Last Kiss Goodnight

to wiggle my way free to hide. The things they did before I got away . . . they squeezed and it hurt, and I was so afraid, so happy when my father showed up and rescued me, and I’m rambling, I know, but that’s one of the reasons I stayed with him so long. He saved me from a terrible fate. At the circus, his name offered me some sort of protection.”

Solo moved to crouch in front of her. “Vika—”

“No, don’t say anything. It happened. I learned, and I grew. I’m okay. I just wanted you to know.”

“You were a child,” he said. “A child who grew into a guarded woman, desperate for a way out, yet still taking care of those less fortunate than herself. I understand that now.” He sighed. “I threatened you during our first meeting, and I’m not proud of myself for that. I wish I could go back and do a thousand things differently.”

She ran her fingers through the chilled locks of his hair, entranced by the softness. “Typical Solo, trying to make me feel better.”

“Always.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Listen. I revved you up last night and failed to finish you because watching you climax would have pushed me over the edge. I know you don’t blame me for deciding to wait, but your body doesn’t get it, and that’s understandable. When we’re finally together, it will be in a bed and you’ll be safe. We can do whatever we want to each other.”

“Yes, well . . .” Even talking about what they could and would do was revving her up again. She hurried to change the subject. “What’s that we’ll be dining on?”

“Don’t ask, and I won’t tell.”

“Well, how did you manage to kill this mystery meat?”

“I stumbled upon a group of hunters, waiting in a blind, and confiscated their weapons.”

She wouldn’t ask what he’d done with the hunters themselves.

“Speaking of weapons . . .” He straightened and walked to the other side of their tree trunk bed, where he lifted two rifles. “Have you ever used one of these?”

“A gun? Yes. Something that big? No.”

“I’ll give you a mini lesson before we head out. And you don’t have to worry about using it and drawing Jecis to our location with the noise. See the ends? I created a special paste to muffle the boom.”

“Oh, well, that’s great, but I already have a gun,” she said, and dug inside the bag until she found it. “It’s even loaded and everything.”

He looked at the weapon, shook his head, then looked again, a strange light entering his eyes. “The safety is off,” he said through gritted teeth.

“What safety?” She turned the barrel toward her face and—

The weapon was swiped from her grip. Solo fiddled with it, and she heard a click. He checked . . . whatever it was called, the little round center that spun, before saying, “I’ve been carrying this thing around, Vika.”

Now probably wasn’t time to say “duh.” “I know.”

“I could have shot myself. Or you! And I thought you said you’d used a gun.”

“I had. My father put one in my hand and forced me to squeeze the trigger. And guess what? I’ve got some good news for you. You didn’t shoot yourself, or me.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Let me guess. This is X’s doing?”

“It was a suggestion of his, yes,” she said, not wanting to get the little guy into trouble when he’d only wished to help.

“What else did he tell you to bring?”

“I’ll show you.” She withdrew a fork, toothpaste, lipstick, a condom, and scented body spray. “He told me that each one of these things was a necessity.”

“O-kay. So why the fork?” he asked.

That was the first question he had? Really? “X says we aren’t savages, and we aren’t to act as if we are.”

“And the lipstick?”

“That, he didn’t say.”

“No bottles of water? No food?”

“No. But I’m guessing that’s because we can melt and drink the snow, and X knew you could catch”—she waved her hand toward the fire—“things.”

“And the condom? The single condom?”

Annnd there was the question she’d assumed he would ask at the start. “It’s not my fault,” she said, fighting a blush. “I’m embarrassed, too, but he said to grab it, so I grabbed it.”

“Yeah, but we probably aren’t embarrassed for the same reasons,” he muttered.

Why was he embarrassed, then?

He took the fork and stomped back to the makeshift kitchen, where he placed juicy chunks of meat on a large, flat stone. “There’s a river a few yards north, and I’ve already cleaned the stone,” he said, handing it to her. “We aren’t savages, right, and I won’t have you eating off a dirty plate.”

A beat of surprise as she absorbed his words. What a sweet, sweet man, considering her in all things, even the little things. “Thank you,” she said with a bright smile.

“Welcome. Now, here’s the fork.” He held out his hand.

She shook her head. “No, thank you. That’s for you.”

“I’m not going to use a fork while you’re stuck using your fingers. Take it.”

“No.”

He frowned but stuffed the utensil back into the bag. “Fine. We’ll both be savages.”

“Fine.” After she’d taken a few bites of the most delicious meal of her life, she moaned and said, “Is there anything you can’t do?” And maybe she was a savage, because she wanted to continue stuffing her face while she was talking—and she wanted to chew what remained of the meat off the bone. “You have no need for a chef at your farm.”

“And yet I still want one,” he muttered.

Did that mean what she thought it meant? That he still wanted Vika there? “Sweet” barely scratched the surface, she realized. “I want you to know, while we’re on our journey, I’m not going to let you down or hold you back. I’ll keep up, I promise.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I won’t,” she said, which was the truth. She planned to push herself way too hard. He’d only helped her. She wouldn’t hinder him.

•   •   •

Solo finished eating and stuffed all the “necessities” back into the bag, as well as the blanket he’d stolen, and hefted the stupid thing over his shoulder, then one rifle, then the other. He would have given Vika one of the weapons, but no, that was never going to happen now. Not even if his life depended on it.

“I rigged a place for you to take care of any pressing needs you might have,” he said, and watched as color once again brightened her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she replied, comprehending. “But, uh . . . where is it?”

He pointed, enchanted by her unease for some reason. They’d spent six days together, trapped in a ten-by- ten cage. They’d gone over this type of thing. But his little Vika was prim and proper, he supposed—until he kissed her.

Any time he remembered their kiss, a fire ignited in his blood, and a deep awareness bloomed where primal instinct seethed. It was wonderful. . . . It was terrible. . . . He wanted her, but he couldn’t have her. Not out here, in the open, where anyone else could stumble upon them.

At least he understood a little more about her now—and how much he’d misunderstood her in the beginning and even moments before. No wonder she’d always wanted to live on her own. No wonder she had wanted to spend the rest of her life alone. It was a miracle she’d ever allowed Solo to come near her.

Vika stood, stumbled through the snow, and soon disappeared behind a wall of winter leaves. The area was close enough that he could hear if anyone approached her, but far enough away that she would feel comfortable enough to do whatever she needed to do. Plus, a good number of trees would form a circle around her, shielding her from any prying eyes.

He dismantled the spit, put out the fire and scattered the rocks. He hid the evidence of their stay as best he