Running Wild (14 page)

A snort of laughter escaped her. Damn him. He had a habit of working his way past her guard. Still... “What was that you said? You make a valid point?”

“Damn straight, baby. Just thinking about it’s got me hunched over.”

She grinned down at the sand.

The smile was wiped from her face when he set back to work, but eventually he circled around to finish up a place on her left shin and arm. Moments after that, he pushed back and sat on the sand in front of her log. “An-n-d, we’re done. You holding up okay?”

She took a second to take stock, then nodded. “The ones on my shoulder and back are a little throbby, but it’s probably nothing an Aleve won’t cure.” Her adrenaline high had long since crashed, however, and she was abruptly exhausted.

It must have shown, because he helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you one,” he said and led her to the tent.

She stopped outside the vestibule and bent to run her fingers through her hair to knock the sand loose before letting herself into the tent, Finn following on her heels.

“Have a seat on the sleeping bag,” he said and squatted in front of the backpack.

She did as directed while he rummaged for something to take the edge off her various aches and pains. It was hotter than the devil’s handmaiden in here, with only the vaguest of breezes drifting through the mesh window and door screen. Yawning, she rolled to lay on her stomach since that was the most comfortable position. Or more accurately, the only one she was willing to try, even though he’d put gauze pads over the worst of the abrasions. Folding her arms, she used them as a pillow to cushion her cheek for the second or two it should take Finn to find a pain reliever.

Then
they’d get down to business.

* * *

A
GRUNT
OF
SATISFACTION
sounded in Finn’s throat as his hand closed around the bottle he’d been searching for and he turned with a grin to present it to Mags. But his smile froze in a poor imitation of the real deal before dropping away entirely. “Well, shit.”

She was sound asleep.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and the occasional flash of dry lightning brightened an already not particularly dim interior. He unfastened the sleeping mat from the bottom of his backpack and crab-walked over to roll it out next to the sleeping bag where Mags was sprawled. He gazed at the long groove of her spine and the round curve of her ass for a moment, then shrugged.

What the hell. Sex was clearly off the table—at least for now—and being out on the water in an open boat anytime lightning was part of the equation, even if, as he suspected, it was a fair distance away, wasn’t the brightest idea. Sleep had sure as shit been hit-and-miss the past few nights, so he might as well catch some shut-eye himself.

He flopped down on the mat and stretched out.

But his eyes remained open. He stared up at the tent’s ceiling until he’d damn near memorized every seam. It, in return, didn’t divulge clue one. Finally, he rolled onto his side and propped his head in his palm to stare at Mags.

The woman sure as hell grabbed his attention by the balls, and it felt like more than your average proximity-based
me man, you woman, things are gettin’ hairy, baby, so let’s get down and dirty while we’re still alive
kinda way. He remembered being drawn to her from the beginning and wondering why, since she hadn’t struck him as all “that.”

“My mistake,” he murmured, reaching out to gently move her hair aside to see her face. “You’re definitely all that.”

She mumbled in her sleep and rolled to face him. Her lips pursed and she made a few soft smacking sounds, then wrinkled her nose. Her hand came up to knuckle its tip. A second later her fingers went slack and slid back down onto the bag as she settled more deeply into sleep.

He smiled, because she looked so girlishly innocent like this. Awake, she had a kind of knowing look about her, as if she’d been there, done that and had the T-shirt to document it. Studying her, he realized that while she likely had been around the block a time or two since reinventing herself as Mags, part of the impression she projected might stem from the shape of her eyebrows. The right one arched higher than the left, as if she were perpetually amused at life and raised a sardonic eyebrow at its vagaries.

Her skin, on full display in that skimpy bra-and-panties getup, was so creamy he just wanted to lick her all over—particularly where her breasts rose out of the demi cups and pressed together to form that deep, lush cleav—

“Jesus.” He rolled onto his back once again and glared up at the ceiling. What the hell was the matter with him? Viewing her sexually was one thing, but he was feeling downright
moony
, for God’s sake, like he was, what? A fourteen-year-old? That wasn’t his style at all—and he was going to stop all this middle school bullshit, starting now.

Lightning lit up the tent again and much sooner on its heels than its earlier counterparts, thunder boomed.
You’ve got yourself some downtime, dammit
, he thought grimly.
Take advantage and grab an hour or two of sleep while the grabbing’s good. If Magdalene can do it, so can you.

It took a helluva lot longer than it should have, however, before slumber finally claimed him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M
AGS
WOKE
UP
hot and groggy. Raising her head, she blinked at the red wall of the tent—and realized she didn’t have the first idea if it was early morning, high noon or headed toward sundown. She’d slept so heavily she couldn’t recall a thing that had happened before she’d dropped off and, yawning, she rolled onto her back.

Her various doctored abrasions immediately made themselves felt, clearing her mind in a red-hot hurry. “O-kay,” she murmured as everything came back in a rush and she slowly sat up, head hung low as she took several deep, slow breaths to lessen the discomfort. “Could use that anti-inflammatory right about now.”

She remembered now that Finn had been looking for some in his pack. And...oh, crap. She must have fallen asleep on him. She turned her head toward the door, wondering if he was out by the river.

She almost looked right past him sleeping on the mat next to her. On the other side of him, on the tent floor, sat the water bottle with a blue oval pill on its cap.

“Oh, bless you.” She sat up and reached over him for the pain reliever. She threw it in her mouth, washed it down with a swig of water and realized—big surprise here—she needed to find a potty bush.

Taking care not to wake Finn, she climbed over him and let herself out of the tent. Blinking in the bright light, she saw it still appeared to be the same day—and by the direct overhead position of the sun, likely somewhere around noon.

She was back within moments and reclaimed her spot. For about five seconds, she considered trying to go back to sleep, but she was awake now and knew that wasn’t going to happen. So, crossing her ankles and hugging her thighs to her breasts, she rested her chin in the notch between her kneecaps and took advantage of this rare opportunity to check out Finn at her leisure.

Had she given the matter any thought, she would’ve expected that once the adrenaline-fueled craving for him burned away, she’d be a teensy bit mortified by the way she’d talked to and climbed all over him. Mulling it over now, however...

Eh
. Not so much.

She always tried to see things as they actually were and not simply the way she wished them to be, and more often than not she was successful at it. So, squarely facing the reality of her earlier behavior, she admitted it was hardly a shock. She’d been drawn to Finn from the moment she’d set eyes on him in that hilltop cantina.

There was certainly nothing wrong with that and she refused to be embarrassed about it. Who cared if they wanted to screw their brains out? They were two consenting adults, neither of whom had other relationships they’d be betraying. So, if they found passion and a measure of comfort in each other’s bodies on this wild run across El Tigre...well, good for them.

They’d already faced more adversity and perilous situations in the past few days than she, at least, had experienced during her entire lifetime. And considering the emotional landscape she’d inhabited in her teens, not to mention her attitude those first few years after being banished from home and the stupid, risky things she’d done, that was saying something. She’d willfully allowed herself to be in too many situations that a reasoning individual would have given a wide, wide berth. Not that she could honestly claim she’d ever been in real physical danger before this trip back to El Tigre. But that was due more to sheer blind luck than intelligent planning on her part. God knew that, more times than not, she’d sailed too close to putting herself in harm’s way.

But she’d been a heedless kid then. Now she was an adult, a fully grown woman who didn’t hesitate to check Finn out. Hard to see the downside in that venture.

He was long and lean, yet in no way skinny. His wide shoulders were the kind that had some bone with the muscle, rather than that muscle-upon-muscle, no-neck bodybuilder look. Not that she hadn’t known some fine-looking guys who’d spent a goodly amount of time in a gym. But she had a feeling Finn’s body had been honed from the hard, physical construction work he did rather than pumping iron in front of a mirror.

Her lips curved up. Because a mighty fine build it was.

His skin wasn’t what she thought of as Irish coloring, but rather had a slight olive cast—the kind that tanned quickly and easily. She wondered if it retained at least a hint of its color in the dead of winter.

A light dusting of dark body hair fanned across his chest and the happy trail arrowing down from it widened just above and below his belly button before disappearing beneath the low-slung, unfastened waistband of his once-beige but now bleached almost-white cargo shorts. His thighs were muscular, his shins lengthy and calves round. Like the feet she’d noted earlier, his hands were as long and lean as the rest of him, and she’d felt their strength, witnessed their proficiency.

She found herself wanting to explore every inch of him.

So...why not? Smiling softly to herself, she rolled onto her stomach to do just that.

* * *

F
INN
AWOKE
FROM
a sex dream he couldn’t remember but was pretty damn sure had been really good to find Mags kissing his body.

At first he thought he was still dreaming. But when he raised his head to stare groggily down himself, he discovered Magdalene sprawled on her stomach, half-atop him, her fingertips splayed through his chest hair as she licked a light outline of the ridges that etched his abs below his diaphragm. She’d loosely braided her hair and he watched as her full, pink lips and pinker tongue moved across his abdomen.

“Hey,” he croaked—and cleared his throat.

Raising her head, she lifted her upper body slightly to meet his gaze. The movement rubbed her cleavage’s pale skin against the darker skin of his lower abs and the lace of her bra lightly scratched the skin it touched with her slightest shift of position.

“Hey, yourself,” she said softly. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

He shrugged. “You clearly needed the rest—and I gotta admit I did, too.” He ran a fingertip down the groove of her spine as far as he could reach. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I found the anti-inflamatory you left out for me. It’s taken the edge off the worst of the discomfort.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “I’m just grateful it wasn’t worse—I know it could have been a lot more so.” Lowering her head again, she pressed another kiss into a lower muscle in his six-pack.

Watching her look at up him as she did so made his dick, already half-hard from his dream, stand up and salute.

“But I don’t want to talk about that right now,” she whispered against his navel.

Worked for him. But he wanted to kiss her, and reaching down, he slid his hands beneath her armpits to lift her up until her mouth was where he could get at it.

She squealed at the surprise of being shifted, then laughed at herself and wiggled around until she evidently found her optimal comfort spot atop him. Following the directive of the hand he’d wrapped around her nape, she lowered her head until their mouths aligned.

He loved how soft and full her lips were and much as he’d like nothing more than to just eat her alive, he remembered in the nick of time that she wasn’t in tip-top shape. So he took his time and kissed her softly, tenderly, instead. He sipped at her lips, changing the angle frequently but keeping his tongue to himself.

Until the moment she made an impatient noise deep in her throat and grasped his head to hold it still as she opened her mouth over his.

Then all bets were off and with a guttural sound he sank his fingers in her hair, framed her cheekbones with his thumbs and held her head still in order to plunder the spicy-sweet interior of her mouth. The way their tongues dueled for dominance, however, he was as much the plunderee as plunderer. Mags sure as hell gave as good as she got—and all the while making soft, urgent sounds that drove him to longer and more elaborate ways of plying his tongue just to hear yet more of her little do-me noises.

He rolled her onto her back on the sleeping bag, but at her involuntarily inhaled breath, he shifted them back onto his mat with her on top once more. Lifting her head to break their kiss, he gasped, “I’m sorry, Magda—Mags. I forgot for a second. I’ll be more careful.”

She tightened her grip on him and all ten of her fingernails pricked his skin. “I don’t want more careful. I want down-and-dirty, total out-of-control, runaway, wild and woolly sex.”

Aw, Jesus, girl, you’re killin’ me, here
. But he met her hot-eyed look coolly. “And I’ll give you that—just as soon as some of your skin grows back.”

She uttered a derisive snort, but he continued to hold her gaze. “Lack of pain doesn’t have to mean boring, darlin’.” But that set his brain to speculating and he narrowed his eyes at her. “Unless...you into that?”

She guffawed. “Oh, hells to the no.”

He shot her a cocky smile. “Then I promise to make you scream.”

“I’m holding you to that. And if you don’t, I’m calling a do-over—and we will be doing it my way.”

“Deal.” Cupping the back of her head, he tugged her closer. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

She did, and within moments her enthusiasm had severely undermined his much-lauded control. Their breathing grew choppy and, dying to get his hands on more of her, Finn slid one free to cup her breast. Her nipple drilled into his palm like a tungsten carbide bit and, shifting his hand, he slid his thumb to squeeze it against the side of his index finger. Then gave it a tug.

She moaned and he grinned against her mouth, which made her lift her head, separating their lips. “What?”

“Sensitive nipples. I wonder if I can make you come just by playing with them.”

“Pfffft.” With an as-if look, Mags sat up on him. But when she tucked her bent knees next to his hips he saw her wince and he brought his hands down to wrap around her hips and raise her as he, too, sat up. “Sit in my lap and straighten your legs the way you did earlier.”

As soon as she complied, he lifted her until her breasts were on a level with his eyes. But instead of checking them out up close, he looked into her eyes.

And licked his lips. “Lose the bra.”

“Ooh.” She wiggled on him even as she reached for the clasp behind her, an action that all but thrust her tits in his face. “I just love me a forceful man.”

Without lowering his gaze, he moved to catch a nipple between his teeth, loving how heavy-lidded her eyes grew, how her cheeks flushed. Lightly grinding the lace against the stiff point, he raised his eyebrows, then gave the sweet bead a hard suck and turned it loose. “Handy, that,” he growled. “I like being forceful.”

* * *

T
HE
SENSITIVE
SHEATH
deep between Mags’s legs clenched hard and her brain blanked out for a second. Then...
Omigawd
, she thought.
Oh. My. Ga-a-awd.

Okay, so she’d never actually been with a genuinely forceful guy before—or at least not the kind who watched her when he did things to her, who said things that weren’t really dirty or anything, but made her crazy aroused.

But if the way Finn made her feel was any indication, this was going to be
good
. She licked her lips and unhooked her bra, shimmying it down her arms and tossing it aside.

Still
, protested her inner I-do-things-my-way self.

She’d started this rodeo; did she really want him wresting control out of her hands? Hooking her arms around his neck, she chafed her now bare breasts against his chest. And leaned forward to lightly grasp the lobe of his ear between her teeth. “How ’bout you lose those shorts,” she said in a low voice. It wasn’t a question.

“Feeling a little forceful yourself, are you?” He pulled his head back just far enough to slide his earlobe free, then lowered his chin to catch her bottom lip between his own strong teeth. “Who do you think’s more likely to win that contest?”

His tongue touched her lip with the
th
and
L
sounds and closed around it pronouncing
more
, making her shiver. But looking him straight in the eye, she said, “Me, of course.”

He laughed, freeing her lip. “Not even close, baby.” He flopped backward and reached between them for the zipper of his fly. Given the usual bird racket and the noise of the river outside, she shouldn’t have been able to hear the soft sound of its teeth disengaging. Yet somehow it seemed preternaturally loud in the tent’s quieter interior. She startled slightly when he said, “Lift up so I can shuck these babies as commanded.”

She got her feet under her and raised her butt. The backs of his hands brushed her as he crunched up to push his shorts down. He bicycled them to his ankles and kicked them free. She lowered her hips again—and found herself sitting on his bare penis.

“Holy crap!” She stared down at its darkish head and the two or so inches of hard, veiny shaft showing in front of the mocha lace of her panties’ crotch and slid backward to see more. “You didn’t say you weren’t wearing any undies!”

“Men don’t wear
undies
,” he said in disgust. “That’s for little kids and you chicks. Men go commando.”