by Cate Beauman
Her eyes snapped open, looking into his, as he made his way up her body, leaving her frenzied, unfulfilled, ready to implode. He smiled, smugly, perfectly aware, before he took her mouth again. She kissed him back, wild with need.
Her palms ran over his smooth, sculpted back, found their way into his shorts, over his muscled butt. He groaned, closed his eyes as her clever fingers skimmed his hips, wrapped around him.
He rested his forehead on hers, stared into her eyes as she pleasured him, moving her hands up and down, listening to Hunter’s shuddering breaths, feeling him clutch at her hair, enjoying his surrender.
She pulled his shorts down his legs, eager for the heat, craving the ultimate connection. “Be inside me. I can’t take it anymore.”
He kissed her again, spread her legs, lay between them. Morgan felt him hard against her, just inches from where she wanted him. She moved her hips, desperate to have him inside. The orgasm needing release built until she could hardly bear it.
“Not yet.” He took her breasts in his mouth, tortuously teasing her nipples to hard, sensitized points. Her hands fisted at her sides as her breath came in ragged gasps. Hunter moved further down, spreading her legs wide. His eyes locked with hers as he touched her with the tip of his tongue. The slight flick of moist pressure sent her into ecstasy.
She threw her head back, cried out, as the power of the orgasm ripped through her system. She built again, shattering as his tongue stroked, as his fingers moved in and out. She came again, mindlessly calling his name.
Hunter brushed his lips along her skin, taking his time on the way back up. His fingers laced with hers as he pulled her hands over her head, kissing her deeply. “Look at me, Morgan.”
Her eyelids fluttered open and he entered her slowly. She gasped as he hissed out a breath, wrapping her legs around him once again as he started to pump. Closing her eyes, she whimpered helplessly as another orgasm built.
His lips feathered over hers. “Look at me,” he repeated, demanding against her mouth. “I’m going to watch you go over this time.”
She cried out, her green eyes going wide, her fingers tensing on his, when she pulsed around him, her legs and arms spasming from the intensity of the climax.
Hunter pulled his hands from hers, brushed them through her hair, looked into her eyes. He let out deep, ragged breaths as his stomach muscles contracted and he groaned long and deep. His mouth covered hers as he filled her.
They were still until their gasps for air turned to steady breathing. Hunter lay inside her as her legs stayed locked around his waist. Morgan combed her hand through his hair while the weight of his head rested against her shoulder.
She’d never experienced anything so intense in her life. Good sex, even great sex, wasn’t new to her, but this was a whole different level of amazing. Hunter had moves—they were killer, but it was more than that.
Perhaps the experience had been so powerful because love had never entered the picture before. She’d teetered a time or two, but not like this, never like this. This was so strong, so vital, so…consuming.
When did it happen? The first time he drove up on his Harley? When he’d kissed her cross-eyed in the clearing by the southwest trail? It had been there—somewhere—hovering among the harsh words that passed so easily between them.
She’d pushed it away, shoving at the troublesome emotions, always denying she could be in love, but it always circled back. When she thought she’d lost him to a bullet hours before, it crept back, snuck back, until it knocked her flat.
Hunter raised his head from her shoulder, looked down. “You okay?”
She smiled. “I almost had a heart attack, but yeah, I’m fine.”
He grinned. “You’re spectacular.” He brushed her lips as he started to move.
She tightened her legs. “Where are you going?”
“I’m moving so I don’t crush you.”
He turned over and lay on his back in the sleeping bag. He grabbed the thick fabric, covering himself as she pulled herself against him and cuddled in. Her head rested upon his shoulder as the front of her body pressed to his side.
His hand hesitated before settling at her waist. Morgan smiled, pretending she hadn’t seen him pause.
He smiled again, but something was different. She studied him when he closed his eyes.
She ran her hand down his arm, back up, playing with the puckered bumps on his shoulder. “How’d you get the scars?”
He opened his eyes. “On-the-job injury.”
Her fingers wandered to his firm bicep, traced his tattoo. “What does it mean?”
Hunter stiffened. He picked up her hand, moved it to his chest. “Nothing. It’s just a tattoo.”
Morgan continued examining the ornate cross. “It really is a work of art. It has a date. What event in your life did you deem important enough to permanently ink into your arm?”
He pulled away, sitting up. “I feel like we’re playing Twenty Questions here. It’s just a damn tattoo. It’s no big deal.”
She stared, searching his face. His eyes were guarded, weary. “Right. I’m going to get a drink and snack.” She moved to her bed, yanked the tank top over her head, put on her panties, unzipped the tent. “I missed dinner.” She grabbed the lantern as he captured her arm.
“Morgan, wait.”
“Really can’t; gotta pee.” She never looked back as she left.
She walked to the packs Hunter tied high in a tree, tugged on the rope until hers came down. She took a pack of chicken flavored Ramen noodles from the bag, her fleece, thermal pants and socks. The temperature had dropped considerably.
Morgan swung the lantern around, making certain she was alone. She didn’t want any more run-ins with wild animals—although she believed she could take them on right about now.
What the hell was his problem? They just shared the intimacy of mind-blowing sex, but he couldn’t tell her about his stupid tattoo. Well, screw him. She put kindling on the sleepy campfire embers until they crackled back to life. She heated water for her overdue dinner, sat by the fire for a very long time.
So much had happened that day, all of it leaving her miserable. She’d answered the mystery behind Shelly, Ian and Tom’s deaths, but the waste left her angry and sad. She’d discovered love, the big L-O-V-E, but it would never work. That ripped at her heart.
After the campfire died again and she cleaned up, Morgan dimmed the lantern, unzipped the tent. Her eyes met Hunter’s as she crawled in. She turned to zip the tent closed behind her. “I figured you would’ve fallen asleep.”
He crossed his arms behind his head. “I was waiting for you to come back.”
She tossed him a glance as she zipped herself into her sleeping bag. “There wasn’t any need.” She lay down, reached forward to turn off the light. He grabbed her hand, held her gaze.
She waited for him to say something—anything—to voluntarily share a piece of himself with her—but he didn’t. Hurt, she pulled herself free, switched off the lantern, turned her body away, stared into the darkness.
Several miles away, Robert stood alone in the dark office of the northeast ranger’s station. Miles had left the day before to spend a long weekend at his parents’ home.
Using his shoulder to press the phone to his ear, Robert fiddled with a paperclip, nervously twisting it out of shape while he spoke. “She tried to make contact this afternoon. The radio was only on for a minute, but it was long enough for me to figure out they aren’t where they said they’d be.”
“Well, where the hell are they?”
He cringed. “The beacon placed them ten miles southeast of the Slough. I don’t know where they went from there. It was late afternoon when she tried to check in. I imagine they probably hiked on. I’ll send the guards out to take care of it. They shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
“No. Leave this to me. You’ve already fucked it up enough. You should’ve followed them. I’ll regret offing her, but him, I’m going to make it real painful
before I put a bullet in his brain.”
Wild laughter bounced through the receiver, leaving a trail of sweat down Robert’s spine. “What do you want me to do?”
“Wait for my orders. We’ll take care of them soon, Robert, very soon. I’ll get back to you when I figure out how I want to handle this.”
The big boss hung up and Robert stared into the dark shadows of the forest until he no longer heard the boss’s mad laughter ringing in his ears.
CHAPTER 21
GRITTY-EYED AND IRRITABLE, MORGAN DECIDED it was time to get up; she hadn’t slept anyway. She shoved her cover back, sat up, glanced over at Hunter. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she took in the cozy sight of him sprawled across his mattress pad. Stomach down, his cheek pressed against the pillow he’d made with his arm and sleeping bag.
While Morgan had spent the night tossing and turning, her mind racing, he’d slept soundly, completely unaffected by what had passed between them. The awkward after-sex snuggle certainly hadn’t left him miserable and confused. How could it? It’d only taken moments for his breathing to steady out and deepen after she’d returned to the tent hours before.
He hadn’t bothered to clue her in as to why he’d gone from hot to cold in the blink of an eye. One minute he’d been the kind of lover every woman dreams of—passionate, attentive, thorough—the next he’d all but shoved her out of his sleeping bag, throwing up the ‘No Trespassing’ sign. He’d made it clear there wouldn’t be any encroaching into the mind and heart of Hunter Phillips. Sex would be fine, but everything else was off the table.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Morgan pulled on her boots, unzipped the tent, stepped into the early light of dawn. She breathed in the crisp air as the sun rose over the trees, casting shades of purple as far as she could see. Even in her exhausted, pissy mood, she couldn’t deny the beauty of the morning.
Morgan placed kindling in the rock-ringed fire pit, returned the flames to life. Wood crackled and spit as she walked to the stream, filtered water for breakfast, filled bottles for the day.
Cold to the bone, covered in goose bumps, Morgan sat by the fire, absorbing the welcome heat radiating from the licks of flame. She stirred walnuts and raisins into her big bowl of instant oatmeal as rustling movements in the tent caught her attention. Her fingers paused, tightening on the spoon, as the distinct sound of the tent’s zipper opening filled the still air.
Hunter crawled through the open flap, stood, pulling a green fleece over his head. Morgan looked him up and down while flashes of the night played in her mind.
She shuddered with the memory of what those hands, that mouth, his body could bring hers, what he could make her feel, and she quickly looked away. Despite herself, she glanced back and their eyes met before he walked into the woods.
And just like that, she realized there was nothing between them. There were no inklings of affection after a night shared in passion; just a brick wall of indifference. Morgan stared after him, subconsciously moved closer to the fire, seeking more warmth. She gripped her bowl until her fingers ached, realizing it wasn’t only the cool dawn air and icy mountain water that left her cold.
Trying to shake off the disappointment, the hurt, Morgan ate quickly, wanting to get on with the day. The sooner they alerted the proper authorities about the mine, the faster she could get back to her lynx project.
With the mystery of her team’s deaths solved, she would be able to give her friends’ families the whys behind it all. She hoped they would find some peace—even if she couldn’t.
Hunter would go home. Dave and Jim would come help her finish what the rest of the team couldn’t. That was the way it should be. It was all for the best. Sorrow threatened to consume as she took her last bite of oats and raisins, trying to believe the lies she told herself.
Hunter walked back through the woods and Morgan’s heart stuttered. She watched him—confident strides, breathtakingly gorgeous—wondering how someone she’d known for such a short time had become everything.
Tomorrow, perhaps the day after, he would be gone and that would be that. She damned him, knowing he would walk away and never look back, and she would always love him. Hunter was ‘the one’, there was no doubt in her mind, but after last night there was little hope he felt the same.
She shook off the despair sitting heavy on her heart, stood to wash her dish as Hunter came to join her by the campfire.
He cleared his throat. “You’re up early.”
So, he wanted casual? She could do casual. “Yeah, I want to get going. We have a long day ahead.” Morgan walked off with hot water in her small pail.
Hunter ate his breakfast, watching Morgan pack the campsite like a dervish on a mission. Her body was tense, her movements fast and jerky. He chalked it up to an awkward morning-after and hurt feelings over the tattoo. He didn’t like to talk about it, never had. It was a tribute to his fallen brothers and nobody else’s business.
Morgan came out of the tent dressed in hiking pants with her fleece zipped over her dark brown shirt. She took the sleeping bags and air pads she’d rolled from the tent, began to break that down too.
“Where’s the fire? Jesus, Morgan, if you wait five damn minutes I’ll help you. I haven’t even finished my first cup of crappy coffee.”
She fastened the sleeping bag sacks to their packs, attached the tent to his. “I’m fine. I don’t need help. When you’re finished with your crappy cup of coffee you can get dressed and we’ll leave. I’ll even wash your dishes.”
Hunter looked at her injured hand. “We need to change your bandage.”
“I’ll take care of it after I wash your dishes.”
“I can wash my own damn dishes. It’s still dawn, for Christ’s sake. Sit down and chill out. You’re rushing me, and it’s pissing me off.”
“I’m being productive. If you don’t like it, too bad.”
Swearing, Hunter grabbed his clean clothes and walked off with his dishes.
With everything packed and in its place, Morgan sat on a ratty towel next to the campfire, pulling the tape from her wound. She blew on the cut, muttering curses.
Hunter’s brows arched as he listened to the expletives roll off her tongue. He had no idea she could be so imaginative. Stifling a grin, he put the clean dishes in his pack, wandered over to the fire. “Hey, Gutter Mouth, I said I would help you with that.”
She flicked him a glance as she hugged her hand close to her body. “I’m fine. I’ve got it. It’s just a little cut.”
Ignoring her, he sat down. Hunter gathered antiseptic, antibiotic cream, gauze and tape from the first aid kit before he squirted sanitizer in his hands, rubbed them together.
“I said I’ve got it. I don’t need any help here.” Morgan made a grab for the bottle of antiseptic in his lap.
Hunter slapped his hand over hers, held on, looked her in the eye. “I’m going to help you. We have to make sure your wound stays clean.”
“I don’t need your help,” she said, spacing each word between clenched teeth.
With his patience growing thin, he moved his face closer to hers. “I don’t care. Now knock it off.” He yanked her wrist forward and she lost her balance, falling against him.
Hunter hissed out a breath as he examined the swollen red gouge. Christ, that had to hurt. The deep purple bruise alone would be painful, not to mention the wound that teetered on needing a visit to the ER and stitches.
“Morgan, this thing’s infected. Look how red it is. You’re not stupid. You know what can happen out here if this isn’t taken care of properly.”
“I’m perfectly aware and more than capable of seeing to it on my own. I didn’t say anything because I knew you were going to freak out.” Frowning, she tried to pull free. “You’ve proven my point.”
Hunter tightened his hold. “I’m not freaking out, but I am going to clean this wound. The sooner I finish, the faster we get out of here.”
Her cool gaze held his until she let out a deep breath. “Fine, let�
��s get it over with.”
Hunter took a long Q-tip, dipped it into the antiseptic. Morgan looked away, flinching when he gently rubbed the swab over and around the gash.
“Damn it, that hurts!”
“I’m sorry.” He blew on the wound as he cleaned. “I know it stings. I’m almost finished.”
He put the Q-tip down, blew on the cut again. With brows furrowed, he scrutinized the wound, turning Morgan’s palm from side to side. When he was satisfied the gouge was as clean as he could make it, he rubbed antibiotic cream on a large piece of gauze, placed the sheet of cotton on the gash, wrapped the heel of her hand before securing it with medical tape. “You’ll have to keep your hand dry today.” He let her go. “I’ll change the dressing again when we stop for lunch. I think we can control the infection if we stay on top of it.”
Both began to repack the first aid kit. Their hands brushed and Morgan stopped dead before she replaced items with hurried movements. “I can do this, Hunter. Thanks for your help. Why don’t you make sure you’re ready and we’ll go.”
Hunter’s eyebrows knitted as he stared at the top of her head. What was her deal? She’d hardly looked at him since he’d gotten up. “It sounds like you’re dismissing me, Morgan, like I’m your servant. We’ve already established I don’t take orders from you.”
“Fine,” she said on an exasperated huff, shoving the case toward him. “You put the damn stuff away. You can carry the bag in your pack.”
Morgan got to her feet, grabbed the ratty towel, crammed it in her pack before she shouldered it and turned to leave.
Hunter stood, snagged her arm as she walked by. “What’s your problem this morning?”
“I don’t have a problem. I just want to get out of here.”
