Princes of the Outback Bundle (4 page)

Just like that morning, Nic leaned into the kiss slowly, allowing her time to object. Instead, she came up on her elbows to close that last inch. One soft brush of her lips and fire shot through his veins.

Slowly, he followed her down onto the mattress. Quickly he discovered the same blaze of longing in her eyes. They didn’t need to talk, not when they communicated so well with their bodies. He loved this spontaneity. He loved their compatibility. He loved that they could pick up this morning’s kiss right where it ended.

It helped that they weren’t on horseback. And that her arms were looped around his neck, urging him nearer. With a hungry little sound, she opened her mouth and took him inside. Nic might have died and gone to heaven.

She tasted of coffee, warm and sharp and slightly bitter, but then he kissed her deeper until all that was left was Olivia. Hot, sweet and addictive. At the back of his mind he knew he should think about slowing down, easing off, pacing himself. But her use of the past tense kept pounding at his brain, and he felt an almost desperate need to imprint himself on her.

To prove they belonged together.

Only when he needed to breathe did he ease that first wild kiss, and then he didn’t go far. He sipped at her bottom lip, licked a line along her jawbone, kissed her throat.

He rolled onto his side, far enough to unzip her swag. She didn’t object. Instead, she kicked the thick canvas flap aside.

Her legs were bare, her shirt up around her hips. And Nic’s whole body throbbed with anticipation.

There must have been a remnant dash of blood that hadn’t rushed south. Enough for him to think,
steady, boy
, instead of bunching that shirt in both hands and ripping it off her. Unbuttoning the damn thing seemed to take forever, which, in his current state equated to anything longer than five seconds.

Maybe he voiced his frustration, because she laughed softly and—bless her sweet hide—helped him out.

That smidgen of blood left in his brain steadied him again, urged him to rise up on one elbow to take in the full effect of her pale-skinned beauty in the firelight.

She’d never looked more beautiful and, man, he wished he could find some words to tell her. But he’d never been slick with words, not when it mattered. He could joke and make her laugh. He could hold her and soothe her with murmured nothings.

But what he felt when he looked at her sometimes…like now…he had no words.

All he could do was show her. To worship every inch, every curve, every delicate slope, with hands, mouth and tongue.

He kissed the dark tips of her breasts, the smattering of freckles across her chest, the fragile tracery of veins on the inside of her wrists and elbows. He nuzzled her belly and licked the slope of her flank. Then he started all over again, at her toes and working his way, slowly, thoroughly, up one leg and then the other.

“Enough,” she whispered, coming up onto her elbows. “Enough.”

“Not quite.”

Nic kissed the inside of her thigh and heard her swift intake of breath. Felt the shiver of reaction in her flesh. He looked up and across the length of her naked body, their gazes linked and locked. Her eyes were dark and wild; the flames painted dancing shadows on her face and breasts. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, yes,” Nic said. “I do.”

Making her laugh wasn’t Nic’s only gift. He also knew when to get serious. Olivia closed her eyes and arched her back and pressed closer to the seriously carnal press of his mouth. His tongue, his lips, the gentle scrape of his teeth. It was almost too much, and then not enough.

She wanted more. She wanted him. Inside her body. Now.

But before she could say so, he changed the pressure and the sensations spinning through her body caught her off guard. He licked her again and her climax exploded, a hot and dizzying contrast to the cool wash of night air on her skin.

She heard the thud of his discarded boots on the hard ground, and realized he’d remained fully dressed. That, she thought, might be a first. Usually she met him halfway, undressing him as he stripped her.

By the time her world—and the whole night sky—stopped spinning and came into focus, he was naked except for protection.

He rose above her and kissed the world back out of focus. She caught his face between her hands, wanting that anchor. Beneath her palms she felt the abrasive texture of stubble. Against her body she felt the hot slide of his skin, between her legs the steely heat of his erection.

Something shifted in his kiss, in his eyes as he settled against her. She thought she tasted a sadness beneath the hunger, a quiet desperation, but realized the emotion was hers. Her acknowledgment that this was the last time. That she would never have this man again.

She tore her mouth away, to tell him…to tell him what? That she would never forget him, always miss him, forever love him. But her words became a long exhalation, a sigh and a moan, a cry and a plea, as he slid into her body.

Filling her with one long, hard thrust.

Had it only been six months? It seemed like forever since Nic had felt the intense ripple of sensation as her body accepted him, welcomed him, opened to him. Forever since he’d looked into her eyes and felt that slam to his chest.

The sense of
yes, this is what I come home to. This woman, this emotion, this completion.

He linked their fingers and held them high beside her head. “God, I’ve missed this, Liv. You, us, together.” Slowly, he started to move. “Every night I’m away I think about being with you.” Teasing her and torturing himself with restraint. “Like this. You beneath me. Me inside you.”

He kissed her again, to show what he couldn’t say. To taste her passion, to take her ragged breaths into his mouth as he steadily built the rhythm.

He released her hands. He wanted them on him, sliding over his back, her nails in his skin. He wanted his on her, palming her breasts, teasing her nipples until he took them into his mouth, one then the other, sucking until he saw the wild pressure building in her face again.

Driving into her, touching her slick folds, until her choppy breathing gave way to the broken cry of her orgasm. Until he gave in to the raging need and followed her down.

Afterward, he folded her close in his arms, protecting her desire-damp skin from the chill night air. And before he let sleep claim him, he held her even tighter against his chest and said, “I don’t know what you thought you were trying to say last night, when you told me about that letter. But we are definitely not ended.”

Nic made love to her again in the night, achingly slow, heartbreakingly thorough, as if he needed to drive home his message:
We are definitely not ended
. And Olivia believed what he told her with words and body. Always, in his bed, she believed. And then he would leave, for months at a time. That’s when the doubts set in.

When the first rays of dawn spilled over the landscape, she slid out of his arms and into her clothes. She needed to think. She needed to work out if last night made any difference. If his words meant anything more than,
Lord, I’ve missed the sex, honey
.

If
we’re absolutely not ended
meant
we have a future beyond a string of hot weekends.

She glanced across the dead remains of last night’s campfire to where Nic remained sound asleep. Even sleeping he looked strong and invulnerable. His own man, who needed no one and nothing but his flying.

Her chest tightened with an almost unbearable heart-deep longing. If only the night had included some words of love, of hope, of a future, but Nic always sidestepped that topic. Fool that she was, she’d stayed on here, she’d made love to him, hoping that this time there would be more.

I love you
, instead of,
I love sex with you
.

And would that make a difference? Would it matter if he loved her when he turned around and left again? Livvy pulled on her second boot and stared at the cold ashes of last night’s fire. Until he heard those words, until she looked into his eyes and saw that emotion, she just didn’t know.

From on top of a rise a short walk from the hut, she watched the sunrise and Nic’s approach. Knowing what she had to say, her heart beat hard with nerves. He calmed them by sitting behind her and drawing her back between his knees. The morning was cold and she welcomed his body heat and the blanket he wrapped around them both.

When he kissed her temple and snuggled her even closer, she bit back her it’s-time-to-talk opening. Instead, she said, “Not as colorful as the sunset, but dawn is nice in a quiet, unspectacular way.”

Like the future direction she had chosen, away from Nic’s passion. Quiet and unspectacular.

“Want to know how the local people believe the sun was made?”

She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Is this an Aboriginal dreamtime legend?”

“Yup.” His lazy smile completely disarmed her, even as he started into the story. “For a long time there was no sun, only a moon and stars, and the only birds on earth were great big birds. One day the big emu and the big brolga were arguing, and the brolga completely lost it. She tossed one of the emu’s eggs into the sky where it broke and burst into flame and lit up the world.”

She felt the warm drift of his breath near her ear. Then, “You light up my world, Liv.”

Oh, God. Why did he have to say that now? Why did he have to make this a zillion times worse than it already felt?

“Were you up here thinking about Brooke again?” he asked, as if he’d somehow detected her immense sadness.

“No. I was thinking about sunrises and sunsets, actually. Beginnings and ends.”

At her back she felt him go still. Tense. He’d read between the lines; she knew he’d guessed her meaning.

“It’s time I explained,” she continued, “about the letter I wrote you and why I decided to take this job in America.”

Nic unwound his long legs and rose to his feet. In her mind’s eye, Olivia could picture him standing there, hands on hips, looking down at her. “What is this job?”

“I’ll be a production assistant.”

He huffed out a breath. “A production assistant for your ex.”

Livvy looked up sharply. “That’s not why I got the job.” And this wasn’t a promising start to their dialogue. “Can we leave Grant out of this? Please? I made this decision—I wrote that letter to you—months before I bumped into him again. He’s irrelevant.”

“Isn’t this whole conversation irrelevant? Given last night?”

“Last night doesn’t change anything I wrote to you about.”

A muscle ticked in the side of his jaw—the only movement in his tall, dark figure. Livvy got to her feet, unable to sit still under that scrutiny. There were parts of this she’d tried to tell him before, but he’d always brushed her concerns aside. This time she had to make him understand.

“When you left the last time, I was even more miserable than usual. I don’t know why. Maybe because you were going away for such a long stint. Maybe because it was around Christmas and the start of a new year. I got to thinking, here I am: another year over and what have I got to show for it?”

She studied the long horizon for a moment while she put her remembered emotions together, while she attempted to construct them into words.

“I felt like I’d been marking time, not going anywhere in my job or in my life. But worse than that—I didn’t like that my whole happiness hung on your comings and goings.”

“You’ve had a rough couple of years.”

“Yes, I have, but not only because of Brooke.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you saying I’ve made you unhappy? Because that’s sure not how I’ve seen it. Hell, Liv, I make you laugh.”

“There’s my point!” she fired back. “One week you’re here, making me bust the happiness-meter, then you’re gone for weeks—months even—and I’m miserable. I don’t want to be on that emotional rollercoaster anymore. I don’t want the same kind of relationship as my sister.”

“As Brooke and Tomas?” He shook his head, looking completely perplexed. “I know they had their problems, but what’s that got to do with us?”

“They had their problems because of this place.” She swept her arms wide. “It’s part of Tomas, and he’s part of it. Without Kameruka, he wouldn’t be Tomas Carlisle and yet Brooke hated the place. Don’t you see?”

“I’m not an outback cattleman. I’m not Tomas Carlisle.”

“No, you’re a pilot. And that’s not just what you do, it’s
who you are
. Like this station is part of Tomas, flying is a part of you.”

The part she hated.

“Are you saying you don’t want me to fly?” he asked slowly.

“No. How could I? It’s part of you. Don’t you remember telling me about your first lesson, about your first time at the controls, your first solo flight? You said it was the only thing that came close to rivaling sex.”

Their eyes met for a moment, and she knew he was recalling the rest of that comparison. When he’d told her that making love with her blew any kind of flying right out of the sky. Olivia remembered that day, too, in infinite, minute detail. It was the day she’d discovered that she loved him.

Shutting down that bittersweet memory, she leaned closer, willing him to listen. To understand. And she willed those damn tears to stay away. “I can’t ask you to stop flying, Nic. I love you and I’ve loved every minute we’ve been together, but I can’t do this anymore. I just don’t think my love is enough.”

Nic stared at her in consternation. He didn’t believe this. It was bullshit. If she loved him, then why was she talking like it was over?

There had to be more. There had to be a way to fix this.

“What do you want from me, Liv? Commitment? A ring? Marriage?”

Her eyes flared, bright with shock and unshed tears. “No.
No!
”

“You say you love me, yet you don’t want to marry me?”

“I don’t want marriage vows that include ‘to love and cherish whenever you’re around’ or ‘until I have to go identify your body at a morgue!’ I need a man who’ll be around tomorrow and next week and next year.”

Nic did the translation: she wouldn’t consider marrying him because she was afraid he would be killed, like her sister, in a plane crash. Hope skyrocketed through his veins. Now he understood. Now he knew how to argue.

“That’s crazy talk, Liv. I’m a hundred times—maybe a thousand times—more likely to die off the job. I could get cancer like Charles Carlisle or get hit by a bus crossing the street next week. You saw that road accident yesterday. Stuff like that just happens.”

“I saw your landing yesterday, too. I was there!” Her voice rose, hot with fear and frustration. “I imagine with the kind of planes you fly, that just happens, too. I imagine it happening all the time!”

“No. You’re wrong. You’ve exaggerated the risks.”

“Possibly, but here’s the thing: it’s paranoia so it’s never going to be rational. You go away God-knows-where and I sit at home scared. I don’t want that middle-of-the-night call. I don’t want to identify your body. I can’t go through that again.”

Nic didn’t know what to say. He could feel this sliding away, could feel
her
sliding away, and he didn’t know how to stop it. “I can give up flying when this contract’s over. If that’s what you want, if that’s—”

“Then you wouldn’t be who you are. Don’t you see? I fell in love with the man you are—all of you. I don’t want to make you give up flying. That wouldn’t work.”

“We could make it work.”

“No.” She shook her head, then held up both hands to stave him off when he started toward her. “Please don’t do this. Please try to understand. I’m going to America next week. I want to move on.”

Desperation gripped him, black and stark. “You want me to pretend to understand what’s going on here? After what we did last night, after you screamed
my
name when you came, you want to move on? To America? To your big-shot ex? How the hell am I supposed to understand that?”

A dreadful silence followed his outburst. He watched her initial shock twist into disbelief and then harden into hurt and anger. “You think this is about Grant?”

“You tell me, Liv? Is it?”

“If that’s what you think, then I won’t waste my breath trying to explain anything else.”

“There’s more?”

“No,” she bit out. “There is no more. On that you can be very sure.”