“Hand me the light.”
After a second’s hesitation, he released her and retrieved her flashlight from underneath her clothes. She explored the water and the nearby bank for any sign of wildlife that might not like humans in their little corner of jungle heaven. This particular area was known as home to a wild array of snakes, lizards, parrots, monkeys and the occasional jaguar. And crocodiles were not unheard of in the Usumacinta, though they were relatively rare. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to take some precautions against the indigenous wildlife.
“We should start a—”
By the time she turned, a campfire burned within a circle of stones, and the burro had been relieved of his load. Rafe had not moved, but still stared down at her, his expression unreadable, but his eyes broadcasting the torture of watching her in the water.
“I thought you did not want to use his magic,” she said.
Slowly, button by button, he undid his shirt.
“I had no choice,” he said. “I cannot wait another moment.”
He stripped down to nothing, and she couldn’t help but watch, willing her body to remain still even as the combination of the chilly water and hot desire made her limbs weak. He stepped boldly into the water, took her hands and washed them thoroughly, rubbing over her palms, down her fingers and along her wrists. When he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the sensitive center, slightly reddened and blistered from wielding the machete, electricity chased away any apprehension she might have had about making love with Rafe again. This time, it would be different. This time, she didn’t have to make love with him to save his soul. She was simply surrendering to a need that was too powerful to resist
Something, likely a fish, swam past her leg. She jumped and landed flush against his chest. Suddenly, her decision to keep her bra and panties on seemed utterly ridiculous.
“You’re trembling,” he said.
“Something touched me.”
“I’m envious,” he replied, his voice husky. “But nothing in this water will harm you.”
“You don’t know what’s in here.”
“I don’t need to know,” he assured her. “But you’re safe. Trust me. You said you did.”
Though surrounded by crisp, clean water, Mariah couldn’t muster enough moisture in her mouth to speak. As if he could read her mind, he cupped his hands into the pool and then raised them to her lips, inviting her to drink. As she did, the sweet water dribbled down, wetting her bra until it was translucent.
“The water is cold,” he said.
She glanced down at her nipples, fully visible and erect beneath the thin swath of lace. And before she could protest, he’d grabbed her shoulders and leaned sideways so that they crashed beneath the surface together.
The water wasn’t deep, but their splashing caused a raucous cawing from the treetops and a loud flutter of wings. Doused completely, Mariah dropped all pretense of modesty by tearing off her lingerie, wadding it up and tossing it near the fire.
Silence descended on the jungle as she swam through the pool and into the mist kicked up by the falls. She could feel Rafe’s eyes on her as she slid away from him, swimming a head-up breaststroke when the depth changed, kicking out her legs in a wide, circular motion she knew would reveal glimpses of bare backside. With every layer of dust and sweat and dirt that washed from her body, she wanted Rafe’s mouth and hands and sex to replace them.
Seconds later, he splashed into the water behind her, but stopped his forward motion when the pool bottomed out.
She climbed the rocks just in front of the falls and turned.
“What are you waiting for?” she shouted.
“I do not swim,” he replied, treading the water with his hands.
She looked at him questioningly, then pushed aside her libido long enough to consider reality. Rafe had grown up exclusively in Valoren. The place wasn’t exactly overrun by mountain lakes of a temperature made for frolic and play.
“Shame,” she said, and then stepped beneath the falls.
Leaning her head back, she allowed the water to rush over her hair. She worked out the leaves and twigs that had tangled there before stepping completely underneath the flow so the water sluiced sensually over her every curve. Hard and cold, the pounding flow aroused her even as it cleansed her, a sensation that increased when she opened her eyes and saw that, despite his inability to swim, Rafe had somehow managed to cross the chasm and was now standing just out of range, the whitecapped swirls of water rotating around his waist.
Intermittent glimpses of his erect penis made her mouth water. She held her hand out to him, and wordlessly he took it.
After he stepped beneath the showering water, Mariah washed away the remnants of their jungle trek. She relearned how his shoulders were wide and muscled. How his stomach tapered to hard thighs and buttocks. How the small of his back drew her like a hunter to treasure. She kissed a path down his spine and spotted a birthmark in the shape of a half-moon not unlike the one that gleamed above them.
The water was loud, so speaking was impossible. Mariah was glad. She wasn’t sure what needed to be said. They circled each other, touching, kissing, arousing, bathing in the water and their mutual desire. Rafe grabbed her hips and moved her beneath the falls again so that, with his hand possessively holding her steady, she arched her back and the water splashed across her breasts. Coupled with his mouth and tongue and teeth, the conglomeration of sensation left her gasping for breath.
She hooked a leg around his waist. Twirling out of the rush of the water, they slammed against the wall of rock hidden by the falls and kissed until they couldn’t breathe. He pressed against her, but the water made her tight. Skillfully, he used his fingers to coax a sweet rush of moisture from within, and she cried out as her body responded. Lifting her bottom, Rafe filled her. She felt sure he murmured her name when he could press no deeper, but the rush of water muffled any sound.
The wall she leaned against was slippery, yet Rafe never stumbled and she never slid. He drove into her wildly, freeing her with every thrust, pushing her closer and closer to the orgasmic edge she so desperately wanted.
Their kisses were wild and flavored by the water, which was cold and sweet and fresh—a perfect contrast to the sultry night. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing herself higher, shifting so that he struck her precisely in the spot that caused her climax. She clung to him, allowing her entire body to rejoice in the explosion of sensation. Seconds later, she felt the hot injection of his sperm and suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to make love with him again.
“Don’t stop,” she begged directly into his ear.
He kissed her long and hard, and she mewled with disappointment when his sex softened. He set her down, took her hand and then guided her beneath the falls, where they rinsed simultaneously beneath the rushing water, caressing and cuddling and speaking with only their eyes.
The feel of the water dripping down into her sex only reinvigorated her. One time in such a perfect setting could not be enough. At the cabin, they’d made love out of necessity. Tonight, they’d surrendered to desire that hadn’t been spawned by evil magic—and this need was harder to sate.
She led him to the calmer side of the pool. He pushed himself up onto a rock, his lax penis cradled on his lap, the water covering him from the knees down. He moved to pull her up beside him, but instead, she slid between his legs, kissed his nipples and chest and toyed with the smattering of hair that lent another touch of darkness to his swarthy, irresistible body.
“Mariah,” he breathed.
“I’m not done,” she said, blazing a path with her lips across his pecs, lapping at the water that dripped from his skin.
“Were you not satisfied?”
“Do you mean did I come?” she asked. “Yes, yes, I did. But once isn’t enough. Not tonight. Not out here. Under the stars and the moon, in this perfect slice of heaven. I don’t want to waste a single minute of this. Not. A. Single. Minute,” she said, emphasizing each word with a nip of teeth or a soothing kiss.
“I am spent,” he declared, though he managed to run his fingers sensually through her hair.
She smoothed a hand up his thigh, then across his penis, which quivered in response. “Not for long, you’re not.”
Again her mouth watered for a taste of him, and this time she indulged. She dipped down into the water and tugged him forward, not caring if she scraped his delicious backside against the rocks. After a long lick that spanned the entire length of him, she took the head of his penis into her mouth.
In seconds, his sex hardened. She stroked him rhythmically, patiently, laving him with her tongue until the flesh and muscle thickened and stretched to the length she now knew was the perfect fit for her body. Underneath his silky skin, hot blood pulsed. The sounds of his amazed pleasure spurred her to be bolder. She ringed her thumb and forefinger at the base of his cock; then she suckled him completely until he needed release nearly as much as she needed him inside her.
“Mariah,” he gasped.
When a salty taste met her tongue, she released him, dropped below the surface, swished her mouth with water and then emerged. Her lips and tongue now cooled, she gave him one last, long lick before easing up his body, kissing him from his abs to his chin along the way; then she straddled him and pressed her now-throbbing sex against him.
“Ready for me again?” she asked.
“You know I am,” he said simply. “But you…I must.”
She knew what he wanted by the way he licked his lips and gazed down into the water. And boy, oh, boy, did she want the same. They switched places and, seconds later, she was leaning back on her elbows and slipping into delirium from the feel of his tongue inside her. He parted her with his fingers, exploring her, pleasuring her, chuckling into her flesh when she cried out for mercy. Seconds from climax, he drew her legs around his waist and pulled her forward until they were once again joined.
The heat of desperate need abated, they made love slowly this time, twirling around in the water as they mated. Mariah closed her eyes tightly and concentrated solely on the feel of his body, so slick, so hard, joined with hers. When he spilled them onto the riverbank and brought her to orgasm with long, slow strokes milked from the deepest part of her body, she could not help but cry out his name in sheer ecstasy.
He grabbed her hands and drew them high above her head. She tucked her knees against his chest and shifted. The new position created the last sensation he needed to press deeper and longer until he came again, wonder on his face and her name on his lips.
Rafe rolled beside her and drew her tight against him.
Mariah suspected she could have fallen instantly asleep, but she struggled to remain awake, if for no other reason than to get dressed. By morning, Rafe would be gone. She didn’t want to be shocked awake by some ecotourist who’d taken a wrong turn.
Rafe, who’d laid his hand across her belly, drew his touch away as if burned.
“What?” she asked, barely energetic enough to manage that simple syllable.
“We just made love,” he said.
Though his words bordered on matter-of-fact, she heard the distinct sound of incredulity in them.
“I’m well aware of that,” she said, attempting to snuggle back against him. “Is there some Gypsy afterglow ritual I’m missing?”
He stared at her, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set in an expression that bordered on angry.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
His scowl caused a flutter in her belly. He was furious, but she had no idea why.
“Nothing I should not have been prepared for,” he replied. He glanced up at the sky, then around at the bags. He retrieved the clothing she’d purchased for him and donned the undergarment and jeans without a word.
She was too frozen by his icy demeanor to move. When he finally spoke, she was almost afraid of what she might hear.
“Get some sleep, Mariah,” he said. “My decision is made. In the morning, I will use Rogan’s magic to find your coins.”
Fourteen
“Really?”
The excitement in her voice was unmistakable, particularly when paired with the wave of enthusiasm that rolled off her skin with the force of a rock slide. He’d given her a great gift in agreeing to her plan—but at what cost to him?
He’d already paid so much. He’d lost Sarina. He’d lost Irika. He’d lost his son, Stefan, long before he’d had a chance to know whether his child shared his mother’s gentle nature or his father’s spiritual gifts.
Rafe suddenly hated what he could do. A person’s emotions should be private. The intimacy of sex with Mariah had made him foolish, made him believe, if only for a blissful moment, that she cared as deeply for him as he did for her. But he’d sensed her laissez-faire feelings. He couldn’t deny that her inability to match his emotions cut with more precision than the machete she’d used on the jungle vines.
In her unguarded moments, he’d experienced her intense passion, her kindness and her irrepressible sense of fun. She lived to take chances. She loved to defy convention. She deeply desired him and wanted to introduce him to pleasures he’d never known with any other woman. But the moment her needs had ebbed and she had control of her thoughts again, her vulnerabilities vanished.
Her emotions snapped shut like the heavy lid of an iron chest, locking out anyone who might steal what she’d hidden inside.
“I see no reason to delay the inevitable. I will use whatever means necessary, as long as you pledge that once your debt is paid to Hector Velez, all of your resources and time will focus on breaking my bond to Rogan’s curse.”
She tilted her head to the side, her amber eyes questioning. “Of course,” she said softly. “I’d help you even if you didn’t help me, Rafe. You need to know that.”
He swallowed thickly. He stood at least five long paces from her, yet he knew she was sincere. And confused. Had he really thought she was the type to abandon him? Had she possessed true mercenary tendencies, would he have come this far?
He did not know the answer. She was, after all, the only person he’d had contact with in over two centuries. As much as Rafe wanted to believe his ideals would keep him from falling into bed with a woman unworthy of his emotional loyalty, he was still a man. Rogan’s curse had fired his lust the first night in the cabin, and since then, the blaze had not truly been extinguished. The embers even now, after their quenching swim, smoldered. While he was still tied to the marker, he could not distinguish between true attraction and magical hunger. And until he knew, he would keep his heart at a distance from this woman. His body—while she possessed the stone—he had little control over.