to jostle her ankle too much, and began massaging his shoulders. “I think Hank is very proud of the man his little brother has become.”
The flashlight rested on the ground, throwing its light away from them. And yet, she could feel his unfathomable sorrow as the silhouette of his shoulders moved slowly up and down. “I hope so.”
She kneaded harder, trying to let her fingers absorb the tightness she heard in his voice, but the shirt made it difficult to reach the knotted muscles.
“Take off…” She cleared the lump from her throat. “Take off your shirt. The flannel won’t move around.”
Until the material slid from his shoulders and her fingers rested on bare skin, she didn’t realize how dangerous the ground she treaded on was.
Her thoughts today hadn’t stalled on his confession; they’d been inspired by it. Under the cover of this intense darkness, she’d allowed herself a freedom she hadn’t experienced in nine years—hours of remembering their good times together. Until today, she’d only permitted herself to think about the bad times, keeping the ego pain fresh and the heart pain at bay.
Today, she’d remembered the sweetness of that first time together, and their excitement and amazement as each encounter brought new discoveries. She remembered how they’d been open to new things and honest with each other about everything.
Never far from her thoughts were the present fears she kept submerged. Their food was gone. Water was gone. Time was running out. She wouldn’t let herself think about dying, but even rescue meant saying goodbye to Chance again…this time with the painful insight of a newly discovered truth—he’d loved her as much as she’d loved him. But he’d left her just the same. Because she’d been too clingy? She was guilty of that, and he’d rationalized himself into believing it was the reason.
But she’d been his everything…and even that wasn’t enough to make him want to stay with her.
She’d pieced together the others things he said—the cracks about her politics and her job…and her lack of a job.
Being everything to him wasn’t enough to hold him because she wasn’t good enough. Never had been…never would be until she became that somebody she’d always dreamed of being.
The truth hurt, but she could accept it because now she understood.
She splayed her fingers and pressed her thumbs firmly along his spine at each vertebra. He grunted hard with each compression and sometimes added a pleasure-filled moan.
The sounds weren’t lost on Kyndal. They were the same sounds he made when they used to make love. Each grunt and groan stirred her more until she was holding her breath in between and releasing it to his rhythm.
They’d be rescued, and they’d say goodbye again, and he’d go back to his law practice with his dad, and she’d go back to her photography.
She wanted him to leave this place with a new opinion of her. One that would erase any previous memory of her clinginess.
Maybe that’s why they were stuck in this cave—karma’s way of letting them walk away in peace.
She took a long breath and smoothed her palms up his back, across his shoulders, along his neck. Then her fingers spread, and she slid them from the nape into his hair.
He groaned as her lips made contact with the back of his neck.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHANCE NOTICED THE SUBTLE difference in Kyndal’s touch as her hands moved up his spine, but he expected it to be followed by another sweet assault of thumbs plunging into his shoulder muscles. He hadn’t prepared himself for the softness of her lips.
His groan escaped—a sound of unbridled passion edged with confusion. What was she up to? They’d “moved on. No use going back.” Her words. And now this?
God, she was making him crazy.
He’d pushed himself all day in an attempt to keep his distance, respecting the line they’d drawn. Then the line vanished. Her lips were against his neck. Her warm breath scampered down his bare back. It might as well have been a freakin’ bellows, the way it set him on fire.
He had to stop her, had to get her off him. He grabbed her wrists tightly with each of his hands. “Don’t, Kyndal. I’m not in the mood to be toyed with.” He flung her hands away and reached for his shirt, but she moved faster, snatching it up and tossing it against the wall.
He stretched to the side and dragged the shirt back to him, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not playing, Kyn.”