HEARTS AFLAME

by Nancy Morse

  Beyond the campfire the shadows undulated in the midnight breeze. The moon clothed the hills in a silver fog, and the stars hung low in the sky. The night came alive with the sounds of hyenas and jackals and unseen things. The roar of a distant lion drifted across the land. Was it Black and Tan, alone in his magnificence, or another solitary beast, alienated and misunderstood?

  One of the porters rose from his squat and stirred the fire, causing the waning embers to crackle and sputter.

  Julia gazed at the man sitting across from her in stony silence. The orange glow of the campfire accentuated the furrow of his brow and the shadow of his lowered lashes across his cheeks. She felt him turning inward to a place she could not reach, a dark place of memories and regret. If only there was some way she could help him to forget just as he was helping her to remember.

  The world seemed very far away, as if nothing existed except him and her. She felt a need rise from within, the need to comfort him, and in his comfort to derive a bit of comfort for herself.

  “Jonathan.” Her voice drifted into the stillness like a feather upon a light wind.

  He looked up from his thoughts to find her gaze upon him.

  “I’d like to go back to my tent now.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you with stories of the war.”

  “I—I—” She lowered her gaze to the table, feeling awkward and shy. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  He knew what she was asking. She was afraid of what the night held and what tomorrow would bring. She needed him, and even if it was for a reason that had little to do with love, he felt something lurch inside of him. For several moments he said nothing as he battled with himself over whether to take advantage of her invitation, knowing that if he did, there would be no turning back the sea of emotion in which he felt himself drowning. Whether he did it for her or for himself would remain forever in doubt, but what was without question was the desire tearing at him, desire held in painful abeyance for two long years.

  He rose from his chair and went to her. His voice was a ragged whisper. “Are you sure?”

  She gazed up at him. The moonlight fell across his face, lighting a translucent fire in the eager blue eyes searching hers. “There are so many things I’m not sure of, but this isn’t one of them. Unless…” She hesitated, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Unless you don’t want me.”

  “Don’t want you?” Disbelief and desperation echoed in his tone “God, Julia, I can hardly breathe for wanting you.”

  Reaching for her hand, he drew her to her feet and led her to the tent.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He paused to voice a curt command to the porters before sweeping aside the tent flap and following her inside. He went to light the lantern and set the wick on low so that only the faintest glimmer of light shone through the smudged glass, and then turned to look at her.

  She stood with her back to him, silent and still.

  “Oh God.” The words rushed out before he could stop them. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  She answered faintly, “Not about this.”

  Expelling a breath of relief, he said “That’s good, because for a minute there, I thought you were.” Nevertheless, he could feel her tension. “We can go slow. Any time you want to stop, just say so.” But please don’t, he thought with a groan, because once we start it will be bloody hard to stop.

  He came to stand behind her. With the tip of his finger he brushed aside her hair, and bringing his face forward, he nuzzled the smooth white column of her neck, pressing light, feathery kisses to the tender flesh. His hand slid into her hair, twining the locks in his fingers, lifting them to his face and crushing them to his mouth.

  Her head fell back against his shoulder and she made an anguished sound.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he murmured.

  She shook her head.

  His hands gripped her shoulders, fingers flexing over the fabric of her shirt before moving down around in front of her and reaching for the buckle of her belt. The leather belt slid to the ground, the sound lost in her quickening breath. One by one the buttons of her shirt came undone and the garment slipped from her shoulders. She trembled at the feel of his hands moving up and down her bare arms and then slowly turning her around to face him.

  The light of the lantern bathed her in a warm, golden glow. Next to her skin she wore a camisole of silk crêpe de chine trimmed with lace, the color a pale shade of blush that matched her skin tone so perfectly it looked like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. To find such a delicate garment beneath the sensible safari clothing took his breath away.

  “I like that,” he murmured.

  Julia blushed under his scrutiny. “It’s supposed to be worn under a corset, but the War Industries Board asked women to stop buying corsets to free up metal for war production. Apparently, all that metal helped build two battleships.”

  “So something good came out of the war, after all,” he said as he pulled her into his arms.

  He spread a palm against the small of her back, the peaks of her breasts pressing against him through crushed silk and lace, while the fingers of his other hand closed in her hair, tilting her face up to his.

  His mouth grazed hers lightly, his warm breath mingling with hers as his tongue moved over her lips, tasting the sweetness and savoring the texture. Gently, teasingly, he took her lower lip between his teeth and nibbled on it as if it were a gumdrop to be savored slowly and lovingly.

  Her mouth opened, inviting the kiss to deepen. He answered with a thrust of his tongue, leaning into her, his warm, wine-flavored breath filling her. Arching against him, she welcomed his tongue into her mouth, encouraging the hot need in him, thrilling to the intercourse of their mouths.

  For many moments they remained with their lips locked. The feel of his kiss was both new and familiar to her, embracing the urgency of their first kiss in the kitchen and the tenderness of their kiss on the veranda. As she stood there, a strange new feeling began to take hold, filling her with a longing that went beyond need and desire. It centered on this man. She didn’t have to see his closed eyes, with dark lashes so long they practically rested against his skin, or hear the strain of his breathing, or taste his wine-flavored kiss, to know that these things were familiar to her. Yet how could that be? How could she feel such an intimate connection to a man she scarcely knew?

  The thought was lost in his muffled groan when he broke away. Breathing deeply, he pressed hungry kisses to the pulse at the side of her neck, the hollow at the base of her throat, and the soft skin at the curve of her shoulder. Bowing his head to reach her breast, he kissed it through the sheer silk, wetting the fabric as his tongue found the tip and drew it against his teeth.

  She tried to catch her breath, but it was hard with him tugging at her nipple with his teeth, his hand caressing the fullness of her breast through the thin camisole, and the erection straining at his pants pressing into her.

  His breath was harsh and fast when he lifted his face. Shadows traced his cheekbones, the faint light of the lantern glinting on his lashes. His voice was a muffled scratch at the back of his throat. “I want to look at you.” There was an intensity about him as his gaze washed over her from head to foot with anticipation.

  She knew what he wanted and was eager to give it to him. She turned and walked to the camp bed. Sitting down on its edge, she pulled off her boots, leaving each one where it landed. Standing back up, she carefully undid the clasp at the waistband of her skirt. His eyes widened with pleasure as the twill garment slid past her hips and pooled around her ankles. Stepping out of it, she stood before him clothed only in the silk camisole that fell to just below the apex of her thighs.

  The effect was overpowering. Torn by the impulse to rip the garment from her body, he held his urge in check. When she slid her fingers beneath the thin straps, his hands reached out impetuously to stop her.

  “
Let me.”

  Gingerly, he nudged the straps off her shoulders. The silk fell away, revealing her full nakedness to his eager stare.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

  She began to breathe quickly.

  He touched her, fingers tracing the hollow of her waist and the curve of her hips, watching her and noting with satisfaction as every stroke was reflected in her face. Bringing his head close, he opened his mouth over her nipple and sucked, while one hand went around behind her to cup her buttocks and the other pushed between her legs to coax them apart.

  Except for the ancient cross-shaped pendant of red glass she wore around her neck resting beneath the pulsing hollow of her throat, she was naked and open to him now, the way he remembered her and had dreamed about it a hundred times and more. The sound of her whimper thrilled him as he brought his thumb over the tight dark curls to caress that place that was dense with heat and wet with desire. In a detached part of his mind he remembered his promise and realized that he could not stop now even if he wanted to.

  There was so much about the way she made love that he recalled—the way her slender body writhed with pleasure, the throaty moans, how she called his name in breathless gasps, the exquisite look on her face at the moment of climax. But most of all he recalled the love, honest and pure, that raced between them at the moment of consummation. Love that he thought would last forever, until it was wiped from her memory. She felt something for him now, he sensed it with every fiber of his being. Could he make her remember him with the power of his body and the strength of his passion?

  He tore at his clothes, snapping the horn buttons on his shirt and sending them arcing into the air. With hurried hands he pulled off his boots and kicked off his pants. Looking up, he found her heated gaze upon him. Do you remember this? he wanted to ask, his naked flesh gleaming in the lantern light. Do you remember what it felt like when I touched you and entered you and made you cry out for more?

  “Touch me.” His ragged plea split the silence that engulfed them.

  Her gaze dipped to that potent part of him that stood out against the night. She wet her lips, and a hot flame curled in his belly.

  She placed a palm against his chest and felt the rapid beating of his heart. Her hand moved past the prick of his nipples, and slowly downward across his taut belly to that place that held no mystery.

  He pulled in a rough breath when she began a slow and steady exploration, running her hand along the inside of his thigh, through the thick thatch of hair at the apex, and finally closing her fingers around him.

  His body burned with excitement, chest and shoulders heaving under the rhythm of her caresses. Wrapping his fingers around hers, holding her hand on him, he sought her mouth, kissing her long and hard.

  Suddenly, he pulled her hand away. “You’ll make me come too soon,” he said, trying but failing to steady his breathing. His mouth turned up at the corner. “You like tormenting me, don’t you?”

  She didn’t answer. What could she say? It was almost as if she knew that intimate part of him, the predictable drop glistening on its tip, the way it curved slightly to the right, the swelling, hard and soft at the same time beneath her touch.

  In the ensuing moment it wasn’t necessary to say anything at all when he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the camp bed. He laid her down gently upon it and stood over her, his eyes dazzled by the sight of her. Her hair, all tumbled about her face, was as dark as the African night. Her eyes, the color of chocolate, the lashes long and curled at the tips, were half-closed. He let his gaze travel from her smooth, white shoulders to her breasts, his mouth going dry at the creamy skin and the exquisite rosy nipples straining upwards. How many nights had he dreamed about kissing those beautiful breasts, their proportions just right for cradling in his palms? And her belly, all satiny smooth and round, and hips not straight and boyish but curvy and womanly. He swallowed hard when he looked down upon the thatch of curls between her legs, his blood pounding at the lush promise that waited within.

  Dropping to his knees beside the cot, he leaned over her and cupped her breasts in his palms, thumbs circling the rosy tips, and brought them together to form a valley in which he buried his face. The velvety flesh surrendered to his touch, the hardened nipples to his mouth.

  She spread her hands across his bare back. The muscles were taut and hard, the flesh warm and smooth beneath her fingers. A desperate longing seized her to hold him to her body and never let him go. Everywhere his mouth touched burned like fire. She heard him groan and felt his powerful muscles tighten as he drew a hand from her breast and slid it down her torso, across the curve of her belly to that place that was hot and wet and waiting for him.

  When his hand cupped her downy mound, her thighs trembled and opened. His fingers slipped easily into her moist heat, pushing in and out in a dizzying rhythm, stroking and caressing and forcing a strangled moan to spill from her lips. She arched her body, pressing up against his hand. She cried out, but his mouth quickly sought hers, subduing the cry, plunging his tongue in deep as his hand continued its maddening caresses.

  There was nothing she would have denied him, no part of herself she would not give up willingly. She wanted to be taken fully and completely by the aggressive power of his body, to cede her will over to him, to be possessed by this man she scarcely knew yet whose touch screamed of familiarity.

  A memory converged on her, not of the forgotten past, but springing from the dream that haunted her sleep for the last two years. His touch was like that of the faceless lover of the dream. That lover knew how to stroke and caress, how to push and pull back, how to tease her into acquiescing to his every whim. This was exactly how the man in the dream made love to her, bringing her to the edge and making it last and last until she thought she would explode.

  She gasped, pulling in a ragged breath of air when his mouth left hers and began to move slowly down her body. Like a skater gliding on ice, his lips traced airy patterns over her flesh, skimming across her belly, pressing whispery kisses along each slender leg, the insides of her ankles and the dimples at the backs of her knees, moving with deliberate languor back up, stopping at that spot that burned and ached to be tasted.

  He used his tongue to coax and caress and drive her to the brink of explosion, pausing with each shudder of her body to prolong the sensation. Opening her eyes, all she could see of him was the broad expanse of his back hunched over her and the disarray of his hair, the sandy brown locks winking gold in the light of the lantern with each movement of his head. She squirmed with delicious pleasure and heard his soft chuckle.

  His intimate kisses were driving her wild, but she wanted more of him and ached to claim every part of him as he was staking his claim to her. Wriggling her hips, she managed to slide out from under him and sit up.

  Jonathan lifted his head and looked at her. He groaned. “Do you want to stop?”

  She answered by sliding her legs around and slipping off the edge of the cot to kneel beside him. Cupping his tanned face in her hands, she brought his mouth to hers and kissed him. He tasted of wine and her own wetness. She kissed his broad shoulder and the expanse of his chest, lips brushing his nipples that were hardened with excitement. She moved lower still, past a taut belly. Running her hands over tightly corded thighs, she grasped his smooth, tight buttocks and pulled him hard up against her mouth that was open to receive him. He tasted salty and sweet. The aroma of male musk and desire infiltrated her senses as she savored the hardness filling her mouth.

  He moaned. “Oh God, what are you doing to me?” Reaching for her breasts, he squeezed the swollen nipples.

  She whimpered faintly. It hurt, but it was an exquisite pain. When he released his hold, she grasped his hands and placed them back upon herself, inviting…demanding more of the bruising pleasure.

  “That’s—that’s enough,” he rasped, pushing her away. His body was on verge of convulsing. Swallowing hard, he flicked a glance at the c
amp bed and said between pants, “I don’t think that thing will hold us both.”

  She laid back and smiled at him, a drop of the ejaculate he’d been unable to control glistening on her bottom lip.

  The flickering light of the lantern caught the hot intent upon his face as he moved his body into the space between her legs. His mouth closed over hers in a rough kiss, forcing her to accept his deeply-plunging tongue. His male hardness pressed against her inner thigh, the stiff swell of his erection seeking entry.

  This was how she had dreamed it. The sound of his uneven breathing, the weight of his body, the sweat glistening at the curve of his neck, the blue of his eyes lost beneath closed lids, the smell of him, the taste of him—everything was about him. It felt as if their bodies were made to be joined. It didn’t matter if she had known him for only a brief time Tomorrow she would feel the shame of giving herself to a man she barely knew. But tonight, at this moment, all she wanted was to lose herself to him. Unable to wait a second longer, she turned her head to relinquish his kiss.

  “I don’t care about tomorrow,” she whispered unevenly against his cheek. “I want you inside me. Now. Please Jonathan.”

  The sound of his name spilling breathlessly from her lips drove him further into his obsession to possess her, and in that possession to spark a memory from within. He tossed control to the wind and responded by thrusting strongly into her, using the power of his body and all the love that was within him. She might not remember him, but she must…she had to…remember this.

  Julia’s head fell back against the sisal mat. Arching her hips, trying to draw him in deeper, reveling in the feel of him, full and hard and potent, she matched him thrust for thrust. Her fingers raked across the powerful muscles of his back. For so long now she had felt alone and adrift, a part of nothing, belonging to no one, clinging to a dream. He was filling her up with himself, but she wanted more. The intimacy was somehow familiar. A remembrance of sensation and ecstasy hovered on the periphery of her mind. The only thing missing was love. But was it?