Clay’s mouth was hungry, searching against hers. He tasted strong and male, his scent mixed with sweat entering her nostrils. The rough texture of his beard scraped against her flesh, sending tingles riffling through her. A little cry escaped her, his name coming out in a pleading tone. She slid her fingers upward, her arm lifting, caressing Clay’s hair. The strands were soft and thick. Her heart pounded urgently in her chest, and Aly pressed herself to him, feeling him groan. The reverberation thrummed through her, exciting her, putting a keen edge on her need of him.
“I need you,” he muttered hoarsely against her wet, willing lips. Blindly, Clay closed his eyes, his hand sliding downward until he cupped her breast. She was so small and firm, so completely woman, her hip melting against his, creating a fire storm of hunger within him. Without thinking, Clay pulled open the Velcro of her flight suit, sliding his hand inside it, wanting to give her pleasure instead of pain for once.
Her breast was firm, the nipple taut, expectant. Gently laying her on her back, he pulled the fabric of the uniform away. Aly’s breath was coming in short sobs, her fingers digging frantically into his shoulders as he leaned over, pushing the bra aside, and capturing the erect nipple.
A cry drove from deep within her as his lips covered the aching peak, and Aly arched against him, an intense heat spreading throughout her lower body. Sobs of pleasure whispered from her as Clay worshiped her as if she were some priceless, beautiful object that might break.
Clay struggled to get hold of himself. Too much was happening too fast. Aly wasn’t ready for this. He fought himself, fought to try to ignore the sweet, moist texture of her lips, the passion that was making him tremble. It was enough, he screamed at himself as he reluctantly broke contact with her, that she had so willingly responded to him. One look into those sultry eyes staring up at him, and Clay knew that her feelings toward him were genuine. Joy raced beside his guilt. He didn’t deserve this kind of reward for hurting her the way he had over the past nine months. Removing his hand from her flushed, rosy breast, he brought the bra back into place. Dutifully, he closed the Velcro on her flight suit, holding her confused stare.
Gently, Clay eased Aly to the pallet, his arm still beneath her head. An unsure smile tugged at his mouth as he smoothed several strands of red hair from her brow. “When I awoke, the stars were hanging over us like huge, white lanterns in the sky,” he confided huskily, continuing to caress her cheek. “And I lay here a long time, thinking how lucky I was. Most importantly, you were in my arms.” His voice grew gritty. “I couldn’t help myself, honey. When you moved against me in your sleep, I lost all my good intentions and kissed you.” Caressing her lips with his thumb, Clay whispered, “You’re as hot as the color of that beautiful hair of yours. I was so cold inside and you warmed me with your fire….”
His words seemed to fall softly through Aly, into her heart. She absorbed his shaky admission and closed her eyes. She was equally at fault in this. The crash and being stranded had made her take risks that she’d never have entertained otherwise with Clay. But one look into the smoky depths of his eyes, and Aly had felt the simmering heat within her build to an explosive point again. Clay didn’t even have to touch her; all he had to do was give her that smoldering look of need, and she responded. “Oh, Clay,” she whispered. “I’m so afraid….”
“I know,” he said, allowing his hand to rest on her shoulder, “so am I.”
Chapter Ten
Clay watched Aly withdraw deep into herself after he kissed her. She was silent, and he longed to know what was going on inside that head of hers. They were both scared. Maybe for the same reasons, maybe for different ones. He simply didn’t know.
The climb across the mountains effectively drew their focus and attention. Cliffs of rock rose like sharp spires flung skyward. Taking the lead, Clay tried to find a route between them. The rocks were solid under their booted feet, and for that he was thankful. Both he and Aly were drenched with sweat, their flight suits clinging to them when they stopped to eat and rest at noon.
Aly tried to find a spot that wouldn’t force them close together. Clay’s kiss had unstrung her. It was everything and more than she had ever dreamed about. Her response to him had frightened her even more. Struggling to resolve the taut situation between them, Aly started a conversation after they had eaten their MREs.
“About last night…I mean, this morning, Clay.”
Aly was two feet away from where Clay sat on the ground, leaning against a boulder. He saw her lick her lower lip nervously. “What about it?” he asked gently, afraid of what his kiss might have cost him in terms of Aly’s trust. He wanted her on all levels and all ways, in and out of bed. The fear was very real in her blue eyes.
Aly picked up a small rock, turning it between her bandaged hands. “I’m not the type for a one-night stand, Clay. Never was. Never will be.” She risked a glance at him. He was excruciatingly handsome, strands of his black hair dipping across his forehead, those gray eyes dark and fathomless. A quiver tremored through her as her gaze settled on the mobile mouth that could make her heart beat faster every time he smiled at her. He wasn’t smiling now.
“A long time ago, I liked one-night stands,” Clay admitted slowly, holding her unsure gaze. “Part of the fighter jock image, I suppose. But…”
Aly saw Clay smile slightly. “But?” Her heart was pounding again, and it wasn’t from the brutal climb they’d made earlier.
“Well, the crash changed a lot of things for me,” Clay admitted. “I almost died, and that’s when I found living was a little more important than flouting death every day. The main reason I switched from fighters to land-based aircraft was because I wanted to take time to smell the flowers.”
“I wondered why you got out of fighters. Most guys would die to fly a Tomcat.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. But I’d had two and a half years racing around the skies like Parnelli Jones. And I can’t say I miss those night landings on a heaving postage stamp of a deck out in the middle of an angry ocean.”
Clay’s voice was balm to her aching heart and, almost unwillingly, Aly began to relax. And with his quiet soothing, some of her fear of their future dissolved, too. “But you still chose an aircraft that does dangerous work.”
“Sure.” And then Clay awarded her one of those heart-stopping smiles. “I like danger. I was bred for it, I suppose. My father had been a Navy fighter pilot. It’s in my genes—the way stubbornness runs in your family.”
There was no accusation or anger in his voice when he referred to her family. Aly was still in shock over his decision to release the past and treat her as an individual. “I prefer to call it tenacity,” she managed to parry.
“Yeah, pit bull style,” he chortled. “So, what’s this ultimatum about one-night stands all about?”
His softly spoken words caught Aly off guard. She eyed him for a long minute, the wind lifting strands of her hair as it wove in and around the crags surrounding them. “I like your sensitivity,” she murmured, staring down at the rock in her hands.
“You invite it, Aly.”
His voice was deep with promise. A promise she dared never hope for. “I—damn, this is so hard to say….”
“You want me to back off?”
Giving him a lame look, she nodded. “Yes.”
Instead of wanting to make her feel guilty or bad, Clay wanted her to realize he would support her decision. “It’s as good as done, little hellcat.” And then he grinned, striving to lift her spirits. “I promise I won’t keep using the creepy-crawlies as an excuse to get you into my arms, okay?”
“You’re crazy, Cantrell.”
He grinned with her, watching the shadows dissolve from her wonderful blue eyes. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.”
Relief spread throughout Aly, and she was suddenly tired. Leaning back, her head tipped against the unyielding rock, she closed her eyes. “I’m taking the Fifth on that one.”
“I would, too.
”
“Thanks for understanding, Clay.”
“You deserve it. Take your siesta,” he coaxed, “we aren’t going to start hiking until 1600, anyway.”
“And then we’ll walk until it gets dark?”
“You got it, honey. Go to sleep.”
Without the moon’s thin wisp of light, Clay wouldn’t have been able to make their bed. Aly sat on a rock, watching him in silence. The wind was howling through the mountains, the temperature dropping rapidly.
“Sweat during the day and freeze at night,” he told her, placing the blanket over the plastic cover.
“Isn’t that the truth,” Aly said, and shivered. Clay had found a depression where they would be protected from most of the wind. “I wish we could make a fire.”
“No wood. This is the most desolate place I’ve ever seen.”
Miserably, Aly agreed. The climb today had brought them near the top of the mountains. “Do you think we’ll reach that village by tomorrow evening?”
Clay took off his vest and made a pillow out of it. “Depends on how easy it is to climb down off this mountain.” Getting to his feet, he walked over to her. “I want to change the dressings on your hands before we go to bed. I’m afraid you’ll get dirt in those healing rope burns.”
Aly looked at the dusty gauze that encased her palms and wrists. “They feel pretty good, Clay.”
Crouching and opening the first-aid kit, he placed her right hand across the surface of his thigh. “Just let me play nursemaid, okay?”
She smiled tiredly. He was so close, and all she wanted to do was rest her head against his capable shoulder. Amazed as always at Clay’s gentleness as he cut away the old bandage, she muttered, “You’re a good doctor.”
“Maybe it’s the patient,” he answered, catching her gaze. Examining her palm carefully, Clay could see that the wound was doing nicely. “Maybe I did miss my calling. Your palm is looking good.”
“Maybe it’s the guy doing the doctoring.”
Clay grinned up at her. “What is this? A mutual admiration society we’re starting?” Aly was so close, and those ripe lips of hers parted, needing to be kissed again. Stifling the urge, Clay expertly rewrapped her palm.
“There’s plenty to admire about you,” Aly parried, “and you know it.”
“Naw. I’m just a brash ex-fighter jock. Cocky, self-assured—”
“Don’t forget handsome.”
“That, too. Brilliant mind, great sense of humor—”
“And nice,” Aly added softly, meaning it. She saw him shrug as he gently eased her left hand out of the sling.
“Trying to be. With you, it’s long overdue.” Clay met and held her gaze, drowning in the gold fire. The need to slide his arms around her, draw Aly to him, was almost tangible. Fighting his raging desire, Clay croaked, “How’s your shoulder feeling? I haven’t heard one peep about it all day.”
As she allowed her arm to ease from the bent position in the sling, Aly tested it carefully. “Pretty good.”
“Does it hurt to rotate your arm in any direction? Try it, but be real slow about it.”
Testing her arm, Aly found she had about fifty-percent mobility. To raise it above her breasts produced excruciating pain. “Maybe if I just let the arm hang and don’t put it back in the sling, I’ll get more mobility,” she suggested.
“Yeah, try it. Keep the sling off tonight while you sleep. If you need it tomorrow, we can always put it back on.”
He looped the sling around her neck. “There, it’s nearby if you want it.”
“Thanks, doc.”
Clay got up reluctantly. “Anytime. Come on, let’s hit the sack.”
Aly chewed on her lower lip, watching as he walked back to the depression where their bedding and gear were waiting for them. To lie next to him was going to be sheer agony. Would he keep his word? Would he not touch her? Could she fight her own desire to reach out to him?
Already settled on the bed, his back to her, Clay felt Aly finally slip down beside him. He sensed her tension as she got closer. Wanting to defuse her anxiety, he murmured over his shoulder, “Just how did you get this phobia about creepie-crawlies? You never finished telling me.”
Grateful for his teasing demeanor, Aly snuggled close, seeking his body heat. “My two brothers bought a bunch of small black rubber spiders at a dime store one day. They laid them all over my bed one morning while I was still sleeping. And then they stood there, waiting to see me wake up. When I did, I saw my blanket covered with the horrible things.”
Clay began to laugh, trying to stifle it.
“See? You think it’s funny, too.”
His laughter rolled out into the darkness. “I’m sorry, honey, I can’t help it. It sounds like something Stephen and I would have cooked up.”
“All little boys are up to no good, if you ask me.”
“Well,” he asked between chuckles, “what happened?”
“I screamed and leaped out of bed. Noah had put a couple in my hair, which was long at that time, and I was trying to bat them away.”
Clay started laughing again.
Aly hit him in the arm. “You’re just like them, Cantrell. Good night.”
He reached over, patting her hip again. “Good night. Sweet dreams for a sweet lady….”
All her worries dissipated, and Aly closed her eyes, sighing softly. “I hope you get nightmares, Cantrell, for laughing at me….”
The last of his laughter dissolved beneath her husky voice. What he’d give to hear her tone drop to a purr as he made love to her. “No way, lady. Tonight, I’m going to dream you’re in my arms again.”
“I’m going to dream of finding that village by tomorrow evening,” she muttered in defense.
“I’ll bet my dreams will be far more enjoyable than yours.”
“Good night, Cantrell.”
“Good night, little hellcat.”
They stood near the bottom of the mountain slope, the sun low on the horizon. Aly glanced at her watch: it was 1800. They were right on schedule.
“Look—” Clay pointed “—I think that’s the village. See it?”
Aly moved to his side, following the direction of his finger. She squinted her eyes. Heat rolled in waves across the arid wasteland, but she could make out a dark object in the distance. “Are you sure, Clay?”
He took out the map, double-checking it. “Yeah. The map says it’s a major Huichol village.”
“‘Major’? Does that mean they’ll have a pay phone so we can call for rescue?”
He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. The heat was stifling. “Major in terms of population. There are all of fifty people living there.”
Aly’s left arm felt good after being out of the sling most of the day. She rested her hands on her hips, studying the miragelike village. “Where could fifty people possibly find enough food or water to survive out here?”
“Got me.” Clay looked over at Aly. Her face was pink from sunburn, but she looked damned good to him. Last night, he’d barely slept because she’d been next to him. But Aly looked as if she’d slept like a proverbial rock, he observed wryly, her eyes clear, and no shadows beneath her lovely eyes. “Well, it’s five miles away. Ready?”
She gave him a game smile. In another mile they’d be off the mountain and onto a plateau scattered with a few tenacious small plants that hugged the desert. “You bet. Let’s go for it, jet jock.”
The miles fell away. Aly felt a new sense of exhilaration, matching every step Clay took at her shoulder. Once he awarded her one of his devastating smiles. She wanted to stop, throw her arms around his shoulders and kiss him. And he must have read the desire in her eyes because he leaned down, placed a quick kiss on her hair, then resumed his striding walk without missing a beat. Aly didn’t know whether to be pleased or disgruntled about it. Clay merely smiled that cocky smile of his, completely pleased with himself.
The village took form and shape as they drew closer. There was a hu
ge pile of yellowed rock about a mile from the Indian hamlet. They’d been walking hard and fast, and Clay called a halt, wanting a drink of water.
Aly plopped down on a flat rock next to where he sat. “Whew!”
“Yeah,” Clay muttered, tipping up the plastic bottle and taking a small swallow of water.
Shading her eyes, Aly said, “I don’t believe it. There’s a man on a burro coming toward us.”
Clay handed her the water bottle and squinted in that direction. “Damned if it isn’t. They must have spotted us coming off the mountain.” He smiled. “Great, the Welcome Wagon is on the way. I hope you know some Spanish.”
The water was heavenly, sliding down her sandpapery throat. Aly stoppered the bottle and gave it back to Clay. “I know enough Spanish to get by, but I don’t know their Indian language.”
“Doesn’t matter. The survival info says most of them speak pidgin Spanish.” He patted her thigh. “Well, what do you say we get this show on the road?”
Aly got to her feet, standing near him while he leaned down to stow the bottle back into the pack. Her smile disappeared. A scream lurched up her throat.
“Clay!” Her cry careened off the rocks that surrounded them.
To her horror, as Clay leaned down to pick up the pack that had been placed in a crevice between two huge boulders, Aly saw a red and black lizard leap out of the shadows toward his extended hand.
It happened so quickly, that she was unable to move to prevent it. The Gila monster attacked, its huge jaws open, hurtling toward Clay’s fingers.
Clay had frozen at Aly’s cry. Too late he saw the blur of the red and black Gila darting out of the crevice toward him. The next thing he felt was pain sizzling up the side of his left hand. With a croak of surprise, Clay jerked back. The Gila monster clung to his hand, its two-foot-long body swinging back and forth, its jaws locked firmly into Clay’s flesh, releasing its virulent poison into his bloodstream.
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