by Rachel Lee
“Gus?” Her heart leaped with delight.
“A little comfort for us both,” he answered. “Not that it’s going to last long because the soles of my boots are starting to get too warm. You?”
“Yeah.” She gave a quiet little laugh. “At least I’m not cold now.”
“Always a good thing. Except those summers when we wished we were on an iceberg.”
“Yeah. Huge extremes.” Unable to resist, she snuggled a little closer and inhaled his scent. Wonderful. And the way her boots were getting warmer, she figured they’d both be safe. Another couple of minutes and they’d have to back away from the fire or completely change position.
But right now she wanted to revel in the rare experience of physical closeness with another human being. With a man. Since coming home she’d avoided it, feeling that she was too messed up to get involved without hurting someone.
Yeah, she was adapting pretty well, but if her paranoia of the past few days didn’t make it clear that she wasn’t completely recovered, nothing would.
And if she couldn’t trust her own mind and feelings, she wasn’t fit to be anyone’s companion.
Then she felt her feet. “Aw, damn,” she said, pulling away from his delicious embrace and sitting up. If the heat from the fire had penetrated the thick soles of her work boots, it would steadily get hotter for a while, and those soles wouldn’t cool down quickly. Been there, done that, she thought as she tugged at laces. Bad timing, though.
Gus half laughed and sat up, reaching for his own boots. “You’re right. I just wasn’t ready to let you go.”
The words warmed her heart the way the fire had warmed her boots. She tossed him a sideways smile, as she pulled her boots off and set them to one side. Stockinged feet were always comfortable in here unless the floor got really cold. That seldom happened so her feet were generally warm enough.
She realized she was growing thirsty. Beer with dinner had been great, but the soup had been salty as had the crackers. “Something to drink?” she asked.
“Sure.” He rose with her and they walked around to the kitchen. “This is sort of like a shotgun house,” he remarked.
“I think it was built piecemeal by adding at the back, but I’m not sure. At least I have the loft for a bedroom.”
“I bet it’s toasty on winter nights.”
“Oh, yeah.” She opened the refrigerator, revealing a couple of bottles of juice, a few more beers and soft drinks. “Or do you want coffee or tea?”
“I told you I never refuse coffee, but if it’s too late for you...”
It wasn’t. In fact, it wasn’t that late at all, she thought as she glanced at the digital clock on the wall. She turned on the espresso machine, then said, “Latte?”
“Perfect.”
Outside, the wind howled and rain beat on the windows, but inside all was warm and dry. Blaire was really glad not to be out there tonight.
Chapter Ten
Jeff had just about had it. After his reaming out over the satellite phone from Will, the person he most wanted to shoot was Will. Followed, probably, by himself.
But neither of those things was going to happen. Nope. Instead he sat there shivering under a survival blanket that, while it was keeping him dry, was too open to keep him warm. The storm had dropped the temperature fast, and at this higher altitude it never got exactly hot to begin with. His fingers, even inside gloves, felt so cold he wondered if he’d get frostbite. Being reduced to eating energy bars didn’t help much, either.
But he had to keep the blanket spread to protect his backpack full of essential items, like food and survival equipment, and even though it shouldn’t make any difference, he didn’t want to expose either his rifle or his pistol to the rain. They should still fire, but... What about the scope he might need? It wouldn’t help to have it full of water or steamed up when he found his opportunity.
If he ever found his opportunity.
Don’t leave a trail or evidence behind. The first rule, one they had repeated until his brain felt like it was being cudgeled. So maybe Blaire had recognized him. It didn’t mean she’d connect him to the murder.
But since he’d admitted to knowing her, other thoughts had danced unprompted through his head. Maybe she had recognized him. Maybe she would wonder why he never registered for a campsite or signed in as a hiker. What if, by chance, she put him together mentally with the murder, or simply mentioned it to the law because it started to nag at her.
The way he’d begun to be nagged by the moment of recognition.
Or what if they found a fingerprint on that damn shell casing. She’d recognize his name if they mentioned it to her. Oh, she’d probably be able to tell them more than the Army could after all these years. It hadn’t been for long, but they’d trained side by side for a few weeks. How much had he shared with her?
He couldn’t recall now. Too long ago, and he hadn’t placed any undue emphasis on avoiding chitchat about personal things like families and high schools and other friends. Hell, for all he knew he’d mentioned Will and Karl to her. What if she remembered that?
Oh man, maybe he should just risk his neck and slide down this sodden mountain through slippery dirt and duff, banging into rocks. And once he got there, he could burst into that damn cabin and take out two people before they could react. They wouldn’t be expecting him at all.
And he had been a pretty good marksman even before the Army and he’d kept it up with all the hunting trips and target practice.
He liked shooting. A target range was one of his favorite places to spend time.
Or it had been before he’d killed a man.
His alternatives had become so narrow since Will and Karl had told him to kill a man or be killed himself. He could go to the police, turn himself in.
Yeah. And if he pointed a finger at those two, which he increasingly wanted to do, they’d have each other for alibis. Friends? Friends? Really? He couldn’t think of them that way anymore. He’d told them he’d keep his mouth shut, but they’d threatened him anyway.
Psychopaths.
After the way Will had talked to him tonight, he was beginning to wonder if they wouldn’t kill him anyway even if he got rid of Blaire Afton.
He swore loudly. There was no one to hear, so why not? He needed to vent the horrible stew of overwhelming anger, hatred, fear and self-loathing he was now living in. Thanks to Will and Karl.
His friends. Lifelong friends. Why had he never before noticed they were missing something essential? That thing that made most people humane: compassion.
How could he have missed that they were basically ice inside and only pretended to be like everyone else?
Well, he’d missed it until just recently, and now he was paying for his blindness. Kinda astonishing that he could know someone for so long and not see the rot at their core.
Now there was rot at his, as well. When this was over, he swore to himself, he would never again speak to either of them. Never. He would banish them from his life and try to find some way to make up for the ugliness that had planted inside him.
But first he had to get through this, and if he was going to get through this, he needed to act soon or there’d never be any atonement.
He shook his head sharply, trying to get rid of the thought. Atonement? Later. Because right now he wasn’t sure there could ever be any, even if he spent the rest of his life trying.
He was a wimp. Will had called him that and he was right. If he weren’t such a wimp, he’d have put the gun to his own head.
But then, unbidden, came thoughts of his wife and soon-to-be-born child. He’d managed not to think of them once through this whole mess, managed to keep them separate and clean, and prevent their memories from making him feel any uglier than he already did.
Now they surged to the forefront, and one question froze even his shivering from the
cold. How in the hell could he ever touch Dinah again with these soiled hands?
* * *
IN THE CABIN, the lattes were almost drained from their tall cups. Gus had drawn Blaire close to his side and kept an arm around her while they sipped and watched the fire dance.
“We’ll go out again tomorrow,” he told her. “If there’s anything left to be found, we’ll find it.”
She wanted to believe him, but she knew she had to look, unlikely though it was. She wouldn’t rest unless she tried. That was how she was built.
“Promise you won’t hate me?” he said a few minutes later.
“I don’t think I could do that,” she said honestly. He’d been there every time she’d needed him for an emotional crisis in the last couple of years. Every time she’d needed him for anything.
“Oh,” he answered, “it’s always possible.”
She shook her head a little. “Why are you afraid I’d hate you?”
“Because I want to cross a line.”
She caught her breath as her heart slammed into a faster rhythm. “Gus?” she nearly whispered.
“I want to kiss you,” he said quietly but bluntly. “I’m going out of my mind wanting you. I realize you probably don’t feel the same but...”
“Hush,” she said, hardly able to keep her breath.
He hushed instantly and started to draw his arm away. That was not at all what she wanted. She twisted around until she was pressed into him and able to look straight at his face.
“Kiss me. Just do it. And don’t stop there.”
She watched his expression change radically. It went from a little intense to soft warmth. “Blaire, I wasn’t...”
“No, but I am. I know I’ve been trying to hide my attraction to you because I didn’t want to damage our friendship, but—” She stopped, all of a sudden afraid that she’d gone way too far, that he might want to get out of here without even that kiss he’d asked for.
Then he spoke, hardly more than a murmur. “I was worried about the same thing. What we have is already irreplaceable.”
She nodded, her mouth going dry, her throat threatening to close off and her heart hammering hard enough to leap out of her breast. She’d blown it, and she hadn’t been this frightened since her first exposure to hostile fire. “We can keep it,” she said hoarsely and hopefully. “We’re grown-ups.”
“I want a lot more than a kiss from you,” he said. “A lot. But if you change your mind...”
“I know how to say no. I’m not saying it.”
He started to smile, but before the expression completed, he clamped his mouth over hers in the most commanding, demanding kiss she’d ever felt. Her heart soared as his tongue slipped past her lips and began to plunder her mouth in a timeless rhythm.
Electric sparkles joined the mayhem he’d already set loose in her, filling her with heat and desire and a longing so strong it almost made her ache.
She’d waited forever, and now the wait was over. He was claiming her in the only way she’d ever wanted to be claimed.
She raised a hand, clutching at his shirt, hanging on to him for dear life. This felt so right, so good. So perfect. Never let it end. Then she felt his hand begin to caress her, first down her side, then slipping around front until he cradled her breast.
His touch was gentle, almost respectful, as he began to knead sensitive flesh through layers of sweater, shirt and bra. Those layers might as well have not been there. The thrill from his touch raced through her body all the way to her center until she had to clamp her thighs together. She felt her nipple harden, and when he drew back slightly from the kiss she had to gasp for air.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, releasing her breast just long enough to brush her hair back from her cheek. “Beautiful. I’ve had to fight to keep my hands off you.”
Music to her soul. When he released her she almost cried out, but he stood and drew her up with him. Then she looked down as he pushed the cardigan off her shoulders and reached for the buttons of her work shirt. She wished she were wearing lace and satin, fancy lingerie, instead of simple cotton, but the wish vanished swiftly as he pushed the shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
His gaze drank her in, noting her in a way that made her feel as if he truly never wanted to forget a single line of her. Then with a twist, he released the back clasp of her bra and it, too, drifted to the floor as she spilled free of her confinement.
“Perfect,” he muttered, bending his head to suck one of her nipples.
She gasped again as the electric charge ran through her and set off an ache at her center that could be answered only one way. Helplessly she grabbed his head, holding him close, never wanting the sensation to end.
She felt his fingers working the button of her jeans, then his hands pushing them down along with her undies. Then, taking his mouth from her breast, causing her to groan a protest, he urged her back onto the couch.
Her eyes, which had closed at some point she couldn’t remember, opened a bit to see him tug her pants off and toss them away. Then without a moment’s hesitation he began to strip himself, baring to her hungry gaze the hard lines of a male body at its peak of perfection.
“You’re gorgeous,” she croaked as he unwrapped himself.
“Not as gorgeous as you,” he said huskily.
Man, he was ready for her, and her insides quivered and clenched in recognition. All of him was big, and right now all of him was hard, too.
He reached for her hands and pulled her up until she was pressed against him, front to front, and his powerful arms wrapped around her. As he bent his head to drop kisses on her neck, she shivered with delight and with being naked against his heated nakedness.
There was no feeling in the world, she thought, like skin on skin, like having his hard, satiny member pressed against the flat of her belly, an incitement and a promise.
“Want to go up to the loft or make a pallet down here?” he asked her between kisses.
She sighed, hanging on to her mind with difficulty while he busily tried to strip her to basic instincts. “Climbing that ladder isn’t sexy.”
“Unless you’re the one climbing behind.”
Her sleepy eyes popped all the way open as she felt as if she were drowning in the gray pools of his. They wrapped around her like his arms, the color of the stormy sky outside, but bringing a storm of a very different kind. And with them came a sleepy smile.
Teasing her. At a time like this. She loved it as warmth continued to spread into her and turn into heat like lava. Her legs began to quiver, and all she wanted was to feel his weight atop her and his member hard inside her.
He must have felt her starting to slip, because suddenly his hands cupped her rump, such an exquisite and intimate experience, and lifted her. Then he put her carefully on the couch.
“Before one of us falls down,” he said thickly, “I’ll make that pallet.”
Damn, she hated that he’d let her go, but there was nothing she could do except press her legs together in anticipation, waiting for the moment he would satisfy the burgeoning ache inside her.
He grabbed the folded blankets she had given him the night before and spread them on the rug before the hearth, folding them in half for extra padding. The pillow soon joined it. Then before she could stir much at all, he once again lifted her and laid her down on the bed he’d made for the two of them.
Softness below, hardness above, heat from one side and a chill from the other. Sensations overwhelmed her, each seeming to join and augment the hunger he had awakened in her. “Gus...” she whispered, at once feeling weak and yet so strong. Her hands found his powerful shoulders, clinging. Her legs parted, inviting his possession.
Nobody in her life had ever made her feel this hot so swiftly. No one. It was as if he possessed a magic connection to all the nerve endings in her
body, so that his least touch made every single one of them tingle with awareness and need.
He kissed her mouth again, deeply but more gently. His hands wandered her shoulders, her neck, and then her breasts. After a few minutes of driving her nearly crazy with longing, his mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking strongly until she arched with each pull of his mouth, feeling devoured but hungrier still. Her hips bucked in response, finding her rhythm, and then, depriving her of breath, he entered her.
Filled, stretched and finding the answer she had so needed, she stilled for just a moment, needing to savor him, needing the moment to last forever.
He must have felt nearly the same, because he, too, stilled, then caught her face between his hands. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked into his eyes, feeling as if she could see all the way to his soul.
Never had any moment felt so exquisite.
* * *
HUNGER WASHED THROUGH Gus in powerful waves. He’d had good sex before, but this was beyond any previous experience. Something about Blaire had lit rockets in him, driving him in ways that stole his self-control.
Part of his mind wanted to make this flawless, to give her every possible sensation he could before completion. Most of him refused to listen. There’d be another time for slow exploration, gentle touches and caresses. Time to learn all that delighted her.
Right now he could not ignore the one goal his body drove toward. After those moments of stillness that had seemed to come from somewhere out among the stars, his body took over again, leaving his brain far behind.
A rocket to the moon. A journey beyond the solar system. A careening sense of falling into the center of the universe.
Everything that mattered was here and now. All of it. Blaire and he became the sole occupants in a special world beyond which nothing else existed.
He pumped into her, hearing her gasps, moans and cries, goaded by them and by the way her hips rose to meet his. Her nails dug into his shoulders, the pain so much a part of the pleasure that they were indistinguishable.