by Zoe Dawson
She looked up at him, her hair plastered to her head, the water running down her face and dripping off her eyelashes and nose, the feeling of fear and helplessness surging back. She knew that if she opened her mouth to speak, she was going to give herself away.
“So this is what a bedraggled city slicker looks like out of her comfort zone.”
The humor pushed back her panic and she gave him a wry smile.
The creases around his eyes crinkled and a glint appeared. “You can tell your impressed friends all about your adventure when you get back. But, that means we have to get you back. We’re not going to make it back to the truck, and if we capsize out here, that’ll be very bad. I’m going to make for the shore that way. I know there’s a ranger’s cabin there. We can hole up until this passes, dry off, and make our way back across the lake once it stops raining.”
Trace leaned over and gave her a kiss. “I reckon you got some backbone, Hamilton.”
“I do. Now shut up and paddle, Black. I don’t like being cold and wet.”
His eyes flashed before he put his back into the paddling and got them closer to shore. Trace’s head came up at the sound of a motor. He looked around and swore softly under his breath.
Rafferty didn’t like the sound of that. She strained her eyes through the murk, but the sound only got louder. It was clear they were also trying to outrun the storm, but with the already choppy waves, the little boat was rocking dangerously.
Then out of the darkness the hull of a speedboat, stark white and way too close, swerved at the last minute. The wake of the boat and the already-unstable condition of the water tipped it over, and Trace and Rafferty went into the water.
Rafferty gasped at the shock of the cold water hitting her skin, the coat hampering her movements, but she almost immediately headed for the surface. Then panic really set in when she hit a solid barrier. Oh, God, she had come up under the boat. She struggled with the buoyancy of the life preserver and the pitch darkness, losing precious air. Floundering, almost exhausted, she felt the pressure to take a breath. Out of the darkness, a hand grabbed her and hauled, and she broke the surface gasping and choking, the water cold, painfully cold, stinging her skin.
Trace didn’t hesitate. He flipped her onto her back. The raindrops were so heavy, she had to close her eyes. He started moving toward shore with one hand firmly around her life preserver and the other twisted in the towline for the canoe.
He swam strongly and swiftly, aware of the danger of being submerged even for a few minutes. They made shore and he rose out of the water, dragging her and the canoe onto the bank. He abandoned the towline and helped her to shore. He went back in the water and she shivered, unable to move while he came back with the paddles. It was warmer out of the water. Gathering her against him as the rain continued to lash at them, he pulled off his vest and got rid of hers, dropping them both into the canoe.
“Those idiots,” he said between gritted teeth. “If I ever find out who they are…”
She stumbled when he moved forward and without hesitating, he swung her into his arms and carried her. Moving off the storm-tossed beach and into the shelter of the forest, the trees afforded them some semblance of cover. She clung to him, starting to shiver, and he stopped and looked down into her face.
“Hang on, darlin’. We’re almost there. I know you’re cold.”
All she could do was nod.
Chapter 15
She was shivering and that seemed to galvanize Trace. He also appeared to be handling the effects of the wet and cold better than she was, but she suspected he was used to it.
“I know exactly where the ranger cabin is located. I hiked all around this area with Reese. He told me how well stocked the cabins were for assistance with stranded hikers and unexpected weather. Helps that Reese has worked with the park service with wildland firefighting.”
She nodded again. He moved quickly through the trees, affording them a natural windbreak as he tried to protect her as much as he could from the wind and slashing rain. In the distance she saw the structure, and he increased his pace as her shivering got worse.
Except for the places where she pressed against him, she’d never been so damned cold. He was running by the time they hit the porch steps, and his breathing was mixed with shivering and exertion.
He set her down and without hesitation broke the lock on the door. Once inside, he closed it behind him with his boot. It was one room, very rustic, but dry. It had a table and two chairs, a bed and a fireplace.
Trace was already heading toward the hearth. He stripped off his own jacket and set it over one of the chair backs, dropping his dripping ball cap on the table. “Get out of those clothes,” he said, his tone brusque. “There are blankets in that cupboard behind you.”
She just stood there shivering while his shaking hands laid the beginnings of the fire. He glanced over his broad shoulder at her, his eyes so damn blue. “Rafferty?” Trace looked torn between starting the fire and helping her. “Get undressed,” he commanded roughly.
Rafferty closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering and too cold to move. The heaviness of her wool coat lifted from her body, the pressure of his hands removing her sodden boots. Then she felt him pulling at the rest of her clothes, unbuttoning and dragging down her jeans and underwear, jerking off her shirt. She gasped when he peeled off her bra, her exposed nipples tightening. Opening her eyes, she numbly watched his face as he reached across her and opened the cabinet. It was all she could do to keep breathing. Her heart was racing so fast. Something warm and dry settled against her cold flesh. He was so close, and he smelled so warm. Suddenly Rafferty felt very fragile and very shaky inside, and she closed her eyes, clenching her jaw against her own emotions.
It had been a long time—a very long time—since she’d felt like this…if ever. Had she felt this kind of molten heat for Sean? She didn’t think so, and this…this trust she had in Trace with only knowing him for such a short period of time was daunting.
But she’d already seen him in action, and he was formidable when he was taking control, a compelling confidence that was naturally ingrained in him. What her father would call a natural-born leader.
It nearly put her in sensory overload when he dragged her wet hair free of the blanket and pulled the fabric up around her neck, his touch sending a trail of shivers down her back. Tension blossomed in her, and she pressed her thighs more tightly together, holding her hands immobile. She wanted to touch him so much, so very much.
The blanket slipped and he grabbed her hands. She didn’t want him to let go as she tightened her hands around his. She could feel his pulse, feel his strength. He was the kind of man that wound around her woman’s heart without even trying. God, help her if he ever tried even a little.
“Hold on,” he said, his voice uneven.
“You are pretty pushy,” she managed on a breathless, shaky whisper.
“At the moment, I have an uncooperative female,” he said, wrapping her hands into the material. “Keep that closed.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
His eyes were too concerned to twinkle, but she got the message that he was wryly amused. He picked her up again and settled her into the middle of the bed, then he went back to the fireplace and built up the fire, moving fast and methodically until it was blazing.
Without hesitation, he toed off his boots, pulled off the quilted vest, unbuttoned his shirt, and discarded them near the fire. He reached for his waistband. Before she could catch her breath at the sight of his wide chest and broad shoulders, he’d shucked both his jeans and underwear, standing before her completely naked, the soft glow of flame against his burnished flesh. He was so beautiful to look at with all that ropy muscle and smooth skin. Completely natural in his nakedness, he rose and grabbed the frame of the bed and dragged it across the small room, his shoulders bunching and flexing, his biceps round and thick. The scraping was loud against the rough-hewn wooden floor.
Wh
en it hit the edge of the hearth, he went back to the cupboard, grabbed another blanket and a towel, then slipped into the bed. He knelt onto the mattress and set the towel against her still-dripping hair and vigorously dried it, then finger-combed it into a loose braid. The room was getting warm and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He then set the towel to his own hair and rubbed until he was satisfied that his hair was as dry as it was going to get.
He discarded the towel and stripped the blanket off her, hauling her across his lap, wrapping both blankets around them. He leaned back onto the headboard.
Caught between the raging fire and the hard, warm feel of his body, Rafferty sagged against him, unable to hold in all the raw and turbulent feelings that surged through her. For a moment under that canoe when her air was bubbling out of her and she couldn’t untangle herself, she’d experienced true and utter fear. It was deep and raw, exposing feelings that she must have buried for a long time.
Trace had saved her from drowning, dropping down into the black depth of the lake.
For the first time in her life she felt vital, active, blood-pumping alive. Everything hovering on the surface, making her aware of how this man and this trip had changed her already. She wanted to experience him even more than she had before, the fear and doubts receding in the wake of her eye-opening revelation.
He tightened his arms when she pressed her face into the curve of his neck.
“You doing okay?” he asked. His rough cheek scraped across the top of hers as he bent his head.
“Much better now,” she murmured, so very aware of every pressure point of his naked body. She kissed the warm skin of his neck, uncertain who was trembling more violently, but it had nothing to do with the rapidly warming room or being cold. His silent response was to hold her more closely, the hardness of his body slaking the hunger in hers, and her voice caught as she tightened her arms around him.
“You saved me.”
She was unprepared when he inhaled sharply and buried his face in her hair. His voice was hoarse as he whispered, “God, I was so damn terrified when you didn’t surface.”
The undercurrent of desperation in his voice created an aching tightness in Rafferty’s throat, and she blinked back tears as she gently stroked his chest and rib cage.
“Are you warming up?”
“I am with you doing that. I can’t think with your hands on me, your beautiful body this close.”
“You’re a man in demand and it’s tough to get some privacy, even if I had to almost drown. I like having you close.”
He kissed the hollow behind her ear, then murmured gruffly, “Don’t joke about that, Rafferty. I like having you close, too. I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go for a while.”
With infinite tenderness she caught his jaw and raised her head. She smiled softly into his eyes, her own glowing. “I think I can handle that.”
He held her gaze for a moment, then whispering her name, he roughly tightened his arms around her. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Don’t go giving me notions,” he grumbled.
“Would…would you kiss me?” The words came out softly, barely audible, almost taking her by surprise, but not quite. She knew why she wanted to kiss him again—and it was all selfish, but she wasn’t going to take the words back. The place was warm and dark, and he was close, and this was so safe, as safe as she’d ever felt in her life, in this room, with him.
He’d kissed her in the barn the same way he’d kissed her in his truck, with more tenderness than she’d had in too long to remember. It had been instantly consuming, the taste of his mouth, the softness of his breath on her skin, the sheer heat of it washing through her and making her melt.
She’d like to melt now, or at least feel warm, and he was a wall of warmth curled around her while she reclined against the unyielding bulwark of his chest, resting against his hard thighs, the heat from his torso chasing away the chill and the danger of freezing.
She looked up and saw him silhouetted in the shadows with firelight limning his face and running like a flame down the bare skin of his throat, and everything inside her ached. His features sent a heated quicksilver rush over her skin and through her veins.
A sigh left him before he turned and met her gaze.
“That’s a dangerous request,” he whispered. His body betrayed him then, the hardness of his erection forming between her legs. “I don’t have anything here…” he said, his voice firmer, his gaze more direct. “To protect you.”
She laughed and he frowned. “What’s so funny about that? I’m dying here and you think it’s funny?”
There was a teasing tone in her voice. “It’s just that I thought you were a womanizer, and here you’re not even prepared to ravish me?”
He laughed huskily and hugged her hard. “Ravish you…dammit, Rafferty, you are killing me.”
“Does it help to know that I’m birth-control protected as long as you’re…safe.”
“I got tested regularly in the marines, always used condoms, and I haven’t been with anyone since I got out. Are you freaking sure about this? I can grit my teeth and suffer through the agony of not having you.”
She stared at him levelly, a hint of amused defiance in her eyes. “Is that what you want?”
“Hell, no. I’m lying through my teeth. I want you hot and heavy all over me.”
She didn’t need any more encouragement. The room was now very warm, and she was almost sweating against him. She shifted and straddled his lap, and he made a guttural sound when she settled on him.
She pressed her breasts against his chest as she leaned into him, and Trace’s face suddenly took on an intently solemn expression. The muscles of his jaw tensed as he drew in his breath, then caught her hips and pulled her closer. Overcome with a throbbing need, Rafferty’s eyes drifted shut as desire rushed so strong it immobilized her, sending a jolt of fire and ice racing through her veins.
His voice was strained and unsteady as he said, “I want you.” He settled her firmly against him, shifting beneath her, sending his hands down her back to her butt, clasping her in an unbreakable hold.
“That makes two of us,” she managed with the lack of oxygen.
Molded so tightly to him, aware of every movement, every breath, every contour of his body, it was almost as though she were both physically and mentally a part of him. She smiled softly into his eyes, her thumb running along his full bottom lip.
His expression tightened as he slipped his hand slowly up her neck and into her hair, wrapping around the unraveling braid, sending shivers down her spine.
“How about that kiss, princess? I’m dying for your mouth, hot and wet for me.”
His expression went aroused-man-intense, and his eyes darkened as he took her face between his hands and kissed her softly on the mouth. In the heavy shadows that flickered in the room, cocooning them in privacy, the sheer freedom of being utterly alone, his mouth set her off like the tinder in the fire. Rafferty’s breath caught on a ragged sob as he pressed her suddenly and roughly onto her back, the blankets sliding from their now-overheated bodies.
His mouth moved with a hard hunger against hers, his weight coming down on her, welding her hips to his. The contact was galvanizing, and a shudder coursed through him so forcefully it made her tremble. Rafferty’s whole body was electrified by the wild excitement that pumped through her, and she could barely breathe, her heart was hammering so frantically.
Taking in a harsh breath, Trace’s embrace crushing her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, reveling in the full-out feel of his need.
“Trace,” she whispered, letting his name fill her heart, feeling the strength and warmth of his body. She had never really had anyone of her own. Sean had never been hers, but Trace…that was a different story.
He was hers.
What the hell was she supposed to do now?
Chapter 16
Everything Trace knew, ev
erything he stood for was telling him this was just one big mistake, but God, being with her felt so right.
He hadn’t meant to get stranded in the wilderness of Glacier, he hadn’t meant to get totally naked with her here, but he had meant to think about it and make a plan for it because it’s where they were going to end up—the two of them hot and naked and all over each other. He hadn’t seen any way around it.
But that was an act, body parts fitting together. That wasn’t a mistake, because sex was amazing. What he hadn’t expected to find here was how amazing it was with the right person. That was his mistake, because it was an impossible situation in which he couldn’t help but engage his heart. It was freaking engaged to the maximum.
His gaze went over her again, up the length of all her rosy-hued knockout curves to her face.
She knew it, too. He could see it in her eyes. Impossible with his responsibilities that he would never shirk to have something more with her, something that could span…
He cut off that thought. There was no use in that kind of thinking.
He was completely doomed.
He brought his hand up to her face and gently cupped her cheek, then leaned sideways and pressed his mouth to her temple, just to feel the softness of her skin—and she was soft, incredibly, seductively soft, so female. He slid his mouth lower, closer to her ear. Her hair was damp and cool where a stray tendril curled into her cheek. The delicious scent of her hair intensified from the dampness, a complex mix of windblown woman and one-hundred-percent pure sexy.
He breathed her in, letting his mouth roam even lower, down to the delicate angle of her jaw and the tender skin of her throat, lower still across her shoulder and satisfaction flowed into him. She smelled like him from his skin and his clothes. He inhaled more deeply. He liked smelling himself on her. He liked it a lot.
