by Cherry Adair
“I’ll book us into the presidential suite the minute we get out of here.”
“Promise?”
Thorne stroked his thumb over her plump lower lip. “Jacuzzi, hot shower, big bed. Champagne.” Baby oil.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
He kissed the smile curving her mouth. A promise, not so much to find that hotel, but to get her out of there, safe and sound. A promise he refused to even contemplate breaking.
“You’re like catnip to me.” Devilish humor danced in her eyes. “I can’t get enough of you.” Snaking her other arm from his back, she started to tug at his belt buckle with impatient fingers. “A little assistance, please?”
“Getting naked, here and now, is the height of folly,” he murmured, pushing her hand away so he could glide all the T-shirts she was layered in up over her breasts. He was a man who appreciated sexy underwear. Lace and silk. Satin was one of his favorite fabrics to see hugging a woman’s assets. But Isis’s unadorned nude cotton bra was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Her nipples, poking beneath the thin fabric, begged to be tasted. He lowered his head, brushing his lips down the plump valley between her breasts. The familiar scent of her skin, a bite of cinnamon, a touch of salt, the heated spice of her arousal, made him so hard he could use his dick to break out of there.
Isis combed her fingers up his nape, then cupped the back of his head in her palm as he suckled one hard tip into his mouth. Her back arched and she made a low hum in the back of her throat.
“So sensitive.”
“Skip the chitchat, Thorne.” She pressed his head more firmly against her breast. “That’s too gentle. Harder.”
He bit down lightly through the material, then sucked deeply, pulling the extended tip deep into his mouth as his lips curved in a wry smile. Even here, she wanted to be boss.
Lifting his head from her breast, he nibbled at her chin, teasing her until he took her mouth in a breathless kiss that fired all his cylinders. Still kissing her, Thorne ran his hand down her hip, then undid the button on her jeans and tugged down the zipper. He lingered for a moment on the indentation of her navel, stroking a single circle before slipping his palm down the satin of her belly beneath her panties. He enjoyed the flutter as her muscles contracted at the brush of his fingers along her hairline, and felt her humid heat at his fingertips.
Her fingers tightened in his hair as she lifted her hips off the sleeping bag. “Hurry!”
He dared not fully undress her. But he pushed her jeans and sensible cotton panties down to her knees, inhaling the spicy mélange of cinnamon and the hot heady scent of her sex.
Kissing her while one-handedly undoing his own clothes was a gymnastic feat. Even his own touch threatened to blow the top of his head off.
Having exposed only what was necessary, he slid two fingers into her slick channel. “If I tasted you here right now you’d taste salty sweet and luscious.”
“B-be my guest.”
Thorne smiled. She looked and sounded so earnest, clearly so engrossed she’d forgotten where they were. Even as he stroked her supple body and made love to her, he was aware of everything around them. Alert to danger. The firelight made deep pockets of shadow where any manner of unpleasant things could hide. “Pretend we’re in the back of my car at the drive-in movies. By necessity we need to do what we want to do discreetly and with some speed.”
She huffed out a laugh. “I’ve never made out in the backseat of a car before.”
“Let me show you the general principle, then. You get to be on top for this one.” He half tugged, half lifted her on top of him and was rewarded with a big smile of appreciation. “Yes, I can see you’ll take to this position like a duck to water. Spread your legs,” he instructed. She bracketed his hips with her knees, her body open and fragrant as she poised above his eager penis. Her T-shirts were still rucked up around her neck, the fabric of her bra wet around her nipples. Thorne reached up to stroke the buds so they tightened to sweet little points. “You’re in charge.”
Hands braced on his chest, Isis slid down on the spear of his dick, her body clenching and pulsing around him. For a moment she was unmoving, head flung back, eyes closed. “I could die just like this and be happy.”
“No one is dying, and you’ll be a lot happier doing this in that big bed I promised you.” He ran both hands up the baby-soft skin of her exposed midriff, then cupped her breasts. She sucked in a wobbly breath as he rolled the erect nipples between his fingertips. “If you’re in the driver’s seat”—he tweaked harder and her back arched in response—“drive, Miss Magee.”
She started to move, slowly at first, and then picked up speed. The sensation of her grinding down on him almost pushed Thorne over the brink. The sensation was too sharp, too fucking perfect to last. He grabbed her hips to slow her down, but it was too late as the avalanche of his climax hit him full force.
Her body bucked and tightened, and she let out a strangled scream as she came. Then collapsed on his chest.
He pressed his face into her damp throat as he fought for control of his body and his emotions. Her fragrant hair tickled his nose; her body was limp. They were still joined. He was still semi-erect. The rhythm of their elevated heartbeats was syncopated, a mirrored throbbing that he felt in every pulse point throughout his body.
Her fingers explored the bones of his jaw with delicate strokes, much the way she’d stroked his injured leg at her friend’s apartment what felt like a lifetime ago. Her touch was healing, as if she possessed some form of magic that would take away the pain.
She settled more comfortably on top of him, the weight of her slender body like a benediction as she lazily ran her fingertips over him wherever she could reach. “I like being the boss of you.”
“I bet you do,” he murmured wryly as he, too, let his hands wander over her back and arms, learning the dips and valleys and imagining how she’d feel right then if she were naked.
Thorne laughed, a rusty sound that filled the small room and sounded alien to his own ears. He didn’t remember when he’d ever laughed before meeting Isis. It was a strange and uncomfortable realization having no recollection of being… happy. Christ.
THE DEEP RHYTHMIC WHOP-WHOP-WHOP was so faint that at first, Thorne attributed it to their syncopated heartbeats. She’d rolled off him ten minutes before. He’d helped her pull up her clothing, and she’d helped him with his. Which had involved a lot more touching and kissing, but eventually they’d both fallen silent, and she was in a postcoital doze, if her steady breathing was any indication.
Whop-whop-whop.
Disengaging her arm from across his chest, Thorne jerked upright, senses tuned to the sound. “Incoming.”
He jumped to his feet, his hand going automatically to his hip where his weapon should be. He pulled up his jeans and yanked up the zipper even as he strode to the clothing-stuffed entrance.
Bloody hell. He should’ve known their kidnappers wouldn’t leave well enough alone.
“Who’s coming?” Isis sounded sleepy and bewildered. Sitting up, she tugged her T-shirts down over her pretty breasts. “The bad guys?”
“Douse the fire.”
Thorne fingered aside a sliver so he could see out and searched the black skies. The narrow entrance was easily defensible, but they were trapped like rats in a hole. He pulled out the clothing he had stuffed in the opening. It was still dark out, the stars fading; dawn had yet to break. The air was cooler, and now dead calm. Not a breath of wind moved the sand particles.
“Chopper from the north.” Coming in low and dark, a black blot in the star-studded sky. Narrow-eyed, Thorne watched it swoop low over the rise and disappear. Presumably to fly over their campsite.
Heat-imaging sensors would alert whoever was on board that the tent and surrounding area were abandoned. Did they know about this tomb? Yeah, he bet they did. Everything else had been so well scripted they wouldn’t forget the smallest detail.
The whop-whop-whop grew louder before the bl
ack ghost of the chopper rose high enough to clear the ridge.
He knew what he would do if he were them. “Go back as far as you can. Move!” Racing back to where Isis stood motionless in the middle of the chamber, he grabbed her around the waist, shoving her ahead of him as he ran back into the chamber.
She gave a muffled shriek as he flattened his body over hers, tugging the scarf that was still wound around her neck, up over her head. He covered her face, then pressed her head against his chest. He used the trailing end of her scarf to cover his own nose and mouth.
A nanosecond later, the sandstone bricks in the entrance exploded in a shower of dust, sand, and sharp shards.
“Who are these crazy freaking people?” Isis yelled, her voice muffled against his chest.
“It’ll stop in a minute…”
“How do you—”
The grating sound of the rocks and sandstone bricks tumbling and crashing obliterated her words.
Thorne pressed Isis’s face harder against his chest, holding his breath as the small room filled with thick clouds of dust and sand. Rocks and bricks tumbled and bounced. Something hard slammed painfully into his shoulder. The cacophony of falling stones continued for interminable minutes as the surrounding hillside crashed down outside and sealed them in the chamber.
FIFTEEN
Shell-shocked, Isis took in the devastation as she wiggled out of Thorne’s steely grip. Yanking the flashlight out of his pocket, he flicked it on, shining a thin beam of illumination around the dust-filled chamber. Half the room was filled with rubble. The opening was sealed behind who knew how much fallen stone, broken bricks, and debris. She coughed as the thick, swirling dust lodged in her throat.
Eyes stinging, Isis felt the unsteady gallop of her heart and wiped perspiration from her upper lip with a dirty fingertip. “What in God’s name was that about?” She was annoyed at how her fingers shook as she fastened her jeans.
Thorne shone the light on the pile of rubble blocking their exit. “They wanted to ensure their plan worked. Are you hurt?”
“Thanks to fast thinking, and you being a human shield, I’m okay. The question is, are you?” She ran her hands over his chest, then walked around behind him. “Hold the light over your shoul—”
He moved out of the way, taking the light with him. “I’m fine.”
Isis didn’t blame him for being cranky. She was feeling decidedly pissed off herself. “Me, too. Getting madder by the minute, but physically fine and dandy.” She coughed violently again. “How can causing a rockslide look like an accident? It will, won’t it?”
“Yeah. I suspect this was the plan all along. It’ll look like we came in here to explore, the hillside was unstable…” He used the light as a pointer. “Let’s get cracking.”
Even though the narrow opening had only just been sealed shut, Isis was already feeling short of breath. She told herself firmly to get a grip. It was simply psychological. There was still plenty of air inside, despite the dust particles floating about. But it wouldn’t last long. “Let’s try the tunnel.”
Thorne shook his head, his dark hair now sand colored and covered with dust, as was every bit of exposed skin. Isis knew she looked just as bad. “They would’ve considered that as a way out. Don’t waste your time; it won’t go anywhere.” He strode over and started tossing chunks of rock aside.
The flashlight winked out. Isis wanted to scream, nooooo! “Is that it? Are the batteries shot?”
He opened the back, did a guy thing with the battery, then shook his head. “Dead as a doornail. It was nice while it lasted.”
The dark was oppressive. The dark and knowing they were sealed in was beyond oppressive. “Those despicable bastards.” She wet her dry lips. “They’re gone, right?
“I heard the chopper in the distance. I doubt they’ll come back to see if their work is done. Not till morning, anyway. See if you can coax that fire a bit.”
“Is that a good idea if we’re worried about our oxygen supply?”
“I don’t want flames, I just want the embers hot.”
Isis kicked aside a rock that she’d used to put the fire out moments before, then picked up several wrist-sized logs that had scattered on impact. Laying them across the coals, she bent down to blow on it a few times.
Crouching beside the feeble flames, she dragged her camera bag closer, then hooked the strap over her head before rummaging inside. She found the small plastic bottle of hand sanitizer and gave the fire a good squirt. The alcohol took immediately and the fire leapt to life.
“It could be a corridor into the tomb proper, and give us a better way out.” She gave the little flame another breath of air and watched it leap and glow. “The corridor could lead into an antechamber, and those sometimes have another corridor to get to the outside.” Using the end of her scarf, she flapped it a couple of times until the flames started taking hold of the half-burnt timbers.
The golden glow of the fire danced against the stone walls as she walked the three steps necessary to stand beside him. “It’s worth a try, don’t you think?” Before the fire and her panicked breathing ate up all the oxygen.
Dropping the brick in his hands, he straightened to look at her. “How far do you need to go before you realize that way’s blocked, too?”
“How many stones do you need to throw aside before you realize that if you move all those in here, there’ll be no room for us?” Isis countered, wiping the dust-encrusted sweat off her forehead with her scarf, her gaze steady. “That’s heavy manual labor, and we have about two cups of water left. When the sun’s up, and if we do manage to get out, we have to walk all day. We’d need approximately four gallons each to survive out there in that heat. We won’t make it.”
“No,” he admitted grimly, dusting off his hands. “We won’t.”
“All I’m proposing is that we explore deeper into the tunnel rather than working ourselves to certain death.”
“Okay. Let’s see how far we can get in the tunnel. Drink the water before we go.”
Isis retrieved the plastic bottle, twisting off the cap. “Half for me, half for you. Don’t argue.” Tipping the bottle, she drank just enough to make her realize that she could drink an entire ocean. Two sips. It was warm, had a slight plastic flavor, and might as well have been nectar from the gods. She handed the bottle to him.
“You didn’t drink your share.”
“You outweigh me, and you’ll do more physical labor trying to break us out of here. Drink it and shut up; you’re wasting oxygen.”
Thorne laughed. “God, you’re bossy.” He drained the bottle, then hooked his arm around her waist and tugged her in for a kiss, giving her back some of the water he’d just drunk. Lifting his head he touched his fingertips to her cheek. “Swallow.”
Isis swallowed, giving him the evil eye, which he missed as he walked over to their small campsite and started stuffing things in the duffel. “Gather what supplies you can find—” He saw her pick up his dress shirt and held out his hand. “Great, give me that.” He took it from her and ripped off several buttons.
“Breathe through your nose; it’ll prevent the membranes in your mouth from drying out, and suck on this.” Handing her a small button, he popped the other in his mouth. “Scarves pulled up as well; the dust is going to be a problem depending how deep the tunnel goes.” Even though he was prepared to go deeper into what Isis was sure was a tomb, he didn’t sound that confident that the tunnel would lead them anywhere.
She mentally conjured up some of the drawings of tombs her father had left lying around over the years. While she hadn’t formally studied Egyptology, she’d learned a lot from him by osmosis. Or so she hoped. Because right now, their lives might depend on her knowing how to navigate the labyrinth of passages and rooms, if this was indeed part of a tomb.
And at this stage of the game she didn’t care whose tomb it was, just that there was an exit of some kind.
And enough air to support them as they searched for it.
“Check your clothes and tuck in what can be tucked,” he told her grimly, not wanting to think how close the arthropods had been to their naked body parts. They’d been so consumed with making love, scorpions had been the last thing on their minds.
They both shook out what they were wearing. Nothing dropped out. “I’m okay,” Isis told him. “You?”
He thoroughly checked his own clothing, then helped Isis tuck her pants tightly into her socks, then did the same for himself. “Fine. Fire and we’re gone.”
Picking up a couple of the two-foot-long sticks, which were now red-hot and glowing, he handed her one to carry like a baton. Rolling several large rocks with the side of his foot, he smothered the small fire. “Let’s check out your tunnel.”
Isis put her hand on his arm to stop him. “Be careful where you walk. Don’t put your weight on your front foot until you’re sure you’re stepping somewhere solid. There could be hidden holes. My father thought they probably hid them under delicately balanced wood manhole covers, so the lightest step would tip the robber into a pit.”
“Lovely. An ancient burglar alarm. Except it was death instead of jail. Good to know.” He’d never been inside a tomb, but it already seemed like a fucking death trap before they’d even started in. They walked side by side, but he made sure Isis was one step behind him. The smell of burning wood was accompanied by the smell of ancient dust as their feet kicked up little puffs of sand.
“Don’t worry about the powder toxins,” she said, almost cheerfully. “Those are too old to be effective anymore. You know about the fatal properties of ancient Egyptian medicines, right?”
