Shoot to Thrill (18 page)

He supposed he should be grateful for that obstinate streak. It was only thanks to it he’d survived the past three hours of hell, hiding motionless under the burning sand, keeping perfectly still. Every minute had been pure torture. Cramps, heart palpitations, sweats, shakes. As long as he was moving, running from the enemy, keeping Rainie safe, he didn’t have time to think about the drugs he was missing. The endless craving sitting square on his chest like a sharp-toothed monster gnawing viciously at his entrails. Now that he was clearheaded he could feel every goddamned bite, magnified a thousandfold from what they had been under the influence. A double-edged sword, that razor-sharpness. The yen was terrible. But for the first time in sixteen months, his thought process was lucid and rational. Undistorted except for the clean, sharp pain. That alone was worth all the rest.

He stuck his thumb on the end of the rifle barrel he’d been using as a breathing tube and powered his arm up through the couple feet of sand that enveloped him to the surface. Jack-knifing to a sitting position, he wiggled from the parachute he’d wrapped around himself, the field pack and the duffel, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

Outside, it was totally dark. Quiet as a tomb.

He glanced up at the cliffs opposite. Sketched only in the light of a billion glittering stars, the sepia rock face looked eerie and ethereal. He couldn’t see the low horizontal crevice where he’d hidden Rainie. Good. Because if he couldn’t see her, no one else could, either.

He’d listened carefully for the first hour after deliberately causing the avalanche of sand that had concealed him from the tangos, fearing they would retrace his path searching for him, and find her instead. But he’d left a convincing trail for them to follow. They’d never gone back.

After shaking out the parachute and stuffing it in the duffel with the other one, he quickly reversed his steps through the darkness, running back across the wadi and up the gap in the cliff. Impatiently he eased his body and the awkward pack around the jut and onto the narrow ledge, one swift step at a time, so he wouldn’t stumble and fall onto the rocks below.

“Rainie?” he quietly called. Didn’t want to surprise her. Getting shot by friendly fire would be a hell of an ending to this gig.

There was a scuffle and a thump, then the distinctive metallic sound of a gun bolt.

Please, God, let it be her.
“Rainie, it’s me,” he called a little louder, his heart pounding. “Are you there?”

He heard a gasp. “Kick? Oh, my God, Kick!” An instant later, her silhouette appeared, crawling out from the black recesses of the cave into the starlight.

He closed the last few feet, threw the pack into the corner, and went to his knees to scoop her up, dizzy with relief. “Jesus,” he breathed into her hair, trying to tame his galloping heartbeat. “Jesus.”

“You came back,” she choked out.

“Damn straight,” he said, easing the gun from her clenched fingers. He was about to say, “I always keep my promises,” but the words wouldn’t go past his dry tongue. Instead, he whispered, “Jesus, girl, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

Never had he been held so tightly or desperately. Not that there’d been a lot of nonsexual holding in his past. He avoided such things, didn’t do touchy-feely. Needy women in particular made him run for the hills. Probably because he didn’t have the emotion to spare.

But this was different. This was—

“Thank God,” she cried, voice ragged with tears. Or was that something else in her half sobbed, half moaned, “
Kick
?”

“I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

Her mouth found his and she kissed him. A desperate, whole-body, tongue-down-the-throat, take-me-now kind of kiss.

Fuck.
All the pent-up fear for her he’d had bottled up inside him, all the physical hell he’d gone through for three interminable hours came pouring out as voracious need.
For her.
An urgent, primal need to touch her, meet her flesh on flesh. To celebrate them both being alive in the most primitive, basic way. He opened up and urged her on.

Before she could say no, he pushed her T-shirt up over her breasts. They spilled out, plump, beautiful, and bare, nipples peaked and offering themselves to him. The ultimate symbol of life.

With a strangled groan, he lifted her up and cushioned his face against her soft bounty, sucked a crown hard into his mouth. She cried out, instantly pebbling against his tongue.

Grappling for control, he switched to the other breast, tonguing and suckling until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to have her. Bury himself deep inside her. Thrust into her over and over and over, or he’d explode.

“Don’t move,” he said, and pulled the parachute from the duffel, whipping it out onto the ground. Then he was all over her again.

“I want you naked,” he rasped, whisking the T-shirt over her head and throwing it aside.

His hunger for her was like a feral thing. Wild, unstoppable. And thank God, hers was the same.

Jerking down the zipper of her jeans he yanked them over her hips as he rolled her onto the parachute. By the time she was on her back she’d toed off her sneakers and together they dragged her pants the last few desperate inches over her feet.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he growled, savoring the sight of her starlit body and the desire for him in her eyes.

“You—
Ohhh . . .
”

He swallowed her words as he canted over her and took her mouth in a greedy, devouring kiss, then thrust his hand between her thighs, spreading them, opening her to his questing fingers.

She whimpered and shuddered as he touched her there, her hands faltering in their attempt to pull off his T-shirt.

He pushed a finger into her and came out wet.
Sweet Jesus.
Her nails dug into his flesh. He circled her honeyed need.

“Give it to me, girl,” he urged, wanting her total surrender. Wanting to know she was helpless for him. “I want it all. Everything you have to give.”

He worked her to a frenzy with his fingers, pinching, sliding, probing, while he drove his tongue into her mouth, in and out, in and out, mimicking the motion of what would come next. Compelling her to forget where she was. Demanding she forget her fears. Making her forget her own name if he could.

Her nails scored their way down his chest and dipped under his waistband. Her fingertips met the head of his cock.

He bucked away with a warning growl. “No.”

If she touched him there, it was all over. And it was way too soon to be over. He wanted this to be good for her. So damn good she’d never forget this night, or this windswept cave, and not because of the terror she’d lived through in it. But because of this. Him. Now.

Her small, feminine cries of pleasure blended with her quick, panting breaths. He loved the way she sounded in the throes of passion. He’d forgotten what a turn-on it was to have a woman in his complete power, using only his touch to bring her to helpless bliss.

Or maybe it had just never felt this good for him before. Ever.

She felt exquisite.
And she was so close.
Hot as he’d ever felt a woman.

“You want me, don’t you, Rainie?” he murmured.

“Yes!” She inhaled sharply as he pierced her with two fingers. “Please, Kick.”

He swirled around her clit and it swelled to bursting.

So close he could taste it.

“Show me, sweetheart,” he urged, low and rough like gravel. “Show me how much you want me. Come for me, baby. Come for me
now
.”

And she did. A throaty moan hitched, then she sucked in a breath and convulsed under his hand. She cried out his name, throwing her arms around his neck as a shuddering orgasm quaked through her.

He was ready to crawl out of his skin, but he kept going until he’d massaged every last arousing quiver from her body.

Instead of going slack, her arms tightened. “You,” she demanded breathlessly, leaving no doubt as to her meaning. “
You.
”

He tore at his shirt to get it off, then wrestled with his DCUs, powering them down his thighs. He was still wearing his boots.
Screw it.
He fell onto his back, and her hands were on him.

“Damn it!” Furiously he dug through his pockets until he found the trio of condoms he’d put there in an optimistic moment last night. She snatched one from his fingers and tore into the wrapper.

He groaned deep as she rolled it on.

“You on top,” he ordered, lifting her so she straddled him. Then he fisted his cock, positioned her over it, and in a sharp, swift move impaled her from below.

She met him halfway and followed him down, sheathing him to the hilt in her wet heat.

Oh, yeah. Holy mother of God, yes.

He drilled his fingers in her hair and gritted his teeth, thrusting hard into her once, twice, three times. Battling not to go off like a heat-seeking missile.

But he did anyway.

He came in a starburst of power, the sounds of his release roaring through the cave. And he could only pray that the target he decimated with this endless, exquisite pleasure, this incredible rush, was not his own equilibrium.

Nor his resolve to do what needed to be done next.

KICK
moaned long and low as he fell back down to earth. Rainie was panting hard, glued to his chest.

Good freaking grief.

Okay, of all the things he could have done, this was probably the stupidest. Not that it hadn’t been great, but—

“I’m sorry,” she said between pants, preempting him.

Okay, so now he was stupid
and
confused. “For what?” he asked.

“For attacking you like that.”

He was pretty sure he’d been the one to do the attacking, but if she wanted to claim responsibility, that worked for him.

“Damn, woman.” He closed his eyes to savor the last of the sparks going off in his cock. “Anytime you feel like attacking me like that, you go right on ahead.”

“I was just so . . . relieved to see you,” she said.

He knew all about being relieved. For that half second after calling her name, thinking the bad guys might have gotten to her after all, he’d nearly had a stroke. Then she’d crawled out of there looking at him like he was some kind of goddamn savior . . . and it had just felt . . . so damn right. He’d wanted to
be
her savior.

How insane was that?

He
hated
feeling protective. He was no fucking good at it. Which was just as well. Because he was no damn good at protecting, either. That was a matter of record.

She sat up, still straddling him, and traced her hand down his chest where she’d raked him with her fingernails. It stung a little, bringing him around. He was still inside her, half aroused. He should—

“I was sure they must have caught you,” she softly interrupted his internal lecture. “I was so scared for you.”

For him?

“How in the world did you escape?”

He cleared his throat. “Buried myself in the sand. An old trick a Paiute buddy of mine once taught me.”

“More cowboys and Indians?”

“Sort of.” Except the cowboys had been a cutthroat gang of Mexican drug dealers and the Indians a team of ZU commandos sent to quietly put an end to their bloody border crossings.

Had she really been scared for him?

The Milky Way reflected back from the forest green of her eyes. As she gazed down at him, something deep inside his chest twisted painfully.

“I was more scared for you,” he said, wrapped his hand around her jaw, and gently kissed her. Her lips were . . . papery smooth and starting to crack.

Abruptly, reality crashed in on him. Neither of them had had anything to drink since lunchtime.
Ah, hell.

He groaned with self-recrimination. “Christ, what is wrong with me? You must be dying of thirst, and here I am . . .”

She smiled. “Don’t worry, not quite dead yet. And in case there’s any doubt, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Ditto.” He kissed her, then lifted her off him and set her down on his discarded T-shirt. He yanked his pants up from around his ankles. “I’ll get the pack.” Because the ceiling was too low to stand, he started to crawl over to it.

Suddenly pain streaked like fire through his leg. “Son of a—” He grabbed his thigh, twisting his body to ease the cramp, and landed on his butt.

She reached out to catch him. “Your leg?”

“Guess it didn’t like jumping out of a plane, or all that hiking,” he gritted out.

“So that’s why you wanted me on top,” she said with a wink.

He chuckled through a groan. “Hell, no. Just honoring your request to have me under you.”

She made a face, but she was still smiling. “Here, let me—”

“No.” He needed to stretch out the cramped muscles. And if she touched him again he’d probably end up stretching
her
out on the floor again. He’d never met a woman who could switch off his brain like he was no more than a horny teenager. “Never mind about me. Find the water.”

He deliberately looked away when she crawled over to the pack. Naked. On all fours with her delectable bottom flashing at him like a sexual homing beacon.
Damn.
She found six plastic bottles wrapped in extra DCUs and a shirt. She passed him a bottle and slipped on the T-shirt.
Thank you, Jesus.

The water was warm and smelled like plastic, but neither of them cared. They drank greedily. But both stopped after several deep gulps.

“Who knows how long this’ll have to last us,” she said with obvious reluctance, recapping her bottle.

“Yeah.” He was glad she was smart enough to realize that. “We could be out here for days before finding water.”

Her movements halted for a second, then she took a deep breath and said, “Hungry? There are packets of food. Those MREs.”

“What about the radio?” he asked. “Please tell me the SATCOM was in the pack.”

She glanced into the backpack uncertainly. “I don’t see it, but . . .”

“Here, let me—” His leg cramped again. “Ah, crap,” he ground out, and fell back onto an elbow, woozy.