by The Witness
Provided, of course, that she lived at all. Given the fix she was in, that was far from certain.
The thought brought with it a flutter of panic and urgency. Suddenly making love with Sam no longer seemed foolish but imperative. She desperately needed this, needed to be touched and held and caressed, needed to feel she mattered to someone, if only for a little while. Most of all, she needed to share this most intimate of acts with this man.
With nothing but uncertainty ahead of her, this was not the time for caution or common sense, or even propriety. This was the time to reach out with both hands and grab all she could from life, while she still had the chance.
"Yes." Her arms tightened around his neck. "Oh, yes. Make love to me, Sam."
The words had barely left her lips when his mouth covered hers again. He kissed her deeply, hungrily, as though he would devour her. Lauren responded with a frantic hunger of her own, driven by the twin demons of fear and need.
Sam broke off the kiss, and when Lauren tried to pull him back he splayed his hand over her chest and held her down. "Easy. Easy, little one," he soothed. "There's no need to rush. For days I've been tormenting myself, imagining this. I want to take my time and enjoy it to the fullest."
Lauren shifted restlessly and snatched at the buttons on his shirt. "No, Sam. Please, I want—"
"Shh. Shh. I know, babe. I know. Just trust me."
She whimpered and clutched at him when he rolled away and left the bed. He stripped off his clothes with rapid, jerky movements, his intense, dark gaze locked with hers all the while. Naked, he lay down beside her. Ignoring her efforts to pull him closer, he rose up on one elbow, grasped one end of the terry-cloth belt that secured her robe and pulled on it.
Lauren's restless movements halted, and she held her breath, watching his face. With agonizing slowness, the loose knot untwisted and collapsed. Taking his time about it, Sam separated the edges of the robe and spread them wide.
He stared down at her, his eyes glimmering like obsidian. His indulgent smile vanished as his face grew taut and darkened. "Beautiful," he whispered.
Slowly, almost reverently, he reached out to touch her, but at the last moment he turned his hand over and trailed the backs of his knuckles over her skin, from the base of her throat all the way to the nest of tight curls at the apex of her thighs.
The featherlight touch left a trail of fire on Lauren's skin and sent a delicious shiver rippling through her.
The tiny reaction seemed to inflame Sam's passion. His nostrils flared and his eyes blazed. Lauren moaned when he cupped her right breast. He lifted, squeezed, tested its weight in his palm, stroked his thumb across the velvety tip. When it swelled into a hard nub he stared at that rosy button like a starving man at a banquet.
Then he lowered his head and took her nipple into the warm wetness of his mouth.
Lauren moaned and clutched his head with both hands, her fingers burrowing deep into his ebony hair. His tongue circled her nipple, flicked, stroked. Teased.
Then he began to suckle, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed as he drew on her with a slow, hard suction that seemed to tug at her womb.
The delicious torment went on and on, driving her to the brink of delirium. Then he abandoned the wet, turgid nipple and treated the other one to the same lavish assault. Just when Lauren thought she would surely go mad, he released her.
"Do you like that?" he asked in a raspy whisper.
"Y-yes."
With the tip of his tongue, Sam drew a line down the silky valley between her breasts. "And that?"
"Yes." Eyes closed, she moved her head from side to side on the pillow. "Oh, yes."
Alternately nipping and kissing, he explored the undersides of her breasts, her ribs. All the while his hand explored the slight concave of her belly, the indent of her waist, skimmed down the long, curving sweep of her hip and thigh, then back again.
He dipped his head and circled her navel with the tip of his tongue, drew back and blew on her wet flesh, then delved into the tiny cavity with an evocative rhythm. "How about that? Do you like that, too?"
"Mmm. Yes."
"And this," he demanded. His head dipped lower still.
Lauren clutched handfuls of his hair as once again her body arced and quivered like a drawn bow.
"Yes! Yes! Oh! Oh! Saaaam!"
"Yes," Sam growled with hard satisfaction, and as her body seemed to explode in a starburst of unbearable pleasure, he quickly moved up into position between her legs and entered her in one swift stroke.
Sam groaned as he felt her sweet contractions squeeze him. Gritting his teeth, he began to move with slow, steady rhythm, pressing deep, drawing out the pleasure until it was almost pain.
He felt Lauren's muscles gradually go slack as her body's delicate pulsing faded away, and when he braced up on his forearms he saw that her eyes were closed and her face had that soft, dreamy look of a well-loved woman.
The corners of Sam's mouth tipped up in a smile of purely male arrogance, but he wasn't ready to let her rest.
"Wrap your legs around me, babe."
Lauren obeyed lazily and moved her palms in slow circles over his shoulders and back, absently stroking and kneading.
Sam increased his rhythm, stroking harder, deeper, and soon Lauren's breathing again grew rapid and labored, and small, desperate sounds issued from her. Instead of gently stroking, her hands began to knead and grip, her fingers digging into his flesh as her hips lifted to meet each powerful thrust.
"Tight. You're so tight," he growled in her ear.
"Sam...Sam, I..." Her head moved from side to side on the pillow. Her eyes flew open, and her neck arched back. "Oh. Oh, Sam!"
"Yes," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Go with it, baby. Let go."
Her body went taut and a long, keening sound tore from her throat. Sam placed his mouth against her neck, absorbing the erotic vibration even as he felt her body grip him. Before the sound faded he reached the end of his control. A hard shudder ripped through him and his own cry of completion blended with hers.
Fourteen
Lauren felt boneless. The awful tension that had dominated her every waking moment for days was gone—or at least, held at bay for the moment. Basking in the aftermath, she let her mind float like a leaf drifting with the current, aimless and free, disconnected.
Gradually, however, reality and awareness began to niggle at the edges of her pleasant lethargy. Slowly, as though weighted with lead, her eyelids lifted. She stared at the ceiling over Sam's bare shoulder. Dear God, what had she done?
Sam stirred and rolled off of her onto his back. "Jesus," he murmured.
Lauren turned away from him and scooted toward the side of the bed, but before she could escape, he looped his arm around her waist and hauled her back. "Hey, not so fast. Where're you going?"
"Let me go."
Ignoring the command, he rolled her onto her back and rose up on one elbow above her. He frowned when she quickly looked away and refused to meet his eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Her gaze snapped back to meet his. "What's wrong? What's wrong? Isn't it obvious?"
"Not to me. So why don't you explain it to me."
"This. Us," she said, gesturing between them.
He said nothing, merely continued to look at her, and Lauren groaned and covered her face with both hands. "I must be a complete idiot. How could I let this happen? How could I have made love with a man I barely know? And you, of all men."
Sam stiffened. "How could you let a half-breed touch you? Is that it?"
"What?" She took her hands away and gave him a blank look, which changed to exasperation a moment later when she realized what he meant. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. Of course not. You being half Native American has nothing to do with it."
"Then what's your problem?"
"You don't even like me. Which makes me an idiot to have slept with you. That's my problem."
"I like you."
"Oh, p
ul-leeze. You think I'm Carlo's mistress," she accused.
"Is that all that's bothering you? Hell, I stopped believing that days ago. After being around you for a while I realized that you're not mistress material."
"Oh, really?" Lauren huffed, absurdly offended. "And just why not?"
"You're too intelligent and hardworking. Too independent."
Disarmed, she blinked at him. "Really?"
"Really."
"Oh." He couldn't have said anything that would have pleased her more. She'd worked hard to achieve independence. Still...she couldn't quite believe that he thought she'd succeeded.
Turning her head on the pillow, she slanted him a doubtful look out of the corner of her eye. "If that's true, then why have you been so hateful to me?"
"To keep what just happened from happening."
"Oh, thank you very much. That makes me feel sooo much better. If that's how you feel then why—?"
"There are some things you just can't fight. God knows I tried. I tried to dislike you. I told myself you were a cheap whore and a parasite, but it didn't help. Even when I half believed it, I still wanted you."
"Wh-what?"
"The moment I first saw you, pacing that dingy little interrogation room in your shredded stockings and torn dress, I felt like I'd been run over with a steamroller. I think you felt the attraction, too, otherwise we wouldn't be here in this bed right now."
Surprise flickered through Lauren. Could he be right? She had felt something, she recalled. Something edgy and uncomfortable, but at the time she'd been too upset and frightened to analyze her reaction and had chalked it up to dislike. "That's...that's beside the point. I don't expect you to believe me, but I don't sleep around."
"I know that." Sam's mouth softened slightly when she blinked at him again. He stroked his forefinger along her jaw and his voice deepened to a husky murmur. "I could tell it's been a while for you. Hasn't it?"
Heat surged into Lauren's cheeks. She bit her lower Up and looked away again. "There's been no one since Collin," she replied in a subdued voice. Or before him, for that matter, she reminded herself.
"Why not?"
"After what he did? I'm surprised you have to ask."
"So the guy's a louse and a thief. That's no reason to avoid sex."
"I wasn't avoiding sex. I was avoiding being hurt. Now could we drop this please?"
"Not yet." He cupped her jaw in the V between his thumb and fingers and turned her face back, forcing her to look at him. "Look, Lauren, so we made love. So what? We're two healthy people under a lot of stress, stranded alone together. Add to that scenario a strong mutual physical attraction and what happened was probably inevitable. It's natural for two people caught in a dangerous situation to turn to one another."
Hurt, offended and relieved all at the same time, Lauren gazed up at him in silence, her chest aching. He couldn't have made it plainer that there was no real emotional attachment between them. Merely desire and the need for human contact.
Not that she expected anything like that from Sam. Or wanted it. It was just that his explanation seemed so...so...casual and unfeeling.
"Well?" he said, lifting one eyebrow. "Do you agree?"
"I suppose so."
He studied her in silence. Lauren couldn't tell by his expression if her answer had pleased him, but after a few seconds he nodded. "Good."
He lowered his head and began to string kisses along her collarbone.
"Sam!" she squeaked. "What are you doing? Stop that."
"Why? I still want you and you still want me." The kisses traveled up the side of her neck, explored the tender underside on her chin. "You're unattached. I'm unattached. The future isn't all that certain for either of us," he murmured against her skin. "Why the hell shouldn't we take what pleasure we can from one another?"
With his warm mouth leaving a trail of fire on her skin, Lauren couldn't think of a single reason, logical or otherwise. Nor did it help when his hand slid up over her belly and midriff and cupped her breast.
He swept his thumb back and forth across her nipple, and she made an inarticulate sound deep in her throat. Struggling to hold on to her sanity, Lauren tried to resist the pleasure that spread through her like a shimmering hot flood. "S-Sam, I don't think—"
"Then don't. Don't think. Just feel." The low, raspy command was so blatantly sensual it raised goose bumps on Lauren's skin and made her shiver.
As her body began to thrum with desire her heart rate speeded up and her breathing grew shallow and rapid, as though suddenly there was not enough oxygen in the air.
"We...we shouldn't...it's not..." With her last ounce of resistance, she groped for a sensible reason why they should stop, but when his hand slipped between her legs she was lost. "Oh, Sam."
An hour or so later, Sam surfaced from a light doze when Lauren shifted in his arms, but his eyes remained closed. With a contented sigh, she hooked her leg over his and snuggled closer, settling her face more comfortably against his chest.
Her soft breath fluttered his chest hairs, and a hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. For someone so cautious and reserved when awake, asleep she was one sexy cuddler.
Sam rubbed his chin against the top of Lauren's head, enjoying the scent of her hair and the sensual feel of the glossy strands slipping and sliding like silk against her scalp.
Strange, he mused, half asleep. He couldn't recall ever before truly wanting to snuggle with a woman after making love. The emotional intimacy that women seemed to need at those times had always seemed stifling to him. Sex was fine, but he just wasn't comfortable letting anyone get that close on an emotional level.
Most times he made the effort because he didn't want to hurt his partner's feelings, but he'd never been able to endure the intimacy for long, and the whole while he itched to escape.
With Lauren, though, it felt right, somehow. She fit so perfectly and felt so good in his arms that he didn't want to let her go.
Sam was not altogether comfortable with the admission. His smile faded, replaced by a pensive frown. What was it about this one, small woman that was different from all the others?
Awake now, he opened his eyes and stared across the room. Absently his gaze drifted to the window. He blinked once, twice. "Holy shit!"
Bolting upright in the bed, he tumbled Lauren onto her back.
"Wha—?"
Sam sprang off the bed, snatched up his briefs and stepped into them. "Get up! Get up! C'mon, we've got to get out of here. Now!"
He pulled on his long johns, cursing himself all the while he hopped from one foot to the other. "Of all the stupid... Dammit, Rawlins! What the hell were you thinking? Instead of rolling around in the sack all afternoon you should've been getting the snowmobiles ready in case something like this happened."
Lauren sat up, clasping the covers to her breasts with one hand and pushing her tumbled hair back with the other. Bleary-eyed, she watched Sam ram his legs into his wool trousers and drag on a flannel shirt,
"Sam, what's the matter with you?"
"It's stopped snowing."
"What?" Her head whipped toward the window. "But I thought the storm was supposed to last until midday tomorrow?"
"Could be this is just a break in the clouds, or it could be the system changed directions. Or the weatherman miscalculated. Whatever, we have to get moving. I don't know how long ago it quit snowing, but you can bet our friends were on their way before the last flake fell."
He checked his service pistol, shoved it back into the hip holster and strapped it on then scooped up the duffle bag from the floor and tossed it to her. "Grab some fresh clothes out of there and get dressed. While you're doing that I'll take this stuff out and load it onto a couple of the snowmobiles, and siphon the gas out of the other two."
"Uh, Sam." Lauren stopped pawing through the duffle bag long enough to send him a sheepish look. "I...I've never driven a snowmobile before. I've never even ridden on one."
He looked up sharply, his mouth fl
attening. Then he shook his head. "Okay, no problem. It's fairly simple. If you can drive a car you should be able to operate a snowmobile."
When he'd finished lacing his moccasins he put on his wool cap and parka, gathered up the backpack and duffle bag and slung the rifle over his shoulder. "As soon as you're dressed come out to the shed out back." At the door he stopped and pointed his forefinger at her. "And don't stop to straighten up this place, you hear? We don't have a minute to spare."
Leaving her scrambling into her clothes, he went out through the back door in the kitchen and the service porch, which jutted out from the rear of the cabin.
To make it easier on Lauren, Sam strapped the smaller backpack onto her vehicle. It was heavier than the duffle bag, but since she was so small he figured it would give her needed ballast. He then tied the duffle bag onto the machine he would drive.
Moments later, through the open door of the shed a movement caught his eye. Sam looked up from siphoning gas out of one of the other snowmobiles and saw three men carrying rifles emerge from the woods about fifty yards from the house.
With a curse, Sam ducked out of sight and snatched up the rifle. Holding the weapon in both hands, he stood with his back pressed against the shed wall just inside the doorway.
Cautiously he peered around the edge of the door and saw the leader of the trio signal to one of his cohorts. The man immediately split off from the other two and headed for the shed.
"Damn." Sam jerked back and flattened himself against the shed wall again, his mind racing. He had to get to Lauren. But first he had to take care of the goon heading his way. And he had to do it quietly. If he shot him, the other two would come running, and if he made a run for the cabin now they would all see him and open fire.
Gripping the rifle tighter, Sam held it at chest height with the butt end toward the door. Outside, he heard the crunch of approaching footsteps in the snow. His hands tightened on the gun's fore end and stock. C'mon. C'mon, you son of a bitch, he silently urged.
The footsteps halted just outside the door. Silence hung heavy in the air. Sam pressed back against the wall, waiting. C'mon, damn you. Just a couple more steps.
