Page 109 of Tracked
Crap.
“Calder, I’m on the pill,” I blurted out, needing him to know.
He balled my clothes in one hand and straightened with a jerky movement. “I know.”
“You know?”
“I saw the blister pack you packed in your bag for the retreat.” I shouldn’t have been surprised.Preparednesswas synonymous with Stone. He caught my chin in his fingers, lifting my face to his and lowering his voice. “Know your terrain, your target, and your limits.”
“So now I’m a target?” I breathed out.
His eyes smoldered. “No. You’re the one who never left my sight.”
And like he’d just reached that invisible line of no return again, he let me go and took a towel from the small cabinet, setting it on the counter for me. I removed my bra, unable to take my eyes off him as he reached in the shower and checked the water.
“It’s warm,” he said, and moved aside.
“Calder—”
“Take your time. I’ll shower when you’re done,” he said sternly, as though reminding himself the shower wasn’t big enough for two.
He strode out of the bathroom and closed the partition behind him, giving me only the briefest glimpse of his wet shirt tented in front of his groin.
I stepped into the stream with a smile on my face and closed my eyes, my sore muscles soaking in the delicious heat. The Airstream had surprisingly decent water pressure, but even that couldn’t tempt me to linger. So I soaped the dirt and muck from my skin, then made quick work of washing my hair.
All those years ago, I could’ve only fantasized about a night like this, and now that I’d had it, I didn’t care what havoc Calder wrought on my body as long as it came from him.
I shut off the water and pulled the towel from the counter, drying myself and then wrapping it around me. Whatever calm I’d found slipped away when I opened the door into the Airstream.
Calder stood by the entrance, hips resting on the kitchen counter, and his face lowered toward the mug of coffee clutched in his hands. He looked like Rodin’sThinker, but the Survivalist Edit. The mud had dried hard into his shirt, his jeans well on their way to the same fate. Everything stiff on him. Him included.
And my mouth started to water.
It couldn’t have been more than a second or two that I took to simply admire him before he sensed me. “There’s coffee if you want it and a T-shirt for you on the bed,” he said and straightened. “It’ll be big.”
He came toward me, and I saw he’d removed his boots and cleaned the mud from the floors while I’d been in the shower.
“It’ll be perfect,” I murmured, knowing it was his.
“I’ll be out in a minute. Make yourself at home.”
I couldn’t help but steal another look as the door closed to the bathroom again, catching him haul his shirt off his back with a single hand.
His shower was just as quick as mine. Meanwhile, I’d savored the coffee but left his tee folded on the bed. Next to it, I reclined on my stomach—naked—working on his crossword.
My chest moved at a shallow pace, listening to his heavy steps in the bathroom, waiting for the slide of the partition opening. When it did, my breath caught.
One step. Two.
“Lara,” he growled when he saw me, and my pulse revved into gear.
I took a bracing inhale and pushed myself up, taking his crossword with me in my lap as I turned. He stood just outside the bathroom, eyes dark and filled with lust stars.
“I was working on your puzzle.”Naked.
His fist flexed, his hot gaze roaming over my face. My chest. My legs. There was no hiding the way I responded—the way I wanted him. And there was no mistaking how he was trying to hold back. Again.
I understood. It was ... rough out there. Now I felt every step, every movement, in my core, the tender muscles so completely used, and I knew I would for days. But I wanted more. I wanted this whole night, if that was all I was going to get. And I knew he wanted the same.
