He quickly caught up with me and held the lantern ahead of us. We didn’t say a word on the short hike to our hut. We didn’t even glance each other’s direction. I walked right to my side and went inside, turning to say goodnight but he’d already gone into his side, leaving me disappointed and just a teeny bit pissed.
I lit the small candle on my washstand and dressed in yoga pants with a long-sleeve fitted tee. I draped my wet towel at the foot of my bed and tossed my robe on its hook. I kept my flip-flops on because it was Uganda and you never took your shoes off ever. I’d just finished brushing my teeth and hair when I heard a faint knock on my door.
My heart leapt into my throat. “Yes?” I barely choked out.
“It’s me,” Ian said quietly. “Can I come in?”
I glanced around my room a little bit frantic. I backed up a bit and stood beside my bed. “Come in.”
Ian tore through the door, the rush of wind snuffing out the candle, and stood looming over me in my small side of the hut. The door swung behind him and shut with a crack, startling me.
And just like that, Ian Aberdeen rushed me.
He grabbed my face and neck with his rough hands and brought me to him, practically lifting me to his lips. He devoured my mouth with his and I moaned into his mouth, spurring him on. His tongue found mine and it was warm and tasted of cinnamon.
A rush of adrenaline spiked through my body and pooled in my belly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he brought me closer to him, threading his fingers through my hair, rooting his fists at the back of my head, pulling lightly as if it was taking all his control not to throw me down on the bed. This made my eyes roll into the back of my head and I tightened my already closed lids.
He tore his lips from mine and we stood panting, the stars barely shining through the cracks in the door but enough to light up his face. I recognized his painfully strained expression. He didn’t know if what he’d done was okay with me, and I found myself so attracted to him for being so considerate. To reassure him, I ran my hands across his forehead to smooth out the lines.
“Ian,” I whispered before he attacked me again, hushing me on the “n.”
I gripped his shoulders as he harshly kissed my lips then followed my jaw line down my neck, making my head fell back. “Sophie,” he sighed between each kiss, making my toes tingle. His mouth found mine again and I kissed him back hard, breathing him in as best I could. My hands found his hair and I pushed them through the length until they met his neck then climbed back up, entangling my fingers in the damp mass. It felt like I couldn’t get close enough to him. I wrapped one leg around his calf and he groaned into my tongue, vibrating the back of my throat. I shivered.
“Oh, God,” I breathed into his mouth.
He smiled against my teeth and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever felt. “You taste like cherries,” he told me. His voice shivered against my skin, making me smile back.
He rested his forehead against mine. “You taste like cinnamon,” I countered.
He pulled himself away and immediately I hated it. “Goodnight, Sophie Price.”
He backed away from me slowly, never breaking his stare or his smile. He opened the door and let it fall shut again. “Sleep well,” I heard through the cracks.
I brought my fingers to my smiling lips and ran them across the swollen skin. “You too,” I answered so softly I barely heard it myself.
I’d been kissed before, many times, but never like that.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I woke up in the middle of the night and felt like I’d fallen asleep next to a blasting heater. In a sleep-induced haze, I figured it was just the warming temperatures outside. As strange as it seemed for Uganda’s summer to be during America’s winter, I was expecting it but I realized with a start that the unusual warmth was just a bit too hot.
I lazily opened my eyes and they were met with a dull pair of brown ones. I shot up.
“Mandisa!” She wasn’t responding to me and my heart leapt in my throat. “Mandisa, baby.” I pushed her growing hair out of her eyes and tried to get her to look at me, but it did no good. I jumped to my feet and pushed my door open. It was still dark out. “Ian!” I yelled, panicked.
Immediately, a disheveled Ian appeared next to me. “What’s happened?” he asked.
Tears began to spill. “It’s Mandisa,” I explained, pointing to my bed.
He ran to her side and felt her head and neck. “She’s burning up.”
“The kitchen!” I said, thinking of the nearest running water source.
Ian scooped tiny Mandisa in his arms and he practically swallowed her small frame.
We ran around the baobab tree to the kitchen and I started running the cool water, plugging the drain. The stainless steel tub was large enough to submerge her.
I tossed a bunch of kitchen towels in the sink to cushion her and Ian rested her in the water. The cool water was shocking enough she should have protested but not a peep came from her tiny lips and I found myself taking my panic to the next level.