Primitive Nights (26 page)

He waved her in and she deposited the requested items near the fire. “Warm water in bucket, outside.” She walked over and handed him a bowl filled with a creamy pale yellow substance. “Wash hair.”

“Thank you.”

When Cuklho ducked out of the hut, he turned back to the cot. “Myla? Wake up.”

This time, her eyes fluttered open. “Hi.”

Her soft sleepy smile begged him for a kiss and he leaned close, brushing his lips over hers with the lightest touch. She sighed, and her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer with more strength than he expected. After a slow, lingering kiss, he broke away reluctantly. “I have something for you.”

“Ummm. What’s that?”

“Food.” He reached over to the bowl and selected a slice of mango. Dragging it over her lips, he laughed when she tried to lick his fingers. “Come, eat and then you will have a bath.”

She sat up on the cot and folded her legs under her. “A bath?”

“Cuklho has brought something to clean your hair with as well.” He placed the platter of fruit near her legs and leaned against the cot. “When you are done, I will wash it for you.”

She popped a piece of banana into her mouth and glanced around. “But you don’t have a tub.”

“No. We must use warm water from the bucket and a cloth.” The thought of her standing naked before him as he washed her tightened the muscles of his stomach.

Her heated gaze returned to his. “And will you bathe as well?”

The knot cinched tight. “If you wish.” She smiled, a very sensual smile and he pushed the fruit closer. “Eat first.”

She nodded and selected another piece of fruit. “Has anyone else become sick?”

“No. Mother has gone to check on Seiret and the Hountas.” He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip where juice glistened. “Let us hope their losses are less severe.”

Her hand stopped midway to her mouth then dropped back to her lap. “I’ve never seen such death.” Her lip trembled. “So many—”

He joined her on the cot and pulled her close. “Do not think of it.” A tear trickled down his chest and he pressed closer, her sobs tearing at his heart.

“I can’t stop.”

“You have been strong.” He held her as she cried tears for people she did not know. Truly, her kindness knew no bounds. Would she never cease to amaze him? Or would he continue to find more reasons to love her?

Chapter Eighteen

Myla leaned back and let her hair dangle over the bucket, bracing her elbows against the stool. She’d make a blubbering idiot out of herself every day if this was his way of making her feel better.

She sighed and tipped her head back farther as Damon worked the sweet-smelling concoction through her knotted hair. “That feels wonderful, Damon.”

“I have not done this before.” He chuckled briefly. “Your hair is much different from mine.”

The fact that he would consider doing it at all was sweet. “I can do the rest if you’d like.”

Tall, muscled and oh-so wildly primitive Damon was washing her hair. She never would have thought this gentle side of him existed the night he’d walked out of the jungle. He’d been so powerful and intimidating…and now she knew the reality of this man.

“There is no need. I am done.” A sharp tug and what she thought might have been a curse, jolted her from her musing.

“Thank you, Damon.” Not as skillful as a beautician, but what else could she expect?

Water sloshed over her head several times, and with a loud sigh, he bent down. “Now, the rest.” His soft words whispered over her ear.

She shivered, though it had nothing to do with the temperature in the hut. The fire in the small pit kept the water warm, creating the only light. Shadows of his every movement played over the walls, adding to her awareness of his presence surrounding her. The sweet aroma of the salve for her hair drifted through the air to mingle with the scent of burning wood—and Damon.

She sat up from her reclining position, and he wrapped her hair in a rough cloth. The hairs of his chest brushed against her neck and arms with each of his motions, sending little tingles down along her spine. Then his hands wound around her waist, helping her to stand, the warm contact of his fingers an immediate intoxicant. She wanted this man more than ever.

When she would have turned around, he stalled her, his voice low. “No. Do not move.”

His hands moved up over her belly in slow circles, his fingers splayed wide as if to touch every inch of her in their path. The knot holding her shirt came undone, and the material slipped down her shoulders. He was getting really good at this. A little moan escaped, and she couldn’t help thinking that the more practice he got, the better.

He pulled her back against his chest, his hands lingering over the straps of her bra before he slid them down her shoulders, and his mouth descended in their wake.

Light kisses rained over her shoulder and up along her neck. She tipped her head to the side, begging him for more of the gentle, slow torture. It was hard to concentrate on the myriad of sensations he created inside of her, and when her bra unlatched, she was barely aware of it slipping free. The hands that curved over her bared breasts were impossible to miss, and she dropped her head back against his shoulder. “Oh, Damon. Your touch feels so good.”

A low growl was his response, along with a gentle nip at the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder curved. His touch moved lower over her belly to find the button of her cargo pants. It slipped free with amazing ease, and the fabric scraped over her hips as he pushed the pants down. Searing kisses trailed down over her back as he knelt behind her to remove them.

The gentle caresses stirred incredible need. Every inch of her body tingled, pulsed with the sensations. The air seemed thicker, and each breath only made her heart rate increase until the pounding in her ears blocked out everything else.

She stepped free of her pants, weakened by his scorching touch and the fire pooling low in her belly. His lips caressed the back of her knee, brushing her thigh, her bottom and settling at her lower back. He braced a hand on her hips and slid his fingers under the elastic band of her thong. The material followed the same path down, his lips repeating their motions until she trembled under his touch.

His body glided slick against hers as he stood. The pressure of his hands increased until his touch became a fiery brand that moved up her thighs and stomach. Then, suddenly, he was gone.

Before she could turn, warm water dripped down her back, tracing the curves of her body. A soft cloth brushed over her neck and shoulders, and she trembled.

This was too much. She was going to disintegrate. Closing her eyes, she tried to slow the furious desire that poured over her.

Damon watched the rivulets of water trace down her skin. Touching her like this, memorizing every curve and line of her body, would stay in his dreams. She was perfect. So soft and sweet he wanted to taste her. But not yet.

He lingered over her breasts, sucking at the dampness of her shoulder as his fingers grazed over her nipples and down the flat plain of her belly. Her moans and sighs of pleasure tightened the knot of desire. There was no denying the effect she had on his body. His hardened shaft pressed against her bottom, and he moaned when she wiggled against him.

He dipped the cloth in the bucket again and washed her back and the smooth curve of her bottom. Next he traveled the trim length of her legs, taking extreme pleasure in the soft, pliant flesh of her inner thighs. The cloth dropped from his hands, and he traveled higher, wrapping his hands around to the front of her legs to pull her back against him again as he stood.

The warmth at the juncture of her thighs beckoned him, and he curved his hand along her folds. When she cried out, he slid his finger across her opening, reveling in the moisture of her body’s response.

Her head dropped back, and he licked at her ear. “Your body craves my touch.”

“Yes.” Her voice was a ragged whisper. Each shaky breath matching the rhythm he set between her legs.

The scent of her body flayed his senses, and the need to fill her racked through him with such intensity he shook. When he pushed deeper, entering her a fraction, the desire-dampened walls closed around him tightly. He moved his other hand across her breast, teasing the nipple lightly with his thumb, her ragged cry pulsing through him.

She was a hunger deep inside him he would never assuage. Every movement, every sigh stole a small part of his soul. If he held her too long, kept her too close, she would consume him. And yet there was nothing more he wanted.

The danger, the unknown. Every difference between them that could not be changed. None of it mattered when he held her, kissed her, or lay next to her in the early morning hours when her hair was tangled and her lips parted in sleep. Or when she opened her eyes, her soft smile as he wrapped her tight in his arms.

They were one. She knew it as well.

Unable to resist the lure of her heat, he stroked her, preparing her for his body, though her soft sighs and moans told him she was ready, that she would welcome him inside with unimaginable pleasure. He closed his eyes, pressing deeper, until her heat covered his finger. Wrapping her hair around his hand, he turned her head to take her mouth.

Myla turned in his arms to meet his hungry kiss, refusing to be held off any longer. She needed him. With a shattered breath, she broke away. His dark gaze met hers, and she licked his bottom lip. “I want you.”

He nodded, a small muscle ticking in his clenched jaw. Every line of his body was taut with restraint, and his hand dug into the flesh at her hip. “We must slow. I do not wish to hurt you with my need.”

She didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted him the way he was. Wanted him to consume her, control her with his incredible strength. Sliding her body up against his, she pulled him closer to run her hands over the muscles of his back. “No restraint.”

Her nails scraped over his skin, and she nipped lightly. His hips shifted against her in response, and still he held back, shuddering under her touch. It seemed she was going to have to convince him to let go of his control.

She smiled at the thought.

Reaching between them, she slid the knot of his sarong free and pulled it from his hips with a long, slow tug. She traced the path of the cloth around his hips with her fingers and raised her head to meet his gaze. “Now it’s my turn.”

She stepped back and dropped slowly to her knees. Trailing her lips over his heated chest and ridged stomach, she followed the lines of his body to his hip. She brushed over his flesh, sucking and biting in turn, carefully skirting the wound at his thigh until she reached his other hip.

She picked up the cloth he’d used to bathe her and dipped it into the bucket. Starting at his feet, she worked slowly up his body, caressing every inch of him as he had done for her, keeping her mouth close to his body so her breaths brushed over his skin.

“It is difficult to control myself when you touch me like this.” His voice was husky, thick.

Touching him fueled the need inside her. She moaned with the pleasure of it, speaking softly of what she wanted to do to his body and how much she wanted him. As she moved up his body, the hard length of his shaft brushed over her breasts, her belly and then her hip.

Wrapping a hand around his hard length, she glanced up to savor his strained expression. “What’s a girl got to do to get what she wants?”

His growl filled the hut, and he pulled her to him so they touched from chest to toes. His mouth slashed over hers as she opened to him, more than willing to meet his untamed passion. She had asked for it.

He lifted her against him, drawing her down onto his erection with an animalistic groan of pleasure. She matched his groan, ripping her mouth from his to gasp for air. There was no trace of restraint. She cried out with the pleasure of their joining, his ragged breaths heavy across her ear.

“Yes, Damon. Show me your passion.”

She reached down to drag her fingernails over his back and bit his shoulder. She was rewarded with a deep thrust that set her insides on fire and pushed her closer to a staggering release. Never had she responded to sex in such a carnal way. Yet she felt no shame, no timidity. She wanted to know him in his basest form. Wanted him as he was.

Wrapping her legs around him, she met his thrusts, encouraging his lovemaking until her body shook. Their mingled moans echoed through the hut. Shadows fused and merged as their bodies did, painting sensual silhouettes against the walls. The scent of their joining filled the air, sweet in its proclamation of what they shared.

Complete.

With a deep, ragged exhalation he pressed her back onto the cot without breaking their connection and kissed her hard. The deep thrusts of his tongue matched his body. Heat spiraled up through her center into her belly where it burst in sharp shards of pleasure. She urged him on, so close she could no longer control the desperate movements of her body.

Damon sensed her release, felt the pulses start deep in her center to tighten around him. The passion between them staggered the mind. Her body arched beneath him and he gave more, taking what she offered until he knew he could not go on.

Each touch and sigh pulsed throughout him. There was nothing outside of what they shared in that moment, swept away on the unimaginable satisfaction they found together. Her sighs and moans sapped the tenuous bonds of his resistance, and even as he tried to hold back, to prolong the sweet torture of her sheath wrapped so tight around him, he lost the battle.