AWOL with the Operative

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AWOL with the Operative Page 9

by Jean Thomas


  Clutching his head, she dug her fingers into his scalp when he centered his attention on her wet nub, working his magic until she was lost in a frenzy of passion. A passion so strong he had to grip her squirming hips to prevent her from escaping his focus. He gave her no relief, lifting her steadily, relentlessly to a peak of such giddy joy she lost all control, surrendering herself in the end with whimpers and little cries to wave after wave of blissful release.

  He owned her now. She was his. It’s what Eve felt as she sank back to earth. That and, along with it, the belief she’d be permitted an interval of recovery. She was mistaken. Sam wasn’t ready to allow either her or himself any moment of rest.

  Puzzled, she watched him move quickly and with purpose away from her on hands and knees, affording her a view of a nude, supremely sexy backside.

  “Sam, what are you—?”

  “Shh,” he hushed her.

  Reaching one of the chairs over which he had earlier draped his clothing, he snagged the coat down, fumbled in one of its pockets and removed something she wasn’t able to identify in the weak light of the fire. Not, anyway, until he returned to the mattress.

  “Courtesy of Ken Redfeather,” he said, holding out a foil-wrapped condom to her.

  And just when, she wondered, had he discovered this particular treasure? He gave her no chance to question him about it. Grinning, all he would confess was a fast “There are others in that pocket—a nice supply of them.”

  “I take it we’re not through here then?”

  “Not unless you want us to be.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to either of us, Sam,” she said, accepting the packet he pressed on her after he tore it open.

  “You do the honors.”

  There was no mistaking his invitation. He wanted her to sheathe him, an action that her limited experience hadn’t prepared her for. His fully evident erection was all the assistance he was willing to provide her.

  And, as it turned out, all she needed to convince her of the power of her womanhood was when he trembled visibly as she removed the condom and slowly rolled it down over his pulsing column of rigid flesh.

  “You’re destroying me again,” he accused her.

  Maybe so, but it didn’t prevent him from taking over after that. Establishing his own male power, his hands urging her down again on the mattress, he lifted himself above her, nudged her legs open with his knee and lowered himself on her flushed body.

  Too plainly wanting her by now to sacrifice even a moment of delay, he gave her no chance to accept him before guiding himself to the entrance he sought. Eve made every effort to accommodate him, spreading her legs, lifting her hips to receive the tip of his erection that slowly, steadily parted the folds of the slick, quivering flesh that waited for him so impatiently.

  She must have somehow silently communicated her readiness to welcome him, because with one strong thrust that had her gasping, he plunged his length deep inside her. Only then did he pause to allow her to adjust to him. To relish the incredible sensation of his body joined with hers.

  In that sweet interval he began to kiss her again, his open mouth demonstrating his intense passion, tongue delving into her mouth to capture her own tongue in a duel of pure, potent sensation.

  In the end, the shared urgency of a lower, more demanding region of their locked bodies would no longer deny either of them the fury that followed. Sam’s long strokes which, with her legs and arms wrapped about him she strove to match with her own rhythms, were dynamic. They were accompanied by his murmured endearments and wild kisses that she answered with her hands and mouth on every portion of his sleek flesh that she could reach.

  Surging against each other, both of them beyond control now, she felt the first spasms break over her, sweeping her into the flood that carried her away.

  She was just surfacing when Sam was seized by his own climax and a dark, muttered claim that she had drowned him. If so, he went with a smile and a sigh of satisfaction as he sank against her.

  When he stirred again, it was with a concerned “I’m too heavy for you.”

  Before she could assure him he wasn’t, that she wanted him to remain exactly where he was, he rolled away from her on his side.

  “Turn over. No, the other direction,” he instructed her when she started to face him. She did as he asked, her back to him. “There, that’s better. Just right.”

  He squeezed against her, his arms sliding around her waist to lock her in his protective embrace. Yes, this was just right, their bodies spooned together so snugly she could feel his breath stirring in her hair. Could hear his whisper in her ear.

  “What just happened…that was fantastic. You’re fantastic.”

  “Without a memory,” she murmured, “how can you compare?”

  “I know. On some level way down inside me, I know. Here—” Removing one of his hands from her waist, he reached for a blanket, drawing it over them, sealing them in a warm, safe cocoon.

  She listened to the soft sputtering of the fire, felt him relax against her and knew from his even breathing that he had drifted off. Eve wasn’t ready to sleep.

  In the long minutes that followed, she wanted nothing more than to remain peacefully suspended in the pleasure this remarkable man had given her. She didn’t want to think about any negatives, but they came crowding in on her anyway, demanding her attention.

  Somewhere in the wilderness outside this cabin was the threat of the enemy hunting for them. The wind that still howled under the eaves reminded her of that. It should have been her chief concern. It wasn’t. It was Sam who worried her. How would he feel about her when his memory returned? How fantastic would he think she was then?

  And how would she feel about him? How did she feel about him now? Vulnerable, that’s how she felt. Fearing that, if she tried to get in touch with her emotions, honestly tried, she could be laying herself open to some serious hurt.

  Did she regret their lovemaking? It had occurred to her before she had given herself to him so freely that she might. No, she decided. Whatever happened after tonight, she had no regrets for what they had so wonderfully shared. Not a single one.

  Then why was she so scared?

  Chapter 6

  Sam wondered if he had ever been in the service. Maybe that’s why the voice rousing him from his pleasant state of sleep reminded him of a tough drill sergeant, demanding that he get out of bed.

  “Come on, Sam, it’s time for you to be up.”

  Naw, couldn’t be a drill sergeant. This voice, insistent though it was, had the velvet tone of a woman. Opening one eye, he checked to make certain of that. Yep, the figure bending over him was definitely female, and a mighty alluring one at that.

  “You’re dressed already,” he said.

  “I have been for quite a while,” Eve informed him.

  “What time is—” He didn’t finish his question. Having propped himself up on one elbow, he realized there was no need for him to ask. Gray daylight framing the cabin windows told him it was morning. “My God, we must have slept the clock around!”

  “And then some. We probably needed it.”

  From the way she was hovering over him so expectantly, Sam guessed there was going to be no early morning, drowsy snuggling followed by another session of lovemaking. Damn!

  “What have you been doing?”

  “Keeping busy.”

  She began to hand him his clothes, garment by garment, her intention clear. She wanted him to get into them. At least they were thoroughly dry by now. Thanks to her. Hell, she must have been keeping the fire going right through the night.

  The fire!

  Damning himself for his negligence, he swiveled his gaze in the direction of the fireplace where smoke from the burning logs was being drawn up the chimney.

  “Eve, no. We have to put it out. No fire, not in daylight. The smoke could be seen for miles.”

  “Sam, I didn’t overlook that problem. But it’s not. A problem, that is. You know how crazy Ap
ril can be.”

  “Angel, what are you talking about?”

  “The weather. The snow and wind quit sometime in the night, probably hours ago. And after that the temperature had to have climbed. Climbed a lot, because right now there’s nothing out there but a very thick fog.”

  He understood then what she was telling him. The fog was swallowing their smoke, blending it into the gray mass that must have blanketed the entire area. But Sam wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw it for himself.

  Surging to his feet, hopping from one foot to the other as he struggled first into his briefs and then his pants, he worked his way to the nearest window. She was right. The fog was so heavy it shrouded the lake below from sight, cloaked the cabin, concealing it and any smoke from both the ground and the air above.

  “We’re all right then,” he said, turning from the window.

  “But at the first sign of the fog lifting—”

  “We extinguish the fire.”

  Able to relax his guard, at least for the moment, he became aware of the aroma of brewing coffee. The smell of it was so irresistible Sam was ready to forgive her for being dressed when he’d wanted her to be naked and close beside him on the mattress.

  “Coffee?” he wondered. “Actual coffee?”

  “Much more than that,” she said, her tone registering her excitement. “We won’t have to exist on crackers.”

  The promise of food in any form was also an enticement. But first he had something more important to take care of.

  Fully dressed now and coat in hand, he headed for the back door and that privy he had spotted last evening. Eve must have already visited the place. Once outside and bundling into his coat, he could see her tracks in the snow.

  It wasn’t until he came away from the privy that Sam made himself fully aware of the weather. The dense fog was in their favor. If the enemy was aloft again in that chopper, they wouldn’t be able to spot anything below them.

  That wasn’t the only good sign. The air was so mild he could swear the snowdrifts were already drooping. A total change from yesterday. It was no guarantee the temperature would continue to climb. As Eve had pointed out, April was a month that couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. But maybe…

  Not wanting to jinx his hope for a quick thaw that might aid them in getting away, he didn’t finish the thought.

  Eve was in the kitchen stirring a pot of something on the woodstove when he returned to the cabin. She looked as cheerful as if she’d realized that ambition of hers to be a chef.

  That she’d managed to build a fire in the stove and had a basin of water waiting for him on the dry sink, evidence she also had melted a quantity of snow, had him feeling guilty. Just how long had she been up and about without him? he wondered, sliding the chair back under the knob of the damaged back door.

  She handed him a towel after he’d washed his hands and face with a bar of soap.

  “I found an unopened toothbrush along with the soap,” she told him as he dried himself. “Just the one, so we’ll have to share it.”

  Not a problem, he thought, considering how intimate their mouths had been last night.

  “There’s a package of disposable razors, too.”

  Good. No more risk of whisker burns when he kissed her again, which he fully intended to do as soon as possible. Right now, though, his hunger was a priority.

  “What have you got cooking in the pot?”

  “Oatmeal. We’ll have scrambled eggs to go with it. Powdered, of course, like the milk that gets mixed in with the eggs, so I don’t know how they’ll taste. But, Sam, you wouldn’t believe what we’ve lucked into here.”

  She began pulling open drawers and cupboard doors, showing him tightly sealed containers of flour, sugar, a variety of dried meats and fruits and an assortment of seasonings. There were also the jars of rice and beans he’d noticed yesterday on the open shelves.

  “Everything is nonperishable, which I guess it has to be without a refrigerator.”

  Sam nodded. “Well, whoever the owners of this isolated place are, groceries must be a problem if they have to be hauled in with them from any distance, probably either by boat along the river or maybe a floatplane out on the lake.” He tossed the towel down on the counter. “You happen to come across any tools?”

  “In the drawer over there.”

  Great. At least he could make an effort to repair the latch and lock on the back door, saving them from the nuisance of using the chair to keep the door shut. As much as he admired Eve’s resourcefulness, along with a growing list of other qualities about this amazing woman, he had been feeling pretty useless since she had awakened him. He’d need to remedy that.

  She had breakfast ready and waiting on the table when he successfully finished with the door. “Not bad,” he complimented her after tasting the eggs. “Not bad at all.”

  “It’s the spices that save them.”

  “Whatever the secret, you are one hell of a cook, Eve Warren. That restaurant you’re planning to open will definitely be a hit.”

  Sam could see he had pleased her, and that made him feel good. For the moment, anyway. He hated the thought of having to spoil her enthusiasm, but before they finished their breakfast it would be necessary for him to do just that.

  “Only with the right ingredients and a restaurant-size range to cook on. One that doesn’t qualify as a museum piece and has to be fueled by wood. Although,” she said, glancing at the ancient iron cookstove, “I’m not a stranger to this kind of antique.”

  She went on to tell him that, while researching an article for the magazine on how their ancestors prepared meals for their families, she’d had the opportunity to use such a cookstove at a re-created pioneer village outside St. Louis.

  It was an interesting anecdote, but Sam only half listened to it. The other half of his mind dealt with the reality that had been gnawing at him at a gut level from the moment he had opened his eyes this morning.

  In the end it was Eve who, finally aware of his silence, gave him the opening he needed. “What is it, Sam? What’s bothering you?”

  Lowering the mug of coffee he’d been sipping from, he leaned toward her across the table, his tone one of necessary authority. “Angel, as tempting as it is, we can’t go on staying here playing house.”

  “You’re telling me we need to clear out. When?”

  “As soon as the fog shows any sign of lifting. Because when it does, there’s nothing to prevent our bad boys from taking to the air again in that chopper of theirs. They could already be up and searching for us.”

  “It’s a big wilderness out there, Sam, and they can’t possibly know where we went.”

  “Dammit, Eve, it isn’t safe for us here.”

  “And just where do we go that will make us safe?”

  “Downriver. Sooner or later, we’re bound to reach some kind of settlement that will put us in touch with the outside world.”

  “They could just as well find us there or on the river itself while we’re trying to get to this settlement you’re counting on.”

  “We are not going to sit around waiting for them,” he insisted.

  She gazed at him solemnly for a few seconds before nodding slowly. “You’re right, of course. We’ll go as soon as the fog starts to thin.” She got to her feet and began to clear the table. “But until then…”

  “Until then, what?”

  “I’m going to use the time to put food and water together for the trek.”

  He could see that made sense. To go out there again without the essentials would be courting suicide. He hesitated before asking her, “You mind taking care of that end of it?”

  He went on to explain that he felt the need to go down to the shore, where he would try to learn if there was a downriver or whether the stream ended on the lake. He also meant to check the ice to make certain it was still solid. And while he was there, he would look through the boatshed for anything that might be useful to them. Not to mention being on the alert for a
ny sign of the enemy.

  Sam had been pleased by the rising temperature when he’d come away from the privy earlier. But when he emerged from the cabin again and stood on the front porch, listening to the drip of water from the melting snow on the roof, he began to regret that development.

  He should have realized that a thaw wouldn’t benefit them. That if it got any warmer the ice downstream might not remain reliable enough to bear them. Providing, that is, such a route existed at all. Yesterday, in the heavy snowfall, he hadn’t been able to make out the end of the lake, and with this fog today it was still hidden from him. But since the river entered the lake, it only made sense that there would be an outlet somewhere out there.

  Leaving the porch, he made his way down the slope in the direction of the shore, pausing at intervals to listen for the sound of any aircraft. Nothing. There was only the eerie silence of the motionless fog, its dampness licking at his face. He could almost smell it.

  However, the ice concerned him when he reached the shoreline. He could neither see nor hear any open waters flowing yet on the lake. Didn’t mean the cover was still safe. He needed to test it.

  Moving with care, he ventured out several yards on the lake, risking a plunge through the surface when he stomped his boot on the snow-crusted ice. There was no give in any of the spots he tried. The ice was still hard and secure.

  Still, he couldn’t convince himself a massive thaw wasn’t imminent, and if they were caught by an ice breakup while on the river… Yeah, that would be bad. Even worse, the fickle weather could trap them in another blizzard, and this time with no handy shelter.

  Hell, there were no good options, were there?

  Might as well investigate that boatshed while he was here. Perhaps it would provide him with some kind of weapon to use to defend them if, and when, they encountered their pursuers again at close range.

  Circling the structure, he discovered that it had no windows. There were two wide doors, however, one on the water side and the other facing the cabin.

  He didn’t have to force any entry this time. The waterside door he tried was unlocked. He left it open for light when he went inside. The first thing he noticed was a lightweight, fiberglass canoe. When the fog finally cleared, and there was an ice breakup, the canoe could carry them downriver.

 

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