“I’m not ready to die, Caleb,” she whispered. “I thought I was. I gave up. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I have to be honest with you. I resigned myself to my own death. I even thought it was what I wanted, that maybe I’d finally find peace. But then when confronted with my death, when he caught me outside my hotel room, I found myself fighting back. I ran. I didn’t give up. And I called you. Because I knew you were my only hope. I have no one else. No family. No one who cares. I realized that I wasn’t ready to die. No matter what I may have thought. Or how wimpy I’ve become. And that it doesn’t matter that I don’t have anything or anyone to live for. I’m not ready to die.”
Caleb’s hand slid over her cheek and then delved into her hair as he pulled her to meet his lips. Their noses bumped and nudged as he figured out the best angle and then his tongue glided over hers, tasting, savoring.
Their breaths were noisy in the silence. The only sounds were the rapid puffs of air, the sound of their mouths as they molded hotly to one another and the harsh sounds of their breathing as they sucked in breath after breath through distended nostrils.
His hand slipped from the strands of her hair and gently slid down her neck and over her shoulder and then glided underneath her arm, his fingers spreading out over her rib cage. His thumb brushed the under swell of her breast and then his fingers gathered the thin material of her T-shirt and inched it upward until the hem was in his grasp.
When he touched her bare skin, a soft moan escaped her, breaking the silence. She tensed for a moment, afraid that once again she’d shattered the spell, but his grip only grew tighter, more possessive.
His open palm traveled around her waist and to the center of her back. He rolled her underneath him, their mouths never separating. His weight bore down on her, hot, hard, his body undulating in perfect rhythm with her heart. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the magnetic pull between them, a different kind of link that had been present from the start.
Her hands explored the muscled wall of his back, his shoulders and then slipped downward where his waist narrowed. The muscles rippled in reaction and his breathing hitched, stuttering over her lips.
His erection bulged against the apex of her thighs, rubbing erotically over the thin layer of her panties exerting just enough pressure on her clit to bring her to orgasm.
He pulled her hands away from him, lacing their fingertips before lowering them to the bed just above her head. Hands twined, his mouth sliding from her mouth down her jaw and then to her neck, he whispered against her ear.
“You do have someone to live for, Ramie. You have me.”
THIRTEEN
WHEN Ramie awoke the next morning, she immediately reached behind her, searching for Caleb, needing that reassurance. When she was met by emptiness, she frowned and turned her head to look over her shoulder.
He was gone, and by the looks of it, he’d been gone for quite some time. There was no indentation on the pillow or the bed. Had he returned to his own room the moment she’d fallen asleep?
She flinched when she turned just enough to catch the full force of the sun shining through one of the slats of the blinds. The sun was high enough to signal that it was rather late in the morning and when her gaze drifted to the clock by the bed she got confirmation that it was in fact late.
Still she lay there contemplating the events of the night before. Caleb in her bed. His arms around her, anchoring her and offering comfort. Intimacy had cloaked them, making her restless and edgy. Unfulfilled in a way she’d never experienced.
She had no idea what was happening between her and Caleb and whether or not she wanted it to happen. Being so close to another human being—especially a man—was a new experience for her. One she discovered she liked. A lot.
She threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed but then caught herself. Where was she going? She didn’t have to be anywhere and she couldn’t very well just barge through Caleb’s house like she owned the place.
Did she simply stay in her room? Or was she supposed to come out at some point?
The growling in her stomach decided the dilemma for her. She was starving.
She shuffled toward the bathroom and turned the shower on, making sure the water was cool enough to wake her more fully. She gasped when she ducked under the spray. The temperature jolted her senses and as she’d hoped, some of the fuzz and haze clouding her mind and dulling her senses evaporated under the chilly water.
She hastily washed her hair and body, not lingering under the coldness of the shower. Throwing one towel over her hair, she wrapped another around her body and stepped back into the bedroom.
Instant cold assailed her. Even colder than the shower had been. Why was it so damn cold in this bedroom? It wasn’t that cold in the rest of the house.
I’m here.
She stopped breathing. Went utterly still as goose bumps popped out over her flesh and raced along the surface until every hair on her body was on its end. She shook her head. No. She wouldn’t allow him to unnerve her.
Still, she hurriedly pulled her clothing on and scrubbed at her damp hair. Tossing the towel to the floor, she all but fled from the room.