by Lora Leigh
“Sorry my hands are so rough,” he apologized as he briskly rubbed her back, her arms, her legs where she’d knotted them with his in an effort to speed the warming process.
“F … friction. Good,” she managed and already he felt her skin warming beneath his hands.
“Elena. Beautiful,” he grunted back in his best caveman voice.
“Okay. With th … at remark you officially hit m … my definition of certifiably in … insane.”
“Why?” He kept up the constant rubbing, relieved to feel a slight decrease in the severity of her tremors. “Because you think you’re not sexy as hell—even though you’re half drowned?’
“Because not f-f-f … five minutes ago, we almost died and you’re s-s-s … still coming on to me.”
He smiled against her wet hair. “A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
“Seth … do me a f-f-f … favor, will you?”
“Anything.”
“Shut up.”
He grinned. God, the woman had guts. He hugged her tighter. She could be bitching and moaning and working herself into hysterical tears. Instead, she endured.
“You’ve got spunk, you know that, Martinez? I like that in a woman.”
“King,” she said in a leading tone.
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “Shutting up now.”
HEAT. WEIGHT. PRESSURE.
All good. All wonderful.
Elena fought against the pull toward consciousness. She liked where she was just fine—drifting between sleep and wakefulness.
Heat. Weight. Pressure.
The force of it reassured her. Warmed her. Stirred her. Heat …
Weight …
Pressure …
In all the right spots. In all the right ways.
Seth.
Holding her. Warming her. Protecting her.
She opened her eyes. To a moon riding high and bright over a broad, bare shoulder and the jutting, jagged peaks of the canyon walls. To the strength of his big body sheltering her in the night.
Delicious heat.
Substantial weight.
Exquisite pressure.
She moved her hand. Across warm skin covering sinew and muscle and bone.
She turned her head … and realized he was awake and watching her.
“Hey,” he whispered, a gentle query, a concerned hello.
“Hey,” she whispered back, that single word telling him much more. I’m okay. I’m … aware. And yeah, I’m probably going to regret this in the morning.
“Did you get warmed up?” he murmured with a gruffness in his voice that forewarned her of the erection growing long and thick against her belly.
“Um,” she murmured and rocked her hips against him, “yeah. But not warm enough.”
He smiled. “I’m giving it all I’ve got, darlin’.”
She smiled, too. “Well … no. I don’t think you are,” she said with meaning.
He searched her face in the moonlight. And saw exactly what she wanted him to see. He saw the welcome, the wanting and the urgency there. Recognized the need in her to be something other than frightened and vulnerable and raw. The desire to stall the truth of their situation. They’d almost died. They could still die and she needed validation that right now, this moment, she was alive and vital and desperate for something other than fear to get her through the rest of this night.
With exquisite sensitivity, he forked his fingers through her still damp hair. “You sure about this?
She held his dark gaze. Nodded. “Very sure.”
He lowered his head tentatively. Touched her lips with a tenderness that almost made her weep. Moved against her with an intimacy that damn near made her beg.
Elena didn’t sleep around. No time. No proclivities to muck up her life. No illusions about love and romance and sex having anything to do with each other.
But there was something … something about Seth that dared her to forget about her own rules, toss caution to the wind and take anything and everything this man could offer her.
When she moved closer into him, he gave up any pretense of hesitance, too. He rolled her to her back in the soft, green grass, caged in her shoulders with his elbows, cupped her face in his hands and claimed her mouth. Claimed and tormented and tantalized. Long, deep strokes of his tongue. Quick, biting nips of his teeth. On her jaw. On her chin. Back to her mouth again where he bit her lower lip until she gasped, then soothed the tender hurt with his tongue.
She loved the way he kissed her. With hunger and greed and a studied self-indulgence that made her feel savored and desired and outrageously sexual. With a total dedication to both his pleasure and hers that overshadowed anything but the moment.
For now, the moment was just fine.
His big hand made quick work of the clasp of her bra, shoved it out of the way and made room for his mouth to cover her nipple. He wasn’t rough, but neither was he gentle. What he was was absorbed. Wholly. Exclusively. He sucked and laved and tugged, triggering her flash points, making her writhe with impatience beneath him.
Cupping his head in her hands, she held his marauding mouth against her breast, arching her back, rocking her hips and inviting him to take, pleading with him to give as she spread her legs to make room for him there.
He growled low in his throat—a primitive sound of pleasure that transitioned to throbbing frustration.
“What? What’s wrong?”
He lifted his head, searched her face as she gripped his shoulders. “I wasn’t prepared for this.” He buried his face in the hollow of her neck. “I can’t protect you.”
Oh, God. Protection.
“I’m on the pill,” she said quickly. “And I’m … it’s been, well, months since I’ve been in a relationship. If you … if you’re worried about STDs, don’t.”
He raised his head again, eyes narrowed. “And you’re not worried about me?”
She swallowed, let her hands slip down to his lean waist. “Should I be?”
He nipped her chin. Kissed her cheeks. Her brow. “No, darlin’. I’m whistle clean.”
She splayed her fingers over the tightly bunched muscle of his hips, pressed his huge erection against her pubis. “Well, then?”
The rough growth of his beard felt erotically arousing and abrasive when he smiled against her temple. “Are you always this trusting?”
She froze, self-conscious suddenly. “You think I’m naive.”
“No. I think you’re amazing.” He bussed her nose with his. “And I think—despite the current fix we’re in—that I’m the luckiest man alive.”
“It’s probably the concussion,” she said, sinking back into his kisses. “It’s clouding your perspective.”
His mouth spread into a smile against hers. “Or maybe,” he whispered, reaching between them to guide himself to her opening and push inside, “maybe …” he repeated through clenched teeth as he drove all the way home, “my perspective is finally crystal clear.
“My God, Elena. You … feel … so … good.”
She took him in on a gasp, on a sensual rush of blinding pleasure as he filled her, thick and hard and deep. Rocked with him as he pumped and teased and slid in and out of her slick, wet heat.
Lingering thrusts.
Lazy strokes.
Penetrating plunges.
Heat …
Weight …
Pressure …
When she lifted her hips to his, begged and enticed him to quicken the pace, lazy transitioned to hard, grinding plunges. She wrapped her ankles around his hips, held on for her life and plummeted over the edge on a wild and reckless free-fall of acute sensation and desperate, clawing desire.
He moved one final time above her, seated himself deep and took the plunge with her on a panting groan, stiffening, shuddering, spilling hot and thick inside of her.
SEVEN
THE SUN WAS STILL low on the horizon, its slanting rays barely spearing into the canyon when Seth o
pened his eyes to a pounding head and little needles of pain tingling through his left hand. The warm weight of the naked woman who had caused his arm to go to sleep more than made up for the discomfort.
The clearing of the cobwebs from a dismal attempt at sound sleep told him they had to get up and get moving.
“Elena,” he whispered, caressing her bare hip. “Sorry, darlin’. Time to run and gun.”
She buried her face deeper into his shoulder and made a soft sound of protest.
God, what he wouldn’t give for twenty-four hours of uninterrupted time locked in a room with her. A room with a bed. And a shower. And a chair where he could visualize her riding him until he couldn’t see straight.
Today, he had to settle for a head start from the bad guys. Very bad guys who would happily shoot them on sight now and damn Clyde Devine’s wrath. Their pride had been bruised when Seth and Elena had given them the slip last night. So the boys were pissed. With pissed came double mean.
Very carefully, Seth slipped his arm out from beneath Elena’s head. With even more care, he sat up beside her. Immediately lowered his head between his up-drawn knees when a wave of dizziness slammed him.
“Shit.” He hoped to hell this was just a temporary bout of weakness, a drop in his BP after being horizontal for so long.
After a few deep breaths, he lifted his head but still didn’t do any celebrating when he found he felt steadier. Standing up and moving around would tell the tale.
Finally, he trusted himself enough to stand. Fought off another, weaker wave of light-headedness and decided he might be able to function after all. He worked the needles out of his hand, ignored the raging headache and walked slowly to gather their clothes.
He wasn’t surprised to find them dry. The humidity at the bottom of the canyon was minus zilch. The thirsty night air had sucked the moisture out of everything. Only their hiking boots were still damp inside.
He dressed in silence, reached in a zippered pocket for the power bar he knew he’d find there.
“Thanks, Pop,” he whispered. It was a lesson his father had taught him early on. Along with his Leatherman, he’d taught him to never be without food on his person in the Canyon. It was a beautiful but treacherous place. You never knew what was going to happen.
“Amen to that,” he muttered and turned back to Elena.
His heart literally skipped.
Holy, holy God. Would you look at her?
She was curled up on her side, as naked as the morning, as breathtaking as the spill of sunlight crawling down the canyon walls. It broke his heart that her smooth and flawless honey-gold skin was marred by nasty bruises from her tussle with the rocky river.
Hunkering down beside her, feeling an unaccustomed tenderness, he brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, smiled when she opened her eyes and saw him there.
“Morning,” he said. “Again.”
Totally uninhibited in her nakedness, she made another one of those sexy, sleepy sounds and sat up with a catlike stretch.
“Oh, man,” she said around a yawn. “You get the license number of the truck that hit me?”
He grinned. “And here I thought we’d had a good time last night.”
She breathed deep, plowed both hands into her tangled hair and dragged it away from her face. Looked at him. “You’re dressed.”
He handed over her clothes—with a whole helluva lot of reluctance. The picture of her sitting there, naked and glorious with it, would be burned in his brain until the next millennium. “We need to get a move on. Sorry.”
She nodded, looked self-conscious suddenly as she reached for her bra. “And I did, by the way. Have a good time,” she said quietly when his brows furrowed. “Well, except maybe for the part about being tied up and held at gunpoint, and getting pushed off a cliff and almost drowning,” she added with a fatalistic little smile.
God-all Friday. He could fall for this woman. Seriously. She had the courage of a lioness and an amazing ability to find humor even in the depths of this very dangerous situation.
“You’re something else, Martinez.” He was waiting for her when she poked her head out from the neck of her shirt. Kissed her lightly. “One hot, tough cookie.”
“You’re … something yourself,” she said, then kissed him back. “How’s the head?”
“There. But I’ll live.”
“Could you live better with these?” She fished into a zippered pocket of her pants and came up with a little waterproof plastic pouch. Inside were a couple of Band-Aids, a tiny tube of antibiotic ointment and a tin of ibuprofen.
“I think I love you,” he said, greedily taking the pain tablets she offered him.
“Just wish I’d remembered I had them last night.”
She made him sit then carefully applied ointment to the gash on his head.
“Ouch. Easy. And don’t beat yourself up about it. You’ve had a few things on your mind.”
Like running for her life, he thought as she gently finished dressing the wound.
Like making love to him with a hot and desperate sweetness he knew he’d never forget—not in this lifetime.
“I have something for you, too.” He reached into his pocket then handed her the power bar he’d taken out earlier.
“Oh, my God. Just ignore me if I drool, okay?”
She unwrapped it, broke it in two and handed the big half to him.
He shook his head. “Already had mine,” he lied. He’d be fine. She, however, needed some protein.
“Anyone ever tell you you can’t lie worth a darn?” she challenged, still holding out the bar to him. “Unless you can show me the wrapper to prove you ate another one, there’s no way I’m going to eat this entire thing.”
She had him there. Even though they were running for their lives, she knew he’d adhere to the “leave no trace” rules. He’d never have tossed a wrapper in the Canyon—which meant if there was one, it would be in one of his pockets.
“Just eat it. I’m fine,” he insisted.
“Okay, we can fight over this and risk letting Jake and Benny stumble onto us while we squabble over a snack or we can share. Your choice, but I’m not going anywhere until you get a protein fix.”
“We’re not in a courtroom, Elena,” he grumbled, reluctantly taking half of the power bar and popping it into his mouth.
“Nope. But I just won my case.”
“Only because I know what a sore loser you are.”
She grinned, slipped into her shorts then reached for her boots. “Said the pot to the kettle.”
He grunted.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked, lacing up.
“Oh, yeah. The plan.” He made a big show of scratching his head. “Figured you’d want one of those.”
OKAY, NOW WAS NOT the time and this was certainly not the place, but all Elena could think about in the moment was that Seth King might very possibly be a man she could fall in love with.
“Whoa. He’s the one with the lump on his head, not you,” she muttered under her breath and watched him walk to the river’s edge and scoop water into his hands.
He washed his face and head with the cold river water, then dipped up more and drank from his cupped palms.
Sunlight glinted off water droplets clinging to his dark hair and tan throat as he hunkered there, the hard muscles in his calves and thighs bulging, the broad strength of his shoulders flexing. A heavy stubble darkened his square jaw, making him look even rougher. Tougher.
Raw.
The man was a force. As hard and inflexible as steel when it came to survival.
And yet … a thin strip of bare skin where his shirt rode up and away from the back of his waistband peeked at her. There his skin was soft. Soft and smooth and sensitive. Last night, in the middle of the night, her fingers had lingered there. Lingered and stroked, then clenched and knotted when he’d pumped into her with the power of a man on the edge.
Contrasts. Yeah. Seth King was a study in contrasts. And s
o much more than she’d given him credit for.
She dragged a hand through her tangled hair and thought about last night, in the depth of the night, when she’d lost herself in his arms. They’d both been on the edge. So on edge, Elena had opened herself up to him with an abandon that scared the hell out of her in the daylight.
She could think about that later. Later when they got out of this. If they got out of this.
For now, she had bigger, badder things to be afraid of. Like angry men with big guns …
The whoop, whoop, whoop of a distant helicopter had her jerking her gaze skyward.
“Shit,” Seth swore and searched the sky with her.
She shaded her eyes with her hand. “I don’t see it.”
“Not yet.”
“You don’t think it could be a park chopper?” she asked, reacting to his grim look.
“What I think is that we can’t afford to let whoever it is spot us before we figure out if they’re friend or foe.”
He hurried across the sandy riverbank, grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him. “Come on. It’s getting closer. Let’s tuck in beneath those willows and wait.”
They’d just folded themselves into the trembling leaves of a clump of struggling willows and tamarisks when a chopper zipped around a rock wall and into view. It flew low and slow along the length of the river, stopping to hover not fifty meters from their hiding place.
“They’re definitely searching for someone,” Elena stated flatly, as aware of Seth’s hard body pressed against her back and his warm breath beating against her cheek as she was of the potential danger. “We’re not due out of here until later this afternoon so …”
“So it’s not the park department rescue chopper,” Seth concluded, and pulled her back tighter against him and further from view. “And it’s sure as hell not a guided tour.”
Elena shivered and tried to make herself smaller. “Which means …”
“Which means,” he said, steadying her by wrapping his arms tightly around her, “that this particular bird is not flying friendly skies. Gotta be old man Devine. Him and the boys must have had a prearranged check-in time.”