Eileen Wilks - Michael's Temptation

The back of his neck was shiny with sweat; his hair clung there in damp curls. She wanted to touch those curls. To taste the salt on his skin. She wanted—oh, she wanted to stop thinking of that kiss.

Why had she let it happen? One kiss shouldn’t complicate things so much…but it did. It left her hungry, needy, too aware of him. She didn’t want to come to life now—not here, not with this man. Oh, be honest, she told herself. The thought of becoming involved with anyone scared her silly. Such a coward she’d become! Dan would have hated that.

Of course, the soldier in front of her hadn’t been thinking of getting involved in a relationship when he kissed her. He’d been thinking of sex, pure and simple. She was making too much of it.

Yet she remembered the look in his eyes when he’d raised his head. Maybe it hadn’t been simple for him, either. And maybe, she thought as she skirted the trunk of a fallen giant, it wasn’t pain that had kept him quiet ever since he kissed her.

Tired of her thoughts, she spoke. “How’s your leg?”

“It’s holding up.” He glanced over his shoulder. “How about you? You’ve been quiet.”

The echo of her thoughts about him made her smile. “Keeping my mouth shut is one way to avoid whining.”

“Do you whine, then? You haven’t so far. Maybe you’re saving it for when things become difficult?”

“As opposed to merely miserable, you mean?” The path widened, letting her move up beside him instead of trailing behind. “Whining is an energy-sapper, and I don’t have any of that to spare. And I don’t really have any business complaining. When I compare where I am now to where I was yesterday, my calves almost stop hurting.”

“I guess a minister would be into counting blessings. Like, for example, not having stepped on a snake.”

“Or into a fire ant bed,” she agreed. The bite of the tiny red forest ants hurt worst than a bee sting. “Then there’s the size of these mountains. We could have been stuck in the Andes—”

“Not in San Christóbal, we couldn’t.”

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