Wild Orchids

by Karen Robards

  He was asleep! If that wasn’t just like him. Lora felt mildly affronted, until she realized that of course he hadn’t known that she had designs on his body and therefore could not have been expected to stay awake in readiness. Now that she thought about it, he had really made her job easier. Because he might just possibly have rejected her overtures at the outset, had he been awake. Now he wouldn’t have a chance. . . .

  She snuggled closer, her arm sliding around his body, hugging him to her. No response, except another snore. Her hand sought for and found the opening in the blanket, sliding inside the overlapped ends to seek his body. He was dressed in the t-shirt and jeans. Lora’s hand encountered the smooth, soft cotton of the t-shirt, slid over it and down to the stiffer material of the jeans, where it hesitated, hovering around the waistband. She had never done anything like this before, and every ladylike tenet of her upbringing was screaming with shock. But after only a moment’s hesitation, she plowed determinedly onward. Faint heart never won fair maiden—or, in this case, fair gent.

  The snap of his jeans gave with an audible snap. For a second Lora froze, holding her breath, but nothing happened except another snore. Funny, to her the sound had been as loud as a gunshot. . . . Her fingers found the tab to his zipper and worked it downward, not without some tugging. But finally she had it open. He was all hers, to do with what she would. What should she do with him? Lora nearly panicked, realizing that she had never touched a man as intimately as she was about to touch Max. Making love with Brian had never included anything like this. But she couldn’t stop now—not if she wanted Max. And she did want him, body and soul.

  Her fingers moved, touched soft cotton covering a warm bulge. There, that was not so bad. Nothing frightening at all, just Max. She touched him again, more firmly, her fingers sliding up over the protuberance that swelled as she stroked it. She enjoyed the knowledge that she could do this to him. . . . Emboldened, her fingers slid back down over the front of his underpants, tantalized by the hardness and heat of him. The thin layer of cloth was no barrier at all. . . . Her hand slid up to the elastic waistband, briefly stroked the hair-roughened belly, then crept inside, sliding across the muscled, ridged abdomen to the object of her assault. It had grown even in the scant seconds since she had last made contact, she thought. . . .

  Her fingers curled around the heated shaft, squeezing gently. It was burning hot against her skin, hard as a steel rod yet covered in skin that was silky to the touch. She squeezed again, then moved her hand up, then down. . . . He throbbed beneath her touch. Lora felt an answering throb deep in her own body. To her surprise, what she was doing was exciting her as well. Her breathing quickened, and she pressed herself closer against his sleeping back, enjoying the crush of the hard wall of muscles against her breasts. She pressed her hips against the hardness of his behind, and enjoyed that sensation, too. But most of all, she enjoyed the feel of him pulsing and burning in her hand. . . . Intoxicated by the sensation that she was free to do as she liked now that she no longer had to worry about modesty and being a lady and whether he would respect her in the morning—all the trappings of civilization that had been drummed into her head since her birth—she slid her hand lower, reaching for and finding the soft round protuberances at the end of the shaft. She cuddled them gently for a moment, then reached up to grasp him again. . . .

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His hand shot out to fasten over hers, trapping it against him so that it couldn’t move. He turned so that he could fix her with disbelieving eyes. He was on his back and she lay on her side beside him, one arm curled beneath her head, the other flattened against throbbing, burning male flesh by his hand.

  “I made a decision tonight.” She smiled at him, sensuously moving her fingers beneath his imprisoning hand so that they kneaded him.

  His face changed, and he shifted suddenly, so that she was no longer touching him. His hand closed more tightly over hers, pulling it away from him and holding it captive outside the intimacy of his shorts.

  “What kind of decision?” His facial muscles were contracted as if he was in pain; his voice was hoarse from trying to emerge from between lips that barely moved. Lora saw the black glittering flame in his eyes and smiled a small, catlike smile.

  “I decided to take you up on your offer of great sex.” So large was her satisfaction at the sudden blaze of fire in his eyes that she practically purred the words.

  He looked at her warily, his hand contracting over hers so that it practically crushed her slim fingers. She made not a single sound of protest. The unthinking strength of his grip went hand in hand with the rapid rise and fall of his chest as wariness battled with desire.

  “It wasn’t an offer. It was an explanation.”

  She liked the way he gritted the words at her. Her smile widened just a bit, and the hand that he was not holding moved out from under her head to run a soft, teasing finger across his full lower lip. He jerked his head back, but his eyes flamed even more in response.

  Delicately, she lifted her eyebrows at him. “The way I remember it, you made me an offer. Good sex while we’re stranded in this godforsaken jungle, and after that, good-bye, was the way I believe you phrased it.”

  “And you’d agree to that? I don’t believe it! You’re stringing me along.”

  Lora smiled at him, and her wayward hand came back to trail that provocative finger along the side of his neck and around the base until it twirled in the silky black whorls of hair at the hollow of his throat.

  “I’m not, you know. I decided that you were right: I do need a husband and children and a home—some day. But not now. Now what I need is—you.” Her voice dropped to a husky breath on the last word, and her eyes, soft with promise, locked with his.

  He took a deep breath, his eyes moving from her eyes to her mouth and back up again in an unconscious gesture that spoke volumes.

  “Why shouldn’t we get some pleasure out of this awful mess? I’ve been miserable enough to die most of the time—except for yesterday afternoon. You made me feel good, Max. And I decided I like feeling good.”

  He was staring at her as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Lora hardly believed that she was saying these things herself. The words, the sultry tone of her voice, seemed to come from some part of her that she had never been aware of before. The woman part, not the lady.

  “Are you going to renege on your offer?” She asked the question softly, her lips parting invitingly.

  He stared at her as if he was Adam seeing the serpent in Eden. Which, in effect, he was. When he didn’t answer, she leaned over and kissed him, rubbing her lips sensuously across his hard mouth. The mustache tickled . . . His lips stayed closed beneath hers, so Lora traced the line where they joined with her tongue. Then his mouth parted on a harsh indrawing of breath. Lora leaned closer, as if to deepen the kiss, then, on a sudden instinct, drew back.

  “Christ.” He was staring up at her, his hard face clenched, his eyes glittering with passion. His body was rigid, his hold painful on her hand. “Any more of that and I’ll take you right here in plain view of Tunafish and anyone else who cares to look.”

  “Does that mean that you’ll keep your part of the bargain?”

  He scowled a little. “If you’ll keep yours. No strings, Lora. Do you hear me?”

  “I promise. But you have to live up to your end of the deal, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Great sex, Max. You promised me great sex.”

  “Damn!” He jackknifed upright, grimacing, his arms coming up to hug his bent knees. Lora sat up too, and looked at him with concern.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He eyed her grimly. “You should know. We’ve got to get out of here or I’m going to embarrass myself. Here, put your shoes on.”

  He retrieved her sneakers from the foot of her bed, shook them impatiently to check for intruders, and thrust them at her.

  “Put them on. Now,” he said impatiently in response to her surp
rised look. Puzzled but obedient, Lora took the shoes from him and began to slide them onto her feet.

  Max reached down to snap and zip his jeans, wincing as he made some minor adjustments to accommodate the source of his discomfort, jammed his feet into his running shoes without even bothering to tie the laces, scooped the pistol out from under his pillow and stuck it into his waistband, then stood up, dragging her with him. Then he bent to grab the blanket from his pallet and fling it over his shoulder. Tunafish turned to look in their direction, his attention attracted by the movement. Max walked toward him, stiff-legged, pulling Lora by the hand after him.

  “What’s happenin’, boss?” Tunafish’s question was lazy as he took in the two of them, Max stalking past, his shoelaces flapping, with Lora’s hand held in a crushing grip while Lora, pink-faced, hurried to keep up.

  “We’re going to get some air.”

  “Out there? At night?” Tunafish sounded amazed, but Lora saw the grin lurking under his carefully straight face. Max must have seen it too, because he scowled at his friend and continued on, pausing only to catch up the flashlight that rested on a rocky shelf near the entrance.

  XXI

  “Where are we going?” Lora was breathless as Max dragged her down the crumbling face of the cliff after him. She slipped and slid and nearly fell on her bottom more than once, but still he kept moving relentlessly forward. She would have hung back when they reached the edge of the jungle, but he didn’t even pause and she was dragged into the inky black forest before she could protest. Still, she tried.

  “Max, have you lost your mind? It’s dangerous out here at night. There could be jaguars—snakes—anything! Can’t we wait until morning?”

  “The way I feel, I’ll be lucky if I can wait ten minutes. If you didn’t want it, Lora, you shouldn’t have started it. You asked for it, and by God, you’re going to get it!”

  “I didn’t know it would involve being dragged through the jungle at night! Where are we going?”

  He turned to flash a single glinting look at her. “I don’t consider sex a spectator sport. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. I’ve been out here before at night, remember, and I haven’t seen a thing more threatening than a bat.”

  “A bat!” Lora moaned and shuddered, but was still dragged relentlessly on. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now, and she was relieved—she thought—to find that it was not as inpenetrable as she had supposed. Dense black shadows lay everywhere, and with the absence of light each twisted vine and gnarled trunk took on a sinister aspect. The insect chorus was silent, and so were the birds. Lora found the absence of the incessant chattering and shrieking spine chilling. Even the faint rustlings in the undergrowth seemed more menacing in the dark. Lora could imagine a jaguar crawling through the undergrowth on his belly, gold eyes alight as he stalked them, his prey. . . .

  “Please, Max . . .” She moaned in real fear, only to find herself jerked ruthlessly on.

  “If you don’t like it, you’ll have to be more careful next time you take me up on an offer.”

  “I will.” It was said fervently. “At least I’ll be careful to do it in daylight. Max, this is insane.”

  “I feel insane.”

  There was no answer she could make to this, so she shut up and concentrated on not tripping over anything—she shuddered to be more specific—that might cross her path. If anything she was walking on was not dead leaves and fallen branches, she preferred not to know about it.

  The shifting darkness disguised his destination until it loomed out of the night as a large, solidly shaped shadow in a landscape of shifting ones. The plane. She should have guessed.

  “What if something’s in it?” She hung back as he moved in the direction of the jagged hole.

  “Don’t worry, I doubt if anything much is. Our smell will still be all over the place here, and wild animals don’t like our smell. But if it makes you feel any better, I intend to check it out. That’s why I brought the flashlight.”

  Lora had vaguely wondered why he hadn’t turned the flashlight on during their trek through the jungle, but had come to the conclusion that he felt it would attract attention. Without light, they were just one of many creatures out roaming in the night.

  He switched the flashlight on, aiming the beam down at his feet, then turned to look at her.

  “You want to wait here while I check?”

  Lora shuddered, and grabbed at the hand that had at last released hers. “Not on your life!”

  “Stay close, then.”

  Lora reflected that if she had ever heard an unnecessary piece of advice, that was it, but then she didn’t have time to think anymore because he was disappearing through the opening and she had to scramble to keep up with him.

  The interior of the plane smelled musty, even mustier than the cave. Max swung the flashlight around the interior slowly, then moved down the aisle, shining the light carefully to the left and right. When he got to the curtain separating the cabin from the cockpit and moved it, there was a sudden burst of sound. Lora screamed as something took wing, then screamed again as a trio of small white creatures passed within inches of her head as they flapped toward the opening. The whole episode took less than a couple of seconds, but Lora was left shaking and staring wide-eyed at the gaping hole that led to the jungle at night.

  “Just some bats. Nothing to be afraid of. The ones around here are harmless. All they eat are insects.” Max was back, his arm sliding around her waist as he led her toward the rear of the plane where the seats had been removed. He stopped in the tail section, in an area with perhaps as much floor space as a double bed and maybe a few inches more than his own height in head room. Shining the light all around, he gestured for Lora to follow the beam with her eyes.

  “See? We’re all alone.” He shook out the blanket as he spoke, while Lora watched with nervous eyes. Somehow she seemed to have gotten out of the spirit of the thing. She was perfectly willing to let his seduction wait until morning.

  There was a faint click as he turned off the flashlight. Without its bright yellow beam, the inside of the plane was even darker than the jungle. . . . She was shivering as his arms came around her, and not with passion. Her cursedly vivid imagination was alive with creepy crawlies. . . .

  He pulled her against him, and she was faintly comforted by the hard warmth of his body. He was reassuringly solid. . . . She snuggled against him, and felt one arm move as he reached up to slide a hand beneath her chin and tilt her face toward his. The darkness was like a veil shrouding his features, but she could clearly see the restless glitter of his black eyes.

  “Not afraid anymore, are you? We’re perfectly safe. Trust me.”

  His voice was the merest murmur as he bent down to brush her mouth with his. It could hardly be called a kiss, so brief was the contact. He straightened to look down at her, his hand dropping to gently stroke over the skin of her throat. Lora kept her face tilted to his, her throat arching under the soft caress. He bent his head again to take her mouth in a kiss that was slightly harder, slightly more stinging, but was still over in slightly more time than it might take her to blink. Lora frowned, and felt herself yearning upwards. If he was going to kiss her, he might as well do it right. . . .

  He bent his head a third time, his arm hard around her waist holding her against him as his other hand slid down the front of her t-shirt to find her breast. His palm, firm and warm, cupped the soft roundness, and Lora felt a sudden clenching in her loins. Her nipple sprang to sudden attention beneath his hand. He did not caress her, just held her with that penetrating warmth while she swelled into his hand, and somehow it was the most arousing thing he could have done.

  “Max,” she breathed, her arms coming up of their own volition to find the back of his head and pull it the rest of the way down to her lips. She felt the soft abrasion of his mustache, felt him smile a little bit against her mouth, and then he was kissing her as she longed to be kissed, hard and deep, his tongue in her mouth demandi
ng her body’s most primitive responses. She still shivered in his arms, but fear was the farthest thing from her mind. She shivered because her body was on fire for him and he seemed in no hurry to put out the flames. . . .

  His hand was beneath the t-shirt now, leaving a trail of fire over her ribs as it slid around to find and unfasten the hook of her bra. One-handed . . . Lora would have marveled at his expertise if she had been capable of marveling at anything other than her body’s responses. He was tugging the t-shirt up, and Lora was impatient as she had to let go of his mouth for the brief time it took to pull the shirt and bra over her head. Then her hands were on his shirt, pulling it off, and their naked chests were crushing together as her hands fumbled at the zipper of his jeans and his operated hers with more surety.

  “Amateur,” he goaded softly into her mouth as he began to push her jeans down her hips while she still fumbled with his zipper.

  “My hands are shaking,” she whispered in response, tugging at the recalcitrant zipper to no avail.

  “So are mine,” he said into her mouth, and she trembled more at the knowledge. Then he was releasing her mouth to slide both her jeans and her panties down her legs. He had to pull off her shoes before she could step out of the garments, leaving them lying in a heap where she had been. She felt his breath warm on her thighs and then her belly as he straightened, and remembering what he had done to her before she felt the clutching spiral of urgent desire spring to life between her legs. Wantonly, she pressed herself against him, going mad as her nakedness came up against the stiff material of his jeans. She wanted him naked, too. . . .