Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (12 page)

"Doesn't water turn you back into a frog?" Delanie shot back, moving arms and legs to stay afloat.

Kyle grinned, his teeth white and straight in his tanned face. "I'm a prince?"

"Only by Machiavellian standards." She tilted herself upright. " 'A prince must use cunning and ruthless methods to stay in power,' " she quoted. "Does that about cover it?"

"I wouldn't have let him do it, you know."

"So say you." Barely a foot separated them. She noticed a compelling glimmer of amusement in his eyes and felt an answering heat surge up out of nowhere. He was a dangerously potent male animal and knew exactly how he affected her. One of the many things about this man that made her uneasy.

Why did he
do
this to her? Chin up, she back-paddled, giving herself a bit of distance. At least physically. "I noticed how quickly you jumped right in to stop him from trying to feed me to his pets."

He gave her a steady look. "He didn't do it, did he?"

The directions she was getting from her brain didn't seem to matter to her body. She trembled with the need to touch him. To feel the solid presence of his large body against her. Predatory and altogether too dangerously sexy for her to cope with.

In an attempt to appear causal, she floated farther back. "And that's because—why?" She found herself unreasonably annoyed. "Because you did
what
? Stood there leaning against the damn tree with your mouth shut while he tried to force my hand into that piranha soup?" Somehow without her being aware of it, he'd maneuvered her to the far side of the falls, blocking them from view of anyone on the patio. "What
I
think is that you have your own agenda and rescuing damsels in distress isn't part of it."

He narrowed his eyes, and said tightly, "I've saved your ass twice in two days."

"I was fine and dandy before you got here, and trust me, I'll be fine and dandy once you're gone."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said tersely, hardly moving but somehow getting closer. "I told you before, you're in way over your head, jungle girl. Now you know what I meant. Montero was proving a valid point. He can do whatever the hell he likes, and nobody will stop him. If I'd interceded this morning, we'd
both
have been tasty morsels."

"That's what I like so much about you, Dr. Jekyll. You're nothing if not predictable. A real hero. I'll be
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sure to put your name down for a medal when I get home."

"When's that going to be?"

"When I'm good and ready. If you're in such an all-fired hurry to get away from me, why don't
you
slither off?"

"I have business here."

"So do I." She rolled her eyes. "Must be a guy thing, presuming
your
business is more important than
mine."

"Want to compare notes?" He gazed at her with those disturbing eyes, schooled in the art of concealing his feelings.

Delanie threw him a wary glance and shook her head. White flag. He was much better at this game than she was.

Checkmate.

"How was your meeting?" she asked, to change the subject.

"Educational and annoying." He paused. "Do you really want to discuss my business meeting?"

"Not really." She paddled in place, bone weary. Too much tension, too much uncertainty, and too much Kyle Wright.

Things were happening too fast for assimilation. She longed for a momentary break in the hostilities to regroup and refocus. This morning was the first time she'd felt her own mortality. She shivered. If she died, Lauren was lost. It was as simple as that.

Kyle's broad shoulders were shiny wet, his slicked back hair like black ink as it floated in the water around him. He should have looked feminine with such ridiculously long hair. Instead he looked like some ancient pagan water god, wild and untamed, his pale eyes eerie in his darkly tanned face as he watched her.

Her legs were starting to get tired treading water, when she realized she could stand, too. The water came almost to her chin. She backed up just enough to have her shoulders clear the water.

Kyle's eyes crinkled and he gave her a quirky smile that did strange things to the pit of her stomach.

"I think I'll go in. I'm getting pruney." Despite her words and strong desire to put distance between them, she stayed where she was. She wasn't sure why she stayed. It was ridiculous to stand so close to him and try to ignore the way the water beaded on the crisp dark hair of his chest and the sensation of her heart as it picked up speed. He was dangerously compelling when he smiled at her like that.

A teasing, sexy smile she remembered only too well.

He drifted closer, brushed a dripping strand of hair off her cheek, and murmured, "Chicken."

Delanie lifted her eyes to his face. Her heart missed a beat. "Don't even
think
about it," she said weakly,
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annoyed for allowing herself to be in such close proximity to a man she found hard to resist.

His legs brushed against hers under water. Her muscles tightened for flight as his hand moved down the small of her back.

"I had something a little more active than
thinking
in mind, jungle girl." The low, lethal murmur rumbled like a warning.

A heat wave broke across her skin. "I—"

"Look at me," Kyle demanded, holding her fast.

"I don't want to look at you, you barbarian, I'm going…" She swallowed the words as they died in her throat. "Will you please let go?"

He pulled her in closer, and gently but firmly took her chin between his fingers and thumb. His cool, wet mouth touched hers. His chest brushed against her breasts. In response her nipples puckered, sending a red-hot spiral of desire shooting downward. Weightlessly her legs drifted against his. A zing of electricity shot up, deep inside her as he wedged one hard, muscular thigh firmly against her pelvic bone.

"Don't make me have to hurt you," she said. He wasn't playing fair, damn it!

"Scared of a little kiss?" The taunt mocked her.

"Not scared. Not interested."

"Liar."

"You don't do anything in half-measures," she said tightly, wanting to resist the lure of his mouth and unable to look anywhere else. Damn him.

She placed a defensive hand on his chest to shove him away, and felt the steady thud of his heart. Her fingers curled and kneaded the taut flesh. He felt strong and safe, and she closed her eyes and indulged in the luxury of not being terrified out of her wits for a few moments.

She wished he'd say something annoying, which would snap her out of this trance.
No, I don't.
Delanie admitted wistfully, as her search traveled from his eyes to his mouth, and then to the pulse at the base of his strong throat. There was no law saying she had to trust him to let him kiss her.

Her arms slid about his neck, her breath suddenly shallow and rapid. She could smell the faint trace of his woodsy aftershave, and the lingering scent of coffee on his breath, as he held her, his feet steady on the bottom of the pool, her only anchor in the buoyancy of the water. She had to hold onto him to remain upright.

Two layers of wet swimsuit felt like no barrier at all. The hair on his chest grazed her nipples and she felt the solid ridge of him at the juncture of her thighs. Slowly her lashes drifted up, and she met his eyes.

With his smoldering scrutiny, she was surprised the water wasn't boiling around them. Strands of his long hair wrapped around her like a caress. Nerve endings pulsed; the throbbing, building excitement made her eyes glaze. He was lethal to her peace of mind. Dangerous. Not to be trusted.

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She lost the thread of her thoughts as her entire being focused on the exquisitely pleasurable sensation his touch was arousing. Fool. She was dangerously tempted by a weakness she hadn't felt in years. And although she'd never been partial to danger, right now she found the idea of being this close to it exhilarating.

"Did we ever make love slowly?"

"I-I don't remember."

Kyle smiled. "Yeah, you do. And the answer is no. We never did. We were so hungry, we devoured each other in ravenous bites because we couldn't get enough. I want it different this time," he said with bone-melting heat. "I want to make love to you slowly… in a cool room… on a big bed. For hours. Then I want to start all over again, until neither of us can move—Want to come, jungle girl?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"No."

"Liar."

She gave him a steady look. Broad daylight, she reminded herself. People over there… Lauren—"Let's say we did,
and not
."

His eyes glinted with amusement. "Jungle girl," he said half to himself, "why is it you're always either seriously overestimating your willpower, or underestimating my powers of persuasion?"

Kyle reached out to cup her face and felt her shiver. She glared up at him, her eyes slits of annoyance.

But it was just an act now. He felt the electricity pulsing off her skin in palpable waves.

"I never underestimate myself." She met his gaze evenly. "Or my enemies."

Her nails dug into his forearms, but he didn't let go and after a few moments of obvious internal struggle, she relaxed against him.

He recognized the tactic for what it was.

She was plotting.

He could practically hear her mind working.

Unfortunately his body was reacting to far more tactile stimulation. Her skin, cool and slippery, smelled faintly of coconut oil and felt as smooth as satin under his fingers. Her lush mouth, soft as rose petals, her eyes, reflective in the water, scanned his features. He wondered what truths she saw there as he stroked the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Her lips opened on a sigh and her eyelids fluttered closed.

He held her silently, studying her upturned face, his primal need to protect her overwhelming.

Unfortunately, for both of them, she was not his prime directive. There was so much more he wanted to know about this stubborn, intractable woman. Who was she? What drove her to sacrifice herself to a man like Montero? What was she hiding?

Immaterial, Kyle reminded himself. Whatever the hell she wanted from Montero, she'd just damn well have to do without. Her time was up. Especially after the piranha episode this morning. It didn't matter
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what
the hell she wanted here, it wasn't as important as keeping her skin intact. Tomorrow he'd be in San Cristobal. She'd be there with him. When he returned to the elaborate laboratory, he'd be alone and she'd be on her way Stateside.

It was a given that she wouldn't take her departure lying down. Delanie was stubborn and too goddamned tenacious for her own good. If he had to he'd drag her kicking and screaming to the chopper. In fact he wouldn't object to her being unconscious at the time, if that's what it took. But like the proverbial penny, she was bound to find a way back. Anyone else would find several thousand miles of jungle a deterrent.

Not Delanie Eastman.

She had the will and, knowing her, she'd find a way.

He considered for a moment the best method to handle her departure in the most expedient and permanent way possible without blowing all he'd worked for.

The longing he'd had for years, the longing to hold her body close, to feel her mouth respond under his, was a dangerous preoccupation he couldn't afford right now.

He had the opportunity to taste her one last time before he banished her, but he had to ensure while doing so that she would be compelled to go. Even her fear of Montero was subjugated by her desire to stay. What in the hell could be so damn important?

He'd get the skinny on the way into San Cristobal when she couldn't run or evade the questions.

It wasn't the fact that Montero didn't scare the hell out of her—it was the fact that whatever kept her here was far more important than her own physical safety. He had to present something guaranteed to frighten the crap out of her.

He'd have to threaten her emotions, the ones she kept in such tight control.

He knew exactly which type of kisses would affect her in which way. She was so close to the end of her emotional rope it shouldn't be hard to give her the necessary nudge.

He teased with gentle but demanding nibbles as he coaxed her lips apart using his teeth, then used his tongue as a masterful lure. She pressed closer, responding blindly, arms tight around his neck, her mouth open and greedy. She tasted unbelievably sweet.

He put a rough hand on her breast and squeezed without finesse, her nipple a bud beneath his palm. The diamonds in his Cobra ring glinted in the sunlight, reminding him of just why he was doing this to her. He tightened his fingers and felt her corresponding flinch.

"God, baby." He toyed with her nipple, watching her eyes, watching her mouth, reading the myriad emotions sweeping across her features. Dazed pleasure.

She teetered—

He had to remember not to fall into the same dark pit he was preparing for her.

He dropped his voice to a thick suggestive drawl. "I'd forgotten how responsive you are. You make me
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so goddamned horny, air I can think about is screwing you again."

She dragged in a hiss of air. When she tried to pull away, he jerked her back against his erection knowing his words, coupled with the feral glitter in his eyes, were doing exactly what he'd wanted.

Scaring the hell out of her.

And making him feel like slime.

His hand submerged beneath the water to unerringly cup her through the thin fabric of her swimsuit. He slid two fingers under the leg opening as he ground his mouth against hers. She jerked as he slipped his fingers inside her.

He almost exploded. She was hot. Wet. Ready. Pulsing with need. She gasped as his fingers plunged more deeply, her body starting to spasm. Christ.
He
wasn't supposed to be affected by this.