Edge of Surrender by Laura Griffin Page B

her with him. She sprawled on top of him, blinking down in the darkness.
    He mumbled something that sounded like a curse.
    â€œWhat?” She pushed up against his biceps, awed by the immense power he kept stored in his body.
    He ran a hand down her back and settled it on her bottom. “Nothing.”
    â€œWhat did you say?” She was breathless, but she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t used to exercise, and having sex with him was the most intense thing she’d ever managed to do, and she felt proud of herself. She should get a bumper sticker.
    He opened an eye and peered up at her in the dimness. “Nothing.”
    She really wanted to know his uncensored reaction, but she’d missed it, and he wasn’t going to tell her.
    His hands stroked lazily over her butt, and she felt self-conscious about her weight on him. She started to sit up, and his grip tightened. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
    â€œDon’t what?”
    â€œI like you right here.”
    She stared down at him. His eyes were open now, and he was watching her closely. She felt an unexpected swell of emotion. She rested her head on his chest and listened to the strong thud of his heart. He combed his fingers through her hair, and tears stung her eyes.
    She would not do this.
    She would not have the most mind-blowing sex of her life and then get weepy all over him.
    She didn’t know what was wrong. Maybe the trauma of the day finally catching up to her. Or maybe lack of sleep. Or maybe the simple fact that she hadn’t ever had sex like this—this raw and powerful—with anyone else, and now some crazy hormone cocktail was coursing through her veins. But whatever it was, she had to ignore it and get control of herself. A hot lump clogged her throat, and she swallowed it down.
    His body beneath her was solid and warm, and the feel of his fingers in her hair made her heart sore.
    â€œHey,” he murmured.
    She looked up.
    â€œYou good?”
    She smiled at the concern in his voice. “Very.” She nuzzled against his chest. “That was nice.”
    â€”——
    Nice.
    What the fuck did nice mean?
    He shifted in the dark and frowned down at the top of her head. He could have sworn he’d made her come. At least once, if not twice.
    She slid off him and onto her side, ignoring his attempt to hold her in place, because she was too self-conscious about her body to lie on him for any length of time.
    He sat up on his elbows. “Nice as in . . . hell, yeah, let’s do it again?”
    She sighed softly, like maybe she was drifting off to sleep.
    â€œEmma?”
    â€œHmm?”
    â€œJust checking in here.”
    She smiled. “Don’t be such a guy.”
    â€œSorry. Can’t help it.” He rolled over and got rid of the condom. He glanced through the mesh window of the tent and then looked to make sure his Sig was still in place by his boots. He stretched out beside her, and she rested her hand on his chest.
    She sighed heavily. “Nice as in . . . a really big drink of water on a hot day.”
    She scooted closer. He liked the really big part, but the nice didn’t sit well.
    Her breathing slowed, and he watched the steady rise and fall of her shoulder. She was falling asleep, and Ryan knew what he needed to do. He needed to let her. She’d been battling insomnia since the plane crash, and she needed sleep.
    But she was warm and soft, and those full, beautiful breasts were pressed up against his side, and the part of his body that knew she needed sleep wasn’t communicating with the rest of him.
    He wanted her again. He’d just had her, thoroughly, and still he wanted her again with an urgency that caught him off guard.
    So many things were wrong about this. She was in a vulnerable situation. Again. And he knew damn well that he was taking advantage of her here, but he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He’d tried, and he