Whitewater Rendezvous

So by the time they got back, her whole body was thrumming with desire in a way that shocked her.

Can’t avoid this forever. Might as well get it over with. Just go inthere, get into your bag, and try to go to sleep. Don’t look at her anddon’t talk to her, except to say good night. She knew she was on the verge of losing control, and it was a very unfamiliar place to be. It had always been clear to her, where to draw the line. But then, she’d never been tempted like this before.

She took a deep breath and headed for the tent.

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Whitewater Rendezvous

CHAPTER TWELVE

Chaz bent to untie her laces beside the entrance to the tent, so she could slip her boots off before she went inside. Peering through the insect netting, she found Megan wide-awake, lying half within her sleeping bag but propped up on one elbow, watching her intently. The V-necked man’s T-shirt she was wearing exposed a hint of cleavage. As their eyes locked, Megan licked her lips in a deliciously enticing way.

Chaz’s heartbeat sped up, and her hands shook slightly as she removed her boots and unzipped the tent to slip inside. She didn’t dare look at Megan as she piled her gear into a corner by the door and shed clothes—her coat fi rst, then fl eece pullover, insulated pants, and socks.

She got halfway into her own sleeping bag, wearing navy cotton boxers and a loose-fi tting, long-sleeved navy T-shirt. The attraction between them had fl ared into a hot and undeniable living, breathing entity, and she had no idea how to deal with it except to try to ignore it.

She lay down on her side, facing away from Megan, stuffed her pillow under her head and closed her eyes, struggling to keep her body and voice under control. “Good night,” she whispered, praying those words would be enough to stop anything from happening.

For a very long minute or two, Megan said nothing. Chaz, waiting on pins and needles, felt relief and disappointment in equal measure.

When Megan did speak, her voice was soft and intimate, the voice of a lover after a long night of passion. “You almost kissed me, up there on the hill. You wanted to.” Not a question. A statement.

“Did I?” Chaz didn’t move. Oh, God, here it comes. She held her breath. Her skin tingled in anticipation.

“Yes. And I wanted you to. But then, you know that, don’t you?”

Megan said.

Chaz shook her head. “Megan, I can’t—”

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KIM BALDWIN

“Yes, you can.” Megan cut her off. “And you will. You know we have to.”

The words sent a sharp current of arousal through her, dulling her conscience, making every single argument against it seem small and insignifi cant. You can’t! You can’t! But she had lost the battle almost before Megan reached for her.

She felt a hand around her waist, turning her, insistent, and she had only a moment to look into those green eyes, pupils large and dark and full of need, before Megan was kissing her, as she had never been kissed before, and God help her, there was not a thing she could do but kiss her back.

When Megan’s tongue thrust into her mouth, Chaz answered with a passion she feared would consume her, her tongue exploring the welcoming warmth with an unquenchable thirst. And when Megan’s hand entwined itself into her hair and roughly caressed her scalp, it sent her jangled senses into overdrive. Megan stirred something wild and primitive in her, and touching her was an elemental need, like the clean air of the wilderness.

The pressure in her chest made it hard to breathe. The pressure building between her legs made it impossible to think. Kissing wasn’t nearly enough. Desire took control and obliterated the last vestiges of reason. She wrapped her arms around Megan and pulled their bodies together, breaking the kiss to roll until Megan was on top of her.

As Megan’s smaller frame settled against the length of her body, and their curves and valleys melded together like puzzle pieces, she was rewarded with a long, sensual groan of approval. The sound reverberated through her skin and fueled the fi re raging within. Megan’s mouth reclaimed hers for another long, deep, scorching kiss, and just as her brain hazily registered that the sleeping bags had to go, she felt the shock of cool fi ngertips against the warm fl esh of her abdomen and realized Megan’s hand had found its way under her shirt.

Her stomach muscles contracted, and her heart began hammering even harder in her chest, in anticipation of where that hand was headed.

She didn’t have long to wait.

Megan’s cool palm slid over the fl at plane of her belly; then the back of her fi ngers traced the bottom curve of her breasts, teasingly close, maddeningly distant. As Megan’s fi ngertips neared their

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