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  He banked the fire while she got the tent ready. They brushed their teeth and made one last nature call, just like old married folks, she thought in amusement. Their “home” wasn’t much, really nothing more than a niche in the rock, but their preparations for the night struck her as very domestic—until he said, “Do you want to wear my shirt tonight? It would be more like a nightgown on you than the shirt you’re wearing.”

  There was nothing the least bit tamed in the way he was looking at her. Her heartbeat picked up in speed, and the now familiar heat began spreading through her. That was all he had to do, she thought; one look and she was aroused. He had taught her body well during the short time she had been sprawled beneath him on the blanket. Now that she knew exactly how it felt to take his hard length inside her, she craved the sensation. She wanted that convulsive peak of pleasure, even though it had frightened her with its intensity. She hadn’t realized she would feel as if she were flying apart, as if her soul was being wrenched from her body. In a blinding, paralyzing moment of clarity, she knew that no other man in the world would be able to do that for her, to her. He was the One for her, capital O, big letter, underlined and italicized. The One. She would never again be whole without him.

  She must have looked stricken, because suddenly he was by her side, supporting her with an arm around her waist as he gently but inexorably guided her to the tent. He would be considerate, she realized, but he didn’t intend to be refused.

  She cleared her throat, searching for her equilibrium. “You’ll need your shirt to keep warm—”

  “You’re joking, right?” He smiled down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Or did you think we were through for the night?”

  She couldn’t help smiling back. “That never crossed my mind. I just thought you’d need it afterward.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, his hands busy unsnapping her jeans.

  They were both naked and inside the tent in record time. He switched off the flashlight to save the batteries, and the total darkness closed around them, just as it had the night before. Making love when one was going totally by feel somehow heightened the other senses, she found. She was aware of the calluses on his hands as he stroked her, of the heady male scent of his skin, of the powerful muscles that bunched under her own exploring hands. His taste filled her; his kisses were a feast. She reveled in the smooth firmness of his lips, the sharp edges of his teeth; she rubbed his nipples and felt them contract under her fingers. She loved the harsh groan he gave when she cupped the soft, heavy sacs between his legs, and the way they tightened even as she held them.

  She was shocked when she closed her hand around his pulsing erection. How on earth had she ever taken him inside her? The long, thick column ended in a smooth, bulbous flare, the tip of which was wet with fluid. Entranced, she curled down until she could take the tip in her mouth and lick the fluid away.

  He let out an explosive curse and tumbled her on her back, reversing their positions. The confines of the small tent restricted their movement, but he managed the shift with his usual powerful grace.

  She laughed, full of wonder at the magic between them, and draped her arms around his neck as he settled on top of her. “Didn’t you like it?”

  “I almost came,” he growled. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’ll have my way with you yet. I may have to overpower you and tie you up, but I think I can handle the job.”

  “I’m positive of it. Let me know when you’re going to overpower me, so I can have my clothes off.”

  That afternoon, caught in the whirlpool of his lovemaking, she wouldn’t have believed she would be so at ease with him now, that they could indulge in this sensual teasing. She wouldn’t have believed how naturally her thighs parted to accommodate his hips, or how comfortable it was, as if nature had designed them to fit together just so. Actually nature had; she just hadn’t realized it until now.

  He gave her a taste of her own medicine, kissing his way down her body until his hair brushed the insides of her thighs and she discovered a torture so sweet she shattered. When she could breathe again, when the colored pinpoints of light stopped flashing against her closed eyelids, he kissed her belly and laid his head on the pillowing softness. “My God, you’re easy,” he whispered.

  She managed a strangled sound that was almost a laugh. “I guess I am. For you, anyway.”

  “Just for me.” The dark tones of masculine possessiveness and triumph underlaid the words.

  “Just for you,” she whispered in agreement.

  He put on a condom and slid into place between her thighs. She fought back a cry; she was sore and swollen, and he was big. He moved gently back and forth until she accepted him more easily and the discomfort faded, but gradually his thrusts quickened, became harder. Even then she sensed he was holding himself back to keep from hurting her. When he climaxed, he pulled back so only half his length was inside her, and held himself there while shudders racked his strong body.

  Afterward, he tugged his T-shirt on over her head, immediately enveloping her in his scent. The roomy garment came halfway to her knees—or it would have if he hadn’t bunched it around her waist. He cradled her in his arms, one big hand on her bare bottom to keep her firmly against him. He used her rolled-up cardigan for a pillow, and she used him. Oh, this was wonderful.

  “Is Sunny your real name, or is it a nickname?” he asked sleepily, his lips brushing her hair.

  Even as relaxed as she was, as sated, a twinge of caution made her hesitate. She never told anyone her real name. It took her a moment to remember that none of that made any difference here now. “It’s a nickname,” she murmured. “My real name is Sonia, but I’ve never used it. Sonia Ophelia Gabrielle.”

  “Good God.” He kissed her. “Sunny suits you. So you’re saddled with four names, huh?”

  “Yep. I never use the middle ones, though. What about you? What’s your middle name?”

  “I don’t have one. It’s just Chance.”

  “Really? You aren’t lying to me because it’s something awful, like Eustace?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  She settled herself more comfortably against him. “I suppose it balances out. I have four names, you have two—together, we average three.”

  “How about that.”

  She could hear a smile in his voice now. She rewarded him with a small, sneaky pinch that made him jump. His retaliation ended, a long time later, in the use of another condom.

  Sunny went to sleep to the knowledge that she was happier now, with Chance, than she had ever before been in her life.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning the traps were empty. Sunny struggled with her disappointment. After such an idyllic, pleasure-filled night, the day should have been just as wonderful. A nice hot, filling breakfast would have been perfect.

  “Could you shoot something?” she asked as she chewed half of one of the tasteless nutrition bars. “We have eight of these bars left.” If they each ate a bar a day, that meant they would be out of food in four days.

  In three days, Margreta would call.

  Sunny pushed that thought away. Whether or not they got out of here in time for her to answer Margreta’s call was something she couldn’t control. Food was a more immediate problem.

  Chance narrowed his eyes as he scanned the rim of the canyon, as if looking for a way out. “I have fifteen rounds in the pistol, and no extra cartridges. I’d rather save them for emergencies, since there’s no telling how long we’ll be here. Besides, a 9mm bullet would tear a rabbit to pieces and wouldn’t leave enough left of a bird for us to eat. Assuming I could hit a bird with a pistol shot, that is.”

  She wasn’t worried about his marksmanship. He was probably much better with a rifle, but with his military background, he would be more than competent with the pistol. She looked down at her hands. “Would a .38 be better?”

  “It isn’t as powerful, so for small game, yeah, it would be better. Not great