Desire & Ice: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) (6 page)

Of course, there was the terrible possibility they'd managed to drive up the rest of the slope and follow their footprints to the cabin. But if that was the case, they would be shooting up the door by now, and the idea of them staking out the house in this weather was absurd; they'd barely be able to stand upright in these winds, much less survive the night.

Between his body heat and the spreading warmth from the stove, her own jacket had become unnecessary.

When she sat up, he gave her a startled look. There was fear in his expression, not a fear of being murdered in this cabin, a fear of losing her touch for good. Then, as she slid her arms free from her jacket, one after the other, his eyes glazed over, as if this casual disrobing were as charged and intimate as stripping down to her underwear.

No man had ever looked at her quite this way. She wanted to call the look protective and vulnerable, but that wasn't quite it. If she was reading him right, what frightened him was the idea that she might not let him protect her.

It had been a very long time since a man had worked this hard to keep her safe. For four years, she'd been the breadwinner, the rock, the voice of reason. And before that, the teacher, the surrogate parent, the counselor. Now she was…she didn’t know what exactly, but she liked the way it felt. A lot.

"You going somewhere?" he finally asked her.

"No," she answered.

"Good. 'Cause that wouldn't be safe."

Just then, his hand found the side of her face, a gentle, hesitant touch. A touch that reached across years of memories and old versions of themselves.

"That wouldn't be safe at all," he whispered.

She could feel his fingers right at the edge of her lips. Before she could think twice, she turned her head just enough to give them a kiss. He closed his eyes. The air between them seemed to vibrate. Her heart raced from a new emotion that made the fear of the past few hours seem like a distant memory: desire.

"Do you have any idea the things I'd do to you if I didn't have to watch that door?" he said.

She responded by taking one of his fingertips gently between her teeth, then she gave it a light squeeze.

"I believe when I was your teacher I always encouraged you to give specific, concrete examples," she whispered.

"Oh, I can't even get started. 'Cause if I do, the only thing that'll exist for me in the world is what I want to do to your body. And right now, I gotta keep you safe."

"I understand," she whispered. "I guess there's a perfect time for everything."

"There's never a perfect time for anything. Some times are just better than others to try for perfection. And with you, Eliza, that's exactly what I'd try for. Perfection."

Control yourself, Eliza. He's right. This isn't the time.

"You always were such a nice boy," she said.

So much for controlling myself,
she thought.
I sound like a porn star.

"And once I have you all to myself I'm gonna show just how nice a boy I can be."

Just one kiss.

That was all.

She'd just give him one little kiss. Something to warm them, distract them and tide them over until they could be alone with all these explosive new feelings.

The next thing she knew she was on her back, their mouths locked, tongues finding their mutual rhythm. The thoughts flying through her head told her this was stupid, wrong. So what if he wasn't her student anymore, hadn't been for years.

They were still trapped. They should be watching the door, the window. They should be doing anything other than discovering they kissed like they were born to kiss each other. He broke suddenly, gazing into her eyes, shaking his head slowly as if he were as dazed by this sudden burst of passion as she was.

"I think…" he tried, but lost his words.

"What do you think, Danny?"

"I think if we just keep our eyes on the door, we'll be fine."

"Okay."

Was he putting the brakes on? She wasn't sure. It was the most sensible thing to do, that was for sure. He slid off her and sat up, back against the wall, eyes on the door. She did the same. But he curved an arm around her back and brought her body sideways against his. It was awkward at first, but then he positioned her so that she was lying halfway across his lap.

"Now that I'm watching the door," he said, unbuttoning the top few buttons of her blouse, "I think we'll be fine."

"Oh, yeah?"

He brought his fingers to his mouth, moistened them with his tongue, then dipped them between the folds of her shirt. Slowly, he wedged them under the cup of her bra. When he found her nipple underneath, he said, "Yeah. Just fine."

In an instant, her body was flush with goose bumps.

Eyes on the door, his gun within easy reach, he circled her nipple with his moistened fingers. His precision and restraint combined to make her wet in other places as well. She'd seen the passion in his eyes, a youthful crush that had matured into a man's desire. But now, he was willing to delay his own gratification so that he could protect her and pleasure her at the same time.

"Let me give you a little help there," she whispered.

Without getting up, she reached back and unfastened her bra.

It fell away from her breasts slightly, still trapped within the confines of her blouse, which she wasn't about to remove.

She was facing the door too. It only seemed fair.

And she didn't want to distract Danny again by rolling over onto her back and offering herself up to him. Then he might lose all control. As much as she wanted him to, now wasn't the time. Now was the time for this sweet, prolonged torture, for the slow and leisurely way he was testing her nipples with his fingertips. Searching for just the perfect spot. The perfect amount of pressure that would make her muscles tense and her breaths sharpen into gasps. For some reason, dividing his focus between the door and her body seemed to make him highly responsive to each sound of pleasure coming from her.

"See, we'll be fine as long as I keep my eyes on the door," he said.

"More than fine," she whispered.

The wind howled. His fingers traced her breasts. Her folds moistened.

"So that thing you said." He unbuttoned her jeans. "About concrete examples."

"Yes," she said between gasps.

He parted the flaps of her jeans enough so he could slide three fingers under the waistband of her panties.

"When the moment's right, when I've got you all to myself, safe and warm and home, what I'm doing with my fingers right now…" He traced her folds with two fingers, dragging them gently toward her aching bud. "I'm going to do this with my tongue. After I kiss every inch of you, of course. After I use my mouth to show you what a man I've grown up to be."

"Danny…"

"Yes, Eliza."

Not Miss Brightwell. Not anymore. She was Eliza and he was Danny, both adults now, brought together by circumstances beyond their control. Now his heat and desire sustained her, wrapped her in comfort and pleasure on one of the darkest, most terrifying nights she'd ever known. And that was part of the pleasure, she had to admit. The defiance of it. The refusal to be terrified into submission by anonymous gunmen in the icy dark. As if Danny was thumbing his nose at their pursuers by leisurely, attentively fingering her clit. Worshiping it gently and easily and without the crazed, porn-star acrobatics that had always defined her ex-husband's ineffective work in that area.

Each subtle, precise move of Danny's fingers convinced her he had all the time in the world to devote to pleasing her. The truth of their situation was more troublesome, for sure, but not right now. Right now there was only his desire to protect, his hunger to please.

For the first time in hours, she didn't feel a suffocating pressure to rush, to dig, to solve. Didn't feel a need to do anything other than luxuriate in the pleasure Danny was managing to give her with one skilled hand, one hand and all of his senses, which he'd tuned to the frequency of each wave of pleasure coursing through her body.

With his other hand, he reached down and gently brushed her bangs back from her forehead. Something about the combination of this tender gesture and the hungry ministrations of his fingers sent her to the edge. She bit back the scream that wanted to erupt from her, a scream of surprise as much as bliss.

When was the last time an orgasm had gripped her this suddenly and totally? She couldn't remember. Which was a good sign the answer might be
never.
Was it the stress of the situation? The sense of doing something reckless and forbidden? It didn't matter. It was powerful enough to obliterate her thoughts as she gasped into lips Danny suddenly brought to her own.

It was the first time he'd dared to look away from the door since they'd started this hot little session. When she opened her eyes and stared up into his, an aftershock of pleasure rippled through her.

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" she whispered.

"From you." His answer baffled her. "Seriously. No magic to it. Just take a woman who's given all of herself to other people for as long as she can remember, and tend to her needs with no thoughts of your own."

"Given the way most men are, that sounds like magic."

"If you say so, Eliza."

"I do. I do say so."

He kissed her again, gently. Then he sat up straight and returned his gaze to the door as he gently stroked her bangs back from her forehead, reminding her of the combination move that had filled her with pure bliss. Danny Patterson was defined by delicious contradictions. He gave pleasure while offering protection. He could flirt while speaking with the voice of reason.

Her girlfriends, and her mother, and her grandmother, for that matter, always preached the gospel that a man could only be one thing. Bad boys were always bad, even if they could rock your world between the sheets. That was fifty percent of what made them bad, of course. The good fifty percent. But still. A bad boy was a bad boy and you didn't marry bad boys because whenever they weren't going down on you, you usually wanted to pitch them headfirst into a jet engine.

Good boys, on the other hand, were better at listening and keeping their promises than making your toes curl. But as long as there were showerheads and romance novels, you could make do. And you'd always have a nice, loyal companion once you dried off.

God, how she'd always loathed this logic. Had hated how it controlled most of the women in her family, in her life, forcing them into rushed, jerry-rigged relationships with guys who weren't even close to being the one. But she'd never met a man whose very being disproved any of it.

Until now.

Danny Patterson was good and bad at the same time: a savior with a sweet mouth and dirty fingers. Fingers he was now gently licking clean of her essence after working her over in a way that made her feel delightfully violated. Now he politely, gently buttoned her jeans and smoothed them into place. He curved an arm around her and snuggled her closer into his body so he could keep watching the door while he savored their combined warmth.

"So…do I get an A?" he asked.

"Okay. You have to quit that now."

"Aw, come on," he whined. "We can have a little fun with it, can't we?"

"I don't know. We'll see. Maybe once we're out of this cabin."

"After all, you're the one who just called me a nice boy."

"I remember."

"So…I'll repeat the question."

"A plus, you sexy bastard. With a gold star and a bunch of extra credit."

"Excellent."

"Can we be done with that now?" she asked.

It was kind of hilarious they were having this intimate exchange with the two of them back in their previous positions, her head resting on his lap as he sat cross-legged with his back against the wall, both of them staring at the padlocked door. She'd make a note to laugh about it later, once they were truly safe.

"For a little while. Sure."

"Danny…"

"Yes, Eliza."

"We're gonna get out of this cabin, right?"

"What's the rush? I can think of plenty of other things I can do to your body without taking my eyes off the door."

"Be serious, Danny."

"We're gonna be fine, Eliza. I promise. Soon as this storm lets up, Coop's gonna be on our trail if he isn't already. First place he'll go is the ranch and first thing he'll see will be my patrol car all shot to hell."

"Yeah, but how will he find us here?"

"We're not that far away, for one. And second, a bunch of us worked the cattle roundup that night so it's fresh in everyone's minds. We were all right here in this cabin getting our supplies together just a few weeks ago. He'll find us, I promise."

"Wow."

"What?"

"You really were thinking this all the way through, the whole time. Even while we were running from those bastards."

"Yep."

"That'll get you an A plus too."

It wasn't just a quick escape he'd plotted as windows shattered and gunfire cracked the air all around them, but a rescue plan as well. She found that as sexy as his smile, as sexy as what he'd done to her with his fingers and his focus and his sensitivity to her bliss. Blame four years of being with a man whose solutions to the problems he kept bringing down on their house were anything but. Just snappy answers he'd pulled from his ass at the eleventh hour.

She didn't need a man to take care of her, but it sure was nice when one was up to the task.

"You start to feel drowsy, you let me know, okay?" she said.

"Is that your way of telling me you're feeling drowsy?"

"Kinda. Yeah."

"All right, well. Don't you worry. I'll wake you up if I need to."

"Good."

"But I won't need to."

"All right, well…"

The next thing she knew she was coming up out of a dead sleep as something slammed against the cabin's door with enough force to bring the entire structure down.

She was standing before she knew what was happening.

The fire in the stove still burned. But the stack of wood in the corner was shorter by a third. And there was a new, soft light all around her. Daylight, she realized. Or the earliest, faintest version of peeking in around the edges of the boarded up window and through little cracks in the walls it had been too dark to see the night before.