The branch splintered, and the distance between them increased.
“Do it, Hope. Grab my hand.” He stretched, gritting his teeth as he tried, almost by sheer force of will, to reach her.
Would he catch her? Or would she be swept away?
The branch cracked, and she tried to launch herself out of the water. At the same time, Oliver lunged for her, and the branch snapped completely.
Chapter Ten
Oliver grasped her hand, his grip firm. Her fingers curled around his.
“It’s okay, Hope. I’ve got you.”
“Don’t let go,” she pleaded breathlessly.
He smiled without humor. “I won’t let go, Hope. Not ever.”
His bicep bunched in protest as he dragged her almost deadweight up toward him one-handed. He tightened his thighs around the tree trunk, and raised his shoulders slightly so he could use both arms to pull her up through the tangle of branches.
The muscles in his shoulders and upper back strained with the effort, but he managed to pull her up until she could wrap her arms around his shoulders. He used one arm to lever himself into a sitting position, keeping his other arm wrapped around her waist until he could pull her into his lap and hug her tightly.
They clung to each other for a while, their chests pressed against each other. He could feel her heart pounding against his, their breaths mingling as they calmed themselves down.
Oliver rested his cheek against the top of her head, and closed his eyes as a relief that went beyond saving a friend’s life washed over him. Hope was his whole heart, and he’d nearly lost her—again. He shuddered, and tightened his grip. Her breath hitched and he remembered her sore ribs, relaxing his hold instantly.
“Sorry,” he murmured against her wet hair.
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” She pulled him close, and he could feel her nipples rub against his chest with each breath.
Oliver was immediately engulfed by a hot tide of need. He closed his eyes as he tried to shut down his body’s awakening urges. No, not now. Not a good time.
He set her back, steeling himself against the confusion and disappointment in her gaze. Darn. She was so trusting, and all he could think about was getting her horizontal. He recalled her shock when his secret had been revealed. If she’d found that incident distasteful, she’d definitely find his present need to make love to her, to make her his, abhorrent.
“Come on, let’s go back to the cave and get dry.”
He shuffled backward along the tree trunk, pausing to offer a hand when she needed it, until they were finally back on a secure footing. He retrieved Hope’s makeshift staff, along with his rudimentary fishing spear, and, once he got his bearings, they headed back toward their cave. At least, he hoped that’s where they were headed.
The rain had stopped by the time they emerged on the sandy beach. Oliver closed his eyes briefly with relief. Thank God. His sense of direction was generally pretty good, but he hated testing it under these circumstances. After Hope’s plunge into the river, the gravity of their situation had been quickly brought home to him. They were completely alone. If they fell, there was no medical center a quick drive away. There was no supermarket for groceries, and suddenly the most basic activity carried a potential risk that was sobering. Just look what had happened with a mere drink of water.
He set off down the beach, keeping stride with Hope’s shorter steps as they made their way to the cave. They had shelter, and they now knew where to find fresh water. He didn’t know how long it would be before they were rescued—God, he hoped they’d be rescued—but they needed to survive in the interim. That meant staying safe, warm, and fed.
He raised his hand to his eyes as he looked out to sea. The clouds were beginning to dissipate, turning a warm golden pink that was reflected across the water. In different circumstances, he’d think the view was beautiful. The winds were not quite so ferocious now. The storm was finally passing.
They entered the cave, and he propped his new spear just inside the entrance. He turned to Hope, and frowned.
She was shivering, and her lips were purple. The water in the river had been cold, and while the winds had eased, they still bore a chill that lowered the temperature considerably.
He gently pulled her farther into the cave and rubbed at her arms. Her body nearly vibrated with the cold, her teeth rattling in the encroaching gloom as the sun slowly set outside.
“Hope, you’re freezing,” he said, feeling the goosebumps on her arms beneath his hands. He pulled her to him, holding her wet, cold body against his. Hopefully their shared body heat would eventually defrost the muscle-clenching chill.
He rubbed her arms again, this time keeping a little distance between them so he could meet her gaze. Her eyes were dark with exhaustion, her features drawn tight with the remnants of her fear.
“Let’s sit over there,” he said, gesturing to a rock inside the cave. “It’s out of the wind, but we can still see outside.”
Hope nodded and followed him over to the boulder. It was slightly darker here, so far into the cave. They sat quietly for a moment, shivering against one another.
Oliver cherished the quiet, and the feeling of Hope being so close. It was probably the first opportunity they’d had to just sit and be since—well, since before going overboard. They had time to think. Hope’s shivers gradually subsided to mild tremors as the close contact warmed them. Oliver had to distract himself from the feel of Hope’s curves against him.
They’d found fresh water. That was good. Next they’d have to find a food source.
Something crawled up his leg, and he idly brushed it off as he looked over at his makeshift spear. Tomorrow morning he’d try hunting. Or fishing.
Hope moved, rubbing her arms. He rubbed her back. “Warmer now?”
She nodded, then flinched. “Ow.” She slid her hand over her leg.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, frowning, then jerked as something bit him on the thigh. He cursed under his breath as he rubbed his leg.
“I just got bit—” she said, then flinched again. “Ow!” This time her voice was louder. She started to frantically pat herself down.
Oliver’s frown deepened as he felt something crawl up the back of his arm, and then another bite.
“Ouch.” He slapped at it, then jerked as more things crawled over his skin, tiny little nips making him twist this way and that as he stood. “Ow, damn it!”
Hope stood, hissing in pain as she smacked at her skin. Oliver slid his hand under his collar and grabbed the insect crawling across his shoulder. He held it up in the meager light coming through the cave entrance.
“Fire ants,” he said, leaping away from the boulder.
Hope cried out as she hopped from one leg to the other, trying to brush the ants off her.
Oliver could feel more on his back and sides. He shrugged out of the scrap of a shirt he still wore, using it to swipe at the insects that were biting at his flesh, then quickly stepped out of his shorts.
Hope did the same, almost tearing her zipper in her haste to remove her jacket, then sliding her pants off just as quickly.
They jumped around furiously, trying to get rid of the last few ants crawling over their bodies, until Oliver finally relaxed, confident he’d removed every last one.
It was then that he realized he and Hope stood within touching distance—and they were half-naked.
*
Hope gaped at Oliver as he gazed down at her with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
His chest shone in the muted dusk, his muscles bathed in a blend of light and shadow. Hope glanced outside. Softened pinks, slowly changing to deeper purple, lavender and indigo, streamed in through the opening of the cave. Oliver shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing his foot against his shin before transferring his weight.
His dark blue briefs molded like satin to his buttocks and groin.
“Uh, yes,” she said, laughing nervously, feeling extremely self-consciou
s. She had been in a relationship with Liam for what felt like some warped eternity. Now she stood in front of Oliver in what amounted to her underwear.
His lips pursed with exasperation as he swept the offending clothes up off the sandy floor of the cave and shook them out. He had nice legs. She wasn’t sure if she’d noticed that before. His thighs were strong and toned, tapering down into long shins that had just the right amount of calf muscle to avoid being skinny. And he wore tiny briefs, which seemed to be shrinking before her very eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize we were sitting on an ants’ nest.” Oliver grimaced apologetically as he laid their clothes near the cave entrance so they could dry in the breeze. “We’re lucky it was only ants,” he muttered.
“Lucky? I guess it depends on your point of view,” Hope responded. “Sure, we were lucky it wasn’t a nest of vipers …”
Oliver chuckled as he stepped toward her. “Well, if we’re going to get attacked by anything, ants are probably the best option. Non-lethal.” He sobered. “We can’t afford to get injured, or sick—there’s no doctor to call here.”
Hope wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get warm in the cool cave. “You’re right.” She wasn’t sure if it was just the drop in temperature, or residual shock after everything that had happened, but her shivering was getting worse.
He stared at her for a moment. “Come here, you’re shaking like a leaf.”
She hesitated. Sharing body heat when you were fully clothed and wet and uncomfortable was one thing. It was an entirely different matter when you were half-naked and finding the man incredibly attractive.
He cocked his head to one side. “Do you think this is some sort of ploy to get you naked, Hope? That this is some sort of clichéd overture? Take a look around. We’re stuck on an island, with no idea when or even if we’re going to be rescued.”
Oliver folded his arms over his chest. His broad, muscular, naked chest. Was he—had she offended him?
She swallowed. Maybe he had a point. They did need to get warm and dry. Their clothes would hopefully dry by morning. Between now and then, though, the temperature was going to drop as night fell. She felt like such a prude, at a time when it was so impractical to cling to propriety. Heat flared in her cheeks at her overwhelming shyness. Or was it curiosity? She wondered how it would feel to have Oliver’s body against her own … Oh, dear. She certainly couldn’t lie pressed against him with those sorts of thoughts running through her mind. It would be embarrassing for both of them.
“Hope, I’ll keep my briefs on, you keep your bikini on, but let’s at least huddle so we can get warm. I promise to be a complete gentleman,” he said.
Her body was shaking as though she’d pressed a knife into an electrical socket. She was cold. Every now and then a breeze wafted in through the opening of the cave, chilling her.
She nodded—at least, she tried to, her head was shaking so hard.
“O-okay,” she stuttered. Her fingernails were blue. Actually, her hands were kind of purplish-blue, too.
“Good girl,” he muttered, pulling her to him. She placed a hand on his smooth shoulder for balance while he rubbed her arms. She could almost feel worshipped, with his gentle assistance—but she was so cold, her fingers were numb, her teeth were chattering, and any thought of modesty was quickly replaced by her desperate need for warmth.
Oliver’s touch moved to her back, his arms enfolding her in a blissfully warm embrace. She nodded her gratitude as feeling returned to her chilled limbs.
“Come on, let’s lie down,” he urged. She acquiesced—she’d soon fall down, otherwise. Oliver positioned himself between Hope and the cave opening, protecting her from the cool evening breeze. She turned slightly and glimpsed the darkening sky, a few stars. Oliver’s breath brushed her cheek, and she turned to avoid his gaze. She rolled over to face the inky darkness of the cave, using her arm as a pillow. She wanted to curl up into a ball, but her ribs hurt too much.
His arm stole around her waist and he moved in against her so that her back pressed against his chest. Her breasts rested against his arm, and she closed her eyes in mortification as they swelled at his touch, her nipples firming against the purple lycra of her bikini top. Oh, please, please don’t notice. He scooted his hips forward so that his groin pressed against her buttocks, and she bit her lip as warmth suffused her from head to toe. Good grief, she was blushing all over. She trembled, and he huddled closer, his hard body gently enfolding her with warmth. Oh, he thought she was cold. Her shivers were slowly subsiding as a low and sensual heat started to build in her core and radiate outward.
His hand was just below her left breast. If he angled it ever so slightly, he could cup her flesh, and strum his thumb against the peaking nipple that was so craving his touch.
She swallowed as she clamped her thighs together, embarrassed by the molten heat spreading between her legs. Her breaths deepened with his, slowing to a languorous, sensual synchronization between his chest and hers. Her eyelids grew heavy with the desire that trailed through her, and she relaxed against him. This felt so good.
His breathing was deep and even, and she angled her head slightly, closing her eyes at the sweet sensation of his soft exhalations across her neck.
Then he snored.
Hope’s eyes sprang open.
Yep, there it was again, a sleepy little snuffle that whispered through the dark of the cave.
Her mouth dropped open. He was asleep? How could he sleep? She was burning up with a hunger that was like a loose ember caught in a gust of wind, and now flamed almost out of control … and he was asleep? She wanted to roll over and kiss him, slide her tongue into his mouth as she rubbed her body against his—and he was asleep?
He’d told her he would be the perfect gentleman, and apparently he was going to honor his promise.
What a jerk.
*
Oliver opened his eyes sleepily, snuggling against the sexy, feminine form in his arms. Long hair tickled his nose and his chest, and he felt himself stir at the teasing sensation. His hand held soft warm flesh, and he shuddered as he burrowed closer, rubbing his shaft against the perfect little butt nestled against his groin. Her nipple hardened to a nub, pressing against the palm of his hand like a hot poker.
Oh, yes. He rolled forward to nuzzle her neck, which lay within a kiss’s reach. She sighed in his arms, stretching under his touch, arching her back and thrusting her breast into his palm. Her arm rose above them as she reached back to trail her fingers through his hair. She moaned as his thumb brushed her nipple, and then again. He took her response as encouragement, and pinched her nipple. He was rewarded with the slight buck of her hips against his.
She moaned and turned in his arms, and he met her gaze. Her eyes were dark with slumberous passion, and her cheeks looked flushed in the soft dawn light. He blinked.
Hope.
She stretched toward him, sliding her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, pulling him in close.
Oh, God. Hope.
Her lips brushed his, and he opened his mouth, stunned when her tongue slid inside. This wasn’t a dream.
He tore his mouth from hers, panting, lust hardening his arousal to an almost painful degree.
“Hope, stop.”
“Oh, please, don’t tell me to stop,” she whispered, sliding a silken thigh up over his hips. He closed his eyes as her hips cradled his. He gripped her knee, fully intending to push her back from his body, but she kissed him again, and all his good intentions burnt to a cinder at her touch.
He slid his hand up her thigh and under the edge of her bikini bottoms, groaning as he grasped her flesh.
Her breath escaped in a sweet moan and he opened his mouth wider, sucking her tongue inside to slide against his.
Her hips moved against him, and he rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him, still mindful of her injury. Her tawny hair formed a tangled curtain around them, a private screen behind which a hot drugging kiss had him grinding his h
ips against hers. She pulled her lips from his, blazing a hot trail down his neck to his chest.
“Oh, God, Hope, what are you doing?” Apart from driving him crazy with need.
She paused and looked up at him, her blue gaze dark with an unmistakable desire. “I realized I hadn’t actually thanked you for saving my life,” she said quietly, seriously. “Not once, but twice.” She kissed him again, this time on his navel, and he shuddered.
“You don’t need to do this,” he rasped, then sighed as she rose up to kiss him, her peaked nipples brushing his chest, their bodies separated only by the thin fabric of her swimsuit and his underwear.
“I want to,” she whispered, then kissed him again. Her hand slid down between them as she rubbed her body against his.
Oh, sweet heaven, he was going to explode.
Her hand slid under the waistband of his briefs, and she again moved down his body, kissing her way to where he needed her most. He bucked against her grip, and his eyes nearly crossed with the effort to keep control.
She clasped him, freeing him from his shorts, then levered herself up, her hands moving to the bikini strap at her neck. He swallowed, watching her teeth worry at her lip as she lifted her hair.
Maybe it was that little signal, or the dark shadows in her eyes that belied the sexy siren that straddled him, that brief flash of uncertainty, but her words finally registered. He gripped her arms, halting her movement.
“You’re thanking me?” he asked, forcing the words from his mouth.
Chapter Eleven
Hope smiled. “You risked your life twice to save mine. You’ve used your body to keep me warm. I—I want this,” she whispered. “I want you.”
She was blowing his mental circuits—out of gratitude?
“You don’t need to do this,” he repeated, as his body screamed at him to keep his mouth shut.
She lowered her hands to his chest, running them over his muscles with a touch that was both carnal and overwhelming. She bent down low, her breasts brushing against him, and he felt the Lycra of her top snag briefly on his nipples. “You know, they say that if you save a life, you own it,” she whispered into his ear.
Stormswept: The Bold and the Beautiful Page 9