“Mais yeah, chèr, it’s okay,” she whispered.
His breath left him as he sank into the kiss she offered so beautifully, so perfectly.
She took his mouth, slipped her arms around him, and held him.
Home.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to imprint the sensation of completeness on his soul, to recall whenever he needed it. The hollow ache in his chest began to ease as she deepened the kiss.
He shifted her body so her hips aligned with his. The sweet pressure made him groan as his body hardened against her softness.
“Erin, ange,” he said against her mouth.
She answered him with a whimper of need that unraveled what was left of his restraint.
“I need you too, Teague.” She pressed kisses along his jaw.
“Oh God, Erin.” He pulled her up against him. “Wrap your legs around me.”
She pressed her knees to his waist and he slowly slid them down until he was seated at the base of the tree with her in his lap, her legs around him.
He gripped her head in one hand and took her mouth again. And again.
“I want to touch you, taste you,” she said.
He groaned. “You will kill me.”
She lifted her head and smiled at him, pure joy on her face, fierce desire in her eyes. He felt his heart swell and the bleak spot inside him shattered into a million pieces.
“Then it will be a sweet death, mon Cajin.” She reached down and tugged his shirt loose. He started to help her. “Let me,” she commanded. “I’ll let you return the favor. Not that there’s anything surprising under there,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh.
He lowered his head and pressed a kiss against the beat of her heart, then looked at her. “It’s what’s under here I want.”
Her eyes glistened with sudden tears. “Oh, chèr,” she whispered. “I think that’s been yours for a while now.”
“Erin … I …” Teague paused, his own heart thundering at what she’d just admitted. He wanted to laugh, to shout. Had he ever felt this … good? Yes, that’s how she made him feel. As if he were good. Worthy.
He kissed her, laughing and groaning at the same time, when she slid her hands under his shirt and ran them up his back.
“If there’s a law against feeling this incredible, I don’t want to know about it,” she said.
He leaned her back, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Paybacks are hell.” He slid his hand under the T-shirt she wore.
She sighed. “Feels more like heaven to me.”
Her response to him was so perfect. So honest. And just like that, his control snapped.
He growled and yanked his shirt over his head with one hand. He shook it out behind her, then reached for her shirt. She beat him to it.
“Oh, yes.” She sighed.
She flipped her shirt behind her, and then he was on top of her, heartbeat to heartbeat. Her knees were pressed to his hips, her own hips arched beneath his.
He nuzzled her neck. “Erin, I want to taste you, I want to—need to—” He broke off with a harsh chuckle. “Mon dieu, I just need.”
She captured his head in her hands, kissed him. “Then take. I promise I’ll cry uncle when I can’t stand it anymore.”
“You are amazing. I—” He stopped just as the rest of the sentence rushed to the tip of his tongue. I love you. The truth of it rocked him hard. How natural it felt to say it. How badly he wanted to tell her. And often.
He was stunned by the ferocity of the need to claim. To possess. To be possessed. It was primal, driving, overwhelming. And he couldn’t imagine never feeling this way again. He wanted it now, he wanted it forever.
But she groaned then and arched beneath him. He took the offered pleasure of her hardened nipples and lost himself in her, telling her with his body, his mouth, his hands.
She pushed at his jeans. He made short work of her shorts.
His face was buried in her neck when a shred of sanity crept back into his mind. Panting hard, he managed to say, “God, what am I doing?”
“Making love to me I hope,” she answered, just as breathless.
“It shouldn’t be here, Erin. It should be—”
“Exactly where we are when it happens.” She nudged his cheek and he looked at her. “I want you, Teague. Where isn’t important. You are.” Her eyes clouded suddenly. “Oh. Wait a minute. Is it because—” she glanced at the charred house, “because we’re here?”
Teague didn’t look away. “It’s because you should be on a soft bed. Not on the ground in the swamps.”
She giggled.
“What?”
“I’ve spent most of my life in conditions like this or worse. Far worse.” She giggled again. “I finally find a man I want more than I want to breathe, a man as at home in the wild as I am … and he wants a bed.”
Teague smiled, no longer caring about where the hell they were, but unable to ignore what she’d revealed. “More than you want to breathe, ange?”
“Mais yeah, chèr.” She grinned. “Big time mais yeah.”
This time he laughed. But they both moaned when he kissed her and slid between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he slid an arm beneath her hips.
Just as he pressed against her, she reached up and traced a bead of perspiration from his chest.
“There is one thing we could try next time.”
He paused and looked at her, then they both grinned. “Air-conditioning,” they said at the same time.
“I’ll teach you how to like it hot, chèr,” he said, then slid into her with one deep thrust.
She arched high beneath him. “Oh, yes,” she groaned. “I think there’s a lot you could teach me.”
Teague felt as if he’d died and gone to heaven. It was the first time he could even understand the concept of heaven. Being inside her was beyond mortal pleasure.
Their bodies established a rhythm beyond his control. He relinquished it willingly. Never before had he just let go. He emptied his mind and abandoned himself body and soul into what he was feeling.
He felt her body grip his, her hands on his skin. He locked his gaze on her eyes as he pulled back on his heels and reached down between them, touching her just above where they were joined. Watching her come apart under his touch dissolved what sanity he possessed.
He bent over her again as she shuddered around him, wild with need, so intent on her and her pleasure he slowed his own body, gritting down hard, pulling back from the edge.
She yanked him back hard. Gripping his hips, she pulled him forward. “More, Teague,” she rasped. “For both of us.”
He bent over her, completely undone, driving into her, exulting every time she raised up to meet him. He reached the peak, not too sure he’d survive it when he went over the edge. “I don’t want to breathe either. Kiss me, Erin. Take my breath away.”
She swallowed his moans as he came hard and fast inside her.
Erin held him close, loving the weight of his body pressing hers down. Her body continued to clutch in tiny spasms of pleasure. She was so replete she felt as if she could sleep for days. And at the same time she was so wired she couldn’t organize her thoughts.
“Why did you come back?” she asked.
He pressed a long slow kiss on the curve of skin between her neck and shoulder, making her hips roll languidly beneath him.
He groaned. “If you want air-conditioning next time you’d better stop that.”
“You started it.” She wanted to shout at how good it felt to be in his arms.
He rolled to his side and pulled her around him, tucking their shirts under her hip and shoulder, letting her use his arm as a pillow.
She looked up at him, pushing his hair back.
He dropped a kiss on her lips. Then another one. And another. She moaned and pushed lightly at his chest. “Now who’s not stopping?”
He pressed his face into her hair. “What did you ask me, ange? I’m sorry I was preoccupied.” He nuzz
led her.
She arched her neck for him. “Never mind.”
He lifted his head. “No, what did you want to know?”
“It’s okay, my mind was just spinning and—”
“Just ask me, Erin.”
She realized she really did want to know the answer. He was still too much an enigma to her. There was more to him than black sheep pool-hall owner, she’d bet on it. But what that something was she had no idea. Or maybe she did and just hadn’t wanted to face it. Until now.
“Why did you come back to Bruneaux? The bayou. After all those years.” As soon as the question was out she wondered if she’d just ruined the most perfect moment of her life. But he didn’t retreat or shut her out.
That gift alone made her feel so good she didn’t care if he answered her or not.
“I didn’t plan to.”
“I can imagine,” she said softly. “Marshall said you left the day you came of age and never looked back.”
“Oh, I looked.” He broke their gaze for a moment. “I just hated what I saw.” He turned back to her. “It was easier to go on than try to fix what was wrong. If I didn’t have to deal with it, it didn’t exist.”
“Ah yes, I’m familiar with that myth.”
He traced a finger along her cheekbone. She loved the way he was always touching her, as if he couldn’t help it. It gave her permission to do the same.
“Tell me,” he said.
“My mother died when I was five. My memories of her are vague, but pleasant. Mac took me with him from that point on. I had lived on four continents by the time I was seven. I had played with children from tribes no one even knew existed. Had helped skin and clean any number of animals and fish in both frigid cold and stifling hot conditions before I was nine. I’d spent nights alone in the outback by the time I was thirteen.” She smiled dryly. “To say I was a self-sufficient teen is putting it rather mildly.”
Teague marveled at how protective he felt. At the same time he was filled with pride over that very trait she felt so self-conscious of.
“Intimidating were you?”
“The men I wanted to date were put off by me. The ones that asked me out were usually other scientists too distracted by our research to notice that I …” The blush that crept into her cheeks charmed Teague to no end.
“Why, Doctor, are you saying you wanted to be desired for your body and not your mind?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
He rolled her to her back. “Then consider yourself desired.”
“A sex object at last,” she sighed dramatically, laughing even as he kissed her.
He lifted his mouth and looked down at her. “Is it okay if I desire both?”
Eyes shining, she nodded. “Very much so. Of course, you I just want for your body.”
He turned over and pulled her with him. “It’s all yours, chèr.”
She was so comfortable in her nudity, so naturally sexy to him, that Teague began to harden again. He propped his head on his folded arms and just reveled in the joy of staring at her.
“You know we’re lying on the ground in the swamp with any number of weird insects and other crawling things,” she said, obviously not the least bit concerned.
“I figure since you’re a scientist, I’m in the hands of a trained professional. If you’re not worried, I’m safe.”
Erin smiled. “And what are your hands trained to do besides shoot pool?”
Caught badly off guard, Teague tried hard not to let the reality check show.
Her smile faded. Damn.
“What is it?”
That he could no longer hide from her should have bothered him more than it did. The only thing that bothered him was not being able to tell her the whole story. He wanted it all out on the table now, wanted to deal with her reaction now, before he got in any deeper.
But his personal needs and wants couldn’t come before those of his team and superiors. Too much was at stake. Pillow talk was out.
But this wasn’t standard postcoital conversation. At least it wasn’t to him. This was his life.
“It might be easier to answer your other question,” he said finally.
Her brows furrowed, then she said, “Oh, about why you decided to come back to Bruneaux.” She balanced her chin on her hands. “It couldn’t have been an easy decision.”
He shoved his jeans under his head as a makeshift pillow and looped his arms across her back, letting his fingertips draw idle patterns on the smooth skin along her spine.
“No.” He chose his words carefully, and hated that he had to. “Probably the toughest one I’d made in a long while.”
“So why did you? Belisaire?”
His attention sharpened, but the question seemed innocent enough. “Yes. I kept track of her over the years. I’d heard there was some tension brewing down here. And I knew she would be stubborn enough to ignore it, or think she could handle it. I came back to see for myself, talk to her. We have a pretty turbulent past, but if not for her, I’d be in prison or dead right now. I couldn’t just walk away from that.”
Erin tilted her head and pressed a kiss in the center of his chest, then smiled at him.
Just like I don’t think I’ll be able to walk away from you when this is all over.
His throat was tight to the point of choking on words he couldn’t say.
“So how did the Eight Ball come into play? Is that what you did when you left here?”
“I played pool a lot. I was pretty good at it. Traveled all over. Did a bunch of different things.” That much was true. “I didn’t plan to stay in Bruneaux long, but it didn’t work out that way. The Eight Ball, under a different name, was for sale.” He looked away for a moment. Everything he was telling her was true, but so far away from the whole truth he still felt as if he was lying to her. He turned back to her. “That was almost a year ago.”
He waited for her to question him more closely on what sort of work he’d done, jobs he’d had. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to hide the truth from her if she did. He’d used subversion and half-truths as a means to an end so many times it was second nature to him. Protect the mission, protect himself in the process.
With her it wasn’t enough. Nothing but everything would ever be enough with her.
“I know how tough it must have been, still is.” Her expression became wistful, then she laughed a bit cynically.
“What?”
“Nothing really. I just always used to wish Mac and I had a home. A place to come back to. We had a storage unit. Now I’m realizing that you might not always want what you wish for.”
The sweet ache that blossomed in his chest took him by surprise. He had one wish. One he’d never thought to make.
And he had no doubt he wanted this wish to come true.
“Aw, chèr. We both survived okay.” A slow smile crossed his face. “Better than okay at times.”
She smiled, the shadows gone from her eyes.
“Now about your other question.” He slid his hands up and cupped her head.
She arched her neck. “About your hands?”
“Mais yeah, chèr.” He pulled her head down to his and kissed her. When she was fully pliant against him, he let his hands drift over her back and settle on the curve of her bottom. “Why don’t I just show you.”
“Mmm, yes.” She wiggled on him. “Why don’t you.”
Erin looked up from the microscope to the clock on the wall above the door. Six-fifty. No matter how immersed she became in her work—and usually it was to the total exclusion of the rest of the world—she had some inner radar where Teague was concerned. For the past three nights, he’d stopped by about seven in the evening to feed and distract her before heading on to the Eight Ball.
Her face heated as she recalled the condom pops he’d brought for “dessert” that first night. By her calculations she’d been safe that first time in the bayou, but neither of them would take risks. She’d forever treasure the stunned look o
n his face when she casually reached into her desk drawer and tossed that “economy” size box of condoms at him. Good thing her office door had a lock.
And Teague always phoned after shutting down for the night to make sure she planned to stop working long enough to sleep. Then there was the morning phone call …
Erin smiled privately. For an independent woman, she sure was enjoying being looked after, she thought to herself, reluctantly turning back to her work. But the smile remained.
She’d pushed all her misgivings and worries about Teague to the back of her mind. One day at a time. One phone call. One meal. One kiss. One …
Her work was progressing wonderfully well. She had the ritual to attend the following night—an invitation she was still pinching herself over. And Teague had somehow fit himself right in along with it all. Rather than question the why or the how long—or the should she—she’d decided for once, just to enjoy it.
A rap on the doorframe snatched her attention away from the microscope again. She lifted her head, an expectant welcoming smile on her face. It changed to surprise when Marshall’s blond head poked through the open door.
“Hi,” she said, pleased to see him. He’d dropped by to check on her, too, had shuttled her things from Beaumarchais to the campus so she could stay in her lab, and generally made her feel as much friend as colleague.
“How’s it going?” He stepped into the room.
“Really well. I’ve got a few more tests to run, but my preliminary theories are holding up so far.”
“Good.” His smile seemed almost forced.
Erin shoved back her stool and turned to face him. “Everything okay with you?”
He raked his hand through his already rumpled hair. “Yeah, fine. Long day, I guess.”
She frowned, not convinced. “Well, you timed it just right. If you hang on a few more minutes, Teague will be here with dinner and he always brings enough to feed an army.”
“You two are getting along quite well.”
Erin hadn’t discussed her relationship with Teague with Marshall or anyone else. She was half-afraid if she had to explain it to someone else, she’d end up analyzing it. Something she’d promised her scientist’s mind she wouldn’t do.
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