~Marilyn Monroe
North Western Australia
The Kimberly
February 7, Saturday
Dianna gave the makeshift shelter Taylor had thrown together a woeful eye. She slanted her gaze at him, careful to keep her expression neutral when she looked at him. He stood off to one side eyeing his handiwork, a big dopey grin plastered on his face. From his silly expression, one would think he’d just given birth.
“Well?” he huffed. “Whadda ya think?”
She tilted her head from side to side, giving it close scrutiny. “Pretty sad.”
“Whadda ya mean, pretty sad?”
“It won’t hold when the monsoon wind and rain gets here.”
“Yes, it will. I braided the vines and knotted them together and tied them across the broad leaves over the plane wings, and we’re sheltered from the wind by that rock wall. We should be snug and dry.”
“It’s a piece of shit.” She winced, realizing her lack of praise sounded ungrateful. He’d worked hard to build the hut for them before night set in.
Taylor blew out a puff of air and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. He threw his knife toward her. It landed tip down in the dirt at her toes. “If you can do better, go for it.”
Dianna screeched and danced back. “What do you think you’re doing tossing a knife at me like that?”
“I can throw a knife as good as you can shoot, and I’m not seeing double. I owed you.”
Her mouth worked, but she could hardly argue the point when she’d fired her gun at such close range to him.
“Now, any further comments about the shelter I built?”
“I said it was pretty good.”
“The word good never once came out of your mouth. Jesus, Dianna, cut me a little slack. I have nothing to work with but my bare hands and a knife.” He held up his palms, and Dianna felt like crying. His hands were a web of bleeding cuts from yanking on vines. He’d padded the makeshift shelter with layers of leaves and vines, and here she stood, belittling what he’d accomplished barehanded.
She grabbed a bottle of water, tore off the cap, and took his hands in hers. “Here, let me clean them for you.” Slowly, she tilted the bottle and poured water over them.
Taylor jerked away. “Stop it. What are you doing?”
“I’m cleaning your hands. I thought maybe I’d wrap some cloth around them to protect them.”
He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. His chest heaved with harsh, raspy breaths. Sweat saturated his jeans. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt. The blisters on his chest looked uglier by the hour. More had ruptured, but others popped up in their place. The redness had spread to the width of her palm and then some. His face was streaked with dirt and blood. He looked exhausted and out of patience. “Don’t waste the water on my hands,” he snapped.
“I’m not wasting it. If we don’t keep wounds clean, even tiny ones will fester. You need to let me wash them and stitch the cut on your back. Those blisters need treating. You could get sick, and then what will I do?”
Taylor snorted. “I should have realized it was all about you and no concern for my injuries or me.”
Dianna clenched her teeth. “That’s not fair, Taylor, and you know it. I am concerned about you.”
“I said save the water! And save your concern for someone who needs it. I don’t need you fawning all over me, pretending you care. We both know neither of us can stand the other.”
She ignored his short temper and said instead, “I found six energy bars, two packs of jerky, a package of gum, two apples, three oranges, and the latest novel by Tabitha Shay in my carryon bag. I divided it all out equally.”
“You divided the novel?”
“A Taylor Spencer joke? I didn’t think you possessed a sense of humor.” Her eyes widened at the sound of her laughter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. It seemed like years to her.
“I have a sense of humor, when you aren’t stepping on my last nerve. It’s okay to laugh. It sounded pretty good.”
“Pretty good? As in as ‘pretty good’ as the hut you built?”
“No. As in great, wonderful, and I’d like to hear you laugh again.”
She smiled. “Oh.”
“So, did you?”
“What?”
“Divide the book?”
“No, silly, the food. You can’t have my novel. I’d kill for her books.”
“Romance novels?” He gagged. “Woman stuff, sort of like that monthly crisis thing.”
“There’s nothing wrong with romance or romance novels.”
“Women like to label everything.” He sounded disgusted, yet she saw the teasing light in his blue eyes. “The word romance simply changes what is ultimately a term for sex.”
Dianna gasped. “That is not true!”
“True.”
“Jerk!”
“Ah, yes. You did say there was some jerky? That stuff’s loaded with salt. It will only make us thirsty.”
“We have eight bottles of water from the ice chest. Well, four now.”
“Is there any water in the ice chest from melted ice?”
“No. The ice all sloshed out during the crash. Why?”
“It doesn’t matter now, but I was going to suggest you fill the empty bottles from the melted ice.”
“Eww!”
“Don’t be picky. We’ll have to use whatever we have or can scrounge to survive. If that means catching rain in a leaf and drinking it, we will. We’ll leave the top up on the ice chest and let it fill with rainwater, then refill all the empty bottles. It might be the only water we have to drink for a long time.” Taylor eyed the sky and frowned. “Get inside. The rain’s going to hit any second.”
Dianna squirmed her way inside the small hut. “Please, God, don’t let there be anything that stings, bites, or has dozens of hairy legs in my new home.”
Taylor snorted and crawled inside the makeshift shelter beside her.
“Don’t laugh,” she said. “You don’t know what we might be sleeping with in here.”
Since she’d spread all their clothes from their luggage for bedding, it was pretty comfy inside.
Three hours later, she scowled into the dark as she tried to get comfortable. They’d shared an orange at dark, took two swallows of water from the same bottle, and that was the limit of their food and fluid intake.
Dianna squeezed her thighs together. How could she possibly have the strong urge to pee? God help her, she was soo not going to wake Taylor and ask him to escort her outside in the pouring rain just so she could add more water to the already wet ground.
The man had turned into a tyrant, not that he hadn’t always been a bit of a bully. He had, even from his wheelchair, been a lot of male. Still, she was plenty ticked that he refused to give her back her gun. He’d taken charge of the food and water, too, and divided the rations his way.
“What’s wrong, Dianna?”
She jumped, his sleepy voice catching her by surprise.
“Nothing.”
“Then go to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a rough day.”
She sat up and stared into the dark. “I can’t sleep just because you command it.”
He rolled toward her, grabbed her by the arm and tugged her down beside him. “What are you doing?” she gasped.
“Making you comfortable.”
Taylor settled her close until her head rested on his chest. “How’s that?”
How’s that?
Dianna inched closer and wondered what he’d say or do if she said she’d love to be on top of him, his body surging into hers. Would he take her up on the offer of her body? She didn’t think so. He didn’t like her, so therefore he wouldn’t have any interest in her body.
She sighed and snuggled closer.
“Stop wiggling,” he growled. “You’re rubbing my blisters.”
She froze. “Sorry. Maybe I should move back to my spot.”
His arm
s tightened about her waist fractionally. “Go to sleep.”
She lay there and fumed. He made decisions for her, ordered her around, and expected her to obey mindlessly. The thing was she couldn’t stay mad because he was right in the way he took charge of the food and water and divided it between them. She supposed, albeit grudgingly, that he was right to hold the gun, since she was still having fierce headaches and trouble focusing at times.
What she was really pissed off about was the fact he’d yanked her book from her hands just before total darkness closed in. He’d settled near the opening of the small shelter he’d built and began reading it. Taylor used what precious minutes of daylight there were left reading her book! There was just something wrong with that picture.
“I thought you didn’t like romance novels.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why did you read my book?”
“So I wouldn’t have to talk to you. Go to sleep.”
Dianna’s brows furrowed. “You lost my place,” she complained.
“How many times have you read that book, Witch’s Brew?”
“I don’t know, three maybe. Four?”
He snorted. “You’ll find your place when I’m finished with it.”
When it got too dark to see the words, he’d slapped the book together and handed it to her. “Do not lose my place.”
“Huh!”
Dianna lay there in the dark, listening to the cry of birds and wild animals.
Don’t freak. It’s just bird calls and animals. They can’t hurt you. Hah!
Inside the hut they were dry, but it felt claustrophobic. How could Taylor sleep with all that screeching going on outside? But his soft snores assured her he was asleep. Dianna wiggled in the dark, squeezed her thighs a little tighter and tried not to rub Taylor’s chest.
Still, she couldn’t keep from touching him. She sifted her fingers through the light furring of hair on his chest. She loved his wide chest, the sculpted muscles, the perfect pecs. Slowly, she walked her fingers down his solid midriff, awed at the ridged, six-pack abs. She slid her fingers a little lower and paused at the edge of the elastic band of his boxers.
Should she? Or shouldn’t she? Dianna toyed with the elastic band. Toyed with temptation. Slowly, she slipped her fingers a bare inch beneath the elastic. Her heart hammered. Her pulse pounded. Oh my God! Had all her blood rushed to her head? Her fingers curled with the hot need to stroke his cock, cup his balls and gently squeeze the manly nuggets.
Dianna held her breath and glided her fingers through the top edge of the nest of soft hair. A little more and she’d be able to touch it. Her fingertips were right there at the tip of the treasure she sought. She released a long breath. God, it was hot inside the hut! Why, it was downright steamy.
Her breath caught in her lungs. Her palms felt sweaty. She eased her fingers from under the elastic and instead walked them up and down the hard length behind the thin cotton material of his shorts. Holy cow! Dare she invade the Land of the Jolly Green Giant?
Damn, she wished Taylor didn’t dislike her so much. Right now, she could stand a little tender loving care. She wiggled closer. Daringly, she slipped her fingers beneath the elastic once more. Glory be the head of his cock was right there! She was pretty sure she hadn’t slid her fingers any further down than the first time. That meant—oh yes, that’s exactly what it meant.
She couldn’t resist running a fingertip around the smooth skin. Oh my God. She was right. It had grown. It was nice and firm and yeah—a perfect length. It couldn’t be better if she’d ordered it her way. She explored the tiny slit, felt a drop of moisture and rubbed the lubricant onto the plum-shaped head. She pumped the engorged shaft a few times. This could get interesting. Mmmm!
Dianna stopped pumping and frowned in the dark. What should she do now that she had her hand inside his shorts and around the broad tip of his spear? Should she continue pumping until she got the full works?
“Hell, don’t fucking stop now. It was just getting good.”
Dianna squeaked and jerked her hand free of his underwear. “I–I…I’m asleep. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
He snorted.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“How can I sleep with your hot little hands playing find the rope?” He rolled with her and settled his big body on top of her. “Is this what you want? Or maybe this is what you really crave.” He nudged her with his powerful thighs.
Holy hell! Did he have a tube sock filled with sand in his underwear? She’d gotten past the top of his cock to discover there was plenty more to follow. “Uh—” Dianna licked her lips. “Uh—”
She sucked in air. For Pete’s sake, she sounded like she was going to sneeze! Uh-Uh.
“Is it?” he asked again. His voice sounded hard as flint. “Tell me you want me. I’ll be in you so fast you won’t have time to think about it.” He dragged her hand inside his shorts and wrapped her fingers around his hard cock. “If you want it, it’s yours. I promise you, it’s better than warm milk. Just say the word, and it’s done.”
She could hardly deny she wanted him. God, she wrapped her fingers around his dick. She stroked the long length, once, twice. Taylor shuddered and grabbed her hand, breaking her strokes. “Uh-uh. Not like that. When I go off, it’s going off inside you. When you climax, you’re going to be riding my dick hell bent for leather.”
He pressed the long length of his shaft against her one last time, then rolled off her. “Now for God’s sake, go to sleep or next time, I get to cop a feel of what’s underneath that short, little-bit-of-nothing skirt you’ve been prancing around in all damn day.”
“I haven’t been prancing around!” God, she’d been more like falling down, stumbling around.
“Go to sleep, Dianna,” he said sharply. “Or I’m going to rip that nothing thong off your ass and bury my dick in you!”
“Go to sleep, Dianna! Stop wiggling, Dianna! Give me, ooomph—”
Taylor rolled on top of her, pinned her shoulders against the bedding, and cut off her speech with his mouth. Ah, now this was better than warm milk, better than a sleeping pill. The hard, wet pressure of his mouth on hers was heaven. She couldn’t get close enough to him or get enough of his mouth.
Dianna parted her lips and invited him inside. Their tongues tangled and battled for supremacy. God, she wanted to be surrounded by his lean body, to be inside his skin.
Taylor grunted when she nipped his tongue with her teeth. He released her shoulders and gripped her chin, then deepened the kiss, but not before biting her bottom lip. She tasted her blood on his tongue and didn’t care.
With his free hand, he finished shredding the rag of a shirt off her. Impatiently, he removed her bra and clasped one breast in his big hand. He bunched the rags of her skirt around her waist, yanked off her thong and shoved his shorts off. His cock throbbed urgently between her thighs.
She bucked beneath him, pushed against his cock, encouraging him to take her. Oh, God, she wanted. Wanted so badly. Taylor freed her mouth, only to take her breast prisoner. His tongue on her nipple felt good. He kneaded her other breast, licked the firm slope and traced his tongue beneath the tender underside of both breasts. All the while, he teased the opening of her channel with little nudges of his cock.
“Do it,” she pleaded, scratching his back.
“Open for me.”
Dianna groaned and parted her thighs. “In me. Now! I want you in me.”
“You’re certain this is what you want?”
“Yes!”
He parted her nether lips and guided the broad head of his cock to her sleek entrance. Slowly, he rubbed it up and down the length of her clit, teasing, torturing. He pushed inside her, a scant amount, then wiggled his hips, pushing in a bit farther. She groaned and clawed his shoulders. “God. Do it! I want to feel all of you.”
Slowly, he pulled out of her. “Uh-uh. No way.”
“What?” She arched against his thighs. “Please! Do it,” sh
e screamed. “Oh, God. Stop torturing me and fuck me!”
He laughed. “I don’t think so.”
Dianna blinked. “What?”
Taylor tugged up his shorts and tucked his cock inside. “I like to be the hunter, the aggressor. I don’t want you, Dianna.”
“What?” Dianna sucked deeps breaths inside her chugging lungs. That was her third what in less than a minute. Surely one of them deserved an answer. “It sure as hell felt like you want me.”
“A natural reaction to a man waking up with a woman’s fingers wrapped around his cock and pumping it for all it’s worth.”
“Get off me!”
“I’ll fuck you, Dianna, if that’s what you want. But you say it when we’re not in the heat of the moment, when we’re both in control and not wanting it because we survived a crash. Say it when it’s real and means something to you. Say you want me to fuck you and mean it, or this goes no farther.”
“I don’t understand,” she choked.
“Yes, you do,” he breathed. “I’m not shouldering all the blame for whatever happens between us. I’m not having you say I took advantage of you.”
God, she was dying here.
“Say it,” he gritted. “Say you want me to fuck you.”
“Why?”
“Because when your brothers get pissed over the fact I screwed you, I want to be able to tell them you begged me for it, that you knew what you were doing and saying.” He bumped his hips against her. “If you wanna be fucked, say it with meaning. Say it when you aren’t concussed.”
Tears burned behind her eyelids and clogged her throat. “You don’t want me?”
“This isn’t about me.” He laughed shortly. “If you want my cock, say it. Never doubt for a moment I’ll take what is freely offered, but want you? No. You’re a means to an end, a mercy fucking. You mean nothing to me. If you accept that, say you want me to fuck you.”
“Get the hell off me!”
He rolled off her and turned his back to her. His harsh breaths sounded ragged in the dark. “You let me know if you change your mind, sweetheart. I’ll be happy to give you all I got, every inch. Until then, go to sleep!”
“Don’t hold your breath, Spencer.” God, if the only reason he wanted to make love to her was so he could tell her brothers she asked for it, she’d die before she ever let him touch her again.
Too Close To The Fire/Too Hot To Handle (Montana Men 3) Page 7
