Under Pressure
Page 4

Must be the tropical air.
From beneath the wide brim of my sun hat, I steal a glance at him as we hike along the cliffs of Spookdraai Mountain, a trail that is supposed to be haunted with discontented souls who wander up and down the coastline. Cole looks my way, but I’m far too slow to react. His eyes turn a deeper shade of blue when he catches me staring, and his gaze drops to my parted lips. Feeling breathless beneath his intense stare, I suck in air, but can’t seem to refill my damn lungs.
“Doing okay?” he asks.
I nod as he checks in with me. “Yeah, I guess I need to hit the treadmill more often,” I say to cover the real reason I can’t seem to breathe. What the hell is going on between us?
“You’re perfect,” he says. I’ve heard him say that to me before, even before I lost the excess weight, but why does it suddenly sound more sexual, more suggestive?
Because you two were checking each other out, and he had a huge freaking hard-on.
Oh, right.
“This is just a tough climb for someone who’s not used to it.” He stops and looks over the cliff. I follow his gaze and the water is so clear that I can see numerous shipwrecked boats on the ocean floor. The scenery around us is magnificent, breathtaking really, but my eyes keep coming back to Cole.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
He shrugs off his backpack and adjusts his ball cap, shoving his bangs inside. “We’ve been traveling for over an hour now. Let’s take a break, get a drink, and have something to eat.” He gestures with a nod to the little ghost sign up ahead. “There’s a small cave over there where we can get out of the sun.”
“I’m not going into any cave,” I shoot back quickly.
His gaze darts to mine, a small grin playing on his mouth, making him look boyishly handsome. Except after yesterday, seeing him shirtless and feeling his arousal, I know there is nothing boyish about him. “Why not?”
I plant one hand on my hip and glare at the cave. “Some girl who survived a shipwreck and made it up to one of the caves where she died, haunts them, remember.”
“Come on. You don’t believe in all that, do you?”
I step closer to the cliff and point to the water. “Of course, I do. Look at all those sunken boats. There are a lot of lost souls up here. And you read the sign back there. It says hikers can hear her singing in the caves sometimes.”
His grin widens. “Don’t worry. I won’t—”
I cut him off. “I know. I know. You won’t let anything happen to me. You’re even going to protect me from becoming a crazy cat lady.” How he’s going to do that is beyond me.
I follow him and watch his broad muscles shift under his T-shirt. He steps into the cave, and I nearly crash into him when he comes to an abrupt halt. “Shh, hear that?” he asks.
“Oh my God, Cole.” I practically crawl up his back. “Is it singing? Tell me it’s not singing,” I say, my voice bordering on hysteria.
Cole laughs, and the sound echoes in the cave as he slides his hands around his back to hold me. “No, it’s not singing. It’s silence. We’re the only ones here, Reesey Piecey. Relax.”
“I hate you,” I say, then pinch his side for teasing me, although what I really want is to pinch his ass, thanks to the way it looks so cute in his shorts. “You scared me half to death.”
He flinches. “Hate you, too. Now come on, let’s get some food. I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.” I curl his shirt in my hands and follow him. I tug when he goes too deep. “Let’s stay close to the mouth of the cave, just in case.”
With light pouring in, I let him go, find a flat spot, and sit crossed leg on the cool ground, a nice reprieve from the heat outside. Cole moves in beside me and I ditch my hat. When he looks at me, I run my fingers through my hat hair and try to fix it. The man has seen me at my worst. Cripes, he’d even held my hair back the night I turned sixteen and thought it would be a good idea to drink a few shots of Patron. So I have no idea why I’m suddenly trying to make myself presentable.
Because you want his damn body.
Oh, right.
As that shocked realization settles in my passion-rattled brain, I open the backpack and pull out our sandwiches, compliments of our hotel. Cole takes a long pull from his water bottle and hands it to me. We’ve drunk from the same bottles since we were kids, swapped a ton load of spit, yet it never felt intimate before, like it does right now. I take a drink and recap it.
Cole repositions himself until his back is against the rock wall. “Come here,” he says, and I shuffle until I’m beside him, our thighs touching. Hyperaware of everything Cole—his breath, his body, his every movement—I bite into my sandwich and try to push the bread down my tight throat.
“We have the safari tomorrow,” I say as sexual tension fills the small cave.
“Yeah, I know.” Why does his voice sound so much deeper? Oh, probably because he must feel this sexual shift between us, too.
Cole’s hand lands on my bare thigh, his thumb sweeping back and forth, brushing my tingling skin. Does he even know he’s doing that? I’m not sure he does, but the hungry spot between my legs is well aware what his innocent touch is doing to my body. Odd really, considering he’s caressed me like this numerous times before—a friendly, caring touch—and it never melted my bones the way it does now.
“Why do you think my friends keep putting me in dangerous situations?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “They all know you’re a chickenshit, so I’m not really sure.”
“I’m not a chickenshit,” I counter, and whack his stomach.
Big mistake.
He grabs my hand and holds it to his body. Unable to help myself, I rub the back of my knuckles over his six-pack. God, he is so hard and yummy. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from moaning. A growl rumbles in Cole’s throat, and I steal a quick glance at him in time to catch the tortured look crossing his face.
Holy hell!
I shake my head, hardly able to believe Cole Rayburn, my best friend, is groaning as I touch him. What the ever-loving fuck is going on between us? A flapping noise comes from somewhere deep in the cave, and my heart leaps.
“Cole,” I say, and practically scurry into his lap. “What was that?”
“Probably just a bird,” he mumbles. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”