Christmas Secrets Collection. Laura Iding

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      He kissed the top of her head without even stopping to think that maybe he was crossing the line. Right then, there was no line. Only her need to be held—and his, to hold her. “I know, I know. But it’s over now.”

      “You’re right. Over. It’s over, it’s okay …” Slowly, she quieted. The shaking stopped. She lifted her head and looked up at him. He saw the gleam of her eyes through the gloom.

      He wondered if she’d been bitten. The snake was a boa, he was reasonably sure. Their bites weren’t deadly, but they could hurt like hell. He asked, carefully, “Were you bitten?”

      She shook her head. “No. Uh-uh. It just, it was so strong, slithering around me, tightening….”

      He felt her shudder and hurried to remind her, “But it’s dead now.” He spoke firmly, “Dead.”

      “Dead. Yes.” She nodded, a frantic bobbing of her head. And then she blinked. “Do you know how many times I walked this path while you were so sick?”

      He captured her sweet face between his hands, held her gaze and didn’t let his waver. “Don’t. No what-ifs, remember?”

      “But I—”

      He tipped her chin higher, made her keep looking at him. “No. Don’t go there. You’re safe and we won’t go to the river, or even into the trees, except together from now on. If one of us is in danger, the other will be there, to help deal with it.”

      “Oh, Dax …”

      He didn’t think, didn’t stop to consider that he wasn’t supposed to put any moves on her, that she had great value to him and they had certain agreements, the main one being hands off.

      It just seemed the most natural thing to do. The right thing.

      The only thing.

      He lowered his head and she lifted hers.

      They met in the middle. He tasted her mouth, so soft, still trembling, so warm and needful—needing him. She sighed and her breath was his breath.

      He wrapped her closer, slanted his head the other way, deepened the amazing, impossible kiss.

       Our first kiss …

      A miracle. Of heat and tender, yearning flesh, of wonder.

      He pressed her to open. She did and he tasted her, his tongue in her mouth, against her teeth, and her tongue in his, gliding on top, touching the roof of his mouth, as if to taste all of him, to know him, all of him.

      In every way.

       Our first kiss …

      It went on and on. Delicious. Hungry. Beautiful. They stood there, wrapped tight together, in the dark jungle, the big snake limp around their feet, and they kissed and kissed some more.

      Finally, with a last, reluctant sigh, she pulled away and lifted her eyes to him. She looked strangely dazed and her lips were shiny, slightly swollen. “We should … the river. Go back. I need to wash away the blood.” They were both breathing hard, as if they’d just run a long race.

      He nodded down at her. “Yeah. All right. Of course.”

      They stared at each other, shared a look as hungry, as seeking and endless as the kiss had been. And then she stepped back. He let his arms drop away, releasing her.

      By some radar between them, some tacit agreement, neither of them mentioned the line they had just crossed, the forbidden terrain they had let themselves stumble into.

      She waited for him to turn, to lead the way back to the water.

      He said, “We can leave the wood here. But nothing else.” Any meat could be gone before they returned, carried off by scavengers. “Take the fish.”

      She bent down and picked up the stick with the two fish dangling from it. He got his knife from where he’d dropped it, wiped it on his pant leg and returned it to its sheath. He felt around among the twisting roots that crisscrossed the trail until he found the pole and his walking stick.

      And then he picked up the snake and wrapped it around his neck.

      She gasped. “Wh—what are you doing?”

      “It’s meat, Zoe. It’s protein.” He found the severed head, tossed it into the trees.

      “Ugh.”

      He arched a brow, suggested hopefully, “Tastes like chicken.”

      “Ugh,” she said again. But she didn’t argue. “Can we go?”

      “After you.” He wobbled upright and moved aside, settling the dead reptile more comfortably around his neck. The damn thing had to be eight feet long.

      She slipped around him soundlessly, giving him as wide a berth as possible on the narrow trail, and headed back the way they’d come.

      He caught her arm when they reached the pool. “Don’t go in.”

      She turned and looked at him, a watchful look, and then carefully freed herself from his grip. “Because?”

      “There could be piranhas.”

      She made a scoffing sound. It reassured him, to see her confident, take-charge nature reasserting itself. “If there were, don’t you think we would know by now?”

      “They attack when there’s blood in the water.”

      The nearly full moon shone down on them now. He could see her pretty face clearly. The snake’s blood on her cheek looked black in the moonlight. “Ah.” And she nodded. “Okay.”

      So she set the fish aside and crouched on the rock to scoop water into her palms and scrub at her cheeks, her arms and neck. He washed, too, awkwardly, with only one good ankle to support his crouching weight, the other leg stretched out and aching a little, growing tired from all the activity that day.

      They rose without speaking. She took up the fish. He hung the snake around his neck again, grabbed his pole and his walking stick. They headed, once more, into the trees.

      The fish was good.

      The snake meat was better.

      They ate their fill. He felt stronger almost instantly, his body grateful for the much-needed protein.

      After the meal, she changed the bandage on his forehead. Then, with his bad leg propped and resting, he cut the rest of the snake meat into strips. Since they both agreed he should try and stay off his weak ankle, he had Zoe dig a pit close to the plane and then shovel in hot coals from the campfire. At his instruction, she got a canvas poncho from his suitcase and the spare campfire rack from the bottom of the box in the baggage area.

      She slanted him a look when she brought out the rack. “I can’t believe you thought to store these racks in there.”

      He shrugged. “If you cook over a campfire, you СКАЧАТЬ