by Rebecca York
“We should dry my hair,” she said in a thick voice.
He searched the storage boxes again and found a thin towel, which she took from him. Briskly she began to rub the long strands of her hair between her towel-covered hands, observing him through heavy-lidded eyes. He was watching her intently.
“My arms are tired from swimming,” she said, in a languorous voice. “Could you help me?”
He took the towel from her and began to work on her hair, rubbing the way she’d demonstrated. With a deep sigh, she let her head drop to his naked shoulder.
Her eyes were downcast, not with modesty, but with interest. He might be a whirlwind of activity, but the clinging briefs gave him away. Through the damp fabric, there was no way to conceal his very positive response to their state of undress.
His hands became a bit shaky, but he kept at the drying until she made a small sound in her throat.
“Am I hurting your hair?” he asked anxiously.
“No,” she answered, silently admitting she enjoyed shredding his composure. “But I’d like to get out of this wet bra.” Reaching around, she opened the catch and pulled the garment away from her body. Straightening, she tossed it in the general direction of the boxes.
She could hear the uneven breath rushing in and out of his lungs as he stared at her breasts.
Her nipples were already hard. They tightened further under the heat of his scorching gaze. Silently, she lifted the towel from his hands, dropped it onto the floor, and took a step closer, so that her naked breasts touched the hard wall of his chest.
His strangled exclamation was as gratifying as the feel of his flesh against hers. For long seconds, he seemed too stunned to move.
“Touch me,” she whispered. “Please touch me.”
In slow motion, his hands came up to cradle her breasts. When his fingers began to knead and stroke, she made a high sound of pleasure as she arched into his caress.
Silently she raised her hands to his chest, combing through the crisp mat of hair and finding his nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from him as she showed him ways to touch—ways that he might imitate.
He did just that, to her delight.
“I don’t think I can stand up much longer,” she murmured.
His hands stilled. His breath drew in sharply. “I should stop doing this to you.”
“Not this time.”
“Kathryn, when you came back from Swinton’s lab . . . you. . .changed. I saw the look on your face.” His eyes were bleak as he put distance between them.
“Hunter,” she said quickly, reaching for his arm and holding tight. “I saw things there that upset me. And I was in shock.”
“Yes. You saw—you know.”
The look on his face made her eyes sting. “Please believe me. It hasn’t changed the way I feel about you.”
“It must.” His lips hardened. “Emerson told you I was a man who had lost his memory. When I heard it, I wanted it to be true. So much. But I knew that was just a fantasy. I knew that you would find out the truth.”
“I did. And I was angry with Swinton. Angry with Emerson and Beckton and all the rest of them. But I wasn’t angry with you, Hunter. I wasn’t frightened of you. Or . . . or offended.”
The doubt in his eyes made her hurry on. “My feelings for you are the same as they were when we were talking about making love, both of us wanting it so badly we ached. The other night, we both knew we couldn’t give in to that wanting. But now we’re alone. And safe. And I think I can show you how I feel better than I can tell you.” She prevented further discussion by pressing her mouth to his, using her lips in ways that would stop him from thinking.
She knew to the heartbeat when she had won. For several seconds he remained absolutely still, then his lips began to move against hers with a hunger she felt in every cell of her body.
He made a low sound in his throat as her tongue entered his mouth, sliding over strong teeth and sensitive tissue before withdrawing slowly, inviting him to try out the same technique.
When he raised his head, he was shaking. But she suspected he still wasn’t quite convinced.
She skimmed her hand along his ribs, down to his hips, drawing him against her, as she found his eyes with hers, held his gaze. “I want the same thing you do. Please. If we don’t make love now, I think my body is going to self-destruct.”
“You feel that way, too? Like a volcano about to explode?”
She managed a little laugh. “Oh, yes.” Taking his hand, she tugged him down to lie beside her on the blanket, then rolled so that she was facing him as she held out her arms.
He stared at her with a kind of wonder, touched her face, her shoulder, her breasts, as if he couldn’t quite believe they were finally together like this, both aching with desire.
“I want to do the right things,” he said in a thick voice.
She moved her lips lightly against his. “Anything we do together will be wonderful. It’s already wonderful,” she reassured him.
“Yes. Everything with you is perfect for me.” Tenderly, he stroked his thumb against her lips, tracing their outline. “But I think that’s because you know how to make it that way. I want to do the same for you, but you must tell me what I need to know.”
His eyes were so serious that she took his face in her hands and gave him a soft kiss. Again, she marveled at his candor. His lack of artifice. His caring. He was burning up with need, yet he wanted to please her so much that it made her heart ache.
“You only need to know one thing,” she told him gently between tiny kisses. “It’s that men are ready for joining—for intercourse—more quickly than women. As soon as a man has an erection, he’s ready. But a woman needs a little more time if she’s going to reach sexual climax. She needs to be kissed and touched first.”
“Sexual climax?”
“The burst of pleasure that comes at the end.”
She didn’t know whether he understood all of that yet, but she had no doubt that he would. “So kiss me. And touch me,” she whispered, kissing the warm place where his neck joined his shoulder as her hands stroked his cheek, his neck, his chest, down the flat plane of his stomach, over his thighs, and finally to the rigid flesh straining behind his briefs.
He drew in a quick, sharp breath when she cupped her hand around him, and she permitted herself only a few brief caresses, knowing that she could bring this to completion too quickly.
Instead, she tugged off her panties so she would be completely open to him. With a little smile of reassurance, she lay back on the blanket, her arms bent upward, her body and soul open and vulnerable to him.
“You are perfect,” he said with awe. He stroked the hair on her head, then touched the triangle of red hair below.
“It’s the same beautiful color against your creamy skin.” He rose over her, kissing her mouth, then moving his lips to her shoulders, and then to the tops of her breasts.
“Can I?” he asked in a thick voice, his lips hovering above one taut nipple.
“I was hoping you would,” she told him, curling her hand around his head and bringing his lips down to her breast. His mouth opened around her nipple, and she melted under the exquisite tugging sensation as he drew on her.
“That’s good,” he said, raising his head to look at her in wonder. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me to do it.”
“I told you. I want the same things you do,” she whispered. “And—” She swallowed.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me all the things that feel good to you.”
“If you want to, you could do that with your mouth on one and your fingers on the other,” she whispered.
He experimented with that, then lifted his head, watching the play of emotions on her face.
No one had ever focused on her like this. No one had ever devoted himself so completely, so unselfishly to pleasing her. Each thing he did brought her delight, and that delight was multiplied by the light in his eyes as he learned the secrets of her body.
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“Here. I need to feel you here,” she told him, taking his hand and guiding it to the hidden warmth between her thighs.
“Oh—” he exclaimed, then watched her face again as he explored her, learning what she liked best.
Still, his touch quickly became shaky and his breath ragged, and she knew that she’d better end the preliminaries.
“There are lots of ways to manage the last part,” she whispered. “This time, let me do most of the work.”
She asked him to lie back, then dragged his briefs off and straddled him, her eyes locked with his.
His face was a study in awe as his hard flesh touched her softness, as she brought his erection sex inside her.
“That is—” He seemed to have no words to finish the sentence.
Then she began to move, and the awe changed to astonishment.
She found a rhythm that captivated them both, watching his features tighten as his body trembled in its climb toward the high peaks. She saw his face contort. Heard his shout of surprise and gratification. Felt him spasm within her. Then she was driving for her own completion, moving in a frantic rhythm that brought her up and up to heights she had never reached. She called his name, feeling her whole body convulsing above him in tremors of raw pleasure that went on and on, leaving her limp.
Afterwards, she lay on top of him, her skin slick with perspiration, her body boneless as she felt him stroke her hair and shoulders, felt his lips against her damp cheek.
“Thank you for that,” he whispered.
She moved to lie beside him, snuggling against him. His arm came up to hold her close.
“The thanks are mutual,” she answered.
His fingers skimmed her lips. “You’re a good teacher.”
She laughed. “Well, you forgot one thing I tried to teach you.”
His eyes clouded in alarm. “What?”
“Didn’t I warn you not to get undressed in front of a woman?”
His cheeks colored. “This was different. We were wet and cold. I was trying to get us warm.”
She gave a little laugh. “Well, you did that, all right.”
“I guess I did. Very warm,” he said, his lips breaking into a grin.
She smiled back.
“I like this,” he said.
“So do I. I like making you happy.” Finding his hand, she stroked her fingers against his. “I like being happy with you.”
He didn’t answer, and she suspected he was still afraid to trust anything good coming into his life. She would teach him differently and teach him how much a man and a woman could mean to each other.
But for the moment, she was exhausted.
“How long can we stay here?” she murmured, her lids fluttering closed.
“Until dark.”
“Good.”
“Then I will get you away from Stratford Creek.”
Her eyes opened, searched his. “And you’ll stay with me, get me to—to a place of safety,” she clarified.
“Yes”
Perfect. If he could get them off the grounds, she would make sure Emerson and Swinton never got their hands on him again.
She wanted to talk about escape plans, ask when he had made the decision. But emotional turmoil and lack of sleep had finally taken its toll. For the time being, it was enough to know she was safe with him and that he would take her away from Stratford Creek. She closed her eyes, snuggled close to him, and drifted off to sleep.
###
Dr. Jules Kolb’s face was set in hard lines as he slipped through the trees behind the guest cottage. His breath coming in painful gasps, he waited under the shade of the branches, watching the house. He was too old and used up for this. And he knew it would be disastrous for him to get caught inside, but he was going to take the chance. Because there was no better time—with every available security patrol out searching the grounds.
News of the explosion had taken him by surprise when he’d been writing up notes on a patient’s records. He’d heard two of the nurses babbling excitedly and was about to yell at them to keep it down so he could work. Then he’d caught the name “John Doe.” Slamming his pen down on the desk, he’d run out into the hall to find out what in the name of Sam Hill was going on.
Everybody was talking about it. But nobody was sure what had happened. A team had gone out to the site of the explosion, but they hadn’t found anything. Now they were searching farther along the lake and in the woods.
He couldn’t repress a high laugh as he wondered whether he should be excited or upset. It all depended on whether Reid was telling the truth. He’d told Emerson that the clone had set explosive charges on the cabin at the end of the pier in order to kill Kathryn Kelley. Reid had tried to stop him, but he’d been too late. How many people had believed that absurd story?
The staff meeting had been a zoo, he thought, with everyone pointing fingers. Swinton was angry that Kelley had ever been brought into the project, and Anderson kept saying that the fault was in basic specifications of the program. That was one of the little bastard’s basic themes. Luckily, that had turned Swinton’s wrath on his subordinate. Emerson had tried to quiet things down. But it was obvious he’d lost control of the meeting.
Kolb sighed. At least no one had turned on him. But now Emerson would go back through the records. And that was bad news.
He had to press his hands against his sides to keep them from shaking. Muttering under his breath, he began to move toward the sliding glass door in one of the bedrooms. Weeks ago, he’d discovered the defect in the doors. One of them had a flaky locking mechanism. All you had to do was lift the glass panel upward, and you could disengage the latch.
Grasping the handle with shaky fingers, he pulled upward, straining with the effort, uttering an explosive curse when the panel refused to come free. Then it suddenly gave, and he almost hit his damn hands against his chin.
Yanking the door open, he stepped inside. Quickly he checked the bedroom. Finding nothing of interest, he made his way down the hall and spotted the computer sitting on the dining room table. When he saw what was on the screen, he sucked in a sharp breath. So, she’d found out about Ben Lancaster! With a shaky hand, he reached out and closed the file, then removed the thumb drive from the machine.
###
When Kathryn opened her eyes again, she sensed that time had passed. Turning her head, she looked at Hunter. He had covered them with an extra blanket and lay with his arm possessively around her.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he answered, reaching to touch her cheek.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“A little. Then I got up and went out to set alarms. I want to know if someone comes near this place.”
“I would have worried if I’d woken up and found you gone,” she murmured.
“You were very tired—after the explosion. And the swim.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “And making love.”
She nodded.
“You didn’t wake up even when I got back under the covers and held you,” he said, his voice full of tenderness and a kind of wonder. “I watched your face. It was peaceful. And your breathing was even. You felt safe here—with me.”
“Of course,” she answered, kissing his chest, snuggling against him. She looked around the small room. It was dark and bleak, and the bed was only a couple of blankets on the floor, yet she was more content than if she’d spent the night in the world’s most sumptuous honeymoon suite.
His hands drifted over her. “I was thinking about the time we lay together on a blanket in the desert,” he said. “With the sunset making everything glow.”
“That sounds like a nice idea,” she said dreamily.
“It isn’t an idea. I mean, it is one of the memories in my mind. I can bring it back. The way I can bring back the look on your face when I came back from the hospital.”
She turned her head toward him. “Ben Lancaster lived in New Mexico. Maybe he did that. Maybe it’s his memory.”
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sp; “You are part of it. I see your face. Your hair.”
“It can’t be me. I would be too young for him. And he had a wife.”
He nodded.
She stroked the side of her hand along his beard-stubbled cheek. “We need to know more about him,” she said. “And about how you can remember things he did. Maybe you have a stronger connection to his life than you think. Maybe it helped you survive in this place.”
“I—I don’t know.”
“We’ll find out,” she promised him.
He looked as if he didn’t think it was possible, and she didn’t want to spoil this time together by making him worry. So, she changed the subject. “Did you say you brought field rations here?”
“Yes.” He slipped out of bed, and she saw he’d dressed in sweatpants. He opened a canvas pack. “They’re not very good.”
“I’ll manage. And while you’re at it, maybe you can find me something to wear.”
“I like looking at you the way you are.”
She blushed and pulled the covers over her breasts as she sat up.
“I like to see your face get warm, too.”
“You’ll see a lot more of that unless you find me some clothes. I’m not used to lounging around like this.”
He got up, looked through the boxes, and handed her a dark tee shirt, which she pulled over her head. When he rejoined her on the bed, he brought protein bars and bottled water.
They ate sitting with their backs propped against the wall.
“While you were asleep, I was thinking.”
“About escape plans?”
“Yes. And about Reid. He could be the same man who came into the cottage that first night. But I don’t think he could have made elaborate plans by himself.” He hesitated. “I think he was supposed to kill me after the explosion. Otherwise, I could tell what happened.”
She gave an unwilling little nod.
“Someone wanted us both dead,” he continued.
She struggled to think objectively. “Not Swinton. At least, I don’t think so. This project is important to him. On the other hand, he didn’t want me working with you in the first place. I guess he thought I would make you start asking questions and refuse your assignment.”
