Critique_This_WIP

Written by: Jill

His lips found the way back to her mouth and she opened for him as their tongues tangled in a dance as old as time. All doubts fled as Shane unzipped her jeans and when his hand reached her the heat of it drove her to the edge with a need unlike anything she’d ever known.

“Shane.” Her voice was hoarse and desperate. “Please…”

“Shhhhh…” Shane’s breath was hot in her ear. “Wait for me, honey.”

He pulled her shirt off, then tugged her jeans down and tossed them aside. When he moved to shed his clothes the cold air snuck beneath the blanket and she trembled. But soon the heat of his flesh warmed her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Pressing her lips against his, she let her tongue tell him exactly what she wanted. What Shane did after that told her the message was well received and he was only too willing to oblige.

Hours later, Erica spooned against him with muscles lax and heavy as if the skilled hand of a masseuse had kneeded the stress away. Shane’s wounded arm cradled her as he slept and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest loosened the nervous tension better than a hot bath and aroma therapy ever could. Rags plodded onto the blanket and sniffed out a spot and he scratched for a few minutes before he circled and settled at her feet.

The corners of Erica's mouth lifted in a weary smile and she drew a deep breath. Snuggling her butt closer to Shane she pushed away the doubts that tried to creep in and ruin the moment. Problems and questions and guilt could wait until morning. For now, all was right in her world.

The smell of smoke and meat awakened Erica and she opened her eyes to see Shane at the fire in a pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, holding the blanket to her chest.

“What the heck is that?” she asked.

Shane’s eyes touched hers for a moment and then shot back to the fire. “Rabbit. We got lucky with the trap last night.” He stirred the fire with a stick. “Coffee’s ready. You better get dressed so we can eat and get the hell out of here.”

So that’s how he’s going to play it. We’ll pretend last night never happened. With a shrug, Erica grabbed her bag and pulled out a change of clothes.

After she dressed she poured a cup of coffee and narrowed her eyes at him. “Where are we going?”

With a last turn of the spit, Shane took the cooked meat off the fire and pulled a Swiss army knife out of his front pocket. As he sliced, he said, “We’re about fifty miles from Salado. If we get a move on we’ll hit another highway in about two hours. Hopefully we’ll get cell phone reception so I can call for a ride. If not, we’re gonna to have to hitch.” His eyes met hers when he handed over the paper plate full of meat.

With a long, heavy sigh, Erica took the plate and sat down on the blanket. The futility of her situation came back in full force as she chewed and thought about all she had lost. The weight of it slumped her shoulders and she glared at Shane. “And what then, Shane? What the hell are we going to do?”