Hill Country Holdup

by Angi Morgan

  “I’m not taking my clothes off,” she managed between chattering teeth.

  Looking up to answer her, he turned his head so his nose wouldn’t be in her belly button. But he noticed her T-shirt stretched tight across her breasts. Her nipples strained through the material as if it wasn’t there.

  “You need to get warm.” He swallowed hard, wondering how he’d managed to sound halfway in control. Especially after the images floating in his head just moments ago.

  When he could force his body to do as it was told, he stood. His shoulders and chest bumped her abdomen on his way up. He snagged her and rubbed his hot hands up and down her frozen arms.

  Yeah, he knew they were hot. His body was on fire. He couldn’t stay this close to Jane for any length of time and not be. Two days next to her side had him churning like molten lava about to erupt from a frustrated volcano.

  No matter what the circumstances, his body would know hers and hunger for her.

  Okay. Yeah. Big deal. He was a grown man who could turn that area of his brain off. Right? Hadn’t he done that for the past four years?

  Shoot! Think about Jane. Her needs.

  Not her possible needs.

  “Sleeping…bag.”

  “Right. It’s still in the truck.” The door slammed behind Steve. Even the short thirty seconds opening the truck door, grabbing the sleeping bag and jumping back under the tarp had him drenched again before climbing the step to the camper.

  It had to be more emotional turmoil than cold that had Jane’s teeth chattering. She’d slowed so much, she didn’t protest when he reached around her and untucked her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one swift move. He kept his eyes firmly glued above her head, looking at a crack in the camper wall.

  “Don’t argue with me this time. Can you shuck your jeans or do I need to pull them off?” He moved his gaze to the button at the top of her zipper instead of the creamy skin his knuckles had just grazed.

  Instead of her breasts that would fit perfectly in his hands. Instead of skimming his lips over—

  “I can…do it.” She pushed his hands away.

  “Good. Fine.” He avoided the urge to look at more of her and concentrated on the latch for the stowaway bed. Wondering how to move Jane out of the way without touching her. If he could just get past her. “I’ll just get the sleeping bag.”

  Her jeans dropped and she caught herself before she fell. Yep, caught herself by falling into him. Her hands were like ice against his sizzling flesh.

  God, he wanted her.

  As quick as a cowboy escaping from a charging Brahma bull, he had her palms off him and at her sides. He might want her, but now wasn’t the place or the time. Tiny thing that she was, he picked her up and set her on the small counter to get her out of his way.

  A small yelp of surprise escaped, probably the shock of that wet, insignificant material called bikini underwear making closer contact with her skin. He wouldn’t look. Nope, he needed to get that…

  He couldn’t remember because he was staring at every inch of her at once. And she stared at him. Her eyes locked on his and didn’t let go.

  Then she licked her lips.

  Shoot. He swiped his hand over his face, blocking the vision of her sitting on that counter in a perfect place for him to warm her completely.

  “Ah, Janie. Don’t look at me that way.” Concentrate on the dang bed. The bed? No. The sleeping bag. Get the sleeping bag.

  “I’m not looking at you. I’m just cold.”

  Right.

  Dropping the bed to its support, he unrolled the sleeping bag and kept his back to his patient. “You need to change your underwear before you get this wet.”

  “I am not—”

  That suggestion got some fire in her blood. Maybe the key to getting her temperature up was to keep her mad at him.

  “Come on. What are you afraid of? I’ve seen every part of you before.”

  Damn. That was not what he should have said.

  The camper shook slightly when she jumped from the counter. She was going to pull off those skimpy panties just to prove she didn’t fear him. Then he’d have to go against everything he wanted and ignore her delicious body because…because…

  He heard her shifting, lifting one foot and then the other. Imagined the bikini-cut baby-blue satin panties—he’d looked at just about every package Walmart had—falling to the floor.

  Shoot, there was a reason. He knew there was a good reason.

  Scrubbing his face and pushing his hair back, he tried to think of every reason why taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless wasn’t a good idea.

  Number one, he’d be taking advantage. This was not a good place for rekindling a relationship.

  But she’d be warm. Maybe as hot as him. So he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting sick.

  Number two, they didn’t completely trust each other yet. He knew she was holding something back from him.

  Okay, that was yesterday, but it still counted. Didn’t it? Or had they gotten past that? Did she trust him?

  Number three, he loved her.

  Yeah. He’d never stopped loving her. And this is a reason not to make love with her?

  “I need you…”

  What?

  “…to close your eyes, move to the side and let me get to my clothes.”

  Son of a… He was going nuts, but he did what she said. If he didn’t, if he halfway lifted an eyelid and looked down…

  He squeezed his eyes shut like a little kid, but the picture of her white smooth flesh was burned into the backs of his eyelids. There wasn’t any way to get away from it. His heart beat a thousand miles per hour, and the comfort level in the front of his jeans dropped to nil.

  The sleeping bag was tugged from his hand. The camper moved slightly again. He could tell she’d climbed to the farthest side of the bed. But he kept his eyes shut with his shoulders somehow pressed against the door. He must have backed up, but couldn’t remember moving.

  He was losing it. Big-time.

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He reached for the door, but fumbled with the lock. A psychological fumble or a real one due to the fact he couldn’t see straight even with his eyes shut? He just needed out of there.

  “Hold your racing horses just one minute.”

  “What?” he asked and turned around. Whoa, she wasn’t completely covered. The skin of her shoulder was exposed, a slightly darker version of her derriere. And then there was her neck, and hands. Too much creamy skin.

  Any skin had the same effect on him. He needed air.

  Why was all the air suddenly sucked out of this camper?

  “Aren’t those wet clothes getting a little uncomfortable?” she asked. Her eyes held a glittery look at odds with her sultry voice.

  “I’ll be fine sitting outside.” Outside where there was plenty of air since all the oxygen was gone inside the camper and he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t his imagination. He really was laboring to suck air into his lungs. And the longer he looked at Jane, the harder it was to make anything move.

  “Don’t…please don’t go, Steve.”

  “I, um, I have to. I’m not going to hurt you again, Janie.”

  “Stay?”

  Low blow. She knew he wouldn’t leave her alone if she asked. And shoot, the second-hand vest was pressing on the shirt that was irritating his shoulders. Now he had to sit on the floor and stay wet.

  Keeping his back to her, he sat and crossed his legs. His wet jeans made muddy streaks on the dirty linoleum as he folded and refolded himself into a comfortable position.

  There was no comfortable position.

  Chapter Eleven

  It wasn’t fair that he was so dang adorable.

  And so terribly wrong. About everything.

  Folding his semi-dry shirt under her head for a pillow, she curled into a ball to get warm and put the pretense of being angry aside.

&nbs
p; I’m not going to hurt you again, Janie.

  Hurt? Her father’s 1968 version of Webster’s New Twentieth-

  Century Dictionary stated the second definition as “to cause injury, loss or diminution to; to impair in value, quality, usefulness, beauty or pleasure; to injure; to damage; to harm.”

  Some people might think Steve had already hurt her. But she knew better. Her life hadn’t shrunk or dwindled since Steve told her to go to Baltimore. It had grown with love for Rory. Grown better in quality, usefulness and beauty.

  She thought of herself as a better person since Rory existed. All because of the love she and Steve had momentarily shared. As if he could read her thoughts and heard the word love, he shifted uncomfortably on the floor, straightening his legs, then pulling one up to his chest, as if uneasy to be in the same room with her.

  That hadn’t always been the case. In fact, according to that wind-up clock on the counter, it had only been true for the last forty-one hours and sixteen minutes. Their days together four years ago had been completely the opposite.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice that in spite of everything that had gone wrong in the past few days, Steve was still attracted to her. He might have had his eyes shut, but hers had seen how tight his jeans had gotten.

  Warmth suddenly followed the tingle flowing through her body. It began at the top of her spine and seemed to spread to every nerve, then waved through her again.

  She wasn’t cold any longer.

  Thinking about the weeks she’d spent with Steve spiked her temperature up several degrees. Her mind couldn’t keep up with all the remembered sensations pouring into it. So she simply shut it down.

  She wasn’t going to think.

  She was going to enjoy.

  Not another thought to whether it was right or wrong.

  Enjoy.

  No consequences. Why not just live for the here…the now?

  Steve shifted again.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, why don’t you come up here and see if you can get comfortable?”

  “I’ll get everything wet.”

  “For a smart guy, sometimes you can be pretty dumb.”

  He craned his neck to look back at her. And yes, that what-are-you-talking-about look was there on his face.

  “Good grief, Steve. I’ll shut my eyes this time and you can change.”

  “I don’t have any more jeans.”

  “So?”

  “So? So?” He shoved his hand across his face and scraped a day’s growth of beard with his nails.

  That tingly need of desire shot through her again.

  If there had been room in the small camper, he probably would have jumped to his feet and paced.

  Thank God for small favors.

  “I can control myself, Steve. Can’t you?”

  A blatant lie. She didn’t want to control herself any longer. She wanted him next to her. Wanted to draw comfort from the strength she felt in his arms. She wanted him. Period. Beyond any doubt. Assuredly, certainly, conclusively, decisively, enduringly. She listed the adverbs while waiting on his answer.

  An answer that was taking much too much time.

  “No.”

  Her heart smiled. She felt it move in her chest. He couldn’t control himself.

  “It’s dangerous being this close to you. You’re making me lose focus.” He stood and rubbed his backside. “There’s no way I’m getting into that bed with you while…”

  She sat up and left the sleeping bag at her waist.

  “While someone…” He spun on his boot heel and did an about-face. “For God’s sake, Jane. Don’t do that.”

  “I need you.” She threw off the cover that was suddenly excruciatingly hot and slid her legs over the side of the bed.

  “Come on, don’t do this.” He jerked farther away as she stood. “Two guys are gunning for us, the FBI is just a phone call away and we’re in a broken-down camper surrounded on all sides by junk.”

  “Quit making excuses.” She dragged a fingertip across the back of his neck and shook with the strong need that cascaded her senses. She hadn’t felt this extraordinary feeling in such a very long time.

  “I am not making excuses.”

  “Either you want me or you don’t.” This was real. She didn’t care about where they were. “Steve, please?”

  In the blink of an eye he had her by the shoulders, giving her a gentle shake, but no kiss. “You’re making me crazy.”

  “Join the club.” She needed to be flip. Keeping this on a casual level was a must. No pressure. No promises. “Be crazy now and sane after the rain ends.”

  She grabbed fistfuls of his wet shirt and gave a yank. Catching him off guard, she was able to bring his mouth to hers before he could object again. She needed him. He wanted her. So she’d enjoy. Take pleasure. Feel. Love.

  Come alive in his arms.

  Their noses collided and he didn’t react. For two full seconds he just stared at her with eyes the size of ping-pong balls. His lips were closed tight and unyielding.

  For two seconds.

  Then he slanted his face to fit hers. And he kissed her as if there wasn’t enough of her to go around. As if she was the last dessert ever to be served, and a thousand people were in line for leftovers. As if he wasn’t sharing.

  When he took a breath, she said, “You know there are more words for crazy.”

  “Besides cuckoo, daft and wacky,” he said, giving her a brief, but luscious kiss between each word.

  “Try frenzied.”

  Ripping the snaps of his shirt open, she tugged it over his shoulders to his elbows. His arms were pinned to his sides.

  She returned the succulent, wet kisses he’d bestowed upon her. And no matter what he’d vowed just seconds before, he kissed her back. His hot hands held her at her middle and kept her from leaning into him, feeling all of him. She wanted more and would convince him he did, too.

  “Unhinged.”

  She pulled on the shirt, bringing his bare chest and the rest of him intimately closer. With only her bra separating them, she felt his heart pound as loudly as hers.

  It had been such a long time. She started toward his mouth again, but stopped at his flat nipples. Sucking and gently nipping the tips before she continued to reacquaint her lips with his body.

  Her fingers skimmed his near-fatal bullet wound. The red puckered area made her want to cry, but not now. Now was about celebrating life, about being with the man she hungered for.

  She was tempted to nuzzle his neck long enough to place a visible love bite there, but too impatient to stop. She wanted him beyond the point of no return before she released him, but was dying for him to caress her. She already ached for him to stroke and touch her as only he could.

  Knowing that he was sensitive behind his ears, she detoured there and tickled him with the tip of her tongue. Then blew gently across his wet skin and reveled in the knowledge that she caused his squirming.

  “Quixotic,” she whispered in that same ear, and nibbled on his neck. “Don’t you love the sound of that one?” She nipped his skin and dropped soft kisses across his shoulder. “Instead of I’m crazy for you? I’m quixotic for you.”

  “Let go of my shirt and I’ll show you quixotic.” He was breathing hard. He could have broken free at any moment, but he let her decide when he’d be released. She was surprised that she was so calm. Excited yet deliberate and controlled.

  The shirt dropped to the floor, forgotten as Steve wrapped her in his arms. His strength surrounded her as he lowered them to the edge of the bed, delivering soul-searching kisses the entire while.

  “Any more examples?” he asked.

  “Touched.”

  His hand seemed to float across her nonsexy sports bra. Somehow his touch made her feel like the sexiest woman of all time. All doubts were safely stowed away as she arched and filled his palm with her breast.

  The interior of the camper drifted into darkness. The batteries must have run out on the
lantern. The rain pounded on the nearby metal and matched the irregular tempo of Jane’s blood racing through her veins.

  Steve’s hands slowed as if he were hesitant to continue. She wanted to reach out and stroke him so he’d join her eagerness. She twisted to her side, forcing him to his back. Her hands stumbled over his fly.

  The wetness of the denim clung to his thighs as she struggled to pull them down. And he was definitely not offering help. She saw his grin quickly turn to desire when she deliberately let her fingers drift across the cotton covering his swollen flesh.

  He sucked in his breath and pushed at the heels of his boots, stuck under his jeans. Jane teetered between laughter and hunger. Each time he kicked at the material restraining him, his stomach and leg muscles contracted to lean, hard, rippling rock.

  It was such a turn-on.

  Muscles in general did nothing for her, but Steve’s body…goodness.

  He tried to sit up to get rid of the encumbrance his clothes caused, but Jane held up her hand to stop him. She sat straight and pulled the stretchy cotton from her body, freeing her breasts and causing another rapid inhale from Steve.

  Scooting from his reach, she bent to remove the tangled mess his clothing had become.

  “I could really get into this vocabulary thingy here, Dr. Palmer,” he said, grinning with his hands behind his head, pulling his stomach and crunching his muscles.

  Oh, my!

  This time he lifted his hips when she tugged at the elastic waistband of his shorts. His grin disappeared when he sprang free of the material. Boxers finally gone. Jeans and boots on the floor. Any doubt she had about continuing disappeared. She needed Steve Woods.

  “I have one last word, then no more talking.”

  She boldly straddled Steve and moved until her feminine mound rested firmly against his masculine one.

  “Wild.”

  Wild was right.

  Steve had tried his hardest to keep things under control. Kiss her and back off, that was his plan. Let her have her fun and maybe release some tension, but keep a lid on his own. Until she’d touched him and he’d lost the battle. Now she’d climbed on top of him and he’d lost the war.