Authors: Christine Young
Part of Lainie wanted to go back to the life she'd had so long ago. She wanted to live, not merely survive.
She is a thief and a whore, and she set me up to die
.
Will Slade ever believe anything thing else about her?
Despondently, Lainie finished her swim, used the soap they'd brought with them, and after drying herself off slipped her clothes on and walked in the direction Slade had vanished to find camp.
Slade was sitting by a newly laid campfire. His eyes still burned with hunger when he looked at her.
"I left the soap and towel there for you," she said, watching him and battling the truth she needed to tell him.
He nodded and walked past her. She watched until he disappeared before she sat on a log and relaxed. It would have been nice to have a change of clothes.
She wondered if Slade was in the pool naked. The thought stretched her nerves to a ragged edge.
And she knew if he asked
,
she would give him whatever he wanted. If he wanted her when he returned, she would tell him all of the truth. She wouldn't leave him to guess.
Chapter Thirteen
Lainie made up her mind to tell Slade about Bertram. She massaged her neck and pushed her hair from her face in an effort to keep her eyes open. But Slade wasn’t there, and as the minutes ticked by her eyelids grew heavy and she began to nod off, jerking awake with every little animal noise and every twitch of the wind against the foliage.
She lay back, watched the wind stir the branches of the trees above, and listened to the chatter of the squirrels.
When Slade came back to camp, he found Lainie curled up in a little ball, fast asleep. Gently, he moved a strand of hair away from her face, wishing to see her, needing to touch her if only to reassure himself that she was alive. She moved slightly and sleepily looked at him with eyes the color of a summer sky.
"May I join you?" he asked, grinning from the inside out. "I'd like a nap too."
She nodded, a soft smile touching her lips.
When Slade stretched out beside Lainie, she reached out to him.
"You smell like roses," she whispered. "I like it." She touched his jaw line with a delicacy he'd never known before. The gesture was so intimate it made him shiver.
"I wouldn't expect anything different. It's your soap." He smiled thinking that kissing her would not be enough. If she did let him kiss her, he'd have a devil of a time stopping
himself
.
"I'd like to talk to you," she told him, her smile vanishing.
"Would you like to kiss me instead?" he asked. "I'd like that better than talking." His hand explored the length of her arm to rest on her shoulder then cup her chin.
The crystal blue of Lainie's eyes shimmered with heat hot enough to burn him, yet he made no more advances. He waited for her to do the asking.
"Yes," she said. "I want to kiss you, but we have to talk first. I have something that needs saying."
Slade shook his head. "No," he said, running out of patience. "Kiss now, talk later." Slowly Slade bent and put his mouth over Lainie's. She made a soft sound of acceptance and remembrance all in one. The gentle exploration of his tongue undid her, unraveled her one tiny strand at a time, almost making her forget her pledge to him and to herself. For a short tender amount of time, she reveled in the satin pulse of penetration and retreat, felt again the warmth of him sweeping within her in a wave of mercuric bliss.
Slade held Lainie's face in his hands, as if he were allowing her the time to adjust to the heated inferno racing though her like hot molten lava.
"Little fox," he whispered, "you set me on fire. You burn me to my soul."
She answered with a swallowed cry and a tremor of pleasure as his teeth traced sweetly across her throat.
The passionate cry that tore from her was a reminder of the consequences of this if she didn't stop Slade and tell him what happened that horrible day. With each sweet, hot caress her control was slowly slipping away. She wanted some thing so intangible she didn't know what it was. She wanted to feel part of him to be as one with him. She didn't want to stop him, but if she didn't, it would soon be too late.
"Slade," she whispered.
"Hush, little darling."
"I--"
"No, don't say anything. I want you to forget everything but
me--everyone--all
the pain and suffering you've had to endure. I want you to come to me in a golden, shimmering fire that won't ever stop burning. I don't care how many men you've known." He looked at her with eyes hot enough to set her on fire.
“I haven’t…” she tried to tell him.
“Hush. No more lies.”
She tried so hard to stop. Her hands rose to his shoulders but instead of pushing him away, her fingers pressed into his flesh. Her hands pulled him closer and she arched into him, aching for the warmth of his touch. She didn't have the power within her to stop.
Once more, Slade lowered his mouth over Lainie's, letting the rising currents of passion swirl around them, heating them, leaving them with only one place to go--only one ending to what they had begun.
Stop
now,
stop this before it's too late.
Lainie's fingers rose to Slade's head and slid into his thick, cool hair, seeking the elemental warmth beneath. She used her nails to glide through and separate strands of his silken hair. The primal sound he made was both incentive and reward. She flexed her fingers again, and again felt the response that rippled through his powerful body, and she felt the power she held over him.
"Such sweet, hot fire" Slade murmured. "I've never known anyone who burned so hot and so fast."
His teeth closed over Lainie's lip with careful restraint. She made a startled sound of pleasure. Grinning, he let go of her lip so gently she felt the small indentions of his teeth stroking the smooth, responsive flesh.
"Slade, I--" she began again.
"Hush."
She followed him as he withdrew. She longed for more of the sweet torture. She wanted Slade to keep holding her forever. But she had to end this. She had to tell him the truth and watch him withdraw from her forever. No man wanted a woman who had been used in such a way. He would believe that what happened had been her fault and that in some way he would think she had asked for it--had teased or tempted Bertram.
I don't care how many men you've known.
A few more sweet seconds couldn't hurt. She only wished for a few more moments to store away, to remember. Because in the end, all she would have would be her memories. Slade would leave her, because she didn't believe he meant what he said. No man could mean that.
He laughed softly and turned aside, denying her his mouth. When she tried to pull him to her, he held her face still between his hands. Her lips were parted, waiting with longing for the one man she could love, and the one man she would lose.
"Slade?"
He made a quizzical sound that was rather like a purr of contentment.
'Please, kiss me one more time," she whispered.
"You kiss me," he countered, his eyes shimmering green fire.
She held her breath, gazing into the heated warmth of his eyes. One more time she told herself. For now he wants me to kiss him.
"What are you waiting for? Do it now, sweet darling.”
Lainie nodded. She saw the burning heat in Slade's eyes, heard it in his sultry voice, felt it in the tension of his hands. Realizing how much he wanted her kiss caused a curious fire to flame.
"I want to taste you," she murmured close to his ear, letting a strand of her hair cascade across his chest and arms.
Slade inhaled a deep breath and opened his eyes. He began to answer but Lainie's mouth closed hesitantly over his, her tongue tracing the seam of his mouth. She was curious with the need to explore wedged deeply inside. She wanted Slade to understand that she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything or anyone.
Butterflies danced in her stomach. Molten heat swept through her. Raw hunger for Slade overpowered all her thoughts and all her good intentions.
He groaned softly and she inhaled the sound he made setting more flames dancing inside.
Lainie gave Slade what he wanted because he had taught her well. The taste of him was known to her. Their mouths melded together. Their tongues danced and played with each other. His textures lured her, making her feel both faint and curiously in control. He rolled over pulling her on top of him, giving her even more power in this primal dance. She moved against him trying to close the tiny distance between them, wanting an even deeper, more intimate tasting of him.
For a brief moment she pulled back, cupping his face in her hands, needing to memorize the angled planes and contours of his face. Then she bent forward and brushed his lips with hers.
As she deepened the kiss, his hands roamed and explored her back, tracing each bone delicately, softly sending exquisite sensation racing through her. She began to twist slowly against him, dragging the hardening peaks of her breasts over the tense hard muscles of his chest. The need to tear his clothes from his body so she could feel all of him swept through her.
With her kiss, the sound Slade made was both encouragement and sensual demand. She ran her nails down the tightly corded muscles of his shoulders and arms, wanting to feel his powerful body, wanting to be pulled more closely to him. In one easy fluid movement, he reversed positions with her.
"Wait," she whispered.
She heard him swear softly, pulling away from her both physically and mentally. A cold wave of fear swept through her, but the sensation wasn't nearly as cold as Slade's penetrating eyes.
"Please," she said, scooting out from under him and sitting up yet trying to keep some contact with a man who had just withdrawn from her. "I don't want to stop, but--"
"You could have fooled me." His voice was harsh and unforgiving. “Just what do you think wait means?”
“Not what you think,” she whispered.
She felt the distance between them grow. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. She inhaled a long deep breath, more for courage than anything else as she tried to meet his gaze. She wasn’t always this frightened.
"Slade, please. Just listen to me. You can hate me when I'm finished. But then there will be no lies or pretense between us." A lone tear slipped down her cheek. She didn't want to wipe it away and call attention to it, so she turned away from him, hiding her fear and her sorrow.