Heart of Fire (23 page)

His eyebrows slowly lifted. "Do tell. Anywhere that needs massaging?"

"No massaging until I have a bath."

Her voice was firm and he said, "Oh, hell." The appalled look he gave her said that he was taking her request for a bath much more seriously. "Okay, if we come to a stream that's safe, you can take a bath. A fast one. If not, we'll find a clear spot and stand in the rain. Will that do?"

She pulled on her boots. "Anything will be an improvement."

Breakfast was instant oatmeal and coffee, and five minutes after the meal began, Ben was packing up the tent and supplies and stowing them in his pack, taking care that the diamond was protected and that Jillian didn't so much as glimpse it.

God, he felt wonderful. Making love with her had been so much
more
than he had ever imagined. Powerful, intense… caring. His body was relaxed, marvelously sated and rejuvenated; he could take on the world and win. He felt violently possessive and protective, all at the same time. She was his now, and he'd never let her get away from him.

They didn't take the same path returning to the river as they had taken inland; on the trek inland they'd had to follow the directions and landmarks laid out in the map; not only would it have been dangerous to follow the same trail, but a more direct, and therefore faster, route was now possible. Ben figured they could cut their time by at least one full day, maybe more. They had to reach the boats before Kates could cut them off. He didn't have a minute's doubt that they were being pursued; Jillian had witnessed two murders, and Kates knew that he had the diamond. Yeah, they were being followed. The only question was how close behind them the hunters were.

He used the machete as little as possible, not wanting to leave such clear sign. An Indian could easily have trailed them, but Kates and Dutra didn't have that degree of skill. Kates, in fact, had none. No point in helping them along by slashing at every bush that got in the way.

They splashed across several small streams, but they were too shallow and grassy for bathing. The daily thunderstorms blew up, but of all days for the storms to sweep by in the distance, that was the day it happened. Ben looked around once and saw that stubborn look on her face, the one that said she wasn't going to change her mind even if it wasn't his fault the storms had missed them.

"It'll be better if it's late afternoon before we bathe," he pointed out. "Neither of us has a change of clothes; that way we could wash these out and they would have time to dry before morning."

"You make it sound as if I've been nagging you every step of the way," she said.

"You have. Silently."

She gave him a long, level look. "When I decide to nag, you can bet I won't do it
silently
."

He sighed. "No, I don't guess you will." Inwardly he felt cheerful at the prospect. With Jillian's rapier tongue, it was bound to be entertaining. What he didn't feel cheerful about, however, was the possibility of not being able to make love to her that night, and he had no doubt she would cross her arms and stubbornly refuse to let him touch her, if she didn't have her bath. Why did women have to be so damn fastidious? Cleanliness was great in its place, but they were in the middle of a jungle, for God's sake. A certain amount of grunginess couldn't be helped.

But Jillian wanted a bath.

To hell with leaving it to chance that they would come to a suitable stream. He began searching for one in earnest.

The one he finally found wasn't anything to brag about, certainly nothing to compare with the waterfall they had bathed under or the pools they had found at various times during the trip. But it was wet and safe, even if it was less than a foot deep and that only because it was filled with runoff from the storms that had passed to the northwest of them. He found a dear, rocky section, and they both stripped and stepped into the stream. Ben carefully placed the pistol where it wouldn't get wet but would be within reach.

One of the things he hadn't packed, not considering it essential, was soap. They had nothing but the clear, tepid water to bathe with, but it was enough. Jillian stretched out so she could let the water flow through her hair while she scrubbed her scalp with her fingertips, feeling her sweat-clumped hair unmat as she worked. Ben watched her with hunger in his eyes, for her naked body was fully exposed to him for the first time and his body plainly revealed his interest.

Under his amused gaze, she also washed out her underwear.

"Just what do you plan on wearing under your pants?" he drawled. "I didn't think to bring any extra pairs of panties."

"We won't be walking for much longer," she replied briskly. "I can manage to do without underwear for that length of time. Then tomorrow, when I get dressed, I'll have clean underwear to put on."

He was so relieved that she planned to undress that night, all he could do was grin at her. Of course, he'd have to find some way for them to clean up in the morning, or it would be the same routine all over again. It would be so easy if they had enough drinking water that they could afford to waste it, but he had only so many purification tablets and they had to preserve as much as possible.

"You're grinning like an idiot," she said as she stepped to the bank and leaned over to wring out her hair, then began wiping herself dry with her hands.

"Like a jackass eating saw briers," he admitted cheerfully.

"Well, the jackass part is right. I don't know what saw briers are."

"Neither do I. It was just something folks said back home." He smoothed his wet hair back and also waded out of the stream.

She watched as he dressed, and suddenly realized that he was enjoying every minute of this. He was an adventurer down to the soles of his boots—cynical, wily, and supremely capable. She was well aware how much more dangerous their situation would be right now if he hadn't taken the precaution of gathering some extra supplies and hiding the pack along the trail. Just the tent was a lifesaver in itself, protecting them from snakes, insects, and various other creatures while they slept. And the food he'd packed meant they didn't have to kill to eat, but could save his supply of bullets for protection. Come to think of it, he had been prepared for every danger they had faced, from the very beginning.

After dressing swiftly, they covered as much ground as they could for the remainder of that day. When they did make camp, however, he permitted a small fire and they ate a hot meal of canned fish and more rice. "Do you know what I'm craving?" she asked, sitting back with a sigh.

"Me."

"Good try, but wrong category."

"Not animal, then."

"Nope. Vegetable. Well, maybe with a little animal thrown in."

"Spaghetti and meatballs?" he guessed.

"You have the right idea. Pizza, loaded with ham and extra cheese."

He reached into the pack and tossed her a small can of fruit. "Have this instead."

"Thanks, I will. When we get back to Manaus… Well, I might not be able to find pizza in Manaus, but when I get back to the States, I'm going to order the biggest one I can find."

He didn't say anything, but suddenly his hard face took on a dangerous cast. He ate his own can of fruit without comment.

Jillian wondered what she had said to put him in such an obvious bad temper, but decided to leave well enough alone and not ask him about it. Instead she devoted herself to the fruit, savoring every bite.

Ben watched her with hooded eyes, his insides tightening a little bit more every time she licked the spoon with obvious enjoyment, with the unselfconscious, regal air of a cat. Damn her, how could she talk so casually about going back to the States? Not that he intended to let her go, but it was infuriating that she would even consider leaving. Had their lovemaking the night before been so commonplace to her that it meant nothing? He'd had plenty of commonplace sex, and he knew last night had been different. She should have realized it, too.

She stood up, yawning a little. One thing about hiking through the jungle all day: she didn't feel like staying up much past sunset. Of course, Ben had kept her up most of the night before, so that was a factor too. "I'm ready for bed. Are you going to stay up?"

His face was still grim as he stood and pulled her hard against him. Circumstances had forced them to stay on the move all day, and he had restrained himself from touching her, though the need had burned in his gut. Perhaps, because of that, she hadn't gotten the message that she was
his
now. The feel of her slim body in his arms brought an almost painful sense of relief, as if an aching emptiness that he hadn't even known existed had suddenly been filled. He bent his head down to hers and felt savagely triumphant when she went up on tiptoe to press herself against him, winding her arms around his neck, lifting her soft mouth to his. He could feel the excitement humming through her taut muscles.

"I don't guess you are," she murmured.

He'd lost track of what she had said. "Are what?"

"Going to stay up."

He managed a harsh bark of laughter. He took her hand and moved it down to his crotch, folding her fingers over his erection. "What do you think?"

Jillian sank against him, already weak with anticipation. She had craved his touch all day, but accepted that they had to keep moving. She trembled at the knowledge that she would soon be eagerly accepting his heavy thrusts. "Maybe I should clarify the question."

"I don't think it's needed." He kissed her again, hungrily. "We both know what we want."

She crawled into the tent while he doused the campfire, and was already half undressed by the time he entered. She left the flashlight burning while he stripped, delighting in the sight of his muscled body. He paused a moment to savor her nudity, too, then regretfully switched off the light and mounted her in the warm cocoon of darkness.

The days and nights fell into routine, though "routine" was a strange word to use to describe something that wasn't ordinary at all. They walked all day, usually even eating on the run. Ben seldom touched her during the day, keeping those touches he couldn't avoid to the briefest, most casual of contacts, but she understood. She felt the frustration too, the almost overwhelming compulsion not even to leave the tent in the mornings but to forget the urgency of their forced march in the fever of lovemaking. It was worse now than it had been before, as if reality were far more delicious than anticipation.

Sometimes she felt almost mindless from the pleasure of those long, dark hours. All of the brash, teasing comments Ben had irritated and taunted her with for weeks turned out to be true. His sexual stamina was unbelievable, while she doubted he knew the meaning of the word "inhibitions." He didn't have any. According to his mood, he would dominate her completely, holding her down, laughing softly at her struggles to reciprocate in their lovemaking, while he rode her with a strong, endless rhythm until she could no longer hold off her climax and was shuddering helplessly beneath him. At other times he was as playful as a cat. A big cat. A tiger, carefully restraining his strength. Then he would turn as lazy as a pasha, lying on his back and lifting her astride him, letting her enjoy him as she wished.

As a lover, he was irresistible. He had been truly aggravated and bewildered that she had held him off for so long, and now, looking back, she too was amazed. She could put it down only to not having known what she was missing. Every time she looked at him, tall and strong and confident, she felt such a surge of love and lust that she wanted to strip off her clothes and throw herself on the ground in front of him. Being Ben, of course, he would probably give a joyous whoop and leap on top of her. It was a tantalizing thought.

But they both severely restrained themselves, knowing that there would be time enough to indulge their senses once they reached safety. She was grimly determined to reach Manaus, for only then could she file murder charges against Dutra. She didn't know if they could implicate Kates in the murders, even though he had shot at Ben; she didn't even know if the Brazilian authorities would pay much attention to a charge made against an American by another American. But Dutra was a different case; the authorities had been trying to get him for a long time. It was possible that both Kates and Dutra had fled, but she intended to file charges anyway.

Often her throat would tighten when she thought of Rick. She would have liked to retrieve his body for burial, but as Ben had once pointed out, the jungle swiftly took care of that. There was also the possibility that Kates and Dutra would have moved the bodies, thrown them down a ravine somewhere, to destroy the evidence.

She tried to resign herself to the certainty that all she could do was report the murders.

She didn't let herself think about what she would do after that. She had found the Stone City, but failed to bring back proof of it. She had left all of her notes and the corroborating photographs behind; she didn't have so much as a pottery shard. She hadn't let herself dwell on it, because whining wouldn't have accomplished anything, but every day she'd had to deal with the hollowness of loss.

She couldn't think of any way to get back to the Stone City. Other archaeologists would not be any more interested in listening to her now than they had been earlier. She certainly didn't have the kind of money needed to mount an expedition; that was why she had been forced to go along with Rick and Kates in the first place. She thought about asking Ben if he could help her return, but discarded the idea. He wasn't a rich man; he was an adventurer, a river guide. He wouldn't have that kind of money, and even if he did, he wouldn't be interested in spending it for that, nor would she expect him to, just because they were sleeping together. Even if the government paid them a finder's fee, it probably wouldn't be enough to offset the cost of an expedition. No, she had failed, and she had to accept that.

And eventually she would have to get on a plane and go home. Perhaps Ben would be around to kiss her good-bye and give her a farewell swat on the bottom; perhaps not. To a man like Ben, who had so many women, what would one particular woman mean? She was here now, and his passion was white-hot, but things would be different when they got back to Manaus. She couldn't hold that against him; she had known the nature of the beast from the moment she first set eyes on him. In all fairness, how could she pout now, and demand that he change?

She would simply enjoy him while she could. A woman met a man like Ben only once in a lifetime… thank God. He could cause some serious disruptions in an otherwise orderly existence. Her own life wasn't what she could call ordinary, but since meeting Ben she had felt as if she were on top of a seething volcano. It was interesting and violently exciting, but how long could it last?

Back in the real world, she would have to decide what to do with her life. She knew now that she had no chance of advancement with the Frost Foundation, and in any case wasn't inclined to forgive the condescending way she had been treated. She didn't intend to give up archaeology; she loved it too much. Perhaps she could get a job with a university, though she wasn't taken with the idea of teaching. She would much rather be
doing
. But all of that was for the future; for now, there was only Ben and the jungle, and the danger behind them.

On the fifth day, a rumble of thunder made Ben stop and lift his head. "Sounds like it's going to go right over us. Let's find a clear spot and take a shower," he said. "We'll put up the tent and stow our clothes in it so they won't get wet."

She wrinkled her nose. "It wouldn't hurt them to get wet." She cringed every time she had to get dressed; their clothes were absolutely filthy. If she hadn't had the opportunity to wash out her underwear a few times, it would have been unbearable.

He gave her that lazy, flashing grin. "We should get to the boats tomorrow or early the next day. You'll be able to wash them then. Just think of lying naked on the deck while our clothes dry in the sun."

"Are you including your clothes in the category of what
I'll
be able to wash?" she asked, in the mildly curious manner of one who liked to be as specific as possible.

He gave her a hopeful glance, then sighed heavily. "I guess not."

They found one of those small, temporarily clear places where the solid canopy had been broken when one of the giant trees had toppled over, perhaps from its own weight. Fallen trees decomposed rapidly and new vegetation would grow to fill the gap, but while the clearing lasted, both sun and rain poured through with joyous intensity.

He set up the tent, then cleared out a section of the burgeoning undergrowth as the thunder steadily grew closer and the cool wind began whipping through the upper canopy. The denizens of that high world chattered and scampered for cover, to wait out the deluge.

They stripped and stowed their clothes inside the tent, then stepped into the small clear area just as the first huge raindrops began to fall. They stung Jillian's skin with surprising force, and she jumped at the discomfort. Then the storm broke, and the heavens opened, and a thick curtain of rain splashed down on them.

It was almost like being under the waterfall. She was pummeled by rain, her skin stinging. She tilted her head up and stood with tightly closed eyes, letting the rain sluice through her hair. Oh, how she would have loved to have a bar of soap right now! This was the most invigorating shower in the world, crisp and violent. Her nipples tightened under the chill lash.

A delicious sense of freedom grew, as did the same impression of overwhelming beauty that she'd had when she watched Ben bathe under the waterfall like some glorious, beautiful primitive man. Here she stood, naked, in the middle of the largest rain forest on earth, while the life-force of this huge jungle poured down on her from heaven. The wind whipped the trees overhead; lightning flashed and thunder boomed all around her, the sound echoing. It was dangerous to do what they were doing; all the other jungle creatures had taken shelter. But it was also exhilarating, and she wanted to shout with joy. She raised her arms high so the rain could more freely lash every inch of her body. She had the dizzy feeling that no other bath in her life, no matter how luxurious, could ever match the glory of this one.

Then, with a low growl that she heard even over the crash of the thunder, Ben was there. He wrapped his arms around her so tightly she could barely breathe, and he lifted her off her feet, his mouth grinding down on hers. Eyes closed, she grabbed at his shoulders, sinking her nails into his slick, cool skin. Heat quickly formed where their naked bodies touched.

Gripping her hips, he lifted her higher. Instinctively she locked her legs around his waist to steady herself. Fiercely he took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue darting out to circle it with heat before drawing it inside. Jillian gave a breathless cry, her blood already racing with excitement.

Then he slowly began to lower her onto his turgid shaft. It brushed against her soft flesh and she moaned, her eyes flying open. Her gaze locked with his. Rain poured down their faces, off their bodies. His black lashes were spiked with moisture, his pupils dilated, the blue of his irises as intense as the deep cobalt of the ocean.

"Look at us," he said hoarsely. "Watch it go in."

Quivering with almost painful desire, she did. The bulbous head bobbed with straining eagerness, dark red in color. The thick shaft was laced with raised, bluish veins. He lowered her a bit more, and the head pushed into her soft opening. It was a sensation she had felt often during these past days, but it was still jolting. His heat seared her. Inch by inch she sank downward, his shaft spearing upward into her, stretching her soft sheath to its limit. He felt huge inside her, nudging against the mouth of her womb. Watching his flesh disappear inside her, feeling it as it happened, catapulted her into climax. He held her while she convulsed, her hips rocking against him.

"Again," he whispered. "I want to feel it again."

He gripped her buttocks and began working her up and down, his powerful body braced to support them. The sensation was almost more than he could bear, and he ground his teeth, his head falling back. Each time her weight came downward, enveloping his straining flesh in heat and softness, his entire body shook with pleasure. The rain continued to pour.

Jillian clung to him. She started to groan as each thrust heightened the exquisite agony. "Please," she said, her voice barely audible above the downpour. "Please."

"Not yet, sweetheart," he panted. "Not yet. It's too good."

Her body felt incandescent, even with the cool rain washing over them. She fought him, trying to wrest control so she could grasp the culmination that hovered just out of reach, but she was helpless against the iron strength of that muscled body. He laughed, the sound one of fierce triumph rather than humor.

The sun broke through the clouds, streaming down into the clearing even though the rain still fell, bathing them in a glittering halo of light. It was like being caught inside a diamond. She kissed him wildly, grinding her entire body against him, refusing to accept defeat.

His fingers dug into the cleft of her bottom. He cursed thickly, feeling his climax rise inexorably. He moved her on him in several quick, hard thrusts and she cried out, going over the edge. Her trembling inner muscles grabbed sweetly at him and he threw back his head with a primal shout, shuddering, his seed spewing out of him.

His legs were shaking. It took all of his concentration to keep them from collapsing beneath him. Jillian was limp in his arms, her head lying against his shoulder, her legs still wrapped around his waist. The sunlight was dazzling, almost blinding. The rain stopped as the storm moved on; the only sound they could hear for a moment, suspended in time, was the steady drip, drip, drip of water from the leaves, all around them, like nature's applause.

After a minute she said drowsily, "We're steaming."

The entire forest was steaming, clouds of moisture rising toward the understory. Wisps drifted from their own overheated bodies. Still he held her, and she was content to stay there.

"I can't move," he finally muttered against her wet hair. "If I do, I'll fall."

She barely stifled a giggle.

"Think it's funny, do you?" He began lazily caressing her bottom.

"As long as I land on top."

"Mmmm." That deep purr was the only sound he made for a few minutes, other than that of his breathing as it slowly calmed. She thought she might go to sleep.

Then: "If I manage to stay on my feet, can you unlock your ankles?"

"Maybe."

"What are the odds?"

"Fifty-fifty."

"Meaning either you can or you can't."

"Right."

"If you can't, we'll probably have to go for another round."

And he probably could, too, but Jillian didn't think she was up to it. She couldn't remember ever having felt more replete in her life. All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere and take a long nap. Regretfully she unlocked her legs and let them slide down his hips, disengaging their bodies at the same time.

Carefully he set her on her feet, holding her until he was certain her legs would hold her. She swayed against him for a moment; then they walked the few feet to the tent, still holding each other. He didn't want to let her go even for a minute. He still felt slightly dazed in the aftermath of passion, a passion so intense he could barely believe what had just happened.