by Anne Marsh
Just knowing.
His mouth landed on hers with a soft, amused chuckle. She didn’t want him laughing. She wanted him needing. Impatient. So she brushed her mouth against his, a firm-soft touch of her lips against his. So good. She repeated the caress again. No rush, right? They had all night.
“Livy,” he growled, drawing back a little, and there. There was that rough, needy sound. Yeah. He was remembering.
“Uh-huh.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Shut up and kiss me, hotshot.”
“I thought I was in charge here.” The laughter was back in his voice, but he was maneuvering her closer, his thigh pressing between hers, kicking her arousal up a notch.
“In your dreams,” she replied.
“Good.” That smile belonged to a man who had more than a few fantasies in his mind. “I’ve had some damn fine dreams since you left me.”
His mouth covered hers again and the chemistry was back between them. Sam’s mouth was wild and hot, devouring hers like the best of fires. Their tongues tangled, his stroking deeply into her mouth. Hungrily, she pushed him back against the canyon wall, her hands pinning his against the stone. Taking him. And he let her, right up until he took charge.
Heat swept through her. God, god, god.
She was doing this, really doing this. Kissing Sam Clayton again. He kissed even better than he had that summer. That answered one question, and right before her body went up in flames and her brain flipped on the DO NOT DISTURB sign, she admitted to herself that she’d been curious. She’d missed this man. Sure she’d run hard and fast from him, and she should do so again. But this might be her last chance—her only chance—at holding Sam Clayton again. And, on the off chance that the world was ending tonight and they weren’t getting out of here, she wouldn’t go with regrets.
She wanted Sam Clayton.
Somewhere, in the back of her head, she’d always wondered. She’d come back to Big Bear Lake, knowing the job might bring her right to Sam Clayton’s doorstep. She just hadn’t been able to resist the lure of possibly seeing him once more. These feelings she had for him were like the sleeper fires he fought, one quick, bright lightning bolt and then a slow simmer in fallen trees until finally, one day, the fire exploded out of its woody cocoon and burned and burned and burned. She was burning. She’d waited, telling herself year after year that this was an old flame. That she was over him.
She wasn’t.
He let her go when she pulled back from their kiss, her back bumping against his hands.
Sam just watched her. He’d always been observant—that hadn’t changed.
“Ten years,” he said, but he didn’t take his hands off her right away, not even when she turned and started walking the short distance back to their campsite. He just walked beside her, not saying anything, one big hand cupping her elbow in case she tripped in the dark and needed another rescue. Her big, silent hero.
He’d never been full of words. No, that had been her, right up until it came time to answer his letter. It had broken her heart, but there was no future for their fiery summer romance. Sam Clayton had been her last high school sweetheart and, when she’d left for college, he’d stayed behind. She’d felt it was better to end it there. He never wrote again, or maybe the post office had given his letter to the wrong person. A hundred maybes were followed by relief mixed with disappointment. No letters meant she’d been free.
What had she missed?
And what would happen now she was back? Had it really just been work that prompted her to return to Sequoia?
“You really missed me?” The question came out before she could bite back the words. Her feet stopped moving and she just stood there, waiting for his answer.
He didn’t move, legs apart, arms braced across his chest. “I’m not the one who left,” he pointed out.
“That’s true.” She listened, but she didn’t hear any extravagant declarations in that deep voice. And it was silly to wish for them.
She was tired of regrets, she reminded herself, and it was time for new memories anyhow. That summer had been fantastic—but it was over. Tonight wasn’t. Not yet. Deliberately, she leaned back against the rocky wall of the canyon. Adventurous, she reminded herself. Tonight was fantasy night and she certainly had plenty of those.
“Here you are,” he said, but his eyes were watching her legs.
He’d loved her legs.
Deliberately, she moved her thighs apart. Just a few inches because she wanted to know whether it was too late for them. God, that felt good.
She pressed them together again.
Livy was the hottest sight he’d ever set eyes on. From the pretty pink flush painting her cheeks to the sexy little way she was rubbing her thighs together, she had him on fire for her. Keeping his hands to himself now would just about kill him.
Everything about her said yes, please.
He listened, drinking in the soft sigh of her breath, the rustle of her clothing as she pushed closer. His dick was hard, but there were two of them here and he was going to make this good for her. If this was the only chance he had to touch his Livy again, he’d make it count. Every kiss. Every touch.
She inhaled and he breathed with her. In. Out. He wouldn’t rush this. No way.
He slid his hand down the straight line of her spine, over the round curve of her ass—Christ, he loved her ass—and lower, slowly slipping her pants off before returning to her core. The damp heat of her through her lacy panties was pure temptation, all that femininity hidden beneath. Wet and hot, for him.
“I missed you,” he admitted. The words were too rough, too blunt, but he was in heaven here and he’d never been a poet.
He’d been her first. He’d known that. And she’d been his, too. What he hadn’t realized, until now, though, was that she’d also been his best. He’d wanted her and not because they’d got up to any sexual gymnastics. Sure, the sex had been good, but they’d been close. The closest he’d ever felt to someone else. They’d learned about sex together.
“You missed this,” she countered, rocking backwards into his hand. The motion put her pussy against the tips of his fingers. He moved his hand lower and her breath caught.
“Say yes,” he said roughly, the words a hoarse plea in her ear.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Just for tonight, Sam.”
He could make do with that. Christ, he’d missed her. So much so at first that it had been a physical ache.
“Part your legs,” he ordered. “I want all the way in, honey.”
She did.
Christ, she did.
Her sweet, hot mound covered his palm and, damn, there was nothing better than that delicious fullness. He held her like that for a long moment, then moved his middle finger in deliberate, slow strokes. Her pussy followed his hand, a husky moan spilling from her.
“You going to tell me what you want here, or are you going to make me guess?” He gave her another slow stroke of his finger while he waited for her answer.
“You’re doing just fine.” Her fingers clenched and released. He wanted her hands on him, her nails biting into his skin, marking him.
He was on fire.
He caressed her, first over her panties, teasing the hot, wet center of her. Pushing the damp fabric in and up. Tugging gently where she was exquisitely sensitive.
Her breathing changed, the shallow pants warning him she was close. Her head braced on her arm and he wrapped an arm around her waist, bracing her against his body. Taking her weight so all she had to do was hang on and enjoy.
So damn sexy.
He pushed her panties south and she rewarded him with another sexy gasp.
“Oh, my God, Sam.” She twisted, seeking more.
Her thighs trembled, the muscles of her ass clenching desperately. His baby was close and he was on fire. His dick jerked, wanting inside, but this was for her. He needed to feel her coming for him.
He kissed his way up the side of her throat, loving her throaty gasps, and fo
und her ear. He did some more kissing, because no way he ever got enough of her.
“You know how good you feel?” Hell. Was that hoarse rasp his voice?
Running the fingers of one hand up her neck and through her hair, he found the sensitive scalp. Anchored her in place, tugging gently.
The fingers of his other hand played with the hard bud at the apex of her thighs. She tightened around his hand, her back bowing. “You got to open up, baby. Let me in. Let me make this real good for you.”
“I need—”
“I got what you need.” He touched her the way he’d been dying to touch her, letting himself have this fantasy-come-true.
She wanted him, too. His fingers were slick with her juices, sliding deep into her pussy. He remembered her like this, trembling in his arms. Coming apart for him. Coming. He wanted to ask her if she’d let other men touch her like this, but then the thought vanished. All that mattered was that she was back and he was here, losing himself in her again.
She panted out something, but damned if he knew what she was saying. All he knew was that the words weren’t no and then she went up on tiptoe, pushing hard against his hand in silent demand.
“Just like that, honey.” He whispered rough words of praise, telling her how pretty she was as she came against his fingers. How sweet. “I love feeling you like this.”
After what had to be the world’s most satisfying orgasm, while she sagged against him in boneless aftermath, he scooped her up in his arms.
What did you say to the man who’d just rocked your world? More, please came to mind. Instead, she looked up at him through her lashes as he carried her the short distance to their makeshift bed. “Please tell me you have a condom. And that it didn’t come from Holm Arthurs’s bunker.”
His chuckle was rueful. Regretful. And neither adjective boded well for her night.
“Yeah. I got condoms, honey. Number one choice of the U.S. Forest Service for transporting water from point A to point B. But now’s not the time, Livy.”
“Yes. It is,” she countered fiercely.
Sam had always been in control. Tonight, he’d let go of that control just a little. He’d shown her his wild side. All the rough, dark need he kept bottled up inside him. Apparently, they were both taking what they wanted tonight.
And it seemed she wanted Sam Clayton.
Back in her arms. Back in her life. She was realizing she’d made a terrible mistake ten years ago.
He set her down on her feet, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder. They could see the fire’s glow from their hideaway and he was all hotshot again. She could see the longing in his eyes to be out there, doing. Sam Clayton didn’t sit still, never had. Then he was turning away from the fire, turning towards her.
“Let’s get you ready for the night.” He’d hollowed out the ground earlier, layering dry grass with plastic tarp, and now he unzipped a sleeping bag.
“Boy scout?”
“Marines.”
“I didn’t know you served.”
“One tour. Couple of hops to the Middle East. CFR—Crash, Fire, and Rescue. We rode out on the truck when there was a pilot who was more crash than land. Hosed down the pieces and got the guy out when we could. Some of the other men I served with went on to become smoke jumpers, but I came back here, because I knew fighting wildland fires and the U.S. Forest Service was where I wanted to be. I like having my feet on the ground, being right there on the frontlines. This is a different kind of fight.” He shrugged. “But our national parks are the frontlines for some really nasty stuff. You know that. You came in here hunting for a domestic terrorist.”
Sam’s dad had been a park ranger, so he’d had parks in his blood. His one tour with the Marines had been practically an aberration, except that he’d chosen to go in for CFR. He’d enlisted because he’d been at loose ends and he’d wanted to get out and see the world some, and because he’d spent every year in one place. And, after Livy had left, suddenly that place hadn’t been enough.
“Every day’s another chance to be a hero?”
She grinned at him as she asked her question, and he couldn’t have stopped the answering grin from spreading across his face if he’d tried.
“Not really. Most days, it’s all about the shovel. Why’d you do it?” He spread out the sleeping bag, fleece-side up. He’d have preferred getting her inside, all zipped up, but she might be particular about cozying up to a terrorist’s bag.
“The FBI?” When he nodded, she continued. “Quantico was a challenge, but a good one. What I’d learned in the classroom at college was interesting, but it didn’t push me. Not the way the academy did. We were being asked to solve real problems, for real people. The missions were important. We kept people safe.”
Her quick smile warmed him to his core. He got this. Got her. “Funny to think that maybe we’re not so different after all, huh?”
“Yeah.” She smiled back. “Other than the obvious.”
Different but not different. She could think that all she wanted but, truth was, they came from different worlds—and they both had to go back when this night was over. He eyeballed the nest he’d made for her. He wanted her warm and, even in summer, temperatures in the park dropped pretty low at night. The canyon walls were going to protect her some, though, and the gear was definitely rugged. He gestured toward the canyon entrance. “This not being the St. Regis, you’re going to have to step outside to take care of any business you might have.”
She went. He followed right on her heels, until she stopped and pointed. “This is where you stay, boy scout. Privacy is a definite requirement here.”
“If there’s so much as a chance that Holm Arthurs is running around out there, you get an escort service.”
“I’m armed,” she pointed out, picking out a thick stand of bushes and making for them.
He scanned, but nothing moved. Right now the night held only shadows. “You show me how well you draw, aim, and fire when your pants are down around your ankles.”
She shot him a grin. “Point taken. I’ll return the favor.”
“Much appreciated,” he drawled.
She disappeared and he could hear all too clearly the rustling sounds from the bushes that said she was doing what needed doing. Deliberately, he focused on the night sounds and their surroundings, giving her what privacy he could. They’d been lovers and he’d touched her again tonight, but some things a woman didn’t want to share.
She came back, and he motioned for her to go into the canyon.
“Your bed.”
She sank down, reaching for her boots. Her fingers unlaced them, tugging at the heavy soles. He shouldn’t have found that so damned sexy, but apparently he’d take what he could get, because his hard-on was back. When she pulled the boots off and set them to one side, she gave him a shot of her feet in practical white cotton. She sighed, digging her toes into the sleeping bag’s plush.
He tucked the gun into his waistband.
“Here,” he said gruffly, sinking down beside her and pulling her feet onto his lap.
Just seeing her feet, vulnerable and half-undressed, brought back his memories of touching her more intimately. He remembered all too well the sensation of sinking his fingers between her thighs and the slick, wet feel of her folds. Hell. He needed a cold shower, and that wasn’t happening out here.
Instead, he watched her face like a starving man confronted with a feast. She pulled her hair tie free like she was tired of the drag on her scalp and all that honey brown hair brushed against her face and shoulders. Long lashes fell and she exhaled. She was tired, but she was still game. He shouldn’t have pushed her. Hell, he couldn’t believe he’d touched her, made her orgasm, when they were waiting out a wildland fire with a possible terrorist dogging their escape. But he had.
And he wanted to touch her again.
Instead, he focused on her feet, dragging his thumb along the sensitive arch, and finding the pad of her foot and rubbing in a deep, hard circle. Sh
e sighed and wiggled her foot into his touch. Her lashes rose and fell.
“You coming to bed?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to watch for a while.” No point telling her he had no intention of sleeping while she might be in danger. He’d keep an eye out, both for the fire and for Holm Arthurs.
Chapter Six
“Don’t move.” Sam breathed the words against Livy’s “ear. Adrenaline pumped through him, his body readying for the coming fight. They had company. When she came awake with a start, he pressed his fingers against her lips until she nodded her head, indicating that she comprehended the sudden need for silence.
“Holm?” she mouthed, and he nodded.
Had to be.
He smelled smoke and that wasn’t good. The lighter smudge of light on the horizon said dawn was coming fast. The fire should have died down some over the night, but tendrils of smoke eddied around their campsite, closer and thicker. Their night had definitely gone to hell.
He could just make out her face in the dim light. Her hair was a tangle around her face, her familiar hazel eyes watching him. Trusting him even as her hand reached out for the weapon she’d set down beside her boots.
“Get dressed,” he whispered harshly. Whatever was coming, he’d make damned sure she was ready to run or to fight. Whichever kept her safest.
She was his.
For the second time in his life, he wanted more than a few stolen nights.
He wanted it all. He wanted her. She’d been his first, and now she’d be his last and best. The primitive need to protect her against the threat lurking in the darkness brought out the warrior in him. He scanned the shadows, considering his next move.
Gravel hit metal thirty feet to his right.
Sam rolled to his feet silently. Son of a bitch. Someone had set off the trip wire he’d set up on the camp’s outer perimeter because he hadn’t wanted unexpected midnight visitors. He tucked the handgun he’d lifted from the bunker into his waistband. The gun was fully loaded, but using the weapon wasn’t his first choice. It was too goddamned easy to shoot the wrong target in the dark. Instead, palming his hunting knife, he moved out. The blade was a reassuring weight in his hand and slipping through the dark reminded him all too clearly of boot camp training. The stakes tonight were personal, though. His adrenaline was pumping, but damned if he’d let anyone get the drop on him here.
