Danger looked up in surprise. “This from the woman who photographed mating cobras?”
“They were in a freakin’ glass cage!”
“For God’s sake, Lacey, for once, do as I say, stop moving.”
Lacey raised terrified eyes to his. “I’m not moving. It’s moving! It keeps coming closer. And—it’s looking at meee.” Her voice screeched on a broken note.
Danger swore softly. “It’s a prairie rattler, probably not long out of hibernation, hungry and pissed. You have to keep still.”
He raked his mind, trying to remember if Coe packed an anti-venom kit. He didn’t think so. If she was bitten, she could die before he could get her to help. The very thought turned his blood cold.
“Do something,” Lacey implored as the scaly creature crawled forward, deadly in its determination to edge closer to its prey.
The snake’s black, forked tongue whipped in and out tasting the air. It was evil. Something so foul, its musty scent permeated the air with wicked intent.
Danger glanced resolutely in the direction he’d spied the smoke, then back at Lacey. A gunshot would alert whoever was out there. If it was the murderer, then he’d be giving him plenty of warning that they were closer than he realized. If he didn’t do something, Lacey could die. He had no choice.
“Sweetheart,” he said very softly. “Have you ever fired a gun at all?”
“Never. Can’t you shoot it?”
Danger muttered beneath his breath. He could never get the Winchester from the pack horse in time. The slightest movement from him might cause the snake to strike at her. It was big and mean. It could strike the length of its body. If it did, it could get her in the face or throat.
He drew in a sharp breath. “You have the gun, baby,” he answered quietly. “Point it at the damn snake and squeeze the trigger. You might even get lucky and hit the damn thing.”
He’d said it so calmly, Lacey’s head jerked up with a snap. “Easy for you to say, you’re not looking at those beady, little eyes. What if I miss?” Lacey wrung her hands. “Oh Lord, I’ve never shot anything helpless before.”
Danger blinked, his lips parting in surprise. “Helpless? Jesus H. Christ, woman! What the hell do you think it is, a damned puppy?”
He released a deep breath. Good God, she’d not hesitated to hold him at gunpoint, yet she couldn’t shoot a snake?
Okay. All right. She’s scared. He understood that. He sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. He could feel her fear. He could even sympathize, but damn it, she had to shoot. “You have to kill it, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Go ahead, little cat. Shoot.”
Lacey hesitated. The snake moved closer. She gave a whimper. Her hand trembled as she pointed the gun at the snake.
“Shoot, damn it. Shoot it,” Danger yelled hoarsely.
Lacey nodded. Slowly, she leveled the gun at the venomous reptile, but instead of squeezing the trigger as Danger had instructed, she suddenly drew back and hurled the gun at the rattler.
Danger’s eyes widened with stunned disbelief. “Shit.”
What in hell did she think she was doing?
The rattler darted back in a slithering motion, startled by the heavy object weighing down its thick coils. It gave an awkward, wobbly movement as it tried to maneuver from under the gun’s weight. It sidled back and slowly slipped away, disappearing beneath an outcropping of rock. The steady whir of the rattler verified the snake’s impotent rage, but it had lost the desire to wage war.
Both anger and relief surged through Danger. Nausea roiled and mixed with the quivering ballet his insides were performing. Perspiration slid down his face and neck. By God, he was going to wring her neck! The woman was completely unmanageable. He gave full vent to the fury that enveloped him. “Son of a bitch!” he bellowed, striding toward her in a fiery rage.
“Did I miss it?” she asked faintly.
She had one palm pressed across her eyes as she swayed like a leaf in a breeze.
“Did you miss it?” Danger gave a low growl. “Are you nuts? Sure you are. Why am I even asking?”
Lacey dropped her hand and slowly opened her eyes. Big mistake.
Danger towered over her like an avenging angel, his face black as a storm cloud. He shook her. His powerful fingers bit into her shoulders and he shook her. “Are you crazy, woman? Yes, of course you are. What the hell were you trying to do? Piss the damned snake off even more than it already was?”
His fingers squeezed painfully into her flesh and he shook her again. “Don’t you have an ounce of good ole’ American horse sense? Why didn’t you shoot it? I distinctly remember telling you if I told you to shoot something, shoot it. Were you trying to get yourself killed? Yes. You were. You were!”
Lacey’s head bobbed like a lifeless flower on a broken stem as Danger continued shaking her. Then he started swearing—in two languages—maybe three, she wasn’t sure. He probably spoke his Native tongue, and of course, there was the Pygmy he spoke when he was good and pissed. She definitely recognized the English words though, and they weren’t complimentary.
A muscle throbbed in his cheek. His left eye twitched to the point she thought his eyelid was going to be permanently damaged. He clenched his teeth. At last, he loosened his grip on her shoulders only to jerk her into his arms and give a low moan. A fine tremor shook his taut body as he cradled her protectively against him. “Christ, you’re going to be the death of me.”
Ahh, now this was better. This she understood in any language. Lacey didn’t know which of them was shaking more. She didn’t know which of his stormy questions she should try to answer. Well, as far as that went, he’d answered his own questions before she could breathe a reply anyway.
Still, she figured he deserved some kind of explanation. “I—I couldn’t kill it. I don’t even kill mice. When I capture one, I—I always set it free. I mean—they’re so small and—and soft and—and gray, the—the exact shade of your eyes.”
Danger plunged his fingers through her tousled hair and tilted her face to his. “What in the hell are you babbling about?”
Lacey’s lips trembled. “I don’t know.”
His eyes darkened to soft pewter. “You are undoubtedly the craziest female I’ve ever met.” His hands trembled as he sifted through the hair at her temples. “Crazy and beautiful.”
He lowered his head, his mouth swooping down on hers with gentle rage.
Lacey expected a certain amount of masculine roughness. After all, he was very upset. But not this. Not this unbelievable, incredible drowning of the senses. Not this raging tenderness filled with controlled fury. Not this powerful urge to crawl inside his heart and soul and lay claim to the man forever.
The hot possession of his mouth weakened her knees. If he hadn’t been holding on to her, she knew she’d collapse at his feet. Lacey parted her lips, gasping as his tongue edged inside her mouth, searching, until it curled around her tongue, and he gently suckled. She moaned as exquisite pleasure flooded her senses. Moist heat made a lazy trail down her spine and settled hotly between her thighs. She would never get enough of this, never get enough of her body crushed against his.
Her mouth was made for kissing, Danger thought. For kissing—and God knew—for numerous other things he had no trouble imagining. He could lose himself in the sheer pleasure of mating with her mouth.
The feelings growing inside him, inside his heart were dangerous to his peace of mind. He reached deep into his inner most soul to find the scraps of the wall and brick it back in place. He had to seal her out. But some of the critical pieces were gone. The wall had crumbled one brick at a time, and he couldn’t seem to find the missing parts.
His voice wasn’t as harsh as he intended when he finally broke the kiss. “You scared the hell outta me. As a matter of fact, you’re always scaring the hell outta me.”
Lacey blinked. She looked dazed, her eyes a little blank. “There’s an old Mae West quote,” she breathed softly.
He lifted a brow
. “What?” What was she rambling about now?
“Yes, it goes something like this: ‘Few men know how to kiss well.’ There’s more, but what I’m trying to say is: You don’t need any lessons.”
He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip, his eyes darkening. “No? Well there are a few lessons you need to learn, sweetheart, but not about kissing.”
Danger glanced down and saw the warm laughter sparkling in the golden glow of her eyes. I shouldn’t have kissed her.
For three whole seconds he argued with himself, listing all the reasons he shouldn’t touch her again. But his gaze returned to that incredible mouth. Too late! He’d already tasted the heat there, the silken fire. It only made him hunger for more. Hell, he’d better take advantage of her now, because at the rate she was going she was going to get herself killed.
That was all it took, just that little bit of encouragement of his words and he gave himself permission to kiss her again. He stole her mouth with reckless abandon and defiance. This time, there was no gentleness. He felt savage. Ruthless. This time he kissed her with all the pent-up hunger twisting his guts. This time he kissed her exactly the way he liked to kiss. Hot. Carnal. And a lot of tongue.
He slanted his lips over hers, hard, and possessive. He owned her mouth as he slipped his tongue inside and waged a battle he had no intention of losing. He conquered with a sensual dance of desire.
Through the roaring in his ears, he heard her soft moan and swallowed the sensuous sound. Lacey swayed toward him. Danger cupped her buttocks and lifted her against the hard on crowding his jeans. He ground his hips against her. Christ, he was going to come if he didn’t stop.
Lacey moaned as he slowly released her. She swayed again and clutched at the front of his shirt with unsteady fingers. Panic slapped her with a healthy dose of reality. They were pressed so intimately together, she’d just rode his cock. She made a strange, choking sound. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”
Danger’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, hell! Not again. You wouldn’t dare throw up on me again. Would you?”
“I might,” she threatened.
“I can’t recall my kisses ever making a woman nauseous before.”
“It isn’t your kisses. I was just remembering the snake and how close it came to biting me.” Uh-huh. She’d been thinking about a snake all right, one that was hard and smooth and had come close to filling her body. If he’d wanted, he could have done her right here, standing up.
“And I attack you, ready to jump your bones as if I’m a sex-starved fiend.” He pulled her into his arms and gently rubbed her shoulders. “It’s gone, sweetheart.”
She looked up at him with eyes that had gone glassy. Danger swore softly as her eyes rolled back in her head. He swept her into his arms. “Don’t you dare throw up on me,” he ordered.
Lacey slipped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, she whispered softly. She nestled her face against his throat. “I was so scared. I feel really sick.”
He carried her to where he intended to set up camp and lowered her onto a large boulder. Color slowly crept into her face. “Just take some slow, deep breaths.”
He rubbed her icy hands.
“I could have been bitten.”
“Yes, you could have. Do not move off this rock. I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?”
“To get my gun.”
“But—”
“Forget the snake.”
“Forget about it? Doesn’t it concern you that I might have been bitten, that I could have died from that creature’s nasty poison?”
Concern him?
Was the woman nuts?
Didn’t she understand just how scared he’d been for her? “It sure does concern me,” he said, brushing tendrils of her hair back from her face.
“I would hope so,” she exclaimed. “After all, it was your fault for leaving me behind.”
“Ho, don’t you even go there, lady. You weren’t invited to climb the slope with me. As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember telling you to stay put.” Danger turned away, determined to leave her seated on the rock and go get his gun.
“Oh! So you’re saying if I’d been bitten it would have been my fault entirely?”
“You got that right, little cat,” he snapped, turning to face her. “This whole damn mess is your fault.”
Danger blew out a disgusted breath. Damn it! He knew her angry words were a result to her near encounter with the snake.
His anger was caused by. . .what? Unfulfilled lust? The way his cock ached, oh yeah, unfulfilled lust would work.
He took a closer look at her. At least her color was back to normal.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded. “I don’t believe you would have cared at all.”
“I’d have cared,” he snorted, turning back around. “It’s damned hard to dig a hole in rocky ground.”
“Well forgive the hell out of me for any inconvenience I may have caused you.”
Danger grunted. “Christ, woman, anyone who can throw a gun at a rattler and live to tell the tale doesn’t need my concern. Just cool down. You’re upset. It’s not good for your concussion to get upset.”
“Not good for my concussion? Ooo! You’re damned right, I’m upset. You’re the snake I should have shot.”
Danger’s lips twitched. Abruptly, his mouth tightened. “You should have shot the snake, little cat. Sometimes, one chance is all you get.”
“You’re such an ass!” she shot back.
Lacey rubbed her temples. God, she was so tired, and here they were bickering over the most ridiculous things. She touched her tongue to her lips and tasted him on her tongue. Anger and fear had been in his touch. But there had also been need—hot, burning need. She didn’t know which she feared most—him kissing her again, or him going back to ignoring this need building between them. Maybe if he’d just done her, the explosion building between them would be done and over and they could get past it. They’d both be satisfied and—shit. She didn’t want just a temporary fix. She wanted him and she wanted him to care about her.
He wanted to shut her out of his life.
She suddenly decided she wasn’t going to let him.
Yes, she might be uncomfortable with this thing that was overwhelming them both, but she knew deep in her heart, she wanted to know exactly what it felt like to win the heart of this man. She wanted to know what it felt like to be held in the arms of Danger.
In The Arms Of Danger
Chapter Eighteen
Men are all alike--except the one you’ve met who’s different.
Mae West
Montana Backcountry Sun. 6:00 p.m.
The sun dipped slowly behind the snow-capped mountains, a weak, watery ball that sank into an ocean of angry, black clouds. The threat of rain looked promising as the clouds churned their way over the horizon and headed straight toward them.
Danger reached for the coffee pot and filled his cup. He settled against a dead log and stretched out his long legs. The first sip of the steaming brew was pure ambrosia. Yeah, he could sit here all night and just indulge his senses with caffeine and the beautiful sight of Lacey.
Shadows drifted leisurely across Lacey’s face and painted the campsite with a curtain of deepening purple. In less than an hour it would be totally dark, but this moment was meant to be savored.
The tent was set up, the horses fed and sheltered under a lean-to he’d made from tree limbs. Supper was finished.
Earlier, he’d had a thorough, delicious taste of Lacey’s mouth and he fully intended to taste more of her. Later.
Nothing, but nothing could get him down—except the weather. “Shit. Looks like more rain.”
Lacey flashed him a tired look. “Crap.”
“Uh-huh.”
He was just as sick and tired of being wet and cold, but at least he had dry clothes to change into. Well, actually, so did Lacey. She wore another one of his faded T-shirts and nothing else—again. Hi
s shirt swallowed her petite form, lending her a degree of modesty, although he was very aware of her nakedness under it. And the temptation to seek out what he knew was there.
Her boots and socks were placed close to the fire in hopes they’d dry before the rain hit and doused it. A few minutes ago, she’d draped the cutoffs across her boots, wincing when she stepped on a sharp stone. He’d listened to her mutter all the way back to the rock.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“You didn’t understand me?” she asked sweetly. “I spoke very plainly in your favorite tongue.”
In The Arms Of Danger Page 22