Free Reburn by Anne Marsh Page A

“Other than the obvious.”
    Different but not different. She could think that all she wanted but, truth was, they came from different worlds—and they both had to go back when this night was over. He eyeballed the nest he’d made for her. He wanted her warm and, even in summer, temperatures in the park dropped pretty low at night. The canyon walls were going to protect her some, though, and the gear was definitely rugged. He gestured toward the canyon entrance. “This not being the St. Regis, you’re going to have to step outside to take care of any business you might have.”
    She went. He followed right on her heels, until she stopped and pointed. “This is where you stay, boy scout. Privacy is a definite requirement here.”
    “If there’s so much as a chance that Holm Arthurs is running around out there, you get an escort service.”
    “I’m armed,” she pointed out, picking out a thick stand of bushes and making for them.
    He scanned, but nothing moved. Right now the night held only shadows. “You show me how well you draw, aim, and fire when your pants are down around your ankles.”
    She shot him a grin. “Point taken. I’ll return the favor.”
    “Much appreciated,” he drawled.
    She disappeared and he could hear all too clearly the rustling sounds from the bushes that said she was doing what needed doing. Deliberately, he focused on the night sounds and their surroundings, giving her what privacy he could. They’d been lovers and he’d touched her again tonight, but some things a woman didn’t want to share.
    She came back, and he motioned for her to go into the canyon.
    “Your bed.”
    She sank down, reaching for her boots. Her fingers unlaced them, tugging at the heavy soles. He shouldn’t have found that so damned sexy, but apparently he’d take what he could get, because his hard-on was back. When she pulled the boots off and set them to one side, she gave him a shot of her feet in practical white cotton. She sighed, digging her toes into the sleeping bag’s plush.
    He tucked the gun into his waistband.
    “Here,” he said gruffly, sinking down beside her and pulling her feet onto his lap.
    Just seeing her feet, vulnerable and half-undressed, brought back his memories of touching her more intimately. He remembered all too well the sensation of sinking his fingers between her thighs and the slick, wet feel of her folds. Hell. He needed a cold shower, and that wasn’t happening out here.
    Instead, he watched her face like a starving man confronted with a feast. She pulled her hair tie free like she was tired of the drag on her scalp and all that honey brown hair brushed against her face and shoulders. Long lashes fell and she exhaled. She was tired, but she was still game. He shouldn’t have pushed her. Hell, he couldn’t believe he’d touched her, made her orgasm, when they were waiting out a wildland fire with a possible terrorist dogging their escape. But he had.
    And he wanted to touch her again.
    Instead, he focused on her feet, dragging his thumb along the sensitive arch, and finding the pad of her foot and rubbing in a deep, hard circle. She sighed and wiggled her foot into his touch. Her lashes rose and fell.
    “You coming to bed?”
    He shook his head. “I’m going to watch for a while.” No point telling her he had no intention of sleeping while she might be in danger. He’d keep an eye out, both for the fire and for Holm Arthurs.

Chapter Six
    “D on’t move.” Sam breathed the words against Livy’s “ear. Adrenaline pumped through him, his body readying for the coming fight. They had company. When she came awake with a start, he pressed his fingers against her lips until she nodded her head, indicating that she comprehended the sudden need for silence.
    “Holm?” she mouthed, and he nodded.
    Had to be.
    He smelled smoke and that wasn’t good. The lighter smudge of light on the horizon said dawn was coming fast. The fire should have died down some over the night,