Gingerbread Man

blowing ... ?" She rolled onto her back as she said it, which made her hip rub against his groin. When she looked up at him, he was biting his lip.
    "Will you lie still?"
    She did lie still. For what must have been a half hour, she remained perfectly still, lying there against him. He was lying on his side, his face close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin. She wanted to kiss him. He must want the same thing, she reasoned. He'd been about to kiss her in the boat, before they capsized. She lay there thinking about it for about as long as she could stand to before she turned her face to the side, toward his.
    "Don't, Holly," he said very softly.
    "Don't what?"
    "I can feel what you're thinking. I told you already, it's not a good idea."
    "Why not?"
    He didn't answer her, so she rolled again, onto her side, facing him this time, and she pressed her mouth to his mouth. His lips were stiff and unresponsive. She slid her arms around his waist and pulled her body closer to his. Then she nipped his bottom lip with her teeth, suckled it just a little, and slid her tongue along the inner edge of his lips.
    He shook a little, and his arms closed around her hard and fast. Finally he kissed her back. He kissed her like she'd never dreamed of being kissed. He pinned her down with his weight and drove his tongue deep into her mouth. He wedged his knee between her legs and urged them apart, so his hips could lower to her pelvis, and he could press his erection hard against her. And just when she started to feel the stirrings of panic joining the arousal in her belly, he rolled away and sat up, his back to her. The leaves fell away from him, and she shivered in the gust of cold.
    "Don't play with me, Red."
    Breathless, she said, "What makes you think I was playing?"
    She couldn't see his face, and she thought he wanted it that way. She couldn't read what was in his eyes, but she thought she knew. He was trying to overwhelm her. To scare her off.
    "What is it you want from me, Holly? Hmm? A meaningless fuck in the woods? Cause I can give you that. Hell. I'd be more than happy to give you that." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "I'd be
goddamned
more than happy to give you that. But that's all it would be. Is that what you want from me? Is it?" His eyes were blazing.
    She bit her lip. "I... I don't know."
    "You don't know? Well if you don't know what you want, I'd suggest you not tease me again until you do. All right?"
    "Tease? Tease, is that what you think—?"
    "Your shirt's dry." He surged to his feet, grabbed her white button-down off the tree and, turning, held it out to her.
    She rose to her feet, and his eyes devoured every inch of her. She didn't flinch or try to hide herself. She just reached out and took the shirt from him, then pulled it on. His shorts bulged. While she buttoned up, he turned away, snagged his own shirt off the tree, and put it on. Their jeans were still damp.
    "I do know what I want," she said. "I want to make love to you."
    He swore and tried not to look at her.
    "I want to spend the night in your arms, and I want... to see inside you. The way you've seen inside me."
    He shook his head.
    "I want to know why you're so afraid of me."
    He turned to face her. "You're flattering yourself, Holly." Then he pulled his damp jeans on. "Why are you so damned determined to dig into my psyche, woman? What the hell is it with you, anyway? You can't accept that I simply do not want this?"
    She shrugged, pulling on her own jeans and wincing at the cold touch of the wet denim on her skin. "You're determined to dig into mine. It only seems fair. And as for what you want, well, your body is more honest about that than you are."
    He stared at her for a long moment, then he shook his head, grabbed hold of her hand, and started off through the woods again.
    * * *
    HE KEPT UP a brisk pace as they walked through the skeletal forest. Their jackets hadn't dried much at all, and they'd decided to leave them behind. Wearing them, as wet as they were, would only make them colder. Vince wasn't walking with his arm around Holly anymore. She kept a distance of at least two feet between them at all times, and he was angry at himself for his behavior. His reaction to her had taken him by surprise. He hadn't expected passion to swell up—red hot and urgent—so suddenly. And even then, he should have been able to handle it. Would have. But other feelings came with it. Protective feelings. That urge to cuddle and coddle and