by M. S. Parker
“Yes, sir.” She was staring hard at one of the small windows, although there wasn’t much to see but snow and the darkness of night.
“The weather is getting worse so if you can hold out for the night, we’ll send a team to collect you in the morning.”
“Understood, sir. Thank you.” She started to lower the radio, but it crackled again, and she lifted it back up.
“Don’t go thanking me right now. This is a mess you’ve landed in, Evers.”
“I understand, sir.”
The radio went silent, and she lowered the handset to the couch and covered her face with her good hand. Trying to give her some privacy, I turned away from her and focused on getting her some food ready.
A sly, sharp voice in the back of my head murmured that I wasn’t being truthful.
But I hadn’t ever been very good at lying to myself. I wasn’t trying to give her privacy – I was trying to hide from her. Well, hide the best I could considering we were both trapped in a small cabin not much bigger than some bedrooms.
Long, taut moments passed with neither of us speaking. I got her food ready and took it to her, then dug an MRE out of my pack. Meals-ready-to-eat weren’t exactly fine cuisine, but I had no desire to do anything but fill the hole in my belly, and the basic fare would do just fine.
“You can have some of the eggs and soup if you want,” Lexi said.
I shot her a look, but she had her attention on the eggs I’d mixed up then served to her on a small plate that had been part of her mess kit. She shoveled up a bite, then sipped soup from the canteen cup.
“This works for me,” I said, going through the familiar motions of preparing the MRE.
“Suit yourself.”
Another silence fell, and I tried to pretend I was alone, although I didn’t really succeed. I gave up trying when Lexi moved, then gasped out, clearly in pain.
I was at her side in seconds. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, her tone aggravated. “I was just trying to move a little, and I put too much weight on my ankle.”
“Can I help?”
She shook her head, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “I’m good right now.”
I couldn’t really insist so I went back to the food I’d been preparing.
“You don’t have to sit on the floor,” she said in a dry tone. “I’m pretty sure I’m not contagious.”
But she was. The wry smile in her voice tugged a response from me, one I smothered and locked down. Her fiery temper called to me, as did the confident way she had handled herself throughout the night.
At her second chiding comment, I gave in and went to sit on the couch at her side, although I didn’t let myself look at her. I kept my attention on my food, eating it without really tasting anything.
“You looked relieved about the news on the crash,” she said, putting the small plate down. She’d completely cleaned it.
“Yeah. You want something else to eat?”
“No. I’m good. Can you help me with my coat?”
I should have already offered. It was nice and warm here on the couch which sat close to the fireplace. The farther corners were likely still chilly, but that would soon abate.
She dragged the zipper down awkwardly. My gaze strayed to her hand, but I immediately redirected it, looking elsewhere. Then she grumbled under her breath, and I swung my gaze around to see that the zipper had caught.
I was being punished.
I knew it.
My mouth was dry as I lifted my hands. “May I…?”
“Please.” Her voice was surly, but I understood. I’d been injured to the point that even the most basic, simple tasks required aid.
I kept my gaze focused on the task at hand, working the zipper free with far more care than the chore probably needed. I didn’t ease up on my focus, though. If I stayed on task, I wouldn’t be tempted to look into her eyes.
That temptation faded away to nothing as I eased the sleeve on her right arm, then went to work on her injured side. I had to remove the splint, and I knew once that protective support was gone, it would be that much easier to cause her more pain.
She was breathing hard when I finished but hadn’t made a sound. I checked her expression, and although that fine line was once more between her brows, she didn’t look too uncomfortable.
“Thank you,” she said.
Our eyes met.
Tension once more pulsed in the air, the kind I hadn’t felt in ages. Her pupils spiked, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who’d just felt that immediate, demanding tug. I tried to ignore it, focusing on Lexi and her injuries, not Lexi and her sexy mouth.
I re-splinted her wrist and forearm, telling myself not to notice the soft smoothness of her skin, or how good she smelled.
“Let’s get your boots off. I want to check out your ankle and wrap it better. I couldn’t see for shit out there.”
Her eyes fell away, and she nodded. But when she went to lift her leg, I caught her foot. “I’ll do it. Easier for me since my hand isn’t hurt.”
I half-expected her to argue, but she didn’t. I tugged the laces free on her uninjured foot first, then moved to the other one. The ankle was definitely swollen, but when I rotated it one way, then the other, her response was nothing more than a grimace.
“I don’t think anything is broken here,” I said, rewrapping the ankle. I pushed the leg of her pants up, so I could take the wrap a bit higher and couldn’t help but notice the elegance and strength of her calf. It took more restraint than I liked to admit to not stroke my fingers down her skin.
Once I was done, I sat down to finish my food, careful not to look at Lexi.
“Who was on the plane?”
Immediately, I tensed but forced myself to relax. Certain events in my past had caused me to become even more guarded than normal, and I’d always been a private person anyway. Now it was worse, and I had no desire to discuss personal matters with the very sexy ranger sitting just a few feet away. In an effort to deflect her question, I hitched up my shoulder and kept my attention on my rapidly diminishing meal.
Lexi was determined, though, and continued to subtly prod and nudge me for information.
Surging off the couch, I collected everything we’d used for the meal. Refuse was never left behind out in the wilderness. It just invited trouble – various kinds of trouble, for certain, but trouble nonetheless.
After Lexi made another reference to the crash, I turned around and snapped, “Why the hell are you so nosy?”
“It’s called making conversation,” she replied, her chin going up slightly. “It’s not like we’ve got a lot of ways to pass the time.”
I must have lost my mind.
That was the only explanation for what happened next.
“I disagree,” I said as I closed the distance between us and bent over the couch. Her eyes widened as I caught her slightly pointed chin in my hand and slammed my mouth down over hers.
Eleven
Lexi
I was hallucinating.
Delirium, maybe, brought on by the unending ache in my wrist and ankle. Or maybe I’d hit my head when I fell, and the blow had knocked me out, and I was dreaming.
That might explain why Roman was kissing me.
Yes, he was hot, but we’d been sniping at each other almost from the get-go – and when he wasn’t sniping at me, he was just trying to antagonize me. Not exactly the set-up for a lip-lock.
But unless I was dreaming…
Maybe I was. This was definitely better than the self-satisfaction I’d been forced to indulge in lately. So…I’d enjoy it. He stroked his tongue along my lower lip, and I opened wider, unconsciously reaching for him. The second my left hand touched his shoulder, pain flared. Any attempt to convince myself this was a dream fell apart.
I jerked back, starbursts going off behind my eyes as my injured wrist made a very demanding protest in response to my action.
Roman stared at me,
eyes intense, a pure, pale green that was oddly beautiful, almost soft compared to the harsh lines of his face.
He dropped his gaze to study the hand I cradled against my chest.
“Maybe use the other hand,” he suggested. Then he kissed me again.
A breath caught in my throat, and before I could manage to free it, he knocked it right out of me as he deepened the kiss. Everything inside me turned to molten, hot flame.
I’d learned my lesson, so this time when I kissed him, I kept my bad arm cradled carefully against my chest as I reached for him with my good one. Twining it around his neck, I tugged him closer.
He complied, going to his knees in front of me, both of his hands now cradling my face. His touch was gentle, so gentle, another oddity in a world now filled with them.
Kissing never felt like this. Not for me at least.
This kiss wasn’t just a prelude to whatever might happen next. It was an entire experience in and of itself. He made a low noise in his throat, hungry and demanding. The sound of it made my nipples peak and harden, and I whimpered. Need and dismay tangled, then rose inside me.
Some part of my brain was stuttering in shock. I…what…you can’t…
But the rest of me was already shouting, Go for it, Lexi.
His mouth left mine to cruise down my neck, and I angled my head back to grant him better access. He rewarded me by raking his teeth down the exposed arch, sending a shiver through me.
That stuttering part of my brain tried again. You don’t know this guy. What are you doing?
No. I didn’t know him. But other than the nagging voice of common sense, nothing in me seemed to care.
I knew how his mouth felt on mine – amazing.
I knew how he tasted – amazing.
And then he placed a deft hand on my side, slipping it under my shirt and gliding upward until he cupped my breast.
Now I knew how his touch felt – amazing.
It didn’t matter if I knew this guy or not. I was already all in. I couldn’t even think of the last time somebody’s touch had lit me up like this, and I didn’t want to miss a second.
When he slid his hand back out from under my shirt, I whimpered in displeasure, only to sigh as I felt him tugging at the buttons of my shirt. He pulled back as he freed the first one, watching me. He moved onto the second, and I bit my lip.
“Am I stopping?” he asked, voice gruff.
Mute, I shook my head, falling back to brace my weight on my good hand to give him easier access to the buttons. I still had my wrist cradled against my waist, and as he drew closer, I had to shift it out of the way.
Even that slight movement had the pain flaring. I tried to hide it, but he saw anyway.
“Come on,” he said.
Before I could figure out what he meant, he had me in his arms and was carrying me across the floor of the small cabin.
He moved like I weighed nothing. I knew for a fact that I wasn’t a lightweight. I wasn’t vain, but I knew I had a good figure. Staying in shape was important for my job, and I took it seriously. I was also curvy – almost voluptuous, a fact that had embarrassed me when I had to start wearing a 36D bra by my sophomore year. Boobs were the bane of existence when a girl was a tomboy.
But he moved with ease, and my head started to spin just a little as he laid me down on the bed.
He carefully caught my arm at the elbow, guiding my injured wrist up over my head. Then he went back to dealing with the buttons of my dull, tan uniform.
Suddenly, I wished I was wearing something more appealing than the utilitarian black bra and panties I’d pulled on earlier that morning. I found myself wondering if I’d remembered to shave and how sweaty had I gotten during the long, cold hike.
Then, after freeing the last button, Roman spread my shirt opened and all those thoughts died. The look in his eyes was so intense, so hot, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find myself burned. He freed the front clasp of my bra and nudged the cups open. I stared at his face, afraid to even blink for fear that I’d wake up and realize that I’d been wrong – this was a dream.
But deep inside, I knew it wasn’t.
I couldn’t dream up something as erotic as this. I couldn’t imagine how amazing a simple finger could feel as he traced a path along my skin up to circle my nipple.
“Your tits are beautiful,” he said.
The blunt statement made me blush – and squirm. I’d only ever had one lover, and that had been years ago, and he definitely was not the type for dirty talk. I’d never really given it much consideration, though. They were just words.
But I’d have to re-evaluate my stance, because hearing those words come from Roman was enough to have an arrow of heat lancing through me and centering between my thighs.
He bent over me, and I gasped, bringing my good hand up to twine through his hair as he took my nipple in his mouth. The heat was searing and shocking and completely divine. I moaned and arched closer.
He worked an arm beneath me, bringing my lower body in flush against his as he came down between my thighs.
Now I was moaning for a whole new reason – the rigid, heavy length pressing against me in the most intimate way imaginable. Okay, maybe not the most intimate. But the second most.
He pumped his hips against me, sending my panties, already damp, sliding back and forth over my clitoris.
“More,” I begged, rocking against him as best as I could, considering I was pinned under the solid mass of his body.
His response was to pull away completely, and I stared at him in dismay.
But then he whipped his shirt off. For a moment, the sight of his bared chest stunned me into silence.
He was a work of muscle, sinew and taut, tanned skin – and scars. There was a thick length of one carving down from his shoulder. Another one on the left of his navel. Other small ones peppered his torso, and instinctively, I wanted to run my hands over each one and soothe any aches that might linger.
Then he was back over me, and I felt the shocking heat of his body pressed against me, skin to skin, from the waist up. I shuddered. Shoving a hand into his hair, I hauled his mouth back to mine.
He came easily enough, and I lost myself in his kiss yet again.
But that wasn’t enough for long, and I found myself arching and rubbing and clinging.
He shifted his weight, and I gasped as he opened my pants and slid them down my hips before sliding a hand between my thighs, pressing down against me with the heel of his hand. My clitoris practically stood up and applauded at the attention. My entire body went taut and stiff as all my being focused on him, on his touch and the way he skillfully worked me.
When his hand left me, I wanted to scream in frustration. Then his fingers were there, inside my panties, and I could do nothing but arch into the sensation.
He groaned as he touched me, muttering against my mouth, “Fuck, Lexi. You’re so wet.”
I knew I was. I could feel it as he circled his fingers around my clit before stroking down lower. One long finger arrowed into me, and I all but shrieked with need as he began to pump that finger in and out, a slow, steady rhythm that drove me higher and higher.
His lips pressed to my ear. “I want to taste you. Tell me I can.”
“Yes.” I didn’t even fully understand what I was giving him permission to do, but whatever it was, I wanted it.
In the span of seconds, he’d levered himself off me and had my pants down to my ankles. He slowed a bit as he eased them off, taking care of the sturdy wrapping on my left leg, but then as soon as the pants were off, he flung them into the recesses of the cabin. I tensed as he spread out between my thighs, his mouth on level with the apex of my thighs.
A strangled cry escaped me as he pressed his mouth to my cunt.
He wasn’t deterred.
He increased the pressure, mouth closing around my clitoris. Then he started to suck.
Once more, starbursts exploded behind my closed lids, but it was because of pleasure t
his time, not pain…so much better. I pushed my free hand into his hair without thinking, pressing him closer.
He didn’t need the urging though.
As I was still whimpering from the first initial contact, he shifted positions and pushed two fingers inside me, twisting them as he thrust them deep.
The orgasm hit me too hard, too fast, knocking me off guard as I arched under him.
A low, rough noise escaped me, one that defied definition, but I was too caught up in sensation to even puzzle it out.
He paused, lifting his head to shoot me a quick look.
“More,” I said, a plea in my voice.
He gave me a wide, wicked smile then pressed his mouth back to me, a hot, open kiss against my pussy.
I went to bring up my legs, maybe in an effort to bring him in closer, but he caught my left one, resting his hand on my knee. Without even looking at me, he muttered, “Careful. Don’t want you hurting yourself.”
Hurting?
What in the hell could hurt right now? Except maybe him stopping. But he was soon back to working me with both mouth and tongue, and I totally forgot about pain of any kind…except the slow, sensual torture he inflicted with his mouth and tongue.
He worked me right back to the edge, then left me teetering on the brink as he rose and stared at me where I lay splayed out and open for him. If I could have thought clearly, I might have considered closing my legs. I didn’t do vulnerable, and this was about as vulnerable as a woman could get.
But I was more interested in watching him as he tugged his wallet out and withdrew a condom.
A wisecrack instinctively leaped to my lips, brought on by a sudden spate of nervousness as he placed the foil packet between his teeth, then lowered his hands to the button of his jeans. Through sheer willpower alone, I kept it behind my teeth, which was just as well. My mouth started to water, and by the time he had his zipper down, the nerves had been replaced by greed.
He tore the condom open, and I stared raptly as he unrolled it down the heavy length of his cock, then gave it one final tug before bending back over me, settling his knees between my spread thighs.
