by Nora Roberts
“Damn it!” But he knew she spoke to him, not the storm. “Now what am I supposed to do?”
Hunter smiled, barely resisting the urge to cup her face in his hands and kiss her until her legs gave way. “Head for drier land.” He continued to smile despite the rain, the wind, the lightning.
Wet, edgy and angry, Lee crawled inside the tent. He’s enjoying this, she thought, tugging on the sodden laces of her boots. There’s nothing he likes better than to see me at my worst. It would probably take a week for the boots to dry out, she thought grimly as she managed to pry the first one off.
When Hunter slipped into the tent beside her, she said nothing. Concentrating on anger seemed the best solution. The pounding of the rain on the sides of the tent made the space inside seem to shrink. She’d never been more aware of him, or of herself. Water dripped uncomfortably down her neck as she leaned forward to pull off her socks.
“I don’t suppose this’ll last long.”
Hunter pulled the sodden shirt over his head. “I wouldn’t count on it stopping much before morning.”
“Terrific.” She shivered and wondered how the hell she was supposed to get out of the wet clothes and into dry ones.
Hunter turned the lantern he’d carried in with him down to a dim glow. “Relax and listen to it. It’s different from rain in the city. There’s no swish of tires on wet asphalt, no horns, no feet running on the sidewalk.” He took a towel out of his pack and began to dry her hair.
“I can do it.” She reached up, but his hands continued to massage.
“I like to do it. Wet fire,” he murmured. “That’s what your hair looks like now.”
He was so close she could smell the rain on him. The heat from his body called subtly, temptingly, to hers. Was the rain suddenly louder, or were her senses more acute? For a moment, she thought she could hear each individual drop as it hit the tent. The light was dim, a smoky gray that held touches of unreality. Lee felt as though she’d been running away from this one isolated spot all her life. Or perhaps she’d been running toward it.
“You need to shave,” she murmured, and found that her hand was already reaching out to touch the untrimmed growth of beard on his face. “This hides too much. You’re already difficult to know.”
“Am I?” He moved the towel over her hair, soothing and arousing by turns.
“You know you are.” She didn’t want to turn away now, from the look that could infuse such warmth through her chilled, damp skin. Lightning flashed, illuminating the tent brilliantly before plunging it back into gloom. Yet, through the gloom she could see all she needed to, perhaps more than she wanted to. “It’s my job to find out more, to find out everything.”
“And my right to tell you only what I want to.”
“We just don’t look at things the same way.”
“No.”
She took the towel and, half dreaming, began to dry his hair. “We have no business being together like this.”
He hadn’t known desire with claws. If he didn’t touch her soon, he’d be ripped through. “Why?”
“We’re too different. You look for the unexplainable, I look for the logical.” But his mouth was so near hers, and his eyes held such power. “Hunter…” She knew what was going to happen, recognized the impossibility of it and the pain that was bound to follow. “I don’t want this to happen.”
He didn’t touch her, though he was certain he’d soon be mad from the lack of it. “You have a choice.”
“No.” It was said quietly, almost on a sigh. “I don’t think I do.” She let the towel fall. She saw the flicker of lightning and waited, six long heartbeats, for the answering thunder. “Maybe neither one of us has a choice.”
Her breath was already unsteady as she let her hands curl over his bare shoulders. There was strength there. She wanted to feel it, but had been afraid to. His eyes never left hers as she touched him. Though the force of need curled tight in his stomach, he’d let her set the pace this first time, this most important time.
Her fingers were long and smooth on his skin, cool, not so much hesitant as cautious. They ran down his arms, moving slowly over his chest and back until desire was taut as a bow poised for firing. The sound of the rain drummed in his head. Her face was pale and elegant in the gloomy light. The tent was suddenly too big. He wanted her in a space that was too small to move in unless they moved together.
She could hardly believe she could touch him this way, freely, openly, so that his skin quivered under the trace of her fingers. All the while, he watched her with a passion so fierce it would have terrified her if she hadn’t been so dazed with her own need. Carefully, afraid to make the wrong move and break the mood for both of them, she touched her mouth to his.
The rough brush of beard was a stunning contrast to the softness of his lips. He gave back to her such feelings, such warmth, with no pressure. She’d never known anyone who could give without taking. This generosity was, to her, the ultimate seduction. In that moment, any reserve she’d clung to was washed away. Her arms went around his neck, her cheek pressed to his.
“Make love to me, Hunter.”
He drew her away, only far enough so that they could see each other again. Wet hair curled around her face. Her eyes were as the sky had been an hour before. Dusky and clouded. “With.”
Her lips curved. Her heart opened. He poured inside. “Make love with me.”
Then his hands were framing her face, and the kiss was so gentle it drugged every cell of her body. She felt him tug the wet shirt from her, and shivered once before he warmed her. His body felt so strong against hers, so solid, yet his hands played over her with the care of a jeweler polishing a rare gem. He sighed when she touched him, so she touched once again, wanting to give pleasure as it was given to her.
She’d thought the panic would return, or at least the need to rush. But they’d been given all the time in the world. The rain could fall, the thunder bellow. It didn’t involve them. She tasted hunger on his lips, but he held it in check. He’d sup slowly. Pleasure bubbled up inside her and came softly through her lips.
His mouth on her breast had the need leaping up to the next plane. Yet he didn’t hurry, even when she arched against him. His tongue flicked, his teeth nibbled, until he could feel the crazed desire vibrating through her. She thought only of him now, Hunter knew it even as he struggled to hold the reins of his own passion. She’d have more. She’d take all. And so, by God, would he.
When she struggled with the snap of his jeans, he let her have her way. He wanted to be flesh-to-flesh with her, body-to-body, without barriers. In his mind, he’d already had her bare, like this, a dozen times. Her hair was cool and wet, her skin smooth and fragrant. Spring flowers and summer rain. The scents raced through him as her hands became more urgent.
Her breathing was ragged as she tugged the wet denim down his legs. She recognized strength, power and control. It was only the last she needed to break so that she could have what she ached for.
Wherever she could reach, she touched, she tasted, wallowing in pleasure each time she heard his breath tremble. Her shorts were drawn slowly down her body by strong, clever hands, until she wore nothing but the lacy triangle riding low on her hips. With his lips, he journeyed down, down her body, slowly, so that the bristle of beard awakened every pore. His tongue slid under the lace, making her gasp. Then, as abruptly as the storm had broken, Lee was lost in a morass of sensation too dark, too deep, to understand.
He felt her explode, and the power sang through him. He heard her call his name, and the greed to hear it again almost overwhelmed him. Bracing himself over her, Hunter held back that final, desperate need until she opened her eyes. She’d look at him when they came together. He’d promised himself that.
Dazed, trembling, frenzied, Lee stared at him. He looked invincible. “What do you want from me?”
His mouth swooped down on hers, and for the first time the kiss was hard, urgent, almost brutal with the force of passion
finally unleashed. “Everything.” He plunged into her, catapulting them both closer to the crest. “Everything.”
Chapter Eight
Dawn was clear as glass. Lee woke to it slowly, naked, warm and, for the first time in over a week, comfortable. And for the first time in over a week, she woke not precisely sure where she was.
Her head was pillowed in the curve of Hunter’s shoulder, her body turned toward his of its own volition and by the weight of the arm held firmly around her. There was a drowsy feeling that was a mix of security and excitement. In all of her memory, she couldn’t recall experiencing anything quite like it.
Before she was fully awake, she smelled the lingering fragrance of rain on his skin and remembered. In remembering, she took a deep, drinking breath of the scent.
It was like a dream, like something in some subliminal fantasy, or a scene that had come straight from the imagination. She’d never offered herself to anyone so freely before, or so completely. Never. Lee knew there’d never been anyone who’d tempted her to.
She could still remember the sensation of her lips touching his, and all doubt, all fear, melting away with the gentle contact.
Should she feel so content now that the rain had stopped and dawn was breaking? Fantasies were for that private hour of the night, not for the daylight. After all, it hadn’t been a dream, and there’d be no pretending it had been. Perhaps she should be appalled that she’d given him exactly what he’d demanded: everything.
She couldn’t. No, it was more than that, she realized. She wouldn’t. Nothing, no one, would spoil what had happened, not even she herself.
Still, it might be best if he didn’t realize quite yet how completely victorious he’d been. Lee let her eyes close and wrapped the sensation of closeness around her. For the next few days, there was no desk, no typewriter, no phone ringing with more demands. There’d be no self-imposed schedule. For the next few days, she was alone with her lover. Maybe the time had come to pick those wildflowers.
She tilted her head, wanting to look at him, trying not to wake him. Over the week they’d spent in such intimate quarters, she’d never seen him sleep. Every other morning he’d been up, already making coffee. She wanted the luxury of absorbing him when he was unaware.
Lee knew that most people looked more vulnerable in sleep, more innocent, perhaps. Hunter looked just as dangerous, just as compelling, as ever. True, those dark, intense eyes were hidden, but knowing the lids could lift at any moment, and the eyes spear you with that peculiar power, didn’t add innocence to his face, only more mystery.
Lee discovered she didn’t want it to. She was glad he was more dangerous than the other men she’d known. In an odd way, she was glad he was more difficult. She hadn’t fallen in love with the ordinary, the everyday, but with the unique.
Fallen in love. She ran the phrase around in her head, taking it apart and putting it back together again with the caution she was prone to. It triggered a trickle of unease. The phrase itself connoted bruises. Hadn’t Hunter himself warned her to test the ground before she started forward? Even warned, she hadn’t. Even seeing the pit, she hadn’t checked her step. The tumble she’d taken had a soft fall. This time. Lee knew it was all too possible to stumble and be destroyed.
She wasn’t going to think about it. Lee allowed herself the luxury of cuddling closer. She was going to find those wildflowers and enjoy each individual petal. The dream would end soon enough, and she’d be back to the reality of her life. It was, of course, what she wanted. For a while, she lay still, just listening to the silence.
The clever thing to do, she thought lazily, would be to hang their wet clothes out in the sun. Her boots certainly needed drying out, but in the meantime, she had her sneakers. She yawned, thinking she wanted a few moments to write in her journal as well. Hunter’s breathing was slow and even. A smile curved her lips. She could do all that, then come back and wake him. Waking him, in whatever way she chose, was a lover’s privilege.
Lover. Skimming her gaze over his face again, she wondered why she didn’t feel any particular surprise at the word. Was it possible she’d recognized it from the beginning? Foolish, she told herself, and shook her head.
Slowly, she shifted away from him, then crawled to the front of the tent to peek out. Even as she reached for the flap, a hand closed around her ankle. Hunter pillowed his other hand under his head as he watched her.
“If you’re going out like that, we won’t keep everyone away from the campsite for long.”
As she was naked, the haughty look she sent him lost something. “I was just looking out. I thought you were asleep.”
He smiled, thinking she was the only woman who could make a viable stab at dignity while on her hands and knees in a tent, without a stitch on. The finger around her ankle stroked absently. “You’re up early.”
“I thought I’d hang these clothes out to dry.”
“Very practical.” Because he sensed she was feeling awkward, Hunter sat up and grabbed her arm, tugging until she tumbled back, sprawled over him. Content, he held her against him and sighed. “We’ll do it later.”
Unsure whether to laugh or complain, Lee blew the hair out of her eyes as she propped herself on one elbow. “I’m not tired.”
“You don’t have to be tired to lie down.” Then he rolled on top of her. “It’s called relaxing.”
As the planes of his body fit against the curves of hers, Lee felt the warmth seep in. A hundred tiny pulse points began to drum. “I don’t think this has a lot to do with relaxing.”
“No?” He’d wanted to see her like this, in the thin light of dawn with her hair mussed from his hands, her skin flushed from sleep, her limbs heavy from a night of loving and alert for more. He ran a hand down her with a surge of possession that wasn’t quite comfortable, wasn’t quite expected. “Then we’ll relax later, too.” He saw her lips form a gentle smile just before he brushed his over them.
Hunter didn’t question that he wanted her just as urgently now as he had all the days and nights before. He rarely questioned feelings, because he trusted them. Her arms went around him, her lips parted. The completeness of her giving shot a shaft of heat through him that turned to a unified warmth. Lifting his head, Hunter looked down at her.
Milkmaid skin over a duchess’s cheekbones, eyes like the sky at dusk and hair like copper shot with gold. Hunter gave himself the pleasure of looking at all of her, slowly.
She was small and sleek and smooth. He ran a fingertip along the curve of her shoulder and studied the contrast of his skin against hers. Fragile, delicate—but he remembered how much strength there was inside her.
“You always look at me as if you know everything there is to know about me.”
The intensity in his eyes remained, as he caught her hand in his. “Not enough. Not nearly enough.” With the lightest of touches, he kissed her shoulder, her temple, then her lips.
“Hunter…” She wanted to tell him that no one had ever made her feel this way before. She wanted to tell him that no one had ever made her want so badly to believe in magic and fairy tales and the simplicity of love. But as she started to speak, courage deserted her. She was afraid to risk, afraid to fail. Instead she touched a hand to his cheek. “Kiss me again.”
He understood there was something more, something he needed to know. But he understood, too, that when something fragile was handled clumsily, it broke. He did as she asked and savored the warm, dark taste of her mouth.
Soft…sweet…silky. It was how he could make her feel with only a kiss. The ground was hard and unyielding under the thin tent mattress, but it might have been a luxurious pile of feathers. It was so easy to forget where she was, when he was with her this way, to forget a world existed outside that small space two bodies required. He could make her float, and she’d never known she’d wanted to. He could make her ache, and she’d never known there could be pleasure from it. He spoke against her mouth words she didn’t need to understand. She wanted and was w
anted, needed and was needed. She loved…
With an inarticulate murmur of acceptance for whatever he could give, Lee drew him closer. Closer. The moment was all that mattered.
Deep, intoxicating, tender, the kiss went on and on and on.
Even an imagination as fluid as his hadn’t fantasized anything so sweet, anything so soft. It was as though she melted into him, giving everything before he could ask. Once, only once, only briefly, it sped through his mind that he was as vulnerable as she. The unease came, flicking at the corner of his mind. Then her hands ran over him, stroking, and he accepted the weakness.
Only one other person had ever had the power to reach inside him and hold his heart. Now there were two. The time to deal with it was tomorrow. Today was for them alone.
Without hurry, he whispered kisses over her face. Perhaps it was a homage to beauty, perhaps it was much, much more. He didn’t question his motives as he traced the slope of her cheek. There was an immediacy he’d never experienced before, but it didn’t carry the urgency he’d expected. She was there for him as long as he needed. He understood that, without words.
“You smell of spring and rain,” he murmured against her ear. “Why should that drive me mad?”
The words vibrated through her, as arousing as the most intimate caress. Heavy-lidded, clouded, her eyes met his. “Just show me. Show me again.”
He loved her with such generosity. Each touch was a separate pleasure, each kiss a luxurious taste. Patience—there was more patience in him than in her. Her body was tossed between utter contentment and urgency, until reason was something too vague to grasp.
“Here—” He nibbled lightly at her breast, listening to and allured by her unsteady breaths. “You’re small and soft. Here—” He took his hand over her hip to her thigh. “You’re taut and lean. I can’t seem to touch enough, taste enough.” He drew the peak of her breast into his mouth, so that she arched against him, center to center.
“Hunter.” His name was barely audible, but the sound of it was enough to bring him to desperation. “I need you.”