed to be an innocent look, but it just emphasized the devilish glint as he ever so casually reached for his board. She popped up as quickly as she could, needing to see his ship arrangement before he could fix things.
All of his ships were clustered in a corner, nowhere near where she’d managed to get a hit. “Did you move them?” she demanded.
“Well, sure.”
She blinked, not having expected him to just admit it outright. “You’re not allowed to just move them.”
“Why not? Real ships can move.”
“But—”
“If a ship’s taking fire, you’re just expecting it to sit in the same place, waiting to be sunk?” He tsked. “Not in my navy.”
A laugh sputtered out of her. “In this game, the rules say you can’t move them after you start, not unless you’re a Cheaty McCheaterface.” She reached over and grabbed one of his ships, intending to put it back where it’d been when she’d hit it, but he caught her hand and tried to retrieve it.
“I’m not losing any ships on my watch,” he said, using both hands to try to pull the plastic piece from her grasp. She quickly figured out that he was trying very hard not to hurt her, and she was willing to use that to her full advantage. Her position bent over the coffee table took away her leverage, so she stepped onto the wooden surface.
She could tell that he was surprised by her move, and she used that to twist out of his grip. As soon as she was free, she jumped off the table and ran, unable to hold back a gleeful shout of triumph. Who knew that years of wrestling things away from her sisters would build necessary life skills?
She didn’t even manage to get a stride in before a thick forearm caught her around the middle. With a laughing shriek, she was pulled off her feet and back against Kavenski’s chest. Holding her with one arm, he tried to pry the ship out of her hands, but his gentleness was still his greatest weakness.
Squirming and breathless with laughter, she managed to cling to the game piece, but she wasn’t able to free herself from his hold. As she tried to wiggle out from under his left arm, she managed to get him off-balance, and he took a step back. Suddenly, they were both falling, tumbling down to land on the couch.
Kavenski’s back hit the cushions as she landed on top of him, the hard surface of his chest and abs knocking the breath out of her. Slightly stunned, she stared down into his equally startled face before she regained her bearings. Once she realized what had happened, she started giggling.
He attempted to frown, but it wasn’t even a good effort. There was too much laughter in his eyes for him to look menacing. “Return my ship.”
“Or what?” The words came out so breathless and husky that Cara almost didn’t recognize her own voice.
“War.” His arms had been banded around her, keeping her from rolling off the couch when they’d fallen, but now they moved. She only had time for a short, silly moment of regret that he wasn’t holding her any longer before his hands were moving over her, searching for the sensitive places most vulnerable to tickling fingers.
“Nooo!” she cried out, her laughter picking up again as she clamped her arms against her body, flattening herself against him and tucking her head beneath his chin, trying to minimize exposure. Still, he was relentless until she gave up. “Okay, okay! I’ll give you your ship back.”
Only when his hands moved to flatten against her lower back did she dare raise her head. Looking at his amused face, she wondered how she could’ve ever thought of him as closed-off. Now that she’d gotten to know him better, she could see all sorts of things chasing across his expression.
“Here.” She carefully placed the battleship on his forehead. “But know that you are a cheater, cheater, pumpkin-eater, and I’m never playing board games with you again.”
He glanced up, as if trying to spot the ship, and she laughed. “Never? What if we’re snowed in here for weeks?”
She felt her eyes widen as trepidation filled her. “You think we’re going to be stuck here that long?”
“Probably not.”
When she saw the slight upward curl of his lips, she thumped her fist lightly against his chest. “Rude. You scared me.” She tried to infuse her huff with more annoyance than she actually felt in order to hide that she was really enjoying lying on him like this. “And no. Even if we were snowed in here for months, I wouldn’t play with you.”
That wicked curve of his mouth was back. He gave a small shake of his head so that the game piece toppled off onto the sofa. “You wouldn’t play board games.”
“Right.” Her voice was both sultry and absent as she studied his mouth. Normally, his lips were set in a hard line, but now that they were relaxed and actually smiling a little, he was a hundred times sexier. That was a problem, since she was already having a hard time keeping her head on straight when it came to him. She shouldn’t be playing with him, or wrestling with him, or—and this was the most important—lying stretched on top of him, her body touching his from chest to toes. “No board games.”
“So other games are still a possibility?”
Her lips parted as she tried to think of a rejoinder, knowing she needed to shut him down hard, but her body’s insistent need was distracting her, making it hard to think logically when she just wanted to go along with this flirty conversation and feed the hunger she could see in his eyes. It was the same hunger that pulled at her belly, urging her to do something extraordinarily stupid, like lean down and kiss him.
His eyes heated even more, as if he could read her thoughts and approved heartily. One of his hands skimmed up her back and under her hair, his fingers burrowing through the strands until his palm cupped the back of her skull. It took hardly any pressure for him to urge her head down until their mouths were just a breath apart.
For a long moment, they froze in that position. Cara could feel the heat from his breath and skin brushing her lips, and she was so tempted, more than she’d ever been before. She wasn’t sure if he moved or she did to close that last fraction of an inch, but either way, their lips were touching, and she wanted it more than anything.
At first, the kiss was exploratory, their lips brushing and grazing as if trying to figure each other out. Then it was as if a switch had been flipped, and Kav
enski’s bossy side showed itself again. His mouth took over the kiss—or tried, at least, but Cara held her own. Ever since she’d first seen his mug shot she’d been wanting to do this, and now that she had her chance she was going to explore the way she so desperately wanted.
Their mouths dueled playfully, each trying to take over. It reminded Cara of how gentle he’d been while trying to get the game piece back, except that this was more intense and a lot more enjoyable. She nipped at his lower lip, drawing a groan from him that ended in a growl. Pressing his lips more firmly to hers, he wrapped an arm around her back and shifted both of them in a dizzying whirl.
By the time Cara realized that she was no longer on top, he was kissing her again, and she found it hard to care that she no longer held the position of power. Besides, he was still playing the back-and-forth game with her, giving and taking as they explored each other. It was impossible to focus on anything except the kiss, the feel of his lips and tongue and teeth as they moved against hers, and the secure press of his chest over her, bearing her down into the sofa cushions.
Everything about the horrible, ugly past day fell away, leaving only Henry Kavenski and his talented, beautiful mouth.
Chapter 13
Henry’s weight pressed her into the couch just enough for Cara to feel secure without being suffocated. That was Henry in a nutshell—safe but exciting. She smiled against his lips at the thought before getting lost in the feel of him again. With his mouth on hers, she could forget about everything outside their cozy cabin. It felt like the two of them were the only people in the world at the moment.
A muted roar followed by a sharp cracking sound yanked Cara out of her kiss-induced tunnel vision. Henry turned to look at the woodstove, where the fire blazed ferociously for a few seconds—fueled by the gust of wind down the stovepipe—before settling back down to a flickering smolder.
There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, Cara thought, torn between irritation that the noise had interrupted the most intense kiss she’d ever experienced and relief. Things were already so messy. They didn’t need to throw another container of gasoline on the raging dumpster fire that was their current situation, no matter how amazing that fire had felt.
Henry turned his attention back to her, and their mouths were suddenly too temptingly close together. Catching her rogue gaze focusing on his lips, she yanked her focus back to his eyes, which were another issue. The blue that was normally glacially cold burned like the hottest flame, and she felt warmth rushing to her face—and other parts of her body that were already overheated.
She wasn’t sure where to look, so she settled on right above his eyes. There couldn’t possibly be anything sexy about eyebrows. “Umm…” Her brain hunted for something—anything—to say, but all she could concentrate on was how incredible his lips had felt against hers. His forehead creased, and his eyebrows pulled together, his silence continuing until she couldn’t help but meet his eyes again, needing to know what he was thinking. As soon as she did, she wished she’d just kept kissing him, because the hot hunger in his gaze was quickly being replaced by resignation. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Yeah, you’re right.” He moved away from her, and she pushed up to sitting, drawing her legs in closer to her chest. Instead of sitting next to her on the couch, he moved to the armchair. Even though the practical part of her knew that this was best, she still hated how cold she felt without his huge body pressing her so securely into the cushions.
Cara blinked as his words finally registered. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking that we shouldn’t have done that.”
Her first instinct was to argue, but that logical part of her brain had been telling her how stupid getting physically involved with Kavenski would be. Even though the rest of her was screaming at the reasonable part to be quiet and let her enjoy their explosive chemistry, she couldn’t deny that going any farther—or even just continuing the kiss—would be monumentally dumb. Her tumbling thoughts and conflicting emotions kept her quiet.
Henry dipped his chin as if agreeing with something she didn’t say. “Like I said, you’re right. You’re already much too involved in my mess.” He stood abruptly. “We should get some sleep. Expect an early start tomorrow.”
“Okay.” The mention of sleep set off a whole new avalanche of heated mental images, but she tried to hide the direction of her thoughts. “I’ll stay down here. You can have the bed upstairs.”
He frowned at her. “It’s going to be hot this close to the stove.”
“I’ll be fine.” Despite her words, she could already feel the radiating heat baking her skin. It’s just residual kissing heat, she assured herself. As soon as he leaves the room, I’ll cool down again.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said. She glared at him, but he just scowled right back and continued, “You’re going to cook down here.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again as too many responses ran through her head, her thoughts jumbling before they could make it out of her mouth. If she kept protesting, she’d sound like she was being stubborn for no reason or, even worse, make it obvious how much she wanted him. Finally, she just threw up her hands. “Fine.”
His glare still in place, he hesitated for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected her to give in so easily. She hid a tiny smile, glad she was able to throw him off-balance, even if just for a moment. Quickly, he seemed to shake it off and headed over to add more logs to the fire.
“Want some water?” she asked, heading to the kitchen and opening cupboards until she found a couple of water bottles.
“Sure. Thank you.” Again, there was a tension-filled pause, making her wonder if he was feeling as tempted as she was. A glance at his closed-off expression made her quickly dismiss the crazy thought. Henry Kavenski never lost his cool, rational head—at least not while she’d been around.
At the sink, she filled and capped the water bottles, and she decided to make it her personal mission to get Henry to lose a little bit of his self-possession. Now that his facade had cracked, showing her the blazing emotions behind his mask, she wouldn’t be satisfied until she broke through completely. A wicked grin spread across her face. Of course, surviving the hike to Red Hawk tomorrow would be the priority, but if she could get an expression or two out of the man on the way, that would be a bonus.
“What?” he asked suspiciously as he accepted the filled water bottle she offered. Her smile must’ve lingered.
“Nothing.” She tried to put all the innocence she could in that one word before heading up the stairs, feeling his eyes on her back the whole way.
Once she saw the bed again, her skin prickled with renewed heat. It just looked so small, especially because Henry was so big.
“Act like an adult,” she muttered under her breath. “He’s obviously not bothered by the possibility of temptation, so you need to just suck it up and keep your hands to yourself. Of all the bad things that happened and the even worse things that could’ve happened today, having to share a bed with a hot guy in a luxurious cabin with a bathroom and a decent supply of board games does not even belong in the negatives column.”
“Are you talking to me?”
Henry’s voice was so close that she jumped a foot and a half before whirling around to see him at the top of the stairs.
“No.” Her mouth wanted to open again to spew out guilty-sounding nonsensical babble to relieve the growing pressure the situation was building inside her. Having him standing there, looking so kissable, was not helping matters. Somehow, she managed to snap her jaw closed after the one word, but that left a sizzling, almost unbearably charged silence in its wake.
His eyebrows rose a fraction in a way that looked almost amused. Reaching back, he grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Before Cara could close her eyes, she had the image of Henry’s broad, hair-dusted chest imprinted onto her brain.
>
“A little warning next time you decide to get naked would be nice.” Her voice sounded choked to her own ears as she whirled around to face the bed. Her body heated from the inside out.
The sound he made could’ve been a scoff or a laugh or even a suggestive growl, but Cara dragged her brain away from the strip show happening behind her and tried to think about other things. She had to, or she would self-combust immediately.
“What side of the bed do you want?” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to slap a palm over her face. Why was she making this so weird? The only reason they were in this situation was because they were trying to survive, but her brain kept insisting on turning everything into a scene from a romantic comedy.
When he didn’t answer, she risked a glance at him, making sure to keep her eyes above chin level. To her relief—and disappointment—he’d pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Both fit much too tightly, and the pants barely covered his shins, so she assumed that the original owner must be a quite a bit smaller than Henry.
He looked back and forth between the spiral stairs and the French doors leading out to the balcony. “I’ll take the side closer to the stairs,” he finally said, although he didn’t sound happy. “Too many possible points of entry into this place.”
“You weren’t complaining when you broke in earlier,” she said, placing her water bottle on the nightstand next to her side of the bed.
His scowl deepened. “Not helping.”
“Sorry.” Despite her apology, Cara had to duck her head to hide her smile. Her amusement disappeared when she glanced toward the balcony doors, however. Henry had turned the lights off downstairs, so the cabin was only lit by the fire in the woodstove. The exposed French doors somehow made things spookier. Her imagination conjured up all sorts of nightmares waiting just beyond that dark glass. Now that he’d mentioned it, she could easily picture someone scaling the balcony and breaking into the bedroom while they slept. She shivered, unable to look away.
