by Nina Bruhns
There was one in particular she liked, and she spent a long time capturing it in a detailed drawing, thinking of her nephew. It was lovely, in natural-colored canvas that glowed red in the crimson sunset, with a buckskin door and accents. When she was finished drawing the outside, she wondered what the inside might look like. She fingered the flap. But she didn't feel right lifting it without permission.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps, and the accompanying loud jangle of bells stopped right behind her. Katarina turned and looked up in surprise.
The warrior!
She jumped back and guiltily hugged her pad of paper. "I'm sorry. I was just drawing the tepee. I hope you don't mind."
He was watching her carefully, taking in her pad and thick pencil.
"Lodge," he said.
She blinked. "What? Oh, right. Lodge." She'd heard Native Americans preferred that term, but somehow it always made her think of moose and men in funny hats. She cleared her throat. "Well, I didn't mean to intrude. I'll be going—"
"No," he said, and took a step closer. "Come in."
* * *
Chapter 2
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"Really, I…" Katarina retreated, emotions warring.
"Don't you want to draw the inside?" he casually asked, shifting the flap to one side.
"I, um…" Crazy. "Okay. That would be great."
She felt just a little uneasy when he lifted the flap and she stepped inside. What was she thinking? The tepee was empty except for a folding lawn chair, a rolled-up Indian rug and a small radio. Letting the buckskin flap fall behind them, the warrior walked to the rear of the tepee, tossing the gym bag he carried onto the floor.
He gave her a reassuring smile, gesturing to her pad. "Go ahead. Just pretend I'm not here."
Yeah, right.
There was barely enough light filtering in through the smoke hole to allow her to see. Putting pencil to the paper, she tried desperately to remember what she was doing there in a dimly lit tepee with a complete stranger.
A sexy stranger who made her body yearn to feel things she'd never felt before.
"I didn't think the Luiseño tribe used tepees," she said, hoping to distract herself as she drew the details of the canvas floor.
He chuckled. "Not historically. But a field full of modern multicolored nylon camping tents wouldn't exactly impress the tourists."
She smiled. "No, I s'pose not."
She glanced up, catching him standing with his arms folded over his broad chest, studying her. Her face heated at his intense scrutiny. Draw. She had to remember to draw. Dragging her gaze away, she turned to a fresh page and started outlining the door opening.
While she worked, the warrior removed his headdress and placed it carefully on the lawn chair, followed by his embroidered bustle. She forced her attention to her task and started filling in the details of the bone fasteners used to secure the door. Behind her she heard him untie the bells around his legs, unzip his bag and toss them in. A click sounded, and the radio started playing soft country music. There was a loud snap as he shook out his rug, and a quiet rustle as it drifted to the floor. He must be making his bed.
Katarina squeezed her eyes shut. She had to stop thinking like this.
Suddenly, she felt warm breath in her hair. She started, eyes flying open. He stood right behind her.
"May I?" His fingers brushed hers when he reached around and eased the pad from her hand, sending a shower of awareness over her. She nodded, not daring to move, fearing she would accidentally touch him again.
She couldn't understand this outrageous attraction. The sudden heat flowing through her body must be an overreaction to being out of David's chilly embrace. The delicious thrill of being so close to this warrior, surely, a primal response to the knowledge that the only barriers between them were those she herself placed there. It was a heady feeling.
He came around to stand next to her, flipping through her tepee drawings. "These are very good. But why mine?"
She met his searching look. "It's so pretty. And I promised Kenny lots of details."
A thundercloud seemed to pass through the warrior's black eyes. He lifted a brow. "Kenny?"
She glanced down at her pencil. "My nine-year-old nephew." When the corner of his mouth twitched, she added, "School project."
He nodded and turned to the page she'd been working on. After a moment he pointed. "You've got these fasteners wrong."
She frowned and took the pad from him. "Let me see." She compared the drawing to the door and saw he was right. She pushed a damp lock off her forehead. Mercy, it was getting awfully warm in here.
He strolled to the door, pulled the flaps together and began lacing two long leather strips around the bone fasteners sewn along the edges. He shot her a sultry glance. "The view might be better when the door's properly closed."
Her heart skipped a beat.
In a few seconds it was laced up as tight as a sneaker before a marathon. "See how it works? Now it's impossible to get in from the outside."
He sat on his haunches and slowly looped the ends of the ties through two holes in the doorsill, and pulled them tight. He regarded her from behind his painted mask. "Anything you'd like a closer look at?"
"I, uh…" Oh, lord. Her pulse whipped into double-time.
His brow lifted.
"I, um…" Her gaze slid involuntarily from his sensual lips to his neck and along the narrow band of naked, bronze flesh running down the entire side of his body to his moccasins. Trying in vain to ignore the thundering of her heart, she bit her lip.
In a fluid movement he rose.
She was backing herself into a corner, and she knew it. But for the life of her, she suddenly couldn't think of a single reason why she should deflect what was happening between them. She was still raw from David's rejection of her as a woman. It felt good to flirt with this man, to reconfirm that she was pretty and desirable. And if it went a little further than flirting, well, she was a big girl. She knew how to say no if she had to.
It was her choice.
He moved behind her and, circling his arms around her, grasped the pad of paper in one hand and with the other guided the pencil in her shaking fingers to correct her mistake. "You just tell me what you'd like a closer look at, and I'll see what I can do."
Her head spun and her bones turned to liquid in her body. "I've—" she cleared her throat again "—I've never done anything like this before," she murmured, half believing he was still talking about drawing tepees. Her sleeve slipped off her shoulder and she reached to pull it up. "I think I—"
"Don't think, Fire Eyes." He caught her hand and brought it down to her side, leaving the sleeve where it was. "Just feel. If it stops feeling good, tell me no."
She swallowed, forgetting all about tepees, lodges and everything else except the provocative man who was making her come dangerously unglued. She could feel the erotic hardness of his body. His quill chest plate pressed against her spine, his solid thighs caressed her bottom. His growing arousal nestled provocatively at the small of her back. She closed her eyes. It felt good.
Lord above, it felt good all over.
"All right," she whispered, knowing she shouldn't.
He slipped the paper and pencil from her fingers and softly kissed her temple. "Are we done drawing pictures?"
She just couldn't resist. She tilted her face, raising her cheek up, rubbing lightly over his lips with her skin. He felt so very good. Her sketch pad hit the floor with a dull thud and his hands were on her arms, pulling her back into him. His mouth traced over her cheekbone and up the rim of her eye to her eyebrow, giving her small kisses, licking her with the tip of his tongue. She felt her other sleeve drop, then his hands were on her bare shoulders, massaging, caressing.
She reached back, grasping for purchase, and found his bare thighs. A small whimper escaped her throat. His erection flared, and he gave an answering groan. His fingers slid down her arms, splayed over her waist, and his thumbs began climbing up he
r ribs with lazy strokes until they grazed her breasts. His breath was quick and hot in her ear.
"Still feeling good?"
She dug her fingers into his thighs. "Yes." Her voice was breathy and deep, as unrecognizable as her behavior. What was she doing?
His hands cupped her breasts and squeezed. A shock of sensation hit her like a wall of fire. His fingers rubbed circles around the quickening tips, and a blazing trail of desire streaked straight through to her center. His mouth caressed her with hot kisses, working around her ear, biting the sensitive lobe as he pinched the tight buds of her breasts through her dress. She gasped out loud at the erotic sting.
He froze. "Shall I stop?"
Katarina closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall back against the warrior's shoulder. She couldn't ever remember feeling this good, this aroused, this vibrant. She knew she should tell this tempting stranger to stop, to unlace the door, and then she should run like hell. It wasn't her, this wanton woman in his arms. But she couldn't make herself do it. Not for anything. She wanted this. She wanted to experience these wonderful sensations she had been denied for a lifetime. To feel emotions that, for so long, she had thought herself incapable of feeling.
Bringing her hands up, she placed them over his where they lay on her breasts.
Cole swallowed, feeling the cords of his neck contract against his Fire Eyes' temple. For a moment he just stood there, listening to the sounds of his pounding heart and the rapid breathing of the beautiful woman in his embrace. Then she hesitantly moved her fingers and unbuttoned the top button of her dress.
He couldn't believe the delightful, innocent way this woman was inviting him to touch her. Where before he had been eager enough to drag her to the floor by the hair and ravish her, he now wanted to woo her senses, to introduce her body to delights she'd never experienced before. To bind her to him with lovemaking so unforgettable she'd never want to leave him. He'd never reacted to a woman like this before. It scared him and aroused him all at the same time. He slowly unfastened two more buttons.
Turning her in his arms, he looked into her eyes, surprised to see fear and uncertainty as she looked back at him. "It's all right, darlin'," he said quietly. "I won't hurt you, I swear. Tell me to stop anytime."
Lowering his mouth to hers, he pulled her close and kissed her tenderly. Her arms went around his neck and she sighed against his lips. He slipped his hand behind her head and held her, pressing his mouth over hers, teasing it with his tongue. When she opened to him, he groaned, sinking into her moist, velvety depths, losing himself in the taste of her. She was wonderful. Sweet and innocent, and everything he hadn't known he'd been looking for all his life. His heart stuttered at the thought, then raced at the unexpected rightness of how she felt in his arms.
He kissed her long and deep, holding her tight, until he felt her body tremble against his. He felt his way to her buttons and unfastened a half dozen more, then slipped his hand inside, cradling her bare breast in his palm. She arched into him, firing his desire. Quickly, he found her other breast, and she moaned in pleasure at his touch.
Her skin was like hot silk beneath his questing hands. He let them prowl her body, exploring every dark, warm place he could reach, making her writhe against him, fanning the flames of her passion. Her passion for him.
Impatient for more, he opened buttons to her waist and slid her dress down her arms, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at her feet. He tightened his embrace and covered her mouth, his tongue plundering, stroking deep and hard. Oh, how he wanted her! Wanted to feel her under him, surrounding him, hot and eager. Wanted to claim this woman for himself.
Suddenly he felt her push at his chest, withdrawing from his kiss, whispering urgently, "Wait. Please stop."
Immediately, he broke away, grabbing for the self-control that had vanished, consumed by flames of need.
God, what had he done? He had never lost it like that with a woman before. Never!
Cole jammed his fingers through his hair in frustration and consternation. "I'm sorry," he said, sucking down a ragged breath. "Okay, I've stopped." He tried for a properly apologetic grin. "But you're killing me, you know."
She looked at him in surprise, then her gaze turned soft. She reached up and sweetly stroked his jaw. "Is that why you're wearing the armor? In case I try to kill you?"
His brows drew together, his brain still lodged somewhere below the leather strap holding up his breechclout. "Armor?"
She traced a finger down the front of his chest plate. "If I promise not to kill you, would you take this thing off?"
He groaned, comprehension dawning. "Oh, honey, that must have hurt like hell." His eyes sought her breasts, which, sure enough, were covered with thin red marks.
"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry." He pulled her to him, then let her go. "Aw, hell." Quickly he undid the ties that held his chest plate, and laid it over the back of the chair. He stretched out a hand to her. "Come here."
She came into his arms, all warm, bare flesh, and he had to restrain himself from laying her down and taking her right then and there. He didn't understand how she had tied him up in knots as she had in the space of a few short hours.
He was never tied in knots. He was a lawyer. His job required him to be in control at all times. And up to a few moments ago, he always had been. Always.
But he had to admit he kind of liked being all tied in knots over his Fire Eyes. For once in his measured, carefully planned existence, he was enjoying being over the edge and irrational. Not knowing what came next. Letting this incredible woman take him on an erotic journey he suddenly hoped would last for months, years, or maybe even a lifetime.
Strange. For some reason, he felt safe with her. He'd never thought much about love at first sight—having long avoided anything to do with the emotion that until now had only brought him pain. But if love at first sight existed, this must be it.
Cole smoothed his hand over the red marks on her breasts, and murmured in her ear, "I'm a thoughtless idiot. Here, let me kiss them and make them better."
Katarina blushed furiously at the warrior's whispered suggestion, and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
He obviously felt guilty, but truth be told, she hadn't even noticed the chest plate until she was accidentally pinched between two quills. He'd obviously had a bad moment when she'd asked him to stop his lovemaking, thinking she'd meant to stop him for good. But the really unbelievable thing was he'd actually stopped, and hadn't whined about it.
If this masked stranger hadn't already stolen her heart well before that, she would have given it to him willingly at that moment.
Almost imperceptibly, she nodded.
"Oh, honey." He swept her up in his powerful arms and carried her to the rug he'd unrolled earlier. When he set her on her feet, he held her and smoothed the stray hairs from her face. "Are you sure about this? Really sure?"
She melted a little more at his concerned words, fell even further under his spell, held him closer. How could she tell him how much it meant to her that he asked?
"Because once I lay you down, I won't stop until I'm deep inside you."
She traced her lips along his jaw, ignoring the voice in her mind that told her it was wrong, that she would regret being so impulsive.
She needed this. Needed the affirmation of her feminine worth before she could move on from the destructive relationship she'd recently ended. In her heart she knew this man would not hurt her. He was sensitive, caring and passionate. Everything David was not.
This was the first choice in two years she had no doubts about at all. "I'm sure," she whispered.
"Thank God," he murmured, and before she could even think to protest, he slid her panties over her hips.
Her body thrilled and shivered to be naked in his arms. She felt wanton and reckless, desirable and sexy, and everything she hadn't felt for as long as she could remember.
She drew a finger along the edge of his breechclout, wanting him as naked as she was. As if
reading her mind, he quickly disposed of the garment and his moccasins, then reached for the knot of his choker.
Without thinking, she laid a hand over his. "No. Leave it." She smiled shyly and flushed at his inquiring look. "It goes with the war paint."
He chuckled. "I keep forgetting I've got that on. Does it bother you? I have remover in my gym bag."
Wanting to make love to a nameless, faceless stranger was about as far away from her usual prim behavior as it got. But somehow she felt as though she had known him forever. She didn't need to see his face to know he was everything she wanted. Needed.
Winding her fingers through his long hair, she shook her head. "No. I know there's an honorable man under there, and that's what counts."
Cole lowered Fire Eyes to the rug and lay down beside her, gathering her tightly in his arms. He felt awed and honored by her trust.
"What did I do to deserve you?" he whispered into her hair, silently vowing to do everything he could to be worthy of that trust and this sweet, special woman.
He bent over her and kissed her until they were both breathless and he could feel her shudder with desire. His hands explored her, and hers him, taking turns raising goose bumps and drawing forth sighs and gasps of pleasure. Over and over they rolled, their bodies moving apart and together in perfect harmony.
Incredibly aroused, he tucked her under him, gazing at her body, heatedly murmuring what he would do to each lovely bit—the endlessly long legs, her smooth, pale stomach and round, full breasts. Already taut, her nipples hardened to tight points at his lustful words and hungry gaze. He wanted to consume them, her, every damned part of her, and keep her like this forever.
She looked up as he touched her again, kissed her. The pure bliss etched on her face raised a lump in his throat.
"Fire Eyes," he murmured. "You are so beautiful." She gazed mistily into his eyes, lips slightly parted. Her scent washed over him, sweet and sensual, smelling of woman, gardenias and desire.
"I want you so much," she whispered, pulling him down by a strand of hair. She made love to his mouth with hers—erotically, thoroughly.
