Uncharted

by Adriana Anders

  Please God, let Jack the pilot have done his job. Please, God, please. If he’d done it right, then her people would be armed and ready for Amka’s arrival. She’d distract the guards and they’d have their chance at an uprising. Away from the window, she’d told Surfer Jack, like twelve times. Dear God, please let them be away from the window.

  Whoo, she felt good now, alive and awake and over-the-top excited—like electricity ran through her veins.

  The urge to duck and wrap her arms around her head grew stronger the closer she got. A hundred feet, fifty… She forced her gloved hands to stay on that wheel, kept her eyes on the lodge’s big, well-lit bay window, not daring to blink or look away. At maybe thirty feet she saw movement inside, heard what might have been a shot.

  Was that one of them? Shit. Shit! She ducked just as the guy standing inside lifted his rifle and shot at her. Instead of braking, as she’d planned—cause Lord knew, Daisy really would kill her if she destroyed the whole damn lodge—she shoved her foot back on the accelerator and went for him, hell-for-leather.

  The crash was deafening—glass shattering, wood splintering, people screaming.

  Shaken, but conscious, Amka came to a breathless stop, then sat there for a good ten seconds before she remembered to slide the gearshift into park, trembling so hard she couldn’t hit the seatbelt button on the first couple of tries.

  By the time she’d gotten it off and laid her hands on her rifle, the place had settled a bit. She lifted the weapon and pointed at the first thing that moved, though she couldn’t see a damn thing. “Take a step and you’re bear meat.”

  “It’s me—Daisy.”

  Amka squinted, unsure. Were they being coerced? Daisy sounded weird. “Must’ve got glass in my eyes. Can’t see a god—”

  Someone grabbed the helmet and pulled it off her head, giving her back the gifts of sight and sound and oxygen.

  She squinted at the people around her—Daisy and Ben, Cane and the rest of the crew. None of the asshole bad guys were visible. “Shit. I could have sworn it was one of those pricks aiming at me. Did you already subdue ’em?” Her heart dropped into her stomach. “Don’t tell me that was you I just tried to run over, Daisy?”

  “No, honey. No, you got the last one.” Daisy wrapped one strong arm around Amka’s shoulder and hugged her tight.

  “Damn, lady.” Jack’s grin was wide and white and bloodthirsty as hell. “That was one hell of a stunt.”

  “You get through to Leo’s friends?” Amka peered at him through the dust. “Don’t know if Marion and the kids have had any luck.”

  “No, ma’am.” He lifted a sat phone. “Workin’ on it.”

  With an impatient sound, Daisy put one hand on Amka’s cheek and nudged her face in her direction. “You did it all, honey. And just in time.”

  “Good.” Amka kissed Daisy long and hard, finally admitting how scared she’d been, then stepped back to take in the wreckage. “Guess we better start cleaning this shit up.”

  Chapter 34

  The blood rushing through Leo’s veins should have been slow and sleepy from the heat of the water, but instead, it raced through her, burning a hot path from her heart to her limbs and back.

  The second Elias pulled her onto him, they kissed, and it was nothing like the kisses they’d shared thus far. There was no exploration, no seeking, nothing sweet or new. It was all need and crushing hunger, gnashing teeth and battling tongues. Before she knew it, she was writhing on his lap, desperate for him, starving for this fire they’d lit together.

  His big hands—so capable, so steady and strong—were now demanding and rough. There was nothing steady about the way he handled her, like he couldn’t get enough, like he didn’t just want her, he needed her.

  “Elias,” she said into his mouth, her body moving, out of control. She couldn’t stay still, couldn’t get her muscles to do what she wanted. These urges were as uncontrollable as hunger, as unconscious as breathing. He made her feel fevered. She let out a little scream and he ate it right from her mouth, consumed it the way she pictured him consuming the rest of her. And she itched, my God, why was she burning like this—not from the hot springs, but from a desire to get inside this man. To do things, to be done by him.

  “Hell yes. Yeah, do that again.”

  She blinked, tried to look at him, though it was too hard to see and she had no idea what she’d just done. All she knew was that her breasts needed contact, her nipples needed his hands, his cock, his mouth. She was burning with it, not just hungry, but different…rearranged by him, by their raging connection. Like she’d changed for him, somehow, created a space for him. And now he needed to fill it.

  This isn’t okay, a little voice of reason intoned. She didn’t change for a man, she’d never make a space in her life for someone else. That wasn’t who she was at all.

  He bit her neck, pulled her away from her nagging fear, her worry that if she let him in, she’d never be enough on her own.

  “Hey.”

  She dove in, bit his lip, worked her hips in a tight circle.

  “Hey, Leo. Leo.”

  His hands moved from her waist, grabbed her wrists, and held her still. Or at least tried to. She wasn’t having any of this thinking business, not letting the doubts wiggle in and poison what was just a moment of enjoyment. Pure pleasure, no emotions, nothing that could hurt her.

  She wouldn’t let him inside her that way. Would never put her heart on the line.

  “Leo, sweetheart. Leo.” He let her wrists go and cradled her face with such sweetness, such care, she knew what a liar she was. She was already lost. “Leo, sweetheart, you’re crying.”

  She nodded, tried to smile, and gave up on that, like she’d just given up on guarding her heart and soul and body from this man. It was probably too fast and too urgent and too early for love, but it was there. As undeniable as the solid body beneath hers, the rock supporting them both.

  Rather than use words she could never take back, she leaned in and told him how she felt with her lips and her eyes and the tears streaming down her face.

  By the time she realized what she’d done, it was too late to take back the kiss and the message behind it. With a sigh, she kissed him harder, gave him more, and committed herself without an ounce of regret.

  ***

  “Sweetheart. Leo. God, Leo, let me get a condom. Don’t…” She lifted up, suspended above his cock, and for a few seconds, he was so ready to do it like this and all the consequences be damned.

  Hell, who knows? his reckless side chimed in. We could die tomorrow, right?

  “I’ll get it.” She stretched, giving him the perfect opportunity to explore her shoulder, her side, her shoulder blade—all the hidden secrets—and yanked at the pouch he’d left by the side of the pool. Hopeful, assuming too much maybe. Whatever. Right now, all he could do was thank God he’d saved these last few condoms after his brief foray into town last year.

  “I love how prepared you are,” she said as she ripped open the package.

  “Always buy a pack in town.” He shrugged. “Actually forgot that was in my bag, but I’d rather be prepared than left in the cold, you know?”

  Biting her lip, she put the condom on the tip of his cock and looked up at him. “You have any idea how sexy that is? A man who’s ready for anything?”

  “Uh…” He shook his head and stared down at her hands working the rubber over his stiff dick. “Hm?”

  “It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” She ran one hand down his shaft, then the other, squeezing him tightly. “Wow, Elias.”

  With a last look and a shaky breath, she met his gaze again, head-on. “Ready?”

  “I’m…very excited right now.” He laughed and blew out a hard breath. “Never been readier.”

  “Same, Elias.”

  “You want this.”

  “Oh yes
. I want this. I want you.”

  Everything inside him went warm and liquid.

  All he could do was hold her, eyes focused on the top of her head and the soaked, fresh bandage he’d applied, her square shoulders, her smooth arms, those lush hips, straddling him, lined with light, shiny stretch marks that were absolutely perfect, like every other part of her. Flesh and blood, muscle and bone, strong though too vulnerable for his taste. If she were his, he’d encase her in armor, Kevlar, steel, and cushion her with cotton, or silk or whatever was the softest thing in the world.

  They breathed for a bit in unison, now that the initial frenzy had died down, and he could’ve sworn he felt the beating of her heart.

  Strong and steady and sure. And the longer he looked at her arms, the more details came out—like the pores and tiny hairs. The power in those thighs, the resilience of a woman who’d almost died more than once these last few days. A couple of scars here and there, in varying shades of silver and brown and tan. He wanted the story behind every scar, wanted to know her—from that little girl who’d wanted more airplanes to the woman she’d become, he wanted to know every little piece of her.

  He focused on the bandage on her head again—thought of the scar that would one day be another mark to add to her story. It was healing so fast, she almost didn’t need it wrapped anymore.

  She almost didn’t need him.

  “Now who’s in his head?” That thin, tensile hand gripped his beard and pulled up—not hard, but enough to sting, to bring him back. “Who’s thinking instead of enjoying this moment? Hm?”

  “It’s hard, Leo.”

  “No.” She sniffled and gave him a smile. “You are hard. And you’ve got a condom on. And I really, really want to know how you’ll feel inside me.” She arched up, her breasts taunting his chest, her mouth close enough to kiss, though she didn’t. Breathless, he waited. “Can I come on your cock, Elias?”

  More blood rushed south, making his erection almost too hard, too hot to touch. “Probably not if you keep talking like that.”

  She smiled and kissed him, took her soft heat away long enough to fist his erection, and pressed him to that place where he so desperately needed to be.

  He watched, transfixed, as the tip disappeared. And then she stopped.

  His gaze rose to meet hers.

  “I’m sorry.” She sniffled.

  “What?” Shit, she was crying again. “Oh, sweetheart.” His chest tightened and he tried to back away, to give her space. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.”

  “No. No.” Slowly, so slowly, she sank another inch, taking him inside her body. “I’m just scared of…how I feel, Elias. Why do I feel like this with you?”

  How? How did she feel?

  His body wanted to thrust and his brain wanted to comfort, but somehow he held himself perfectly still, listening and watching and waiting for what came next.

  “I want you to feel…” He grunted when she backed up and worked her way down him again. “Good. Leo, I want to make you feel good.”

  This was heaven. Her lush heat, the slow give and take of her body—their bodies together. He just wished he knew how to wipe that tragic expression from her face.

  “Me, too, but I…” She swallowed and leaned into his chest. Was she hiding? “Never mind.” She arched her back again, turned to the side, her face tight, and took him in so deep and fast, he had to shut his eyes so he wouldn’t explode right there.

  Which would be a terrible idea given…everything. And there was a lot here. A lot going on—some that he got, some that he didn’t. He’d never been the most astute when it came to women.

  He put his hands on her waist, moved them down to her hips and squeezed, getting enough purchase to lift her slowly before she slid back down on her own. They built something, one unhurried thrust at a time, each leisurely penetration kindling their passion, their connection.

  And while their bodies worked seamlessly together, he recognized that he hadn’t imagined what was happening under the surface. He felt rearranged by this woman. His insides would never be the same again.

  Another languid up, a slow, sweet down. Another and another, the water lapping at them, the sky pouring down. Together, they were fire and water and earth and air. Together, they were everything.

  She gave him more, pressed harder; he went faster, groaned with every slick slide of her, every tight embrace, every glance from those big, intense eyes.

  And then he couldn’t keep the words in anymore. “You’re mine, Leo.” She tightened around him. “Mine.” He lifted a hand to weigh her soft breast, to flick her nipple, then up to caress those voluptuous lips. “I can’t…”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Let you go. I can’t.”

  Her movements stuttered, the rhythm fell apart, and she released a wounded little noise, ending on a rough, “Kiss me.”

  He leaned forward and gave her what she wanted, though he couldn’t stop at that. He stood and turned so she could put her feet on the edge, and he took her, hard and fast.

  “I’m coming.”

  “Yeah.” She wrapped herself around him, put her cheek to the top of his head and let out a low, constant groan. It sounded almost like pain. And maybe it was. Tearing them apart after this would be like ripping off a bandage. Worse: like losing a piece of himself. “Me too.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Just this. Just you, Elias.”

  It was coming. He was coming. Hard. Harder maybe than he’d ever come in his life. And now, past the point of no return, he couldn’t have held it back if someone came over the hill shooting.

  How could he, when she was moaning his name like she loved him?

  ***

  It took a while to come down. Once she’d caught her breath and disentangled herself from his body, Leo moved to get out of the water, bracing herself for the tight-bellied regret that almost always came after sex.

  Only it didn’t this time. Not when he joined her in the cold, wet rain, wrapped her in a blanket, and picked her up. Not when she giggled all the way to the old cabin, let him dry her and dried him in return, before snuggling into the bed they’d set up earlier. Not when he made his slow way down from her mouth, over her body, giving every pore, every hair the kind of attention it had never received, winding up between her legs, where he made slow, sweet love with his mouth.

  And tongue.

  And teeth and nose and beard.

  Good Lord, he was good at this.

  She didn’t scream when she orgasmed—they’d been quietly cautious even in their wildest moments—but she felt it in the deep, dark reaches of her core.

  In the aftermath, she looked down at his silhouette in the dark and knew that this was it.

  They’d probably have nothing in common outside this place, probably wouldn’t even get along, but she didn’t care.

  Getting along was overrated after all.

  He moved slowly back up, kissed her taste into her mouth, and flopped to his side with a happy groan.

  “My turn.” She started to move, but he stopped her with his hand on her shoulder.

  “No…I…” He snorted, giving her a sheepish smile. “I want to see your face. The first time we…you…go down there.”

  Oh boy. Something twisted in her chest. “Okay.”

  “I want to be inside you again.” Another smile. “But we’ve got to eat first.”

  “Keep up our strength.” Their shared smile tapered off.

  “You want this, Leo? What we’re doing? You like it?”

  A funny sound escaped her. “Like it?” She started to shake her head and stopped when it occurred to her that it might send the wrong signals. “‘Like’ is too weak a word for this. Whatever it is.”

  He didn’t move. Not an eyelash stirred, not a muscle twitched, but something chang
ed in the way he watched her. “What do you think it is, Leo?”

  “Do I think this would have happened in the outside world? Is that what you’re asking?”

  “Maybe.”

  The question fluttered in her throat. If she stood up now, her knees might not hold her. “This is where it happened. Where this”—she flapped her hand between them—“was made.”

  He blinked, narrowed his eyes and waited.

  “My parents used to tell the story of how they fell in love. People went wild. So romantic, they’d say. Now that I think about it, though, it wasn’t really their story. It was my dad’s.”

  Elias’s brows rose, but he didn’t otherwise move.

  “Saw her in London. 1975. Starring in Aida.” She huffed out a little breath and threw him a smiling glance. “Mama was known for her charisma.”

  “Bet she could sing, too.”

  She laughed. “That’s putting it mildly. Growing up, there were a ton of framed reviews on the music room wall. They called her the Ethiopian Queen.”

  “That where she was from?”

  She nodded. “In one of them, the critic said that she had the voice that launched a thousand ships.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Yeah. The story goes that Dad fell in love with her the second she opened her mouth. By intermission, he was fried. Had the conductor—a colleague—introduce them after the show. Two days later, they were planning her move to the U.S.”

  “That’s…fast.”

  “Right? Mama said she’d never met someone who got her like Dad did. Who knew her inside out. So, maybe it’s…” She huffed out a strangled sound, so out of her element here, with this opening up her soul thing. At the same time, she felt compelled to tell him. “My point is…who’s to say how these things are supposed to happen? Is this less legitimate than if we’d met in a bar or in some college class?”

  “No.” The word dropped into the quiet room between them, solid as the rock floor they stood on.

  “I doubted their love for a long time, you know? Doubted everything pretty much, after she died.” Unconsciously, Leo’s eyes rose to the dark ceiling. “After she killed herself.” The tears were back, only this time, they weren’t the clean, flowing kind. These were sharp, stagnant things that had sat too long inside her.