Gray, Ginna (19 page)

Her heart pounded and her body tingled as the searing heat in the
core of her body built to a raging inferno and spread outward. The sensations
pulsing through her were so lush, so voluptuous, she felt as though she was
drowning in pleasure.

She needed this, she told herself as she kissed Sam back with all
the seething emotions roiling inside her. For almost a week she'd been living
with an icy knot in the pit of her stomach, operating on adrenaline and fear.
In that period she had been terrorized and hunted, survived a plane crash,
endured hardships she'd never imagined and had come close to losing her life
more times than she cared to think about. She needed to feel desired, to feel
pleasure again. To feel alive.

She felt Sam bend his knees, felt her feet leave the floor. Then
he was moving through the cabin with her clamped against his chest, her feet
dangling in air.

In the bedroom he fell with her onto the bed, twisting to take her
weight, then rolling with her until she was on her back. Breaking off the kiss,
he rose up on his elbows and looked down at her, and Lauren's breath caught at
the raw desire in his eyes.

"If this isn't what you want, tell me now," he said in a
raspy voice that sent a delicious shiver down her spine.

"I...this...this is crazy."

"Hell, I know that. But do you want me to stop?"

"I..."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, common sense and
desire tugging her in opposite directions. She knew she should say yes. Getting
involved with Sam was foolish and reckless. It would only complicate an already
difficult situation. It wasn't like her to even contemplate taking such a rash
and impulsive step. She would no doubt live to regret it.

Provided, of course, that she lived at all. Given the fix she was
in, that was far from certain.

The thought brought with it a flutter of panic and urgency.
Suddenly making love with Sam no longer seemed foolish but imperative. She
desperately needed this, needed to be touched and held and caressed, needed to
feel she mattered to someone, if only for a little while. Most of all, she
needed to share this most intimate of acts with this man.

With nothing but uncertainty ahead of her, this was not the time
for caution or common sense, or even propriety. This was the time to reach out
with both hands and grab all she could from life, while she still had the
chance.

"Yes." Her arms tightened around his neck. "Oh,
yes. Make love to me, Sam."

The words had barely left her lips when his mouth covered hers
again. He kissed her deeply, hungrily, as though he would devour her. Lauren
responded with a frantic hunger of her own, driven by the twin demons of fear
and need.

Sam broke off the kiss, and when Lauren tried to pull him back he
splayed his hand over her chest and held her down. "Easy. Easy, little
one," he soothed. "There's no need to rush. For days I've been
tormenting myself, imagining this. I want to take my time and enjoy it to the
fullest."

Lauren shifted restlessly and snatched at the buttons on his
shirt. "No, Sam. Please, I want—"

"Shh. Shh. I know, babe. I know. Just trust me."

She whimpered and clutched at him when he rolled away and left the
bed. He stripped off his clothes with rapid, jerky movements, his intense, dark
gaze locked with hers all the while. Naked, he lay down beside her. Ignoring
her efforts to pull him closer, he rose up on one elbow, grasped one end of the
terry-cloth belt that secured her robe and pulled on it.

Lauren's restless movements halted, and she held her breath,
watching his face. With agonizing slowness, the loose knot untwisted and
collapsed. Taking his time about it, Sam separated the edges of the robe and
spread them wide.

He stared down at her, his eyes glimmering like obsidian. His
indulgent smile vanished as his face grew taut and darkened.
"Beautiful," he whispered.

Slowly, almost reverently, he reached out to touch her, but at the
last moment he turned his hand over and trailed the backs of his knuckles over
her skin, from the base of her throat all the way to the nest of tight curls at
the apex of her thighs.

The featherlight touch left a trail of fire on Lauren's skin and
sent a delicious shiver rippling through her.

The tiny reaction seemed to inflame Sam's passion. His nostrils
flared and his eyes blazed. Lauren moaned when he cupped her right breast. He
lifted, squeezed, tested its weight in his palm, stroked his thumb across the
velvety tip. When it swelled into a hard nub he stared at that rosy button like
a starving man at a banquet.

Then he lowered his head and took her nipple into the warm wetness
of his mouth.

Lauren moaned and clutched his head with both hands, her fingers
burrowing deep into his ebony hair. His tongue circled her nipple, flicked,
stroked. Teased.

Then he began to suckle, and she cried out, her back arching off
the bed as he drew on her with a slow, hard suction that seemed to tug at her
womb.

The delicious torment went on and on, driving her to the brink of
delirium. Then he abandoned the wet, turgid nipple and treated the other one to
the same lavish assault. Just when Lauren thought she would surely go mad, he
released her.

"Do you like that?" he asked in a raspy whisper.

"Y-yes."

With the tip of his tongue, Sam drew a line down the silky valley
between her breasts. "And that?"

"Yes." Eyes closed, she moved her head from side to side
on the pillow. "Oh, yes."

Alternately nipping and kissing, he explored the undersides of her
breasts, her ribs. All the while his hand explored the slight concave of her
belly, the indent of her waist, skimmed down the long, curving sweep of her hip
and thigh, then back again.

He dipped his head and circled her navel with the tip of his
tongue, drew back and blew on her wet flesh, then delved into the tiny cavity
with an evocative rhythm. "How about that? Do you like that, too?"

"Mmm. Yes."

"And this," he demanded. His head dipped lower still.

Lauren clutched handfuls of his hair as once again her body arced
and quivered like a drawn bow.

"Yes!
Yes!
Oh! Oh!
Saaaam!"

"Yes," Sam growled with hard satisfaction, and as her
body seemed to explode in a starburst of unbearable pleasure, he quickly moved
up into position between her legs and entered her in one swift stroke.

Sam groaned as he felt her sweet contractions squeeze him.
Gritting his teeth, he began to move with slow, steady rhythm, pressing deep,
drawing out the pleasure until it was almost pain.

He felt Lauren's muscles gradually go slack as her body's delicate
pulsing faded away, and when he braced up on his forearms he saw that her eyes
were closed and her face had that soft, dreamy look of a well-loved woman.

The corners of Sam's mouth tipped up in a smile of purely male
arrogance, but he wasn't ready to let her rest.

"Wrap your legs around me, babe."

Lauren obeyed lazily and moved her palms in slow circles over his
shoulders and back, absently stroking and kneading.

Sam increased his rhythm, stroking harder, deeper, and soon
Lauren's breathing again grew rapid and labored, and small, desperate sounds
issued from her. Instead of gently stroking, her hands began to knead and grip,
her fingers digging into his flesh as her hips lifted to meet each powerful
thrust.

"Tight. You're so tight," he growled in her ear.

"Sam...Sam, I..." Her head moved from side to side on
the pillow. Her eyes flew open, and her neck arched back. "Oh. Oh,
Sam!"

"Yes," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Go
with it, baby. Let go."

Her body went taut and a long, keening sound tore from her throat.
Sam placed his mouth against her neck, absorbing the erotic vibration even as
he felt her body grip him. Before the sound faded he reached the end of his
control. A hard shudder ripped through him and his own cry of completion
blended with hers.

Lauren felt boneless. The awful tension that had dominated her
every waking moment for days was gone—or at least, held at bay for the moment.
Basking in the aftermath, she let her mind float like a leaf drifting with the
current, aimless and free, disconnected.

Gradually, however, reality and awareness began to niggle at the
edges of her pleasant lethargy. Slowly, as though weighted with lead, her
eyelids lifted. She stared at the ceiling over Sam's bare shoulder. Dear God,
what had she done?

Sam stirred and rolled off of her onto his back.
"Jesus," he murmured.

Lauren turned away from him and scooted toward the side of the
bed, but before she could escape, he looped his arm around her waist and hauled
her back. "Hey, not so fast. Where're you going?"

"Let me go."

Ignoring the command, he rolled her onto her back and rose up on
one elbow above her. He frowned when she quickly looked away and refused to
meet his eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Her gaze snapped back to meet his. "What's wrong? What's
wrong?
Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me. So why don't you explain it to me."

"This. Us," she said, gesturing between them.

He said nothing, merely continued to look at her, and Lauren
groaned and covered her face with both hands. "I must be a complete idiot.
How could I let this happen? How could I have made love with a man I barely
know? And
you,
of all men."

Sam stiffened. "How could you let a half-breed touch you? Is
that it?"

"What?" She took her hands away and gave him a blank
look, which changed to exasperation a moment later when she realized what he
meant. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. Of course not. You being half Native
American has nothing to do with it."

"Then what's your problem?"

"You don't even like me. Which makes me an idiot to have
slept with you. That's my problem."

"I like you."

"Oh, pul-leeze. You think I'm Carlo's mistress," she
accused.

"Is that all that's bothering you? Hell, I stopped believing
that days ago. After being around you for a while I realized that you're not
mistress material."

"Oh, really?" Lauren huffed, absurdly offended.
"And just why not?"

"You're too intelligent and hardworking. Too
independent."

Disarmed, she blinked at him. "Really?"

"Really."

"Oh." He couldn't have said anything that would have
pleased her more. She'd worked hard to achieve independence. Still...she
couldn't quite believe that he thought she'd succeeded.

Turning her head on the pillow, she slanted him a doubtful look
out of the corner of her eye. "If that's true, then why have you been so
hateful to me?"

"To keep what just happened from happening."

"Oh, thank you very much. That makes me feel
sooo
much
better. If that's how you feel then why—?"

"There are some things you just can't fight. God knows I
tried. I tried to dislike you. I told myself you were a cheap whore and a
parasite, but it didn't help. Even when I half believed it, I still wanted
you."

"Wh-what?"

"The moment I first saw you, pacing that dingy little
interrogation room in your shredded stockings and torn dress, I felt like I'd
been run over with a steamroller. I think you felt the attraction, too,
otherwise we wouldn't be here in this bed right now."

Surprise flickered through Lauren. Could he be right? She had felt
something, she recalled. Something edgy and uncomfortable, but at the time
she'd been too upset and frightened to analyze her reaction and had chalked it
up to dislike. "That's...that's beside the point. I don't expect you to
believe me, but I don't sleep around."

"I know that." Sam's mouth softened slightly when she
blinked at him again. He stroked his forefinger along her jaw and his voice
deepened to a husky murmur. "I could tell it's been a while for you. Hasn't
it?"

Heat surged into Lauren's cheeks. She bit her lower Up and looked
away again. "There's been no one since Collin," she replied in a
subdued voice. Or before him, for that matter, she reminded herself.

"Why not?"

"After what he did? I'm surprised you have to ask."

"So the guy's a louse and a thief. That's no reason to avoid
sex."

"I wasn't avoiding sex. I was avoiding being hurt. Now could
we drop this please?"

"Not yet." He cupped her jaw in the V between his thumb
and fingers and turned her face back, forcing her to look at him. "Look,
Lauren, so we made love. So what? We're two healthy people under a lot of
stress, stranded alone together. Add to that scenario a strong mutual physical
attraction and what happened was probably inevitable. It's natural for two
people caught in a dangerous situation to turn to one another."

Hurt, offended and relieved all at the same time, Lauren gazed up
at him in silence, her chest aching. He couldn't have made it plainer that
there was no real emotional attachment between them. Merely desire and the need
for human contact.

Not that she expected anything like that from Sam. Or wanted it.
It was just that his explanation seemed so...so...casual and unfeeling.

"Well?" he said, lifting one eyebrow. "Do you
agree?"

"I suppose so."

He studied her in silence. Lauren couldn't tell by his expression
if her answer had pleased him, but after a few seconds he nodded.
"Good."

He lowered his head and began to string kisses along her
collarbone.

"Sam!" she squeaked. "What are you doing? Stop
that."

"Why? I still want you and you still want me." The
kisses traveled up the side of her neck, explored the tender underside on her
chin. "You're unattached. I'm unattached. The future isn't all that
certain for either of us," he murmured against her skin. "Why the
hell shouldn't we take what pleasure we can from one another?"

With his warm mouth leaving a trail of fire on her skin, Lauren
couldn't think of a single reason, logical or otherwise. Nor did it help when
his hand slid up over her belly and midriff and cupped her breast.

He swept his thumb back and forth across her nipple, and she made
an inarticulate sound deep in her throat. Struggling to hold on to her sanity,
Lauren tried to resist the pleasure that spread through her like a shimmering
hot flood. "S-Sam, I don't think—"

"Then don't. Don't think. Just feel." The low, raspy
command was so blatantly sensual it raised goose bumps on Lauren's skin and
made her shiver.

As her body began to thrum with desire her heart rate speeded up
and her breathing grew shallow and rapid, as though suddenly there was not
enough oxygen in the air.

An hour or so later, Sam surfaced from a light doze when Lauren
shifted in his arms, but his eyes remained closed. With a contented sigh, she
hooked her leg over his and snuggled closer, settling her face more comfortably
against his chest.

Her soft breath fluttered his chest hairs, and a hint of a smile
tugged at his mouth. For someone so cautious and reserved when awake, asleep
she was one sexy cuddler.

Sam rubbed his chin against the top of Lauren's head, enjoying the
scent of her hair and the sensual feel of the glossy strands slipping and
sliding like silk against her scalp.

Strange, he mused, half asleep. He couldn't recall ever before
truly wanting to snuggle with a woman after making love. The emotional intimacy
that women seemed to need at those times had always seemed stifling to him. Sex
was fine, but he just wasn't comfortable letting anyone get that close on an
emotional level.

Most times he made the effort because he didn't want to hurt his
partner's feelings, but he'd never been able to endure the intimacy for long,
and the whole while he itched to escape.

With Lauren, though, it felt right, somehow. She fit so perfectly
and felt so good in his arms that he didn't want to let her go.

Sam was not altogether comfortable with the admission. His smile
faded, replaced by a pensive frown. What was it about this one, small woman
that was different from all the others?

Awake now, he opened his eyes and stared across the room. Absently
his gaze drifted to the window. He blinked once, twice. "Holy shit!"

Bolting upright in the bed, he tumbled Lauren onto her back.

"Wha—?"

Sam sprang off the bed, snatched up his briefs and stepped into
them. "Get up! Get up! C'mon, we've got to get out of here. Now!"

He pulled on his long johns, cursing himself all the while he
hopped from one foot to the other. "Of all the stupid... Dammit, Rawlins!
What the hell were you thinking? Instead of rolling around in the sack all
afternoon you should've been getting the snowmobiles ready in case something
like this happened."

Lauren sat up, clasping the covers to her breasts with one hand
and pushing her tumbled hair back with the other. Bleary-eyed, she watched Sam
ram his legs into his wool trousers and drag on a flannel shirt,

"Sam, what's the matter with you?"

"It's stopped snowing."

"What?" Her head whipped toward the window. "But I
thought the storm was supposed to last until midday tomorrow?"

"Could be this is just a break in the clouds, or it could be
the system changed directions. Or the weatherman miscalculated. Whatever, we
have to get moving. I don't know how long ago it quit snowing, but you can bet
our friends were on their way before the last flake fell."

He checked his service pistol, shoved it back into the hip holster
and strapped it on then scooped up the duffle bag from the floor and tossed it
to her. "Grab some fresh clothes out of there and get dressed. While
you're doing that I'll take this stuff out and load it onto a couple of the
snowmobiles, and siphon the gas out of the other two."

"Uh, Sam." Lauren stopped pawing through the duffle bag
long enough to send him a sheepish look. "I...I've never driven a
snowmobile before. I've never even ridden on one."

He looked up sharply, his mouth flattening. Then he shook his
head. "Okay, no problem. It's fairly simple. If you can drive a car you
should be able to operate a snowmobile."

When he'd finished lacing his moccasins he put on his wool cap and
parka, gathered up the backpack and duffle bag and slung the rifle over his
shoulder. "As soon as you're dressed come out to the shed out back."
At the door he stopped and pointed his forefinger at her. "And don't stop
to straighten up this place, you hear? We don't have a minute to spare."

Leaving her scrambling into her clothes, he went out through the
back door in the kitchen and the service porch, which jutted out from the rear
of the cabin.

To make it easier on Lauren, Sam strapped the smaller backpack
onto her vehicle. It was heavier than the duffle bag, but since she was so
small he figured it would give her needed ballast. He then tied the duffle bag
onto the machine he would drive.

Moments later, through the open door of the shed a movement caught
his eye. Sam looked up from siphoning gas out of one of the other snowmobiles
and saw three men carrying rifles emerge from the woods about fifty yards from
the house.

With a curse, Sam ducked out of sight and snatched up the rifle.
Holding the weapon in both hands, he stood with his back pressed against the
shed wall just inside the doorway.

Cautiously he peered around the edge of the door and saw the
leader of the trio signal to one of his cohorts. The man immediately split off
from the other two and headed for the shed.

"Damn." Sam jerked back and flattened himself against
the shed wall again, his mind racing. He had to get to Lauren. But first he had
to take care of the goon heading his way. And he had to do it quietly. If he
shot him, the other two would come running, and if he made a run for the cabin
now they would all see him and open fire.

Gripping the rifle tighter, Sam held it at chest height with the
butt end toward the door. Outside, he heard the crunch of approaching footsteps
in the snow. His hands tightened on the gun's fore end and stock. C'mon. C'mon,
you son of a bitch, he silently urged.

The footsteps halted just outside the door. Silence hung heavy in
the air. Sam pressed back against the wall, waiting. C'mon, damn you. Just a
couple more steps.

The man charged inside and spun to his left, the barrel of his gun
pointed at Sam's midsection. Surprise registered in his eyes when he spotted
Sam, but in that split second of time before he could pull the trigger the butt
end of Sam's rifle smashed into his face.

He emitted a grunt and went down like a pole-axed steer, blood
spurting from his nose and mouth.