Daring

by Dee Davis

  And besides, this was about forgetting. Just for one night. All she wanted was to escape into the seduction of the kiss.

  Pressing against his solid strength, she felt the steady rhythm of his breathing and the acceleration of his heart. His hands slid up from her waist—one circling her back, pulling her closer, and the other… the other traced a path up her arm, down her shoulder, settling at last on the curve of her breast.

  She pushed against his hand, impatient, wanting more. He obliged, one finger slowly tracing the swell of her breast through the thin material of her shirt. She arched against him, a low moan escaping her lips. His fingers kneaded the tender skin, rubbing her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

  He trailed kisses along her neck and the line of her shoulder, sending fire sparking through her, starting a slow burn in her belly that spread to the soft place between her thighs. Her body burned for him, the fire licking at her, building deep inside until she thought it might incinerate her. His tongue traced the line of her teeth, sending tiny shivers of desire coursing through her.

  She twined her fingers into his hair, drawing him closer, opening her mouth to him, reveling in the feel of his tongue against hers, exploring the heat of his mouth, tasting the essence of him. The kiss deepened, sensations exploding inside her. It was almost as if he were branding her, making her his with nothing more than a kiss.

  They’d moved so that she was standing with her back against a tree, the rough bark against her back only heightening her response to his mouth and hands. “Unless you want everyone in the settlement to see us, we need to move inside,” he whispered, his breath caressing her neck.

  She arched her hips upward, pressing against the hard strength of his penis straining through his fatigues. There was power in knowing that he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. And with that thought, she let go of any doubt, intent instead upon riding the wave.

  “My house,” she said, her voice deep and husky. “It’s not far. Just behind the clinic.” She tilted her head toward the vine-covered building just visible amid the trees, a glowing light coming from one of the windows.

  With a crooked smile, he swung her up into his arms, his lips brushing against her hair, as she buried her head in his chest and tried not to let herself think. Tonight was about pleasure, nothing but pleasure.

  In short order, he crossed the wide planked porch to the front door, and set her down so that she could unlock the door. Then they slipped inside, and he closed the door and pushed her against the wall, covering her lips with his, taking possession again. Her tongue dueled with his, each of them taking and giving, until she could hardly breathe.

  Then, with one hand braced against the wall, he pushed her shirt off her shoulder, his lips hot against her skin as he slipped the strap of her camisole down, baring her breast. Nipping with his teeth, he pulled it into his mouth and began to suck, tugging and pulling on her breast until she was writhing against him, her breath coming in short gasps, the heat between her legs pulsing with her need.

  She groaned and pushed against him, wanting him inside her.

  He lifted his head, a hint of laughter in his eyes. “Patience. We have all night.” His words aroused her almost as much as his touch. Then he shifted, his body pressing her against the wall, his mouth slanting over hers, his hands dipping lower, beneath the waist of her pants, his finger pushing deep inside her.

  She cried out, and he swallowed the sound, the action somehow more intimate than anything they had done. His finger and tongue began to move in tandem—in and out, in and out, caressing, withdrawing, caressing, withdrawing, until she was balanced on a precipice, waiting to explode.

  But he stopped, shaking his head as she opened her mouth to protest, her body quivering like a tightly strung bow. “Wait,” he said, pushing away, his expression still hungry. “I want to see you first. I want to see all of you.”

  She shivered at the passion in his voice, and then with a soft smile, she pulled off her shirt and stepped out of her pants. Then with a slow, sensual shimmy, she slid off her camisole and panties.

  He sucked in a strangled breath, his eyes devouring her. “God, you’re beautiful.” He lifted her into his arms, laying her on the bed, the sheets cool against her skin. And then, with a minimum of effort, he shed his clothes, and her body tightened at the sight of his arousal, desire flooding through her with the power of a tsunami.

  He straddled her on the bed, and his eyes met hers, his lids low and heavy with passion as he spread her legs. And then he bent his head, blowing softly against the curls between her legs. She squirmed, sensations rocking through her, and he held her steady, his palms hot against her thighs.

  He lifted his head, repeating the word patience. And then he dipped his head again, his breath caressing her an instant before his tongue found her. She bucked against him, unable to control her body’s reaction to his touch. His dark hair fanned out against her skin, caressing her thighs as his mouth caressed her.

  His tongue flicked lightly, and then he sucked, slowly at first, and then faster and harder, and she shivered with the deliciousness of his touch. Again and again he stroked her, driving her higher and higher. Her hands tangled in his hair, pushing him closer, begging for more, until the world spun out of control, light splintering into shattered fragments.

  She struggled for breath but knew she wanted more. “Please, Rafe,” she called, her voice so low it was almost inaudible. “I need you. Inside me. Now.”

  He moved to straddle her again, his gaze locking with hers, as he thrust deep inside her, her body already responding, building again toward climax. Together they began to move, as if they’d done this dance a thousand times before. They rocked slowly at first, savoring the moment—the connection—then gradually began to move faster, each stroke bringing them tantalizingly close to the edge.

  Tension built between them like a delicately strung wire, pulling tighter and tighter, pleasure and pain mixing as one, need driving every move. She reached up to grab the railings of the headboard, arching her back, and balanced on his elbows, he yielded to her demand, the pounding of her heart echoing the rhythm.

  Higher and higher they climbed, locked into a cataclysmic spiral that threatened to undo her. With one last plunge, they fell over the edge, their bodies linked, their spirits fusing as one, the explosion rocking through her with an intensity that satiated and starved all at one time.

  Rafe cried her name, his fingers locking around hers, and for a moment Lara was flying high, and then slowly she sank back to reality, the moment losing the magic. And she saw a face.

  Jason’s face.

  Guilt washed through her, shame—hot and heavy. Jason was dead.

  Her stomach clenched, and a sob ripped from her throat, the pain physical. She rolled onto her side, the tears coming in earnest now. It was as if something had broken open inside her, and she couldn’t stop herself. She cried for all that she’d lost—her hopes and her dreams—with Jason.

  It was as if with one act, she had killed him all over again. She pressed a fist against her mouth, fighting to keep the pain inside, but she couldn’t stop it. And as the shudders and sobs wracked through her, she felt Rafe curl his big body around hers, the simple touch giving comfort in a way she could never have imagined.

  It didn’t change anything. But for a moment at least, it gave her the strength to give into her grief. To mourn all that she’d lost. And to consider the possibility that it was time to let Jason go.

  Chapter 2

  Lara walked in the door of the clinic, her head pounding. Thankfully, Rafe hadn’t been there when she’d woken, which had made it all the better to deal with the aftermath, not the least of which included her hangover. Maybe if she was lucky, she could avoid Kim as well. Nothing was secret for long in the settlement, but she wasn’t really ready for a full-on inquisition.

  The night had started well enough, but it hadn’t exactly ended on a high note. With a little luck, she’d just pull her
self together and act as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t as if he’d be wanting a repeat engagement. And besides, she didn’t want a relationship anyway. Despite her moment of zen last night, she knew she wasn’t ready to let Jason go. She’d just wanted to let off some steam, and until she’d fallen apart, she’d done that in spades.

  For a moment she allowed herself to think about Rafe and the way he’d held her through the night. It wasn’t what she’d have expected, and despite the fact that she wanted to wish the night away, she was still absurdly grateful for the gesture. Being alone with her regret would have only made it worse somehow.

  She looked around the waiting room, relieved to see that it was almost empty. No sign of Rafe or Kim, just a couple of patients. The clinic was small, the waiting room taking up most of the front, with two short hallways to the left and right, and a longer one running almost the length of the building in back. The office that she shared with Kim and Emile Antoine, the clinic’s third doctor, opened off the hall to the right of the waiting room. Two small surgical suites were situated off the left hallway. In back, there was a storeroom and a cubicle-divided examination room.

  “Wondered if you’d be making it in this morning,” Kim said, striding into the room, eyebrows raised in question. “Gustav said you had an eventful night.”

  “Gustav should mind his own business.” Not that Kim wouldn’t understand. He’d certainly spent his share of nights in the bar. She was just peevish because of what had followed the drinking. She wasn’t given to one-night stands, and for more reasons than she cared to examine, she wasn’t proud of her lapse in willpower. Although if she were honest, she couldn’t say that she truly regretted it—at least not on a purely physical level.

  “He said you left with Rafe.”

  “No good deed goes unpunished?”

  “I don’t know.” Kim shrugged, his teeth white against the dark wash of his beard. “You tell me. You’re the only one who can say if it was worth it.”

  She raised her hands in defense, shaking her head. “I’m not going to talk about this. Let’s just leave it that I had a bad day, followed by a bit too much to drink.”

  “As long as you’re all right,” Kim said, his smile disappearing. “If Rafe did anything to—”

  “I’m a big girl, Kim. I make my own decisions. So you can relax with the big brother act. And besides, I thought you liked Rafe?”

  “I do,” he protested. “It’s just that, well, I don’t know that I like the idea of you and him—”

  “Doing the horizontal mambo?” Her smile widened. “Come on, Kim. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you were jealous.”

  “Give me a break, Prescott. I just want you to be careful. Rafe isn’t the type to commit.”

  “Yeah, well, neither am I. And even if I were ready to move on, it wouldn’t be with someone like Rafe. But it’s nice to know you have my back,” she said with a smile. “So where is the man of the hour anyway? Have you seen him?”

  “He left early, with Emile. They’ve gone for supplies. There’s a shipment in Bangui attached to the UN peacekeeping mission. With any luck, they’ll bring back enough to last us for the next six months.”

  “Assuming things haven’t already gone astray.” The corruption in this part of Africa was beyond contemplation. And even though the supplies were a part of a UN shipment, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t disappear—appropriated by officials, politicos, rebels, or whoever the hell had a personal agenda and the right connections. It was an ongoing problem.

  But there wasn’t anything that could have been done about that today.

  “So who’s on deck?” She nodded toward the people in the waiting room. There were days when the room was filled to bursting, a line forming on the porch outside, but today things appeared to be moving slowly.

  “Got a man with an infection,” Kim said, glancing down at the files in his hand. “A woman with what looks like walking pneumonia. And Aunt Tandy.”

  Aunt Tandy was a clinic regular. At eighty-five, she was the oldest of their patients—a bit of a hypochondriac but always ready with a toothless smile and, if allowed, a long-winded story or two. Kim maintained her constant visits were a result of loneliness. Lara suspected it was more about keeping her finger on the pulse of the community. Either way, this meant dealing with the woman on an almost daily basis.

  “I’ll flip you,” Kim offered, his dark eyes reflecting amusement.

  “No.” Lara shook her head. “I’ll take her. It’s no big deal.”

  “I take back my concern,” Kim said, as she headed for the cubicle where Aunt Tandy was waiting. “Clearly whatever happened last night was a good thing.”

  “It has nothing whatsoever to do with last night.” She shrugged, still walking. “I’m just a good person. Deal with it.”

  The little cubicle consisted of two walls and a curtain on a track mounted in the ceiling. The far wall held a window that looked out over the back of the clinic. The jungle was thick here, the trees almost obliterating the sun, but it held its own form of wild beauty, nature’s power here supreme.

  “So, Aunt Tandy, what brings you in today?” Lara asked, speaking the woman’s native dialect as she pulled the curtain shut.

  The old woman smiled, her gums withered with age, but her eyes alight with intelligence and energy. “I have much pain,” she said, gesturing toward her stomach.

  “And how long has it been hurting?” Lara asked while motioning Aunt Tandy to lie back.

  “Since early this morning. It woke me.”

  Lara palpated the old woman’s abdomen, finding nothing unusual, even though Aunt Tandy squirmed under her ministrations. “Does it hurt here?” she asked, pressing on the left quadrant.

  “A little,” Aunt Tandy said. “But more there.”

  Since Lara had quit touching her altogether, this begged the question as to why it would hurt more without any aggravation, but she held her tongue. The old woman wasn’t the type to give in easily. Better to be certain there was nothing wrong and then prescribe antacids, for what Lara suspected was a bad case of gas.

  As if to prove the point, Aunt Tandy belched, and then laughed. “Much better. So now,” she said, her smile widening, “you tell me about last night.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Lara said. It seemed Kim wasn’t the only busybody in the settlement.

  “Oh, please, I saw you leave with the Australian.”

  “I left with a friend, Tandy. There’s nothing more to tell.” Lara sighed. Once, in a fit of loneliness, she’d shared what happened to Jason with the old woman, and now it seemed Tandy believed she had proprietary rights on any new developments in the story.

  “But you had good time?” she pressed, never one to give up easily.

  “No… I mean, yes… I mean… I don’t know how to answer that. Look, you know that I’m still mourning Jason. That isn’t something that just goes away.”

  “True.” Aunt Tandy nodded, eyes narrowed. “But you are not dead. And it is for the living to make their peace.”

  “When the time is right,” Lara mumbled, reaching into a cabinet for a bottle of antacids.

  “If you wait too long,” Aunt Tandy said, “it might be too late. Happiness, she doesn’t come that often.”

  Lara opened her mouth to argue and then closed it again, realizing how crazy she was to even think about disagreeing. Aunt Tandy wasn’t going to be dissuaded, and it wasn’t as if the old woman had any power over Lara’s decisions. Better to just pretend. “Well, as always, I appreciate your thoughts,” she said, patting the old woman’s hand. “But right now, instead of worrying about my love life, I want you to concentrate on yourself. These pills should help with the pain.”

  “I do not like pain medicine.” Aunt Tandy shook her head. “It makes me feel fuzzy.”

  “This isn’t pain medicine.” Lara smiled. “It’s for your stomach. To make the gas go away.”

  The old woman took the bottle and squinted at the l
abel. “So it won’t make me sleepy?”

  “No.” Lara shook her head. “It won’t do anything except make you feel better. Take two after you eat. Okay?”

  Aunt Tandy nodded.

  “And come back if it doesn’t go away.”

  “I will.” The old woman grinned. “I want to see you and the Australian together.”

  “Aunt Tandy…,” Lara started, but before she could finish her thought the sound of gunfire echoed through the clinic. “Get down,” she said, yanking the old woman onto the floor behind the examination table.

  “Rebels,” Aunt Tandy hissed, her eyes narrowing with a look of hatred. “They are always where you don’t want them to be.”

  “Shh.” Lara shook her head, holding a finger to her lips, listening. The clinic was quiet, but she wasn’t easily fooled. She’d been in similar situations, and every instinct she had was screaming for caution.

  Staying on the floor, she inched forward and pulled back the bottom corner of the curtain just enough to see the room beyond. The other three cubicle curtains were open, the examination tables empty. She pulled the curtain open a little wider, still straining for further indication of danger as her mind quickly outlined possible escape strategies.

  Behind her Aunt Tandy shifted, her dark eyes wary. “No more noise.” She whispered the observation, a blinding glimpse of the obvious, but a positive one nevertheless.

  “Maybe it was just a car backfiring,” Lara said, keeping her voice to a whisper, her eyes still on the empty room in front of her. “You stay here and keep an eye on the door. I’ll check the window.”

  Lara released the cubicle curtain and moved to the window, careful to stay below the sill. Then after a silent count of three, she pushed up so that she could see. Dressed in camouflage, a man stood in profile, his machine gun looking lethal against the backdrop of the jungle. The belt at his waist held a radio and additional ammo.