by Rachel Lee
Warm tingles were already spreading from his touch. “I’m always up for adventure.”
“Under the stars? With owls hooting?”
“And wolves prowling?”
“I’m the only wolf I hear in the area right now.”
A deep happiness began to fill her. “Do they make noise when they’re around?”
“That’s how they keep in touch. But I may be the only one howling.”
She lifted a hand and pressed it gently to his chest. “This past week…” She hesitated, uncertain how to say it.
“This past week I’ve been trying to avoid something I wasn’t sure about.”
“What are you sure of now?”
“That I want you. Of that I’m very sure.”
Slowly, feeling at once shy and brave, she slid her hand up until she cupped his neck. “I’m pretty sure, too.” Sure that she wanted an answer to all the questions he’d made her ask since the first time he’d kissed her. She wanted to know. It might all come to naught, in fact it probably would, but right now she didn’t care. They had this night, and this night was one she wanted, even if she never knew another like it.
“Yes,” she whispered, as if he’d asked a question.
He bent and kissed her, this time with little gentleness and a lot of demand. She reveled in the feeling, as if he were claiming her, rather than asking her. She opened her mouth, begging him inside her, and he obliged instantly, finding her tongue with his, filling her with a warmth in delicious contrast to the cooling air. Their tongues dueled, playing an ancient game of thrust and parry, promising ever so much more.
Pinwheels of fire began to sparkle behind her eyelids as if the very stars of heaven had descended to join them.
His hand slipped up beneath her sweatshirt, warm and rough against tender skin. Along with it came some chilly air, more delicious contrast, but one that made her shiver.
He drew back suddenly. “Wait,” he said thickly.
Wait? She blinked as he lifted her from the sleeping bag and set her on the tarp. She heard zippers rattling, and realized he was going to put the sleeping bags together.
The thought excited her, but an instant later she remembered her weapon. Quickly she reached out and tucked it under the very edge of the tarp.
Even in the dark she could tell he moved swiftly. Was he afraid she would change her mind? Not likely. She could almost have laughed at the idea. But maybe he was as impatient as she was.
Remember this, she told herself. Remember every touch, every sensation, every single instant of this night, because it might never happen again. Somehow she knew it was going to be special, the kind of memory she’d want to take out and relive again and again. She had few enough of those.
“There.” The bags were together, and he smoothed them out. Then kneeling, he faced her and began to pull off his clothes. Even though there was nothing but starlight yet, she could see enough to make her draw and hold her breath.
A smoothly muscled chest, not the kind that came from a gym, but the kind that came from hard work day in and out. Strong arms that had just lifted her easily.
Then he reached for his belt. On impulse, she rose to her knees and reached out for the buckle. It crossed her mind to wonder if she was being too pushy—a complaint she had often heard—but she shoved it aside. Unfastening a man’s belt buckle was so erotic that she wanted to enjoy the freedom of doing it herself.
He didn’t object. He simply moved a little to make it easier for her, and just then the first rays of the quarter moon found the glade, falling on him, silvering him in the pale light.
He was gorgeous.
She released the buckle, tugged at the snap. A breeze whispered overhead in the trees, a soft sighing that was not so very different from the sound that escaped her as he rose on his knees and pulled down his zipper.
When he reached to pull his pants down, she held her breath, watching. He was perfect. Magnificent. And wonderfully aroused. He pawed around in a pocket and brought out a condom. She took it from him and savored rolling it onto his staff, especially because he groaned as she did it.
When his jeans reached his knees, he turned and sat. “Boots,” he said with something like disgust.
A happy little laugh escaped her and she crawled over to help him pull them off. Then his jeans joined the heap of his shirt and jacket.
He turned to her. She was so busy filling her eyes with his magnificence that she might have been a rag doll as he pulled her sweatshirt over her head. Her bra followed it onto the grass and she realized she’d never made love outdoors before. Never. The cool night air on her bare breasts aroused her.
The heat pooling between her legs grew abruptly heavier. The night wind in the trees kicked up, a rushing sound that seemed to reach inside her head as passion throbbed more strongly.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice barely carrying above the wind. “I want to touch you. But I don’t want you to get cold.”
He reached for her jeans and she lay back immediately, allowing him to strip away the rest of her clothing and her boots. Then he lifted her a bit, his skin feeling cool now against hers and tucked her into the joined sleeping bags. Only a moment later he slid in beside her.
At once he pulled her into the curve of his body, at first snuggling with her while their body heat gradually filled the bags with warmth.
But as the warmth of the insulated air around them grew, so did the warmth deep inside her. Skin against skin felt so startlingly good to her that she wondered if she’d ever noticed it before, or if she’d simply forgotten.
Slowly his hands began to rub her back, warming her more, and with each movement drawing her closer and closer to him until they were pressed together from head to foot.
“You feel good,” he murmured in her ear. “You feel good all over.”
“So do you.” Her hands wandered over him now, too, finding angles and planes and hollows. Very little of him seemed soft or yielding, not even his rump.
“You have the hardest butt,” she murmured, and giggled.
“It’s all that riding. But yours isn’t exactly a pillow,” he said as he ran his hands over her, making her shiver.
“It’s all that jogging.”
He laughed, then swooped in for a deep kiss, while his hands painted fire all over her. He found her breast, teasing her nipple until it was hard and aching then followed with his mouth, sucking on her until she felt it all the way through her body.
At some point, she lost track of everything: the night, the chill, the owl that hooted forlornly, the wind that was building in the trees. She suddenly straddled him, with no memory of making the decision to do so, and she felt his manhood sandwiched between them, as hard and strong as he.
He didn’t seem to mind at all. He simply gripped her hips and held her there. “You’re driving me nuts,” he muttered huskily.
“That makes…two of us…” Oh, man, she was losing it, losing it, and she wasn’t even moving, but she was going to go right over the edge just like this, impossibly.
Then his hands lifted her and lowered her swiftly. In that instant he filled her, claimed her, owned her.
For the first time in her life, she didn’t mind feeling possessed. She gloried in it. Tipping her head back a little, even as she rested her hands on his shoulders, she caught sight of the stars. They beckoned to her, almost calling her name.
Then he moved. A shock wave of desire passed through her, riveting her on a pillar of need. She moved, too, and after a few seconds they found their rhythm together.
Like riding a horse, she thought hazily. Or a rocket to the stars.
She heard him groan, and the sound fueled her own need. When he heaved up at her, she pressed down until he couldn’t get any farther inside her.
Again. Again. The stars seemed to come closer, and she couldn’t tell if they were falling or she was rising. Then her eyes closed as passion took her fully in its grip.
The ache grew, goadin
g, nearly painful, until at last she went supernova. The explosion inside her head was almost as big as the one in her body.
Shuddering with powerful aftershocks, she sank down on Dom and felt him wrap her in a strong embrace, holding her snugly as if he felt they might fly apart.
Life was so damn good sometimes.
Chapter 12
“It’s time.”
A quiet murmur caused her to open one heavy-lidded eye. Dom leaned over her, barely visible in the setting moon’s light. “Already?” Her voice cracked. She ached deliciously from head to foot, and vaguely remembered having tried a few things last night that she’d never tried before.
Instant heat pooled between her legs. She could think of lots of things she’d rather do than go look for elk.
“We can skip it,” he said, sounding amused. “I’m not opposed to staying right here.”
Before she could answer, he kissed her. It was the kiss of a lover sure of his welcome, sure he had pleased his lady. She liked it.
She also would have liked more of it, but her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.
Dom chuckled. “I think we need to tend to some other needs first.”
Reluctantly she agreed. A noisy stomach, especially one as noisy as hers was being, would ruin the atmosphere.
He helped her dress swiftly; it had grown almost bitterly cold, and emerging from the sleeping bag was a test of willpower. Her clothes felt chilly and damp, but she knew from experience they would heat up soon enough.
“I’m going to make a fire in the shack,” he said. “Just enough to make some coffee and heat some food.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a second. Nature calls.”
“Nature has a way of doing that.”
As soon as Dom disappeared into the line shack, she clipped her weapon to her belt again and headed for the trees to take care of business.
A few minutes later, she was inside with him. He slipped an arm around her as they watched the logs on a small and very old Franklin stove begin to burn brightly.
“I believe,” Dom said, “that every morning, however early, must begin with hot coffee.”
“It sure helps. I consider it a fine luxury.”
He turned and dropped a kiss on her lips. “You look beautiful for a lady who tumbled around in the metaphoric hay most of the night.”
She felt a smile tip the corners of her mouth. “Maybe that’s what made me beautiful.”
“Ah, I get the credit. Very nice of you considering you’re a born wildcat.” He winked then released her as he poked at the logs. “Nice dry wood. Coffee won’t be long.”
She leaned back against a very small, very rickety table and watched him work with an old-fashioned metal pot, putting grounds from a pouch in the basket, and pouring in some bottled water. It wasn’t long before the wonderful aroma of brewing coffee filled the small space.
“In case you’re wondering,” he said, “we’re not eating food bars for breakfast.”
“No?”
“I’m better than that.”
Apparently so, because he managed to turn some powdered eggs, a handful of bacon bits and some slivers of hard cheese into a wonderful omelet served on blue-and-white spattered metal plates. The forks looked almost as old as the cabin, but they worked. As for the coffee, while she usually preferred hers made by the drip method, unless she could get espresso, she was sure she’d never tasted a better cup of brew than what she drank from that metal cup.
“Want to hear about one of the guys I’m training with?” she asked as they ate.
“Sure.”
“He brings a French press coffeemaker with him on our exercises. Always.”
Dom cocked a brow. “They let him?”
“Believe it or not. He has one that’s metal, and he packs it in with his clothes. If we light fires, his is the most popular one around.”
“I can imagine.” He glanced toward the battered old pot on the Franklin stove. “Maybe I should get one of those.”
“I’m not complaining. This coffee is fabulous.”
“It’s the early hour and the company,” he said, winking.
They left the dishes for later, because he expressed concern that the hour was getting late.
It didn’t feel late to Courtney. It was pitch-dark when they went back outside. The horses shuffled over to them, as if knowing immediately that it was time to work.
Courtney rolled up the sleeping bags and folded the tarp, taking them into the shack while Dom tended the horses. By the time she returned outside, they were ready. She mounted easily, finding the movements familiar now, and Marti followed comfortably behind Dom’s mount.
She could definitely get used to this. The danger of that thought hit her hard almost immediately. She couldn’t afford to get used to this. She was leaving. Monday morning at the latest. She was going to leave all of this behind because on every level except the irrational, she knew it wouldn’t work. She couldn’t be Mary’s substitute, and Dom had already been clear about how much trouble he’d had accepting that his wife was away more often than not.
She’d be just another version of the same. He didn’t want that. No way. Her heart plummeted, and her mind argued with it. No time to be stupid. Just watch the migration, enjoy the weekend, and tuck it away like a delicious vacation, a memory and nothing else.
They climbed high into the woods, Dom and his mount Arnett finding their way despite the darkness. She couldn’t see all that much since the forest had closed in around them, but Marti moved sure-footedly. Courtney heard the rushing of water from time to time, but it didn’t seem very close. The breeze still blew through the treetops and occasionally found a path to reach down and buffet her, too.
Nearly an hour passed and Courtney thought she could sense just the slightest change in the sky overhead. Not exactly a lightening, but somehow the stars seemed not quite as bright. Dawn must be near.
Dom called a halt at last, and Marti quite naturally edged her way up beside him.
“We’ll leave the horses here. I don’t want them to scare the herds.”
“Won’t we do that?”
“We’ll try to stay downwind. That should be easy this morning. But at least I can trust you not to whinny.”
She almost laughed. “Are you sure of that?”
“After last night, there’s a whole lot I’m not so sure about anymore.”
With that enigmatic remark, he swung to the ground. She wanted to ask what he meant, but decided this might be a bad time. Worse, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answers, all of which probably included some version of saying goodbye soon. The inevitable was approaching, and her mood sank. She had to make a really strong effort to remind herself they were here to enjoy the migration. The rest was just a fantasy to be enjoyed briefly.
Once the horses were tethered, their cinches loosened, they continued the trip on foot. The sky had lightened just a bit. Courtney could see just enough not to fall flat on her face as they followed what she decided must be a mountain goat track, because surely it hadn’t been beaten here by human feet. It was rugged, requiring them to grab onto rocks and trees as they clambered up.
Suddenly Dom stopped. He turned and held a finger to his lips. She nodded.
A few more steps and they were in deep grass, off the trail, hemmed in by trees. But even from here she could see a more open space ahead of them.
Dom pointed to it. “They usually come through over there. Let’s settle here.”
“Why there? They don’t want to hide in the trees?”
“They’re not worried about hiding. But we had a fire up here about seven years ago, and it turned this area into some really good grazing.”
He bent back some of the grass so that they could see the open area, then they sat on the ground, waiting.
“I should have brought the tarp,” he whispered. “You’ll get a cold bottom.”
“Then you can warm it up.”
The grin he flashed her wa
s huge.
A pinkish glow began to permeate the sky and she felt Dom stiffen.
“What?” she whispered.
“Shh. Listen.”
She strained her ears and then she heard it. It was almost a snuffling sound, followed by some crunching. She held her breath, feeling she was about to experience magic.
And moments later she did. No elk but instead what she assumed was a pronghorn, a deer, smaller than she expected. He sported horns that split near the top, one portion pointing backward, the other forward. At once she understood why they were called pronghorns. But then she indentified them by another name. She was looking at an antelope.
He was chewing on something as he surveyed the clearing. He made an odd noise, sounding every bit as ugly as a crow’s caw, then stepped forward. Behind him came a few does, also with two-pronged horns and then a bunch of youngsters about half his size.
A whole family. She felt her heart leap, and she drew a deep, quiet breath, not wanting to startle them.
The herd spread out, eating noisily of grass and sometimes pulling leaves off bushes. But they never stopped moving for long. Always, always they edged toward the far end of the clearing, eating as they went.
God, she wished she had her camera. As the day brightened, she could see more of their reddish color, and the brilliant white patches on their throats.
Suddenly they all froze and lifted their heads, looking upslope. A moment later one of them gave that ugly cry again, and they took off. Fast. Faster than she would have believed possible. In an instant they were gone.
“What scared them?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know. Maybe they got wind of us. Maybe they smelled or heard a cat approach.”
“Cat?”
“Bobcat. Not that one could catch them.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “They’re the fastest land mammals, second only to cheetahs. Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Fantastic. One eyeblink and they were gone. And to think I wasn’t all that excited about seeing pronghorns.”
He laughed almost silently. “Did you want an elk?”
