LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Three

      Emma stared at the bed, her heart thumping against her ribs, her mouth going bone-dry. If it wasn’t so darned cold in the trailer, she’d sit up all night on the camp stool.

      No, she wasn’t afraid of Dante. Frankly, she was afraid of her body’s reaction to being so close to the tall, dark Native American.

      Too awkward around the opposite sex in high school, she’d focused instead on excelling in her studies. While girls her age were kissing beneath the bleachers, she was playing the French horn in band and counting the minutes until she could go back home to her books.

      College had been little better. At least her freshman roommate in the dorm had seen some potential in her and shown her how to dress and do her hair and makeup. She’d even set her up on a blind date, which had ended woefully short when she had yanked her hand out of his when he’d tried to hold it.

      For all her schooling, she was remarkably unschooled in the ways of love.

      The wind moaned outside, sending a frigid chill raking across her body. Her hands shaking, she pushed the snow pants down over her hips and sat on the side of the bed to pull off her boots, slipping the pants off with them. Then she slid beneath the covers in her thermal underwear, sweater and turtleneck shirt and scooted all the way to the other side of the small mattress.

      What man could lust after a woman covered from neck to feet? Not that she wanted him to lust after her. What would she do? Heaven help her if he should find out she was a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-six.

      Emma lay on her back, the blankets pulled up to her chin and her eyes wide in the dim glow of the stove’s fire. “You’ll need to turn off the flame before we go to sleep.” Perhaps in the dark she’d felt less conspicuous and self-conscious.

      Dante reached for the knob on the little stove and switched it off. The flame disappeared, throwing them into complete darkness.

      The blanket tugged against her death grip, and the mattress sank beneath the big man’s weight. “Don’t worry. I promise not to touch you.”

      Damn, Emma thought. With a man as gorgeous as Dante Thunder Horse lying next to her, what if she wanted him to touch her? Then again, one close encounter with her bumbling, shy inexperienced self and he’d disappear, just like he had the last time she’d gotten up the courage to go out for coffee with him.

      He stretched out alongside her, his shoulder and thigh bumping against her.

      A ripple of anticipation fluttered through her belly, followed by a bone-rattling shiver as the cold seeped through the three blankets, her sweater and thermal underwear.

      “This is foolish. We won’t last the night in the frigid cold without heat.” He turned on his side and reached around her.

      “W-what are you doing?” she squeaked as his hand brushed across her breast.

      “We’re both fully clothed, which, by the way, isn’t helping matters. We’re both adults and we’re freezing. The best way to warm up is to share heat.”

      “That’s what we were doing.”

      “Not like this.” He rolled her onto her side, pulled her against him and spooned her backside with his front, his arm draped around her middle. “Better?”

      Her pulse pounded so loud she could barely hear him, but she nodded and whispered, “Better.” Far too much better.

      As she lay in the dark, cocooned in blankets and a handsome man’s arms, part of her was freaking out, the other part was shouting inside, Hallelujah!

      “Let’s go to sleep and hopefully the storm will have passed by morning.”

      Sleep? Was he kidding? Every cell in her body was firing up, while her core was in meltdown stages. Little shivers of excitement ignited beneath her skin with his every movement. His warm breath stirred the tendrils of hair lying against the side of her throat and all she could think of was how close his lips were to her neck. How likely was he to repeat the kiss that happened just a few moments ago?

      If she turned over and faced him, would he feel compelled to repeat the performance? Did she dare?

      “You smell nice. Like roses.” His chest rumbled against her back, his arm tightening around her middle.

      “Must be my shampoo. It was a gift from a friend.” As soon as she said it, she could have kicked herself. Why couldn’t she just say thank you like any other woman paid a compliment?

      “Am I making you nervous?” he asked.

      “I’m not used to having a man...spoon me.”

      “Seriously?” His thighs pressed against the backs of her legs and one slid across hers. “They were missing out. You’re very spoonable.”

      She bit her bottom lip, afraid to admit she was a failure at relationships and scared off the men who’d ever made an attempt to get to know her. “I’m not good at this.”

      “It’s as natural as breathing,” he said, his big hand spanning her belly. “Speaking of which, just breathe,” he whispered against her ear.

      His

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