Blake tilted her head up. "Maybe I just wanted to hear the reason from you."
His eyes were dark, so dark. And they were asking for answers she didn't have. Elena swallowed drily.
"It... it just seemed like the right thing to do."
"Did it?"
She could feel her heart racing. His hands were still in her hair, but now his fingers were caressing her, drawing lazy circles on the nape of her neck.
"Yes," she whispered, "I... I..."
"It was a dangerous thing to do," he said softly. Her lashes fluttered as he leaned towards her and kissed the corner of her mouth. "They might have seen you, Princess." His arms closed around her and he eased her slowly down to the floor of the cave. The leaves were soft beneath her, and Blake's breath was warm upon her face.
"I... I didn't think about it," she said, watching as the firelight danced across his face, touching his eyes with flecks of gold.
He brushed his lips across hers. "I told you not to disobey me, Elena." His mouth touched hers again, softly coaxing her lips apart. His words were both a threat and a caress, and she shivered as his hand cupped her chin and he ran his thumb across the soft fullness of her lower lip.
"I didn't. I...I..." Her whispered words became a moan as his hand slid beneath her blouse. "Blake," she said in a broken whisper, "please..."
"You made me a promise," he murmured. His hand cupped her breast as his lips burned the soft skin in the hollow of her throat, and her pulse leaped in response, beating wildly against the excitement of his touch. "Have you forgotten?"
In the flickering glow of the fire, his face was a shadowed mystery.
"No," she said thickly. "I was to be your...your dutiful wife."
He bent to her and his mouth covered hers in a kiss that stole her breath away. "And now, beautiful Princess, that's exactly what you will be."
CHAPTER TEN
His mouth fell on hers like a hawk on its prey, taking her breath in a hard, demanding kiss. Elena whimpered and tried to pull free, but the hand threaded in her hair held her fast beneath his plundering mouth. Her heart was racing as if all the devils of hell were at her heels. When he finally lifted his head and looked into her eyes, she drew a shuddering breath.
"Don't do this," she whispered. "Blake, I beg you..."
His eyes burned into hers. "Yes, go on, beg me." His hand slid around her throat, the thumb lying in the pulsing hollow. "Beg me, Elena," he taunted, and he caught her mouth again in another long kiss that left her whimpering. "You knew this had to happen," he said in a voice so thick she barely recognized it.
Something wild and hot flamed to life deep within her. He was going to teach her a lesson, she thought, remembering those other times he'd kissed her into submission. Her bones felt as if they were melting, and she sagged against him.
"Blake," she said, "Blake, please..."
"Please, what?"
He bent to her and his teeth closed lightly on her bottom lip. She moaned against his mouth.
"Blake," she said again, "listen to me. I...I know what you're doing..."
He laughed softly. "Clever girl," he said, touching his mouth to her throat.
"You're... you want to remind me that you're in charge..." She closed her eyes as he nuzzled the hollow of her throat. "This... this business of trying to make me feel... feel vulnerable..."
Blake's arms slid beneath her, gathering her to him. "Is that how you feel when I kiss you?"
Her heart thudded. "No. Yes." She drew in her breath as his tongue traced the seam of her lips. "Don't...don't do that," she whispered. "Blake, you have no right..."
His arms tightened around her. "I have every right." His hand clasped the back of her head and she gasped as he forced her face towards his. "You're my wife." His eyes burned into hers. "That gives me the right. You belong to me. You've always belonged to me."
The same wild heat licked through her again.
“You can't," she said. "Our marriage isn't real."
"Isn't it?"
His mouth took hers again, his lips slanting down hungrily, imprisoning hers in a kiss that left her moaning. When he lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes were pools of darkness that she knew she could drown in. Elena drew a shuddering breath and then another before she had the strength to speak.
"You know it isn't. When we get to Miami..."
His mouth hardened into a narrow line. "I know what happens when we get to Miami, Elena." His hand moved over her. "But tonight—tonight, we're in a cave in the middle of nowhere. And I’m as hungry for you as you are for me.”
He was right.
She was hungry for him.
So hungry…
She caught her breath as his hand moved across her, brushing lightly over her breast and down to her hip.
“Tell me what you want, Elena.”
His voice was husky; he exuded a maleness that made her breath quicken. She looked up at him, her eyes skittering across his face, touching on his flared nostrils, lingering on the midnight darkness of his eyes. How easily he could overpower her and take her, she thought suddenly. She'd have no choice but to let him do what he wished to her.
There would be no way to stop him—and then it wouldn't be her fault and she'd never have to admit how badly she wanted him, not even to herself.
Her lashes fell to her cheeks.
This was madness! Was the fantasy of being taken against her will easier to face than reality? Yes, she thought, yes, it was, because the reality was that she did want him, she'd wanted him from the start. And the shame of that wanting, the pain of it, was more than she could bear.
How could she want a man who'd been bought for her, a man she'd never see again after they reached the States?
"Elena?"
Blake's voice was like raw honey. Her eyes opened slowly and focused on him, on that hard mouth that had kissed her with such tenderness, on eyes that could be as cold as the sea or as deep as midnight, and her breathing quickened. He whispered her name again.
"Put your arms around me," he said huskily.
"No." But, even as she whispered the word, her arms reached up to him. "Tomorrow..."
His eyes darkened. "The hell with tomorrow," he said fiercely. "This is now."
His mouth came down on hers, searing her with heat. His kiss deepened. The taste of him made her tremble; when his tongue found hers, she moaned and wound her arms around his neck, reveling in the hard strength of his body against hers.
"Elena, sweet Elena," he whispered.
She gasped as his fingers blazed a fiery path over her breasts and down her ribs, lingering on the curve of her belly, then moving to stroke her thighs. As if from a distance, she heard herself whisper his name, and the sound was caught in his kiss, returned to her on the moist warmth of his breath. Her mouth clung to his as her body stirred to life beneath his caresses.
Blake drew back and looked at her. "My Princess," he whispered, "my beautiful Elena."
In the smoky light of the fire, his features were a mask, highlighted by glints of amber and gold. Their eyes met and held; time stopped in that breathless moment. And then Blake gathered her to him again and captured her mouth in a long, slow kiss. Elena moaned as his tongue moved like a flame along the curve of her mouth.
"Your mouth is like nectar," he murmured. "And your body—God, your body..."
She was drowning in a velvet sea of sensation. His whispers, his caresses, the feel of him in her arms—Elena knew suddenly that she had waited a lifetime for this night. She sighed his name, and then her fingers tangled in the thick, silky hair at the back of his head and she drew him to her.
"Elena..." His hand slid down her throat, pausing at the pulse beating rapidly in the shadowed hollow, then moved gently to the swell of her breast. "Tell me you want me to touch you," he said raggedly. "Tell me."
Her answer was as quick and fierce as his kisses. "Yes," she said, "yes, touch me."
He groaned as his mouth swooped to hers, taking it
with a ferocity that set her blood blazing. His hand cupped her breast, and she felt her nipple leap to meet his questing palm.
"Like this?"
Her eyes closed. "That feels," she whispered, "it feels..."
"Yes," he said, "yes, sweet Elena." He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently. "Now, you," he whispered, bringing her hand to his chest.
Her fingers slid into the open neck of his shirt; his head fell back as her hand moved across his heated skin, and he murmured her name. She watched the pleasure on his face, lost in wonder that her touch could do to him what his did to her. His eyes closed and his lashes lay dark against his golden skin; his mouth narrowed as if the feathering stroke of her hand brought him pain. And then, suddenly, he reached for her and drew her to him fiercely, wrapping her in his arms as he kissed her.
There was a question in his kiss, and his lips on hers searched for the answer. Her hands moved up his chest, to his shoulders, and suddenly the answer was in her heart. Blake, she thought with shattering clarity, Blake, I love you...
His mouth sought hers again, this time demanding response, and she looked at him, letting him read her surrender in her eyes.
His hands were on the buttons of her shirt, and she stirred languidly as he parted the soft fabric and eased it from her shoulders. The fire was warm on her skin, its smoky fragrance mingling with the fresh scent of rain from the forest. But nothing was as warm as the feel of Blake's hands, nothing was as intoxicating as the smell of him as he gathered her into his arms.
His mouth descended on hers, hard, hungry and filled with need. She clung to him in a sudden flood of desire. Then, fingers trembling, she fumbled at the buttons of his shirt and drew it back from his chest.
"I want to feel you against me," she said in a whisper. "Is that all right?"
"Jesus," he groaned, and he brought her up to him, his arms binding her to his body.
The feel of his skin against hers made her gasp with pleasure. There was a dark, fine mat of hair on his chest; the sensation of it against her breasts sent a tremor through her.
"Blake," she sighed, "Blake..."
There was so much more to tell him, but his name was all she could manage. And it seemed enough; his kisses moved from her lips to her eyelids to her hair as his hands moved on her skin, caressing, touching, learning her secrets.
She gasped as his hand cupped her naked breast, capturing its soft, swollen curve against the heat of his palm. His thumb moved across the nipple; she cried out again and turned towards him, seeking his kiss, her fingers curling into the thick hair at the nape of his neck.
She sank back in his arms as he whispered to her, as he touched her, as he caressed her with growing abandon. Her clothes fell away from her as if by magic; she felt the heat of the fire flicker over her naked flesh. Somewhere in the distance there was the sound of rain, but it was all part of a dream.
The only reality was Blake's lovemaking.
"My Princess," he murmured as he trailed his hand along her skin, the heat of his fingers igniting her until she moaned beneath his touch and moved blindly against his hand. Still, when his fingers cupped the dark triangle of her innocence, she caught his hand and held it, trepidation in her eyes.
"Blake?" Her voice was a silken whisper, question and answer all at once.
"Don't be afraid of me, Princess," he whispered, and then he drew her nipple into his mouth.
She called out his name as the moist heat of his mouth surrounded her swollen flesh. Her body quickened beneath his teeth and tongue, smoky waves of desire spreading through her, radiating from her breast to her loins. She cried out again and Blake drew her into his embrace, kissing her with a ferocity that left her trembling.
Fireglow danced on his skin as he rose to his knees and stripped off his shirt.
"Elena," he whispered, and she sighed and reached out to him, touching him as she had longed to touch him that night in the Indian village, trailing her hand down the narrowing dark line of hair that bisected his chest.
He brought her hand to his lips, kissing the soft underside of her wrist. Then he stood, his eyes on hers as he unzipped his jeans and eased them down his hips. Her mind jumped to Margarita's sour warnings, to her schoolmates' furtive whispers. But there was no time to think or to wonder; Blake was beside her again, kissing her, touching her, and she was caught up in the fever of their passion.
"Elena," he said thickly, "mi amante..."
Her head fell back as his hands moved slowly over her, lingering on her breasts, on the slight rounding of her belly, and when his fingers tangled in the silken dampness between her thighs, she clasped his hand and held it against her, trembling beneath the power of that gentle touch.
"Yes," he whispered, and his mouth followed the path his hands had left, his kisses hot against her flesh. And when finally his lips found the hidden delta that was the very center of her, she sobbed with pleasure.
"Now," he said, and he moved against her, "now, sweet Princess."
She whispered his name as he cupped her buttocks and lifted her to him. Her muscles tensed at the sudden invasion and he held back, waiting while her body closed around him. Then, ready for a release she barely understood, she trembled in his arms.
"Please," she whispered.
A smile of triumph flashed across his face. "Yes," he said fiercely, "yes."
And just before the world fell away from her, just before Blake took her to the summit of a sunlit mountain and the fleeting moment of immortality that awaited her there, she thought of Margarita and the girls who had whispered in the night, and she sorrowed for them all.
* * *
Elena's eyes opened slowly as a searching finger of sunlight pierced the cave's gloom. A quick glance told her she was alone in the cave, and she stretched languorously, smiling a little as she remembered the night. Blake had made love to her again and again, each time more wonderful than the last. And then, finally, he'd curved his arm around her and brought her head to his chest.
"Sleep for a while, Princess," he'd whispered. "It's almost tomorrow."
The words had knifed into her heart. Tomorrow, she'd thought, tomorrow... and then her lashes had fluttered to her cheeks and she'd fallen into a dreamless sleep.
It was morning now—all too soon, tomorrow had arrived. No, she thought, no, not yet. There would be another tomorrow, at least—they were still miles from the border. That meant there was time...
"Good morning."
She looked up, startled by the sound of Blake's voice. He was standing in the entrance to the cave, and she had the sudden feeling he'd been watching her for long minutes.
"Good morning," she said. She waited, a faint smile trembling on her lips. Surely there was more to say than that. But Blake said nothing. His eyes were in shadow, unreadable, although she could see his mouth, a thin, hard line against the stubble of his beard. Suddenly, her throat felt like sandpaper. "Has it...has the rain stopped?"
"Yes. A couple of hours ago. It looks as if it's going to be hot as hell later on."
Again she waited, and then, at last, she cleared her throat. "Well, then, I guess I'll—I'll get dr..."
She couldn't say the word. God, that was stupid, wasn't it? She'd lain naked in Blake's arms all night and now she stumbled over telling him she was going to get dressed. She swallowed and looked away from him. No, it wasn't stupid, she thought. Her nudity hadn't embarrassed her while he'd made love to her. Now, somehow, it did.
"Yes," he said, his eyes flickering over her body, "that's a good idea."
Elena fought against the desire to curl into a tight ball. "Right," she said quickly. "Maybe you could...you could start a fire so we can have some coffee after I... before we leave."
He nodded. "I'll be back in a minute."
hands trembled as she reached for her clothing and dressed. It wasn't as if she'd expected a miracle. Yes, there had been one heart-stopping moment in the darkest hour of the night when she'd stirred beneath Blake and
let herself dream of hearing him say he loved her. But it was daylight, and the time for dreams was past. All she wanted now was for him to say something tender.
"That should do it."
He was back, carrying an armload of firewood. She watched as he dropped it to the ground, and then she reached for the carryall.
"I'll—um—I'll get out the coffee. And the sugar. And…"
She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't stop until Blake began walking towards her. Her heart began to race. He was going to take her into his arms; he was going to kiss her. He was going to smile at her and say...
Wrong.
He didn’t touch her, didn’t speak to her.
She watched in silence as he built the fire.
Smoke drifted lazily towards the roof of the cave and she inhaled shakily. The smell of woodsmoke would always remind her of Blake, she thought suddenly, and of this moment, this terrible moment...
"Blake."
She spoke in a low voice, the single word rushing from her lips before she could call it back. He looked up at her from where he squatted beside the fire he'd started, his eyes narrowed against the smoke.
"Blake," she said again, "what's the matter? We...we're behaving as if we... as if we were strangers."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do."
"Hand over the flask, will you? And the pot." She hesitated and then did as he'd asked. "Thanks."
"You see? You're so polite, so civil..."
His eyebrows rose as he filled the little pot and set it over the fire. "Would you prefer it if I weren't?"
There was a sudden tightness in her throat. ""Please, tell me what's wrong."
He rose slowly to his feet. "You know what's wrong," he said after a moment. His eyes met hers and then slid away. "Last night never should have happened. It was a mistake."
It seemed to take enormous effort to speak. "You didn't think so last night," she said carefully.
He raked his fingers through his hair. "Hell, I didn't think at all."
Pale color washed her cheeks and she took a step towards him. "I just meant... I thought..."
His eyes blazed into hers. "I know what you thought. “
Sandra's Classics - The Bad Boys of Romance - Boxed Set Page 60