‘Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,’ he muttered eventually. ‘But that’s all you’re going to get.’
I didn’t tell him, of course, that his little addendum had only fuelled the need for satisfaction. That need for resolution born of stubbornness and desperation that had brought me more heartache than I cared to catalogue.
He ducked into the tent, emerging a minute later with a weatherproof bag he set down a dozen feet away. In silence, he lit a camp stove and started dinner. When he handed me a cup of coffee five minutes later, I answered with a smile. He stared down at me for a second longer than necessary before returning to his task.
I sipped the coffee, groaning as the warmth chased away the worst of the cold.
That drew his gaze again, as if he couldn’t help himself. I hid a smile and finished my coffee, just as the aroma of pasta carbonara drifted towards me. Jensen dished out two bowls and held one out to me.
‘Thank you.’
He nodded, went into the tent and brought out a thick rug, which he tossed onto the ground. Watching him fold his six-foot-plus frame before me, a cross-legged position that placed him at my feet, punched a deep longing that made my breath catch.
Perhaps he was aware of what he’d just done—that right up there on a Dominant’s most cherished wish was a willing submissive at their feet—because he froze too, his eyes holding mine for a charged moment before returning to his bowl.
We ate in silence, eerie white darkness gathering around us as night fell and the moon rose.
‘Her name is Stephanie,’ he volunteered grudgingly.
I nodded, torn between satisfaction that he’d answered of his own free will and a peculiar dart of jealousy that I now had the name of the person who’d contributed to Jensen’s wary reserve. I concentrated on eating, attempting to ignore the latter emotion.
‘Not going to push for more?’ he asked after a long stretch. ‘Now you know, you’re no longer interested?’ he added with a trace of snark.
‘You used the present tense just now. I may be many things, but I’m not a woman who encroaches on another woman’s territory. Not even to satisfy simple curiosity.’ I was lying, of course. I was way more interested than simple curiosity dictated.
‘She’s no longer in my life. Feel free to encroach away.’
Why did that invitation make my heart jump? Make temptation surge high? ‘Are you sure?’
He shrugged.
‘Maybe I won’t encroach. Maybe I’ll simply sit back and savour the mystery of you, like a fine wine.’
The lamps he’d set outside the tent illuminated enough for me to catch the slight flare of his nostrils at my words. The strong movement of his throat as he swallowed.
He wasn’t unaffected by me. Far from it. And the longer we stayed out here under the star-dappled sky, for all the world the only two people left on this planet, the more I was tempted to discard the vow I’d made to myself.
The vow of no more relationships.
The vow to focus on the things I could control, like my charity work. So why the next words tripped from my lips, I would never fathom. ‘Do you like the idea of being savoured, Jensen?’
He tensed at my use of his name, but it wasn’t affront that bristled from him. It was something far more potent. Hot and wicked and carnal, it reached out in the space between us, wrapping itself around us the way only two people dangerously attracted to each other could be affected.
In the silent landscape disturbed only by intermittent faint cracking ice, he stared at me, want and need and lust building in his eyes until his chest rose and fell with rapid rhythms.
Beneath the thermal layers, my skin tightened, heat pooling as my body answered with equal fervour.
But slowly his face hardened again. ‘I’m not one of the men you can toy with and discard when it suits you.’
Needles of hurt stung deep. I pushed the sensations away, telling myself it was better this way. Better that he thought he knew enough about me to believe the lies and make judgements for himself. That meant he was interested despite his better judgement. That meant neither of us would be seriously invested.
‘The last thing I want to do with you is play, believe me.’
His fingers tightened around his bowl, the last bite forgotten. A second later, his jaw gritted. ‘My bedpost-notching days are behind me. Sorry.’
‘Are we talking about my bed or yours?’
‘Yours is purportedly far more interesting than mine.’
This time the grating lingered longer, sharp disappointment lancing me as I stared at his averted profile. ‘I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a tabloid chaser.’
‘I’m not,’ he said tightly.
‘Really? Because I could’ve sworn you just judged me by the contents spewed out on a regular basis in gossip rags.’
His gaze returned to mine, digging, attempting to see far more than I was willing to show him. ‘I’m an experienced adventurist and can easily prove that there can be the smoke without fire. Is that what you’re asking me to believe?’
I could’ve responded in a great many ways, batted him away with sarcasm and flippancy. But when I opened my mouth, only one raw, unguarded word emerged. ‘Yes.’
His gaze was sceptical and probing, but it wavered for a moment to reveal another expression.
He wanted to believe me.
My heart leapt, a foolish action that I immediately condemned.
There was nothing to be excited about here. Bitter experience insisted that, regardless of how it started, inevitably every relationship ended with acrimony and pain. Trust wasn’t a commodity I gave away freely; lately, I wasn’t sure I possessed it any more.
That bracing reminder cooled some of the heat rampaging through my blood. It drove me to my feet, and I glanced around for somewhere to put the bowl.
Jensen rose too, once again towering over me as he reached for
