Page 52 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
“You know why,” he whispered back.
I did. We had gotten too close. The intimacy of sleeping together was far too tempting. Had he not put that distance between us, we would have wound up doing much more than cuddling.
Yet here we were again, curled into one another. Though we both knew separation was for the best, neither one of us could resist the pull. My body fit into Beau’s side like a missing puzzle piece. He filled my heart like his waterfall filled its pool—until it was overflowing.
“Will you promise me something, Beau?”
“Sure.”
“Before I leave, will you kiss me? Just once?”
“Sabrina, we—”
“I know,” I interrupted him. “Two different worlds, I remember. One day I’ll go back to my life and you’ll be here with yours. But I’ll always wonder what it would have been like.”
He lifted his cheek from my head and reached for my chin, tipping it back. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“It isn’t?”
“We would never stop at just a kiss.”
I smiled. “Would that be so bad?”
“Woman, it would be fucking incredible.”
My smile got wider. I had no doubt that he was right. A rush of heat went straight to my core and the intensity between my legs skyrocketed so quickly I wondered if Beau could feel my throbbing through the floorboards.
“But . . .” No! He lifted his hand up and lightly stroked my cheek. “You’re not ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“For me.”
What did that mean? I was more than ready for Beau and had been for months. Was it my appearance? I normally did myself up a bit more if I knew I was going to have sex and tonight I definitely wasn’t looking my best.
My hair was in a messy knot on top of my head. My roots were showing and I needed some highlights and a trim like no one’s business. My nails hadn’t gone this long without a manicure since high school. But beauty-regimen issues aside, I was still a pretty woman that was practically lying on his lap and definitely willing to have sex.
What was he waiting for? My pride wouldn’t let me ask.
I stayed quiet, hoping he would explain further, but after a few brutal minutes, I realized that I’d just been rejected. Again.
It was time to regain our usual distance.
“It’s probably for the best,” I said. “We’ve both been drinking and it’s been an emotional day.” I patted Beau’s flat stomach and peeled myself away from his side. “We’d better call it a night.”
“Hey—” Beau started.
“It’s fine. I’m just tired,” I lied.
Before he could stop me, I hustled into the bathroom and closed the door. The cold water I splashed on my face did little to relieve the hot flush of embarrassment.
After finishing my nightly routine, I came back out to the main room, relieved that Beau had kept our beds separate. He was on the floor. I was on my cot. Without delay, I got into my bed.
“Sabrina—”
“Good night, Beau,” I said, turning my back to him and facing the wall. The talking portion of our evening was over.
Beau sighed. “Night, Shortcake.”
