Her Passionate Need Read online

  He thrust into her, his powerful leg and hip muscles moving in double-time. After a false start, she found his rhythm. Face to face, in full daylight with only the unconcerned animals to keep them company, she felt alive and centered. With each drive, his scrotum slapped her crotch, the sound translating into a drumbeat inside her.

  For the first few seconds, she didn't focus on anything except the feel of Devin's penis deep inside her and the growing current in her clit, but this wasn't just about her pleasure. His was equally, if not more, important.

  After assuring herself that her movements matched his, she lifted her gaze so she could see his eyes. He stared back at her, and although she found it slightly disconcerting to know he could read her every emotion while caught in the pleasure of sex, it was all right since his emotions were equally naked.

  He was living for this moment, maybe unaware of the world around him. She imagined that, like her, his nerves were fully alive. Knowing that he was seeing, actually seeing her and not just focused on his own release and what he had to do in order to accomplish that, made her feel even more tuned into him.

  Wrong! They shouldn't be doing this, not with his accusations about John still between them.

  Didn't matter. Didn't matter. If anything, the wrongness made their intercourse even more intense.

  She nipped at his chin. He reared back and, still holding her welded to him, gave her a quizzical look.

  "I felt like it," she said.

  "What else do you have in your bag of tricks?"

  She hadn't had a bag of tricks in her life. Certainly, as a married woman, she had never been anything except the dutiful wife. But there were no guidelines for what they were doing and no restrictions. Only wrong and right and welding the two into one.

  "I'm learning," she whispered as the electrical current inside her kicked up another notch and promised to take her beyond the point of being able to talk. "Learning that sex is a hell of a lot of fun."

  "It can be. If everything comes together."

  "Make it like that for me, please."

  "I'll try."

  He made good on his vow, not by pounding away at her at such a pace that she'd feel she was riding a runaway horse, but by shifting her so she now rode even lower on his hips. She clamped her legs around him and balanced herself as best she could so she wouldn't strain his back and then simply and completely surrendered to fucking and being fucked.

  He slid in and back, in and out, never leaving her completely thank goodness but with enough freedom for his cock that she felt the joyful dance throughout her cunt. Her breasts jiggled with such abandon that she nearly laughed. Sex could be fun. What an incredible revelation—sex could flat-out be fun!

  More than that, it became a rumbling, volcanic action that left her feeling like a proverbial leaf caught in raging water. With no desire to find the shore and safety, she let the current sweep her away. Her clit began to shudder; the gyration increased, and she cried out.

  The shudder became a spasm, and she sobbed, caring not at all how far the sound might carry. Sweat soaked her; the top of her head felt as if it might blow off, but that was nothing compared to the explosion between her legs.

  "Oh God! Oh my God!"

  Chapter 10

  Feeling weaker than he remembered ever being, Devin let Ana slide down his body until her legs were once again on the ground. He wasn't quite sure where he'd been but didn't care. Taking what inventory he could of himself, he discovered that his body was sweat-soaked, and his now deflated cock was drenched with both their sex fluids. He could smell their earthy aromas, her taste still in his mouth.

  She clung to him, her head resting against his chest, arms locked around his waist. For a competent businesswoman, she felt fragile and vulnerable. He'd done it again. Turned his back and sanity on why he'd made contact with her and his determination to learn who had murdered his best friend. Soon, very soon, he'd demand honesty from himself and return to the only goal that mattered to him. But for these post-coital moments, he'd run his fingers down the small of Ana's back and press her belly and pelvis against himself. She wasn't the only one wearing the label vulnerable.

  In the end, the stiff breeze along his naked, sweat-slick shoulders forced him to open his eyes.

  "We need to get dressed." His voice felt too-long unused. "Otherwise, we're going to get cold."

  "All right." She didn't move. Neither did he.

  "Ana?"

  "I know. I just…I guess I just want to hold still for a few minutes until I understand…how did this happen? I didn't think…"

  "I don't know." It was the truth. "I hope you don't think I intended to seduce you. It just happened."

  She didn't say anything, and he could only hope she believed him. When she straightened and took a backward step, he didn't try to keep her with him. Instead, risking a great deal, he looked down at her. Her breasts, although probably a C cup, were in proportion with the rest of her muscular body. Yet they commanded his attention. . .them and the dark pubic hair that prevented him from seeing what he'd lost himself in a few moments ago.

  She wasn't a sorceress, and he couldn't call her a temptress, and yet there was something about her that defied comprehension. Maybe she sensed he was trying to fathom her power over him and wasn't about to reveal her secrets, and maybe she simply felt uncomfortable with being naked in the middle of the wilderness. Whichever it was, when she knelt to pick up her clothes, he stepped into his briefs, then watched her pull back on her panties. Knowing his cum was already leaking onto the crotch was unbelievably erotic.

  "We…" She took a deep breath. "What do you want to do?"

  Give him a few minutes, and he'd be able to demonstrate. Instead of telling her that, he gathered his intellect about him and took in their surroundings. "I need to get a better sense of what happened here, familiarize myself."

  She fastened her bra in front and then slid it around and leaned forward, positioning her breasts inside the cup. "You don't need me for that," she said. "In fact, if you had a map, you could have come here without me."

  He waited until she'd straightened and was facing him. "It's back to that, isn't it," he said. "Not trusting me."

  Her laugh was bitter. "It can't be any other—"

  An explosion cut her off in mid sentence. Even as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened, he dove at her and knocked her to the ground. They landed side by side on her jeans.

  "Shooting!" he gasped. "Someone's—"

  "I know." Like him, she continued to hug the ground. If he'd injured her, she gave no indication.

  After placing his hand on the side of her head to make sure she didn't try to lift it, he propped himself up on an elbow. The tree-choked mountains had muffled the sound, making it all but impossible to determine where it had come from. Just the same, he knew the only thing that counted—the shooter was nearby.

  "We're exposed." He struggled to keep his voice calm. "We have to get to cover."

  "I know."

  She wasn't panicking; at least they had that going for them. Looking around, he decided that their best chance lay in trying to make their way to a large clump of brush maybe twenty feet away. Being nearly naked made him feel vulnerable but not nearly as vulnerable as not being able to reach his gun. Damn. The pistol was maybe twenty feet away, in the open, and he'd left his rifle on his horse. If she wasn't here, he would have risked going after the handgun.

  "I'll go first," he told her. "I don't want you moving until I know it's safe."

  She grabbed his arm. "This is no stupid hunter, is it? You think someone's shooting at us, don't you?"

  "Yeah."

  Comprehension continued to grow in her eyes, but he still saw no sign of panic. Belatedly, he noted the animals' restless movements. If they ran away. . .

  Dismissing what he couldn't do anything about, he began scooting forward on hands and knees. Rocks and forest debris cut into his flesh, but he had no choice. When he'd covered about half of the
distance to the hopefully sheltering brush, he looked over his shoulder at her.

  "Come on," he whispered.

  She nodded and hoisted herself off the ground while clutching his jeans. He should continue his own retreat, but he needed to make sure she was going to be all right. Gritting her teeth, she moved one knee and shifted her weight.

  Maybe he should have anticipated the second shot, but when it cracked and dirt exploded in all directions only a few feet away, he jumped. "Shit!" he gasped. Then: "Run for it! Now!"

  She'd sprung to her feet before the words were out of his mouth. He reached the brush, then whirled and held out his arms. She crashed into him, and they hugged the ground. The brush was tall and thick enough to shield them, but whoever was firing had seen their attempt at escape. A horse whinnied and the mules seemed to bray in unison.

  "Grab rocks!" Ana ordered. "Throw them at the animals."

  "What?"

  Instead of repeating herself, she snatched up a couple of palm-sized rocks and hurtled them at the nearest horse's flank. At the same time, she yelled, sounding for all the world like an Indian on the warpath. Both of her rocks struck her horse, causing it to squeal and rear.

  Shit! She was causing a diversion!

  Following her lead, he dug a rock out of the earth and threw with all his strength. The stone crashed into a mule's neck. The animal kicked out with its rear legs, lifted its head as high as it would go and brayed. He was rather proud of his accomplishment but doubted that Ana was paying attention because she'd already gotten another handful and aimed at her horse's underbelly. The poor confused creature snorted and jumped away, nearly falling.

  Another rifle shot! Then, less than a second later, another. The animals charged back and forth, sometimes colliding with each other. Not giving them time to gather their wits, he threw and yelled, threw and yelled.

  His gelding, its ears back and eyes wide and disbelieving, galloped away from the creek. Not waiting to see if the others would follow suit, he grabbed Ana's hand and yanked her toward him.

  "We can't stay here! The trees!"

  She jerked free. "Not together. Apart, we make smaller targets."

  How did she know about something like that? Instinct, he answered his own question. Leaving her to race toward her right, he struck off in the opposite direction. Unlike her, he didn't lean low to the ground but stood upright, hoping to draw the shooter's attention away from Ana. The ground lacerated his feet, but he refused to let that slow him. He prayed she could do the same.

  When he reached the nearest tree, he all but hugged it. It seemed to him that the shots were coming from partway up a rock and tree-choked steep slope overlooking the creek. He had absolutely no doubt that this wasn't some drunken out-of-season hunter. But who wanted him—them—dead?

  He'd been shot at before. Granted, it had only happened once and had been more of a warning than a serious murder attempt. The pistol in the nearly toothless and irate old man's hand had gotten his attention all right, and after the confrontation was over, he'd taken his fellow ranger to dinner and bought him the largest steak in the establishment because his co-worker had yanked the pistol out of the old man's grasp. The difference between this time and when he and the other ranger had tried to sneak up on a remote cabin where a poacher lived, was that both law enforcement officers had been armed and prepared.

  Today, not only was he unarmed, but he was barefoot to boot. Still, he was ready to die if it kept Ana alive.

  Ana. Where was she?

  Despite the almost overwhelming need to see how she was, he forcefully reminded himself that he wasn't going to do her any good with a bullet in him. Teeth clenched against the pain in his bare feet, he slipped from one tree to another. It became a game of hide and seek, a deadly game.

  The animals were gone. Fortunately, as far as he could tell, none of them had been shot. As for whether they'd return once the danger was over…he could only hope so since otherwise it would take them days to walk out. From where he was, he couldn't see his back pack, boots, and the rest of his clothes. Because he didn't know how long the shooter had been watching them, he couldn't be sure whether they knew the extent of his firepower.

  What chilled him the most and made it difficult to plan was that the would-be killer, or killers, was situated above him and Ana and able to see them the moment they exposed themselves. He shuddered at the thought of having to hide like a scared rabbit until night.

  Unless the enemy tried to put an end to this insane waiting game now.

  Ana had to be having the same thoughts. The danger and uncertainty had to be worse for her because she wasn't trained in law enforcement and had no ideas what their options were…not that they really had any.

  Unless she'd known—lured him—

  No! He'd never believe that.

  Abandoning his plan to remain separate from her, he took a moment to orient himself, then relied on the thick vegetation to provide the necessary camouflage. Either his feet had gotten used to being punished, or he no longer had the mental capacity necessary to hear their complaints. His skin itched where it had come in contact with various bushes, and he kept moving his hand to his waist as if expecting his pistol to suddenly appear there. He'd never felt so helpless.

  No! Feeling overwhelmed wasn't going to get him anywhere! Only determination would. That and the vow he now made to get Ana out of here alive.

  * * * * *

  Ana couldn't be sure, but she guessed she'd been hiding for the better part of an hour. Devin hadn't said anything, and although she strained to listen, she was certain he hadn't made any sound. She kept telling herself that he'd been all right when they separated, and that damn deadly rifle hadn't gone off since then. Unfortunately, she had nothing to think about except this nightmare.

  She was thirsty and hungry. A few minutes ago, she'd emptied her bladder and felt marginally better because of it. It didn't help that she'd moved around so much that she'd become disoriented. At least she had on her jeans, something that couldn't be said about Devin.

  Where was he? What was he thinking? Was he aware, like she was, of the sounds the unconcerned birds and insects were making? If nothing else, the critters grounded her and reminded her that other living things continued to go about their lives.

  Although at first she'd had to struggle against a fear that felt as if it was trying to crawl up her throat, fear couldn't sustain itself forever. She'd learned that during John's battle with cancer. Another thing about living with a death sentence, it put life into perspective. One never knew how long it would last, and as a result, every moment spent breathing was a blessing, something to be accepted for what it was.

  If only she didn't have to spend it alone.

  Whoever the sharpshooter was…she wasn't sure how she'd come to think of him that way…she'd become convinced that it had to do with Devin's friend's murder. That nameless, faceless shooter believed he had unfinished business, and until Devin was dead, he wouldn't give up.

  Unless she stopped that bastard.

  Was that who she'd turned into? She asked herself this question as she shifted position so the sun no longer beat down on her back. Had being shot at awakened a fierce determination to do whatever it took to keep Devin alive? Maybe. And maybe she simply couldn't handle the thought of him being dead.

  If only she had boots! And her trusty all-purpose knife. With those two items, she'd be superwoman. Instead of feeling as if she'd been hobbled, she'd be sneaking up the backside of that cliff. She'd inch soundlessly through the underbrush, determined and single-minded until she found the sharpshooter. She'd wait until she was close enough to jump him, then slash and open up his wrist. The moment he dropped his rifle to stare at the blood dripping from him, she'd snatch up the rifle and hit him over the head with it. He'd crumple into a motionless heap. She'd stand, place one foot on his chest and let out with the world's loudest Tarzan yell.

  Right! Then you'll wet your pants from fear.

  Deflated, she
put her mind to reality. If Devin was here, he'd know what to do, and with his arms around her, she'd stop shaking. Together they'd—

  Something slammed into her, knocking her face-first to the ground. A man's body settled over hers, holding her immovable. A frightened scream bubbled up but remained trapped behind the masculine hand now clamped over her mouth. Her muscles melted; the world darkened.

  "Ana, it's me."

  Devin whispered in her ear. She still couldn't move, but now the condition was because of relief, not fear. She felt him slide off her, but he kept an arm and leg over her, making her wonder if he knew how much she needed his warmth.

  "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't want to have to do that, but I needed to make sure you didn't give away our location." He freed her mouth. "Are you all right?"

  I am now. "I—think so."

  "Good."

  Relief flooded his voice; she had no doubt of that. Turning to the side, she looked over at him. Even with just his briefs on, he struck her as the most confident and determined man she'd ever seen. Although this was hardly the time for it, she couldn't resist running her hand over his naked chest. He smiled.

  "Miss me?" he whispered.

  "Oh, were you gone?"

  He turned sober, and after a moment so did she. "I don't know if he saw me coming your way."

  "If he did, he would have shot, wouldn't he?"

  "Unless he was waiting to make sure he had both of us in his sights."

  Despite her best effort, she shivered. "He wants us dead."

  "Yeah, he does."

  She wanted to ask him why but didn't because no matter that they'd twice had mind-stripping sex, the truth was, neither of them could completely trust the other. "What are we going to do?" she asked.