Haze of Heat (17 page)

Rachel’s yawn cut off her chuckle even as Porter’s deep voice reached her ears. “How’s she doing?”

“She needs some rest, but come see for yourself. Gwen?”

At Melinda’s call, Gwen rose from the couch. “Sounds like my cue.” She leaned down to whisper in Rachel’s ear. “Please don’t beat him up over the mate thing. Men’s egos can be so fragile, and during this period, their emotions are completely whacked.”

Porter wasn’t the only one whose emotions were whacked, but Rachel only nodded and watched as the two women left and Porter approached.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Rachel had to tilt her head way back as he remained standing. It felt so heavy and the pillow so comfortable, she decided to leave it there forever.

He looked her over, anger flashing in his eyes when they landed on her propped ankle. “I wanted to tell you that Beth’s gone and not welcome back. Ever. Christa left with her, though I have a feeling their friendship is at an end.”

“Okay.” Her lids were starting to droop, her lashes falling to her cheeks in a slow blink.

“You’re tired.”

“Hmm. A bit.”

“More than a bit, I’d say.” He came closer, brushed his hand over her hair. “Why don’t you lie back and get some sleep?”

“Gotta keep my knees bent. Ankle raised.” She could hear the slurring of her words. What the hell had Melinda given her?

“Of course.”

She watched him remove, re-fluff, and rearrange cushions and pillows through a fog. The man was sweet, caring for her comfort. It made her frown. There was a reason for it, something far more important than simple compassion for another in need. Unfortunately, her muddled thoughts couldn’t land on the answer.

“Let’s swing you around. Put your foot up here.” With the trust of a sleepy child, Rachel eased onto her back and let him steer her ankle to the padded arm of the couch.

“Porter?”

His face appeared over hers, his hand once again sweeping gently through her hair. “Yes,
mi amada
?”

“Whasthamean?” The question blurred into one word.

His smile warmed the deepest recesses of his eyes and was so pretty she wanted to kiss it a thousand times over.

“My beloved.”

“Hmmm.” Her eyes dropped again. “Like it.”

“I mean it.” His mouth pressed against her forehead, her lips. “Sleep now.”

She lifted a weighty arm to touch the hand on her cheek. “Stay?”

A pause. “If you like.”

“Like.”

She was almost asleep by the time she felt him turn her on her side and slip in behind so he was between the hard back of the couch and Rachel. His legs tangled with hers, though he never dislodged her ankle and made sure her knees remained bent.

She was so warm now. Sleepy and warm and cuddled up next to the man she’d tried so hard not to fall in love with.

“Mate
.”

The soft purr of that possessive word was the last sound she heard. She never knew if it came from Porter, or from her own lips.

Chapter Nineteen

Hot. She was so hot. Rachel pried open her eyes and stared at the neatly folded pile of clothes on the coffee table in front of her, the cowboy boots on the carpeted floor. She blinked, finally registering the strong male arm about her waist, the hard press of a masculine body aligned behind her.

And the very impressive erection nestling along her backside.

Porter. No wonder she was burning up. The man was a living furnace. Not to mention whenever he was near, she felt on fire herself. Needy. Even now that unquenchable need presented in long, languid coils of desire, making her damp between her thighs. Her breasts felt swollen, her nipples tight little points that begged for his touch.

But why was he here?

In an instant, everything fell into place; the discovery in the cave, Beth pushing her over the edge of the ruin, Melinda and Gwen fussing over her.

Gwen.

Rachel stiffened as Gwen’s revelation sprung to the forefront of her mind.

Porter was Rachel’s mate. Or Rachel was Porter’s mate. Either way, they were mates.

The arm about her waist lifted, his hand running over her arm from bare shoulder to wrist and back again. “You okay?”

She looked down at her blue, green, and white polka-dotted bra. “What happened to my shirt?”

“You muttered you were too hot and took it off.”

A vague memory surfaced. As did another involving a couple of painkillers. “I’m never taking another pill your mother hands me.”

A sleepy chuckle that teased her hair. “Don’t say that until you consider how you feel.”

Skeptical, Rachel took inventory of the various aches and pains that had jarred every joint, and found none. Still dubious, she rotated her ankle, felt a twinge of discomfort.

“Hey, now. Just because you feel better doesn’t mean you’re ready to go dancing.” His hand moved down to tighten around her hip. A hip that only carried the band of her matching polka-dotted panties.

She stared, brows drawn together as she tried to remember. “I took off my skirt as well?”

“Yes, well,” Porter cleared his throat. “I helped with that.” His hand trailed over the front of her panties. “I do like these. A lot. Especially this dot here.”

That dot being right over a hard bundle of nerves at the junction of her legs. The resulting zip of pleasure had her jolting, her breath harsh as she sucked in air.

His lips brushed across her temple, the crisp rasp of stubble another erotic sensation. “Am I hurting you?”

She wiggled against that frozen finger. “Only if you stop. But don’t rip these.”

With a thick sound of agreement, he shifted and wiggled, deftly removing her panties and his boxers. When he resumed his position, he slid one hand under her neck, tilting it up so he could lay his mouth on hers. She returned his kiss with eager passion, seeking and taking as she welcomed him inside to explore and taste.

His other hand snapped open her bra, tossed it carelessly to the floor. The whole time his mouth melded to hers, his tongue plunging deep with possessive dominance. With one hand still bracing her head, he ran his other along the outside of her thigh, over her hip, up the smooth skin of her belly until he brushed the underside of one breast.

Breaking the lip-lock, Porter trailed sweet kisses down to her ear, where he teased the delicate pink shell with the tip of his tongue. Then he closed his teeth over the lobe and tugged.

She moaned, remembering all too well how he’d played with her ear before, and how he’d used his clever tongue and teeth to rid her of a single earring.

Not that she would remind him about that now. Oh no. Not when his free hand was journeying back south, parting her damp sex to fondle her throbbing clit.

“I love the feel of you against my fingers.” He slipped a finger deeper through her soft, silky folds, gathering her juices, and returned to play with that aching nub. Her legs shifted, parting in restless anticipation. “I loved how you felt against my tongue, too, Rachel. So creamy and sweet.”

His breath was hot and moist against her neck, the naughty words a rough sensory caress that stoked the fire of her need. Another rush of liquid desire flooded her system. Wrapping one hand around his wrist, she reached over her head to burrow the other in his thick hair. “You shouldn’t say such things.” She tossed his words back at him.

“Why?” he growled. “It’s sexy. Erotic.” He rimmed the entrance of her body with a teasing finger, circling the ring of muscles that clenched at him in desperation. “And you like it.” One finger delved into her core, making her tighten around him on a jagged cry, her hips rocking helplessly against the penetration. “Makes you even hotter.”

He leaned over her side, opening his lips on her breast, drawing the pebbled nipple deep into his mouth.

Her moan of pleasure crackled into a hiss when he used that clever tongue to press the hard bud to the roof of his mouth and suckle in great greedy gulps.

“Oh, God.” Her hips churned against his hand in jerky motions when he added a second finger to the mix, plunging knuckle-deep inside. She rode his hand with abandon, craving the intense pleasure with a mind gone numb. Between those sure thrusts and the moist suction at her breast, Rachel was drowning in unrestrained sensations so searing, she was certain her bones were melting.

More than ready for him to fill her with something longer, thicker, she reached between their bodies and curled her fingers around his engorged cock. He flinched at the intimate contact, shuddered at the uneven strokes along his heavy length.

“Rachel.” Her name was a gritty benediction. “Ah, baby. Wait. I need a condom.” She curved her hand, caressing him now in short pumps from the tip, her fingers little vises along his shaft, the head of his dick bumping into her palm. “Right back pocket of my jeans. Get it for me.”

He gave her a sharp nip on her neck when she didn’t immediately comply, too lost in the steely velvet of his skin. But when he withdrew his fingers from between her thighs, she let him go, and, leaning up on an elbow, reached for his pants.

The condom went lax in her fingers as Porter took advantage of her position, kissing and tasting the soft flesh of her back with single-minded purpose. There was one specific spot an inch below her neck, at the top of her shoulder blade that, when he flattened his tongue in a slow lick, she jumped and shivered, feeling an electric spark arrow straight down her back.

“What have I found here?” Male delight rang out at the discovery. When he did it again, her eyes crossed and her body spasmed as sharp pleasure zipped alongside her spine to explode in a mini quake between her legs.

“Your death if you don’t stop.” She tried to jam her elbow in his rib, but he trapped her in a fierce hug, snatching at the condom she held aloft.

Laughing, he kissed her again, right on her snarling mouth. “I
like
you.”

Gazing up into dark brown eyes encircled with a ring of greenish-yellow, she had a feeling that sentiment came from the jaguar rather than the man. But she didn’t have time to dwell on that possibility as, seconds later, he lifted her leg. Spoon fashion as they were, she felt his cock rub through her swollen folds from behind, a new and tantalizing experience that had her breath catching in her throat. He shifted, angling his hips, and thrust slowly into her sex.

A soft sound, part moan, part whimper, echoed in her ears. Tiny muscles clenched around his erection in eager acceptance. Hips bucking back to meet his every thrust, he stretched her, filled her, tunneling through sensitive tissue in a manner sure to drive her insane.

Tilting her body, he latched onto one silky breast with his mouth, his hips never ceasing rhythm as he drove in her again and again. Alternately, he flicked her pebbled nipple with his tongue, then suckled the creamy mound, honing her desire to razor sharpness.

“That’s feels good. So good.” She wanted him to know how much pleasure he was giving her. To know he was as vital to her as air. Air she couldn’t get enough of. Her breath came in ragged bellows. She clamped around him so hard she didn’t know how he could move, much less thrust into her with mind-hazing friction.

“Ah, fuck. Yes.
Mi amada.
” His voice was unsteady, his breath molten and serrated. The edge of his teeth grazed her neck and she trembled, poised on the precipice. “That’s it, baby. Squeeze my cock. Feel me filling you. Loving you.”

Greedy lust burned brighter, raking talons of ravenous need through every pore. Rachel became a creature of carnal instinct. Feeling her orgasm approaching, she strained for more, pushing back, impaling herself on his rigid cock, forcing him impossibly deeper.

Her hand fisted, opened, skimmed down her belly. Stopped. Fisted again.

“Do it.” A growling command. “Touch yourself. Stroke that pretty pink clit for me.”

Porter’s mouth was at her shoulder, licking and nipping the tender flesh. His eyes were glued down the length of her body, as if relishing the upcoming show. Wanting it, wanting him to watch, she slid her hand between her legs, opened her soaking folds with two fingers and thrummed the super-sensitive turgid nub. Yes! That was exactly what she needed.

“So fucking hot.” The dark whisper wasn’t even close to human, and when the two sharp points of his fangs pierced her flesh, Rachel knew his jaguar was in control.

And she lost all control.

The orgasm burst through in a crashing wave of violent pleasure, tearing a rough cry from her throat. She shuddered, shattered like spun glass, and was swept helplessly under by the intoxicating tide.

Porter was only seconds behind her, his coarse oath and sudden stiffness telling her without words he’d found his own release.

Breathing deep, Rachel lay still, savoring the afterglow of great sex, still cocooned in Porter’s embrace. A low sound, a quiet vibration, had her frowning. When she pinpointed the origin, she was stunned at first, and then thrilled beyond belief. Porter was
purring.

That knowledge, that she could make him feel as content as he did her, had her snuggling closer. All too soon he would need to get up and take care of the condom, but right now they remained joined in the most intimate of fashions, and she planned to milk this moment for all it was worth.

“I think we should ask Trevor how he found out about the Orchards.”

When Porter didn’t respond right away, she craned her neck around to see him the best she could. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

“What?” It wasn’t an untoward suggestion.

“Talking about another man while I’m still inside you is hardly flattering.”

Oopsie. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It just popped in my head.”

“Really unflattering.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, Porter. You’re magnificent. So talented and strong. I’ve never had such powerful orgasms. You’ve ruined me for all men.”

He shifted, eased from her body and then slapped her on the butt.

“Ow!”

Crawling over her, he stood, glaring down at her prone form. “That’s right. And you’d better not forget it.”

When he left the room she rolled her eyes. It wasn’t as if she were fantasizing about another man. Questioning Trevor was logical, especially after what she’d found out last night. It wasn’t her fault she never got around to telling Porter when she’d gone out to see him.

Sitting up, she reached for her clothes, donning her bra and top in a jiffy. A glance at the DVD player in the entertainment center showed it was edging past dinner.

Gingerly she rose to her feet, keeping most of her weight on her left leg. It was as she slipped into her skirt that Porter returned. He didn’t appear any more pleased to find her clothed the moment his back was turned as he had yesterday.

“So?”

He folded his arms over his chest, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles that roped his impressive abs. “If that’s supposed to be in reference to speaking with Daniels, forget it. We don’t want to tip him off.”

Rachel mirrored his stance. “Trevor is not my stalker.”

Now his eyes went hot. “You don’t know that.”

“Uh. Yeah. I do.”

“Just because you like the guy doesn’t mean he’s not an asshole.”

Ugh! “Would you hush a minute? I know he isn’t because on the day of the break-in, he was at a book fair in Portland, Oregon.”

That didn’t even make him falter. “Just because he told you so doesn’t mean it’s true.”

This time she rolled her eyes in full view of his irritated gaze. “There’s a website devoted to the fair, complete with author and vendor listings and conference times. He, along with two other hotel and restaurant reviewers, was scheduled to speak on Sunday at two o’clock. The picture on the website clearly shows all three present and accounted for.”

He frowned. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head, that is if she could keep her eyes from drifting down to appreciate the sight of him standing there, buck naked. “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”

“Because the first I heard about it was last night. I came outside to tell you after I verified it online. But, well.” She coughed. “It slipped my mind.”

By the look in his eyes, Porter was remembering exactly how it could have slipped her mind, especially since he’d had her plastered against a barn, her legs around his waist. And though he’d rocked her world only minutes ago, he appeared game to do so again.

“Anyway.” She held up a hand to forestall any potential and seductive approach, because she knew if he touched her, she’d burst into flames.

Thanks to the mating heat. Dammit. She had to finagle a way to bring that up. But not yet.

“Melinda said Trevor booked a room Thursday. I want to know how he found out about the Orchards and why the last-minute reservation.”

His head cocked to the side as he considered. “You think he might know something?”

“I don’t see what asking would hurt.” Her shoulders lifted. “At this point I’m ready to try anything, Porter. I can’t stay here indefinitely. I do have a home, work, to get back to.”

Something else that didn’t please him in the least. “You’re a writer. You can do that anywhere.” He moved past her and reached for his jeans. “Have laptop, will travel.”

Since his back was to her, she raised both fisted hands and shook them in the air. Her voice, however, was as smooth as the finest wine. “I’m not made of money. I can’t afford to pay for my apartment, my utilities, and not live there.”

The muscles in his biceps rippled and he turned his head sideways, not looking directly at her. He seemed almost—unsure?

“Have you ever thought of moving? Away, I mean. To a different state.”

Struggling to keep her pulse steady was an effort in futility.
This was it!
“It would have to be a pretty compelling reason.”

“For love?”

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “That’s, ah, a pretty compelling reason.” Breathing heavily through her mouth, she pushed him where she needed to go. “As long as it really is love and not misconstrued lust. Which, during the mating heat, could be possible.”

Finally he turned, shirt bunched in his hands, and watched her through eyes so piercing they reached into her soul. “You figured it out.”

“Actually, no.” Her lips twisted in a sheepish smile. “I can be a little dense at times. Gwen told me. She thought I already knew.”

A tight nod. “How do you feel about it?”