She smiled softly, grateful for him and all she was learning. He was the perfect teacher, never made her feel stupid, or acted like he was better, and she loved being with him. Angela heard his dog tag clink and felt her mouth go dry at the thought of his naked chest. His belt buckle was next, then a zipper, and a rustle of jeans that made her heart pound.
"Hit me, woman," he called cheerfully and Angela slowly began pouring warm water into the "shower" they'd made, thinking she hadn't heard any underwear. She sucked in a surprised breath when her body responded to that image. He was the only male she had ever been physically attracted to.
"Liar." She ignored the Witch.
"Soap, please."
That brought a new set of images, and she was careful not to touch his wet fingers as she handed the blue cake down.
"Washrag?"
She got it quickly, wishing he would hurry. When he finally called for a rinse, her mind was glad. Too many feelings and memories were coming to her, and it had to stop. A spark hadn't been enough then and it wouldn't be now, either.
"I'm done, so you can stop drooling."
Angela flushed, shaking her head in embarrassed denial.
Marc laughed, drying off. "Well, I thought it was funny. Come on down. Your turn."
Angela moved slowly, fear creeping into her veins at the thought of being defenseless with a man above her.
Marc sensed it as he stepped out, pulling on his shirt. Their eyes locked, spoke.
"I'm scared."
"You can trust me."
"Prove it."
Marc nodded. "Hang on." He pulled on his shoes and then dug out another blanket that he tossed over the opening, making her smile gratefully. "If it gets lighter, you'll know I'm peeking."
"Thank you."
His eyes darkened. "Anything for you, Angie. You know that."
Marc kept up a steady stream of chatter, from their travel plans to breakfast, and Angela hurried, her body tingling from her hands and thoughts.
By the time she finished, Marc pouring water through a very small hole, she had relaxed a lot more than either of them had thought she would. She trusted him. Marc had always been hers, and that hadn't changed.
5
A bit later, they settled closer to each other than usual, sharing a pot of hot chocolate by the fire. Angela was trying to comb out her hair, the length making it difficult. Darkened eyes watched her while he cleaned their weapons, never looking away as the flames danced over her golden black curls and pale, white skin.