The Mercenary (11 page)

dark hair ran down his washboard-flat stomach to the waistband of his jeans. He started unzipping his fly,

and Tory swallowed audibly as a vee of paler skin was exposed. And then Marc, wearing nothing but

skimpy black briefs, settled himself comfortably on top of the silver thermal blanket.

“Best get some sleep, princess. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” He pillowed his arms beneath his

head, his eyes narrowed as he watched her. Tory picked up his discarded jeans, folded them, then

placed them by the water bottle and picked up his shirt. It smelled like him, hot and sexy. She forced

herself to fold it neatly on top of the jeans.

“I slept all day. I’m not tired.” There was nothing else to tidy. While the idea of leaving her brother

wherever he was made Tory’s heart falter, she had to trust that Marc knew what he was doing. But

waiting until dark to go looking again meant an entire day trapped in the cave with Marc. Her

grandmother would have said she had ants in her pants. She would have been partially right.

It annoyed her that he looked so relaxed while she was as wound up as an old-fashioned watch spring.

She wished that he’d left his jeans on. Unwillingly, her eyes traveled down the long length of his

practically naked body.

“Come over here, then,” he said, his voice silky soft in the half-light. “I’ll show you what we can do

instead of sleeping.” Tory grabbed the bar of soap out of the pack and picked up a damp towel. “I’m

going to take a bath.”

Marc closed his eyes, a small smile playing around his mouth. “Don’t wake me when you come to bed.”

He made it sound so…intimate. She scowled as she walked out of camp. As soon as she saw the hot

steaming water in the small circular pool she started pulling the damp sweatshirt over her head. The jeans

came next. It was a good thing she could use her arm a little now.

Sliding slowly into the water, she rested the cast on the ledge of rock and closed her eyes as the hot

water soothed her aching muscles. The water was relaxing. She started soaping herself before zoning out

in the soporific heat of the water. Her skin jumped as her soapy hand skimmed her body.

What would it

be like…? She pushed that thought out of her mind. Marc Savin was dangerous; he made her think of

things she’d never imagined. He made her want things that she’d only read about. How could just

spending a few days with the man turn her thoughts from rational to irrational?

The thought of his hand on her breast made her skin shiver. Oh, God. All she could think about when he

was anywhere near her was his touch on her bare skin. The way his hands had felt caressing her hair.

Somehow the combination of danger and the proximity of Marc were enough to make her crazy. Only a

crazy woman would be fantasizing about a man who couldn’t be more wrong, more ill-suited for the life

she’d chosen for herself. She wanted nesting and consistency. Home and family—things a man like Marc

probably mocked in his sleep. Correction—he probably mocked them openly—Lord knew he wasn’t

one to keep his opinion to himself.

So, it had to be a situational psychotic break. There was something compellingly erotic about the danger

mixed with an unhealthy dose of pent-up sexual frustration on her part.

She played the What If game in her mind. She’d never fit into his life. He liked danger.

She’d seen the

anticipation on his face as they’d surveyed the sleeping town of Pescarna.

She just wanted to find Alex and go back to her quiet, predictable, normal life. She wanted to go back

to her color-coordinated wardrobe—so what if it was all neutrals? She wanted her safe, comfortable

eight-to-five job at the auto-parts store.

She didn’t like adventure. It was fine to read about it, but she was already good and sick of living it. And

Marc Savin scared her, most of all. It wasn’t just the fact that he held a gun like a natural extension of his

arm. When he’d kissed her she’d forgotten every single thing her grandmother had ever warned her

about. And there had been a ton of overprotective warnings delivered over the years.

Shivering despite the hot water, she laid the tie from the end of her braid carefully on her folded clothes

and let her hair fan around her. She wanted shampoo and conditioner—not utilitarian soap. Soap she

shared with Marc. Impatiently she lathered her hair and sank beneath the surface to rinse it.

Marc wasn’t for her. They were as different as chalk from cheese. When she got back to her real world

she would forget all about him and get on with her life. The only reason her mind was consumed with him

at all was because of the close proximity. It wasn’t as if he could go unnoticed. He was large, menacing,

intriguing, handsome—whoa! She couldn’t think of him in those terms. No good could or would come of

it.

Something brushed her foot and slithered around her ankle. She gave a piercing shriek, shooting up out

of the water, scraping her leg on the rocks.

There were no footfalls, but suddenly he was there.

“What the hell is it now?” Marc came up behind her as she stood shivering on the bank.

He held a

flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other. He played the light on her face.

Heart pounding she squinted into the light. “There’s…there’s something in the water.” She shuddered as

the water from her clinging wet hair dripped down her bare legs.

He turned the light on the rippling surface of the pond. An annoying little smile played around the corners

of his mouth after he trained the narrow beam into the steaming water. A piece of vine, no more than six

inches long, floated just below the surface. “Yeah, I can see how this could scare the hell out of you.”

Tory gritted her teeth. How was she supposed to have seen it? Mr. Macho had kept the flashlight with

him. She glanced down, she was naked—again—and standing dripping on her neatly folded clothes.

With a moan she picked up the damp clothes and hugged them to her chest. “Turn around,” she

demanded, hot all over.

Marc turned around in a full circle. Directing the full force of his pale eyes on her naked skin. Up and

down, down and up. She felt the heat of his gaze like a caress. Her heart stopped, then started beating

triple time as he flicked off the flashlight, plunging them into the ethereal, faint sapphire glow from the

lake. It illuminated the hard planes of his cheekbones. His eyes glittered dangerously, as he watched her,

as if he couldn’t help himself.

She could see his body quite clearly in the soft iridescent glow of the water. Which meant he could see

her just as clearly—see the trickle of water slowly streaming between her breasts She clutched the

clothes tighter to her midriff, until her hand hurt. While she’d never felt it before, this intense, consuming

attraction had her ready to explode. Tory felt another trickle of water beading on her breast, and saw his

eyes follow its path. Mesmerized, she stood absolutely still, feeling her blood heat and surge through her

body.

His muscles flexed under satin-smooth skin. “Princess,” he warned in a strange deep tone that made her

nerve endings shiver. “Now would be a great time to cut and run.” He stepped closer, his footsteps muffled on the springy turf surrounding the pool. He was so close she

could feel the heat and power of his hard body all the way down her naked torso. His hand came up to

push her wet hair back over one shoulder. His touch was gentle, but his voice was harsh.

“Run.”

“I…can’t.” If her life depended on it, Tory couldn’t have moved right then.

“Tell me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

He half chuckled, half groaned. “Drop the clothes, Tory.” The bundle of damp clothing fell to rest near her bare feet. She tilted her face up to look at him.

His finger traced over her lips. “I like your mouth. More than I should.” He drew in a sharp breath as he moved the rest of her long hair over the other shoulder until she stood

fully exposed before him. His shadowy eyes swept over her body. She felt strangely euphoric as she saw

the rapid rise and fall of his chest just inches away from her.

Involuntarily her own hand reached out to touch the springy mat of hair on his chest.

His fingers slipped

down her bare arm to hold her hand in place. “Do you know what you’re doing?” She felt the wild tattoo of his heartbeat under her palm, and curled her fingers, brushing her knuckles

against muscle and hot skin. An electric sensation shivered up her arm. Her wet hair clung to her back as

she swayed closer. “I’m hoping you know enough for both of us.” His mouth found hers, and Tory closed her eyes as she felt him part her lips with the delicious heat of his

tongue. A low thrill surged through her body as he kissed her until she was light-headed, his mouth moist

and insistent as he urged her to respond.

Marc dragged his mouth away from hers, then claimed her lips again in a series of deep kisses that had

her straining on tiptoe against the wall of his chest. She couldn’t seem to get close enough.

Taking a handful of her wet hair, he drew it with maddening slowness across her breasts. “If you had any

idea…” His voice was thick as he smoothed the strands down her breasts, across the quivering curve of

her belly and down. Her hair was cool against her naked skin but she could feel the heat of Marc’s

fingers through the wet strands. Her skin felt ultrasensitive as his incredibly inventive hands trailed to the

very ends of her hair.

His callused fingers dipped fleetingly into the crease between her thighs. Tory thought she might fly out of

her skin.

“If you knew what fantasies I’ve had about your hair…” he whispered.

His hand slid up her narrow rib cage and covered her damp breast. Her nipple was so engorged that it

actually hurt, demanding attention. Her body swayed toward him as he smoothed both hands across the

aching peaks. Her head felt unbearably heavy and she rested it against his chest. When she opened her

mouth against his throat, his hot skin tasted slightly salty, and she could feel the thundering of his

heartbeat.

“Tory,” he said hoarsely, warningly. She kissed his throat again, passionately.

“Make love to me,” she whispered against his skin. “Please, Marc, make love to me.” Her cool hands

skimmed the small of his back as she tried to pull him even closer.

He wanted to argue that this was neither the time nor the place. It defied logic, that she would feel so

incredibly wonderful against him, that her breast fit his hand just right, that her satin skin seemed made for

his touch. That she was so perfect.

Perfectlywrong for him in every way.

He gritted his teeth as her hand skimmed across his stomach. “Seems as if neither one of us knows what

we’re doing,” Marc muttered, his voice ragged.

Tory felt the muscles under her hand tighten as he hesitated. She felt powerful.

Invincible. Gloriously

unafraid. She slid her hand down to the waistband of his briefs.

He clutched her wrist and held it away, his mouth coming down on hers in another soul-stealing kiss.

Tory pulled her arm free and wrapped it around his sleek muscled back. His body was hard and heavy

as he lowered her onto the cool bed of moss.

His mouth, fixed on hers, was greedy, devouring. He seemed to want to absorb her. He kissed her

hotly, insistently, and she gave back to him, tasting, savoring the dark flavor of him.

He lowered his mouth to taste one breast and Tory jerked as his hair brushed her skin.

The touch of his

hot, wet mouth on her breast was electrifying.

She felt the rasp of his teeth on her nipple, and she arched her back as the hard length of his arousal

pressed at the juncture of her thighs. Moaning, she greedily ran her mouth over any part of him she could

reach. He tasted so good, she couldn’t get enough of him. His skin was like hot satin here, rough there.

She savored every new texture.

With his hands, followed by his open mouth, he caressed every exposed part of her—

first her thighs,

then down the length of her legs until she moved restlessly against him.

Tory’s eyes fluttered open as he rose to strip off his briefs. He was fully, magnificently, erect. He knelt

down between her legs, his eyes dark, his chest moving rapidly as he sucked in much-needed air.

Victoria shivered from the heat of his gaze as he slowly moved his hands to the juncture of her thighs, his

concentration frustrating and complete. She wanted him to hurry, but he moved with methodical precision

to untangle her long tresses from the nest of short curls at the apex of her thighs. Then, gripping both her

arms, he settled them above her head so that she lay suppliant and exposed before him.

“You’re perfect.” The heat of his pale eyes was like a physical caress as he scrutinized her. But she

wanted more. The blanket of wet hair stuck to her skin, tickling nerves already screaming for his touch.

She licked her lips, groaning when he cupped both breasts in his hands. Her aching nipples were

soothed momentarily as he took each hard bud between his fingers, rotating them. An instant later, he

settled his mouth on one peak, drawing it in, teasing excruciatingly with his tongue.

When his hand trailed

down over the swell of her hip and brushed through the damp curls she gasped.

He opened her with his fingers, and she felt his first intimate touch. Her body arched reflexively. She

cried out as two fingers slipped inside her. Her vision blurred, and she clutched a handful of the