The Girl from Her Mirror (Mirrors Don't Lie Book 1) (21 page)

Dipping between the buttons of her
borrowed shirt and the lacy edge of her bra, Hardin’s long fingers dug gently
down, until he found the rosy tip he sought. This time Makenna’s breath caught
in her throat, strangling there with a moan of utter need.

Hardin’s nimble fingers released buttons
and found the front release of the borrowed bra. Ignoring the bandages on her
hand and on her arm, refusing to listen to the voice in her head and the
warning in her heart, Makenna reached up to pull him close. She didn’t care
that she had a wound on her torso and scratches across her chest. She needed to
feel the weight of his body pressed against hers, she welcomed the heavy
pressure of his muscles, so hot and hard and taut, burning into her soft flesh.

“Your cuts…” he murmured, trying to
avoid as many of them as possible.

She was having none of it. “Kiss them
and make them better.”

He started with the scratch along her
jaw, offering tiny little kisses of healing. Down the column of her throat,
over the creamy expanse of her collarbone and upper chest, his hot, moist mouth
rained healing kisses of pleasure and need. If their medicinal quality was in
question, their sensual benefits were not. For the first time in her life,
Makenna felt truly desirable. Beneath his worshiping hands and mouth, she felt
truly beautiful, genuinely appreciated. The winding red whelp led his healing
tongue down to the fullness of one breast, where he continued his therapeutic
methods. He was restoring her faith, patching her pride, invigorating her
senses. If other men had questioned her passionate abilities, Hardin helped her
know the answer.
Had there even been others?
she vaguely wondered,
recalling none who ever made her feel this way. Hardin, alone, had released the
sensuous woman inside.

Cradling his head in her hands, bandages
and all, Makenna squirmed beneath him. When he pushed her shirt aside and bent
to kiss the white patch of gauze on her abdomen, her stomach muscles quivered
and her very center turned to molten lava.

“Hardin.” She half-breathed, half-begged
his name.

His fingers trailed along the waistband
of her pants, inching the stretchy fabric down a whisper at a time. His hot
mouth worked its way back up the trail of her ribs, licking and kissing and
nipping along the path. By the time his tongue found the hard nub of her
nipple, his fingers had worked their way down to the moist heat he craved.

“We-We can’t do this,” she panted, but
she held his head to her breast, wanting more.

“I’m pretty sure we can,” he teased,
turning his attention to her other creamy mound.

“It’s not… it’s not right.”

“It feels right.”

It feels wonderful
. He twirled his
tongue around her nipple, coaxing it and teasing it, until it puckered into a
pinpoint of sheer need. At the seam of her very soul, his fingers were prodding
and poking, stroking, stirring up sensations of urgency and overwhelming desire.

But you don’t even know me by my real
name!
Before
she completely lost control, she reminded herself of that fact. She had to stop
things now, before she went over the edge.

“Hardin.”

“Please, baby. Please let me make love
to you.” He pressed his hard body against hers, his desire obvious. His mouth
moved to hers, claiming it in a mind-blowing kiss that curled her toes and made
her forget all her qualms about being less than honest with him. Another deft
move of his fingers, and she was on the verge of coming all to pieces. Another
stroke and she would be lost. “Please, Kenzie. I want you so much.”

Hearing her friend’s name, uttered in
the throes of passion by the man making love to
her
, was enough to bring
her down from her climb to the stars. Shifting her legs, Makenna struggled
against his hand.

Hardin immediately stilled. “Did I hurt
you?” he asked in concern.

Because it was easier to let him believe
that than to reveal the truth, and because she secretly feared she was a
coward, Makenna managed a slight nod.

“Oh, baby, why didn’t you tell me?” He
rolled off her, careful of her side. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t
you stop me? Damn, I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to
hurt you.”

He was so sincere, so contrite, that tears
sprang to her eyes. Seeing the watery drops, he misinterpreted and went into
another barrage of self-loathing, which made her cry even more.

“I’m-I’m fine. Really,” she insisted.
When he still looked doubtful, still looked disgusted with himself, she reached
out a hand and ran it over his chest, thrilling at the feel. “Just hold me,
please.”

Hardin did so gladly, careful to gather
her close without disturbing her injuries. Makenna snuggled against him, loving
the feel of lying in his arms, yet all the while feeling guilty for letting him
think he had physically hurt her. She wanted to tell him the truth, wanted to
tell him everything, but there was still too many questions in her mind, and
she wanted to protect her best friend. So she lay there, tucked against his
side, and ran her hand along the planes of his chiseled chest, down the
contours of his rippling ribs, across the rub board of his abs. Beneath her
hand, his skin was hot and firm, a true work of art fashioned from flesh and
heat.

“Kenzie,” he growled in warning, as her
hand wandered dangerously low.

“Oh!” She jerked away, startled by the
wanderings of her own eager hands.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman here and
keep my hands to myself,” he told her tightly. “Maybe you should do the same.”

Secretly thrilled at the power she held
over his amazing body, she tucked her hand beneath her leg and actually
giggled. “Maybe I should,” she agreed.

“I’m glad one of us thinks this is
funny,” he mumbled in a thick voice. “Maybe you should try to go to sleep now.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Or maybe we should both take a cold
shower.”

“Maybe so.”

“Maybe you should stop giggling and
close your eyes.” It was becoming a game now.

“Maybe I should.”

“Maybe you should do it right now.”

“Maybe you should, too.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Maybe I will, too.”

“Maybe this time next week you’ll be
better, and we won’t have to stop.”

“Maybe- Maybe so.”

“Maybe I should just kiss you right now,
and shut you up.”

“Maybe so.”

“No maybe about it,” he said gruffly,
turning to kiss her.

“None at all,” she whispered, welcoming
his lips.

Snuggling down beside him once more,
Makenna smiled. “Sleep tight.”

A smile hovered around his mouth as he
settled his head against his pillow. “Maybe.”

Snuggled together on the bed, they slept
for a couple of hours. Evening shadows darkened the cabin when they awoke,
alerting them of the evening yet to come. As Makenna sat on the edge of the bed
and packed their bags, Hardin pulled together their last meal at the cabin. He
found a Thermos in the cabinets and filled it with hot water so it could
preheat, thinking a pot of hot coffee would help to keep her warm while she
waited along the mountainside.

After they ate, Hardin repacked their
remaining food into a picnic basket and made certain the coals were no longer
glowing in the fireplace. Makenna tidied the cabin best she could, and soon it
was ten thirty, and time to leave.

They drove down the mountainside mostly
in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Hardin went over the directions
with her again, making certain she knew which way to go if she had to make a
quick escape. They devised a signal for when he approached, and a code word he
would use if, for some reason, something went terribly wrong and he was not
alone when he returned. Half way down the mountain, Hardin pulled off the road,
maneuvering behind a dense copse of tangled vines and small trees with thick
undergrowth. Killing the engine, he got out of the truck, walked back to the
lane, and shone his flashlight into the brush from different heights and
angles. Satisfied that the truck would not reflect any oncoming headlights, he
then popped the hood and dismantled the truck’s own lighting panel.

“This way you can start the truck every
hour or so and run the heater, without the headlights or interior lights coming
on,” he explained as he helped her from the passenger side, into the driver’s
seat. He tucked a borrowed blanket around her and made certain she had the
Thermos of coffee, a flashlight, and a few snacks within easy reach. “Don’t go
crazy with the heater, but don’t freeze yourself, either. If you have to make a
getaway, remember that you can pull out of here either way, whichever path is
clear. I’ll call when I get to the car. It should take me about thirty to forty
minutes to get back up here after that. I’ll let you know when I’m close.”

“Are you sure you’ll be safe?” New
doubts and worries attacked her. She clutched at his arm, afraid to let him go.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her gently.
“I can slip in and out of town before anyone even sees me.”

“But it’s so dangerous. And so cold! Are
you sure you have on enough clothes?”

“Probably too many, once I get started,”
he chuckled. The air was so cold his words came out in puffs of steam, but he
knew the ride would be strenuous enough to work up a sweat. He tugged off a
glove and cupped her face with his bare hand. He wanted to feel the softness of
her cheek against his palm. “I’m more worried about you. I’m letting in cold
air, standing here in the door, and it’s going to get plenty cold while you
just sit here. As soon as I leave, turn the truck back on and get the heat up
to a comfortable level, then wait as long as you can to turn it back on. We
need to conserve fuel, but we can’t have you getting frostbite, either.”

“I’ll be fine. I have on three pairs of
socks, two layers of clothes, a jacket, and a blanket. There’s another blanket
if I need it, and the Thermos of coffee. And I’ll turn on the heated seats
while the motor’s running. I’ll be as snug as a bug in a rug.”

“Maybe this will help, too,” he
murmured, moving in for a kiss.

“Mm.” Warmed by the heat of his mouth on
hers, she didn’t need the extra layers of clothing. In fact, she preferred no
clothing at all.

“I need to go,” he finally whispered,
his face still pressed against hers. She could hear the reluctance in his
voice.

“Be safe.” She tried to keep the fear
out of her voice.

“I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”
One more quick kiss, and he shut the door behind him. In the moonlight, Makenna
watched as he unloaded the bike, tinkered with a few adjustments, then swung
onto it with that smooth, lithe grace he possessed. He waved as he peddled away
from the truck and disappeared into the night.

Makenna stared into the shadows long
after he was gone. She tried to shake off the sense of despair threatening to
engulf her. It was going to be a long, cold night, with only her over-active
imagination to keep her company.

So many things could go wrong tonight.
What if Bob and Lisa were watching the car? What would they do to Hardin if
they caught him sneaking into town? What would they do to her if they followed
him back here, or if they found her before he returned? Possibilities swirled
in her head, fueled by her fears. She spent the next half hour imagining
different scenarios, none of which brought any comfort. As the cold set in and
she began to shiver, she started the pick-up and let the heater run. Soon the
cab was filled with the blessed warmth, but she knew the chill of fear running
down her spine wouldn’t ease until Hardin had returned.

With her backside toasty from the heated
seat and her toes sufficiently thawed, Makenna killed the motor and settled in
for another hour. She stared out into the night, knowing she would find the
mountain setting delightful under different circumstances. Beneath the full
moon, the asphalt road was a glowing dark ribbon woven between shadowed lace.
The moon was bright enough to see into the edge of the woods, where individual
trees and branches could be deciphered, giving the shadows a lacy effect. She
tried to concentrate on the beauty, admiring the willowy limbs and spindly
trunks, but the solitude of the night was nearly overwhelming.

When she saw movement in the trees, her
breath froze in her chest. Finally her breath sputtered out, jagged and
painful, as she kept her eyes trained on the woods. The shifting shadows played
tricks on her vision, morphing into demons, teasing her with glimpses of
movement. She saw a possible arm, the fangs of a wolf, a shuffling shadow that
could have been a man’s head. Inside the silence of the truck, her heart
hammered out a crazy tempo of fear, and even she could hear her own coarse
breathing.

After at least fifteen minutes of
scrutinizing the shadows, Makenna convinced herself it was only her imagination
playing tricks on her. She forced herself to close her strained eyes. Opening
them again, she saw a shaggy leg stepping from the shadows. As her heart
tripped over a double beat and began to race, she saw the rest of a body
appear. Tall and lanky, the shaggy moose stepped cautiously into the moonlight,
followed by its calf. Makenna was laughing and crying, both at the same time,
as relief flooded through her.