But to lie in Linc O’Neal’s arms wearing nothing but panties...?
“I’m all right,” she said stiffly.
He sighed with exasperation. “I’ll take my shirt off. You can wrap yourself in that.”
She reconsidered, knowing that catching cold would certainly be untimely. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “How...how do we do it?”
“Let me go first.”
Moving as little as possible, he wedged his hand between her back and his chest and unbuttoned the few buttons on his bush shirt. With excruciating care not to move a single leaf, he eased himself into a half-sitting position and shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. The effort made him short-winded. He was panting by the time he worked his arms free of the sleeves.
“There,” he sighed. “Now you.”
Kerry was grateful for the darkness which hid them. At the same time, it lent intimacy to their awkward situation. She rolled her lips inwar
d around her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to muster her slipping courage before reaching for the buttons of her own shirt. That was the easy part. The difficulty came when she tried to peel the clinging, damp fabric away from her skin.
“Sit up as far as you can,” Linc suggested.
She detected the hoarseness in his voice and passed it off as caution against discovery. She didn’t dare entertain the notion that there might be another reason behind it.
Moving carefully, she raised herself until she could prop her weight on one elbow. Then, lifting and lowering her opposite shoulder repeatedly, she tried to work the wet shirt free.
“Here, let me help.”
She felt the warm pressure of Linc’s hand on her shoulder. It moved down her arm, taking the shirt with it, inch by slow inch.
At her elbow, he had to give it an extra tug. His knuckles bumped into the side of her breast.
They froze.
“Sorry,” he said at last.
Kerry said nothing. The lump of embarrassment lodged in her throat wouldn’t have allowed a word to get past. He slipped the sleeve down until she pulled her hand from it. The position she had to maintain, compounded by tension, had strained all her muscles to the aching point. Tiredly she lay back down and released a grateful breath. The air cooled her back as Linc moved the wet cloth aside.
“Can you manage the rest?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
She rolled backward, actually bringing herself closer against him, while she pulled the other sleeve from the arm she’d been lying on. As soon as the shirt was off, she rolled forward again, hoping that in those brief few moments her breasts hadn’t been as vulnerable as they had felt. It was so dark that she doubted he could actually see her. But they both knew that she was completely uncovered.
It was a disturbing thought.
So much so that, when he draped his shirt over her, she clutched at it, pulling it against her chilled skin. It was both a relief and a hazard. It provided warmth and covering, but it also smelled like him. Linc’s scent filled her head and had an intoxicating effect. Holding his garment against her was like being wrapped in his arms.
“Better?”
She nodded her head. Her hair was heavy and wet. She gathered it in her fist and shifted it above her head. But that left her neck and shoulders bare. Now she could feel each breath he took. She knew without looking that he was wearing only the army-green tank top, and that above the deeply scooped neckline grew an impressive pelt of chest hair.
“You’re still shivering.” He laid his arm over her and drew her back against him.
Closing her eyes tightly didn’t help to dispel her memory of his arms, leanly bunched with muscles, ribboned with healthy veins. She had seen him shirtless that morning while he washed. As he sluiced water over his head and chest, she had noticed his sleek musculature.
Now she wished she hadn’t paid such close attention. The muscles she had admired that morning were pressed against her back. She felt them twitch, contract and relax, as though they were as jumpy as her nerves.
That morning, the sun had streaked his hair with russet highlights and made his body hair glow a reddish-gold. She could feel its crinkly patterns now against her bare skin. And she knew that his shoulders were sprinkled with freckles, as his cheekbones were.
“Are your legs cold?” Not trusting her to give him an honest answer, Linc ran his hand down the outside of her thighs and felt the goose bumps. “I’m going to put my legs over yours. Don’t be alarmed.”