Heart of Fire Read online

  She yawned. “If I don’t move, I feel fine.”

  He hesitated. “I think we should rest here for a day.”

  “That’s your decision; we’ll do whatever you tell us to do. But you know I’m perfectly capable of walking, even if I can’t carry a pack right now.” She looked at the coffee. “Is that yours, or did you bring it to me?”

  “Both.” He slid a brawny arm behind her back and lifted her to a sitting position as easily as if she were a child. She grabbed the sheet and tucked it under her arms, covering her breasts, and a grin teased his mouth. “You didn’t worry about that last night,” he said as he placed the tin cup in her right hand.

  Cautiously she sipped the steaming hot brew. “Of course I did. There just wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

  He rubbed her bare back, his strong fingers digging in and testing for both stiffness and soreness. She closed her eyes in ecstasy, and a low purring sound came from her throat. “Umm, right there,” she murmured.

  “You’re better than I thought you’d be,” he commented. “Probably because you’re in such good shape in general.” He took the cup from her hand and drank, then returned it to her. “Now let’s see how that shoulder looks.”

  It looked much the same as it had the night before, swollen and bruised, but she could move her arm a bit more before the pain kicked in. “I think I’ll be okay with it bound,” she said. “Give me some more aspirin for the inflammation, though. I never thought a dislocated shoulder would be so much trouble; I thought you just popped it back in, and that was that.”

  “Not quite,” he said dryly.

  “So I’ve discovered. Help me get dressed, and we’ll get this show on the road.”

  “I have a distinct memory of you saying that it was my decision whether or not we moved on today.”

  “You must be hallucinating.”

  “I must be. You’ve never been that agreeable.”

  As he was talking he firmly tugged the sheet away from her body. A triumphant grin was on his face as he looked down at her, but it slowly faded and an absorbed expression took its place. Very gently he began stroking her breasts, finding them delightfully cool in the morning air, but they rapidly warmed under his touch.

  “Don’t you ever think of anything else?” she asked grouchily, to hide the response she couldn’t suppress. She wanted to sink back and let those hot hands touch her all over.

  “Sure.” His tone was absent, his gaze locked on her breasts. Slowly he began to lower his head. “I think of how you’ll taste.”

  “Ben!” Her protesting cry was thin, and trailed into silence. She shivered, all of the strength leaching out of her as his hot mouth closed firmly over a painfully sensitive nipple. She sagged against his supporting arm, her eyes closing as electric prickles spread from her nipple throughout her breast, then darted down to her loins. His heat surrounded her; the musky male scent of his body enticed her to bury her face against his neck and let him wrap his strength around her. His tongue roughly pressed her nipple against the roof of his mouth in a strong suckling motion, and the coffee cup dropped from her hand. She dug her fingers into his back, whimpering with pleasure.

  “Shit.” He lifted his head, his eyes slightly glazed, his mouth wet and sensual. “I didn’t mean to do this.” But then he bent to her other breast, cupping and lifting it to his hungry mouth, unable to resist giving it the same treatment.

  When he raised his head again, there was an expression of acute discomfort in his eyes. Very carefully he stretched out his right leg and adjusted himself.

  Shaking, Jillian drew back. “Serves you right,” she said weakly.

  “I know.” He wasn’t quite in control of himself yet, and he sucked in a deep breath. “Like I said, I didn’t mean for that to happen. It wasn’t fair to either of us.”

  She knew him well enough to realize he thought all resistance was in the past, that she was his for the taking as soon as her shoulder healed enough to allow lovemaking. Being Ben, in his estimation that would be tomorrow night. Dazedly she stared at the coffee she had spilled, a brown puddle on the nylon floor of the tent, and wondered why she didn’t just go ahead and give in to him. She wanted to; she wanted him, damn it. But she didn’t want casual sex, and she doubted that Ben could offer anything else. He wasn’t the type of man with whom a woman could plan a future; he offered hot sex, a good time, but after he got up and put his pants on, he’d be gone. So, despite his self-confident air, the battle was still enjoined. She couldn’t afford to lay down arms.

  “Help me into an undershirt,” she said shakily.

  “You can do without one today. No one will know, and it’ll be easier to undress tonight.”

  “I sleep in my underwear, so it won’t be a problem. Just wrap my shoulder once I have the undershirt on, then put my regular shirt on over the bandage. If you think my arm still needs immobilizing, you can strap it to my side the way you did yesterday, over my shirt. That way my shoulder won’t have to be unwrapped tonight in order for me to undress, and I should be able to dress myself tomorrow.”

  He didn’t move, but the expression on his face was suddenly dangerous as he got the meaning behind her words. She had the impression of a male animal on the verge of violence, rigidly holding himself in check; only the instinctive knowledge that Ben wouldn’t hurt her kept her from cringing in fear.

  “You can’t hold me off much longer.” His voice was low and steely. “What’s between us won’t just go away.”

  She faced him, seeing the force of his arousal in the hard, taut planes of his face. “I don’t have to hold you off forever,” she said, a little sadly. “Just until we get back to Manaus. Then I’ll be out of your life and it won’t matter anymore.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter, a sound totally without humor. “Getting back to Manaus won’t keep you safe from me, sweetheart. You’re mine, and you’re going to admit it no matter how long I have to keep after you.”

  “That’s ego talking. Once we get back, some other woman will catch your eye, someone who won’t mind being easy-come, easy-go.”

  “There’s sure as hell nothing easy about you,” he muttered. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but abruptly changed his mind and dug a clean undershirt out of her pack. His hands were as gentle as before when he helped her into it, then tightly wrapped her shoulder and finished dressing her as efficiently as if she were a child. Afterward, to her surprise, he knelt behind her and brushed out her hair, then caught it up in her usual ponytail. He ended by kissing the nape of her neck. “There. Are you ready for breakfast?”

  She was, though he’d knocked her a bit off-balance with the sweetness of his care. She didn’t want him to be sweet; she wanted him to be the Ben Lewis she was accustomed to: shameless, raunchy, and reckless. Brave, too, she mentally added, to give the devil his due. Intimidatingly capable. Dangerous. Ruthless.

  For the first time, she wondered if she had a prayer of resisting him, if it wasn’t a question of “when” rather than “if.” She was doing something so stupid she could barely believe it of herself. She was falling in love with the man.

  He called for frequent breaks that day to allow her to rest, and she did much better than she had expected. Though her wrists and shoulder were sore, she wasn’t in any pain from them unless she bumped her bruises. The tight binding prevented movement in the shoulder joint, letting the strained ligaments heal. Since she wasn’t carrying a pack, the trek was actually easier on her than it had been before her injury.

  That night, when Ben unwrapped the bandage that had kept her left arm bound to her side, she found that she could move it without much discomfort, since the bandage on her shoulder still supported the joint. She managed to undress herself, though with slow care, and, after taking two aspirin, slept well.

  The next day she felt well enough to do without restraining her arm and strode briskly along in Ben’s wake. They were so high in the mountains that the altitude had eased the suffocating heat some