Born to Be Wild (16 page)

How in the hell was he going to win this time? And when had the stakes ever been so high? The stick snapped in his hands, and he absently tossed the pieces on the glowing embers of the fire. He stared into the small clumps of glowing ash, watching the orange-yellow aura expand and pop as the wood slowly turned to smoke. He identified strongly, feeling as if his own grasp on Dara and their relationship was just as tenuous and intangible.

She thought he was irresponsible, that he traipsed the globe like a wild man, living for the moment, no plans
for the future, not caring if he even lived long enough to have one.

Anger rose within him as he jammed a puffy marshmallow onto another stick and lowered it as close to the heat as he dared. He’d always seen himself as a smart man who’d capitalized on his strengths, a successful businessman lucky enough to make a living doing what he loved to do, what he did best. And he made a damn good living.

He dropped down into a crouch, staring into the fire. Anger was replaced by the bleak realization that nothing was the same, the checks and balances of his life, their respective worth had all changed. And Dara was still right. What did he have to offer someone like her? No matter how in touch she got with the girl she’d been, she’d also really and truly changed. And it was a sure bet she wouldn’t want to climb mountains, or scale glaciers, or leap from airplanes.

The painful irony was, he didn’t care if she did any of those things with him. When he thought of them together, it was doing regular things; grocery shopping on Saturday morning and him sneaking junk food in the cart; watching her stand in front of the closet, picking out the perfect dress so he could show her off on the dance floor that night, having her pull it on so he could pull it right back off again and to hell with going out. He saw fires in winter and barbecues in summer, dinners by candlelight and making love to her on rainy mornings.

He wanted to be there when the emotional fallout from her job was too much to bear alone. He wanted her to be there when he returned from a trip all weary and
aching and needing her soft touches and special brand of fierce love.

Her love. That’s what it all came back to.

He shook his head, a harsh sigh escaping his lips. And if he told her any of this, she’d laugh herself silly. She’d never believe it. And he couldn’t blame her.

The marshmallow, now all black and burned, oozed off the slender stick and plopped into the fire with a loud hiss.

“I see this is another skill you haven’t mastered.”

Zach jerked his head up. She was standing on the other side of the fire.

“Can’t sing camp songs or cook marshmallows. And is afraid of women drivers. Better be careful, Brogan, or they’ll revoke your thrill-seeker’s license.”

He should be glad she was teasing him, that she was trying to make it all right. But the dark shadows of night didn’t hide the tight lines of tension on her face, nor did the crackle of the fire cover the underlying strain in her voice. He wasn’t glad. He was angry. At her for not rightfully telling him to go to hell and at himself for being so damn glad she hadn’t.

He stood up, tossed the stick in the fire and walked around the stones, stopping just in front of her.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s a whole bag left,” she said, her bright tone faltering on the last word.

“You know what I mean,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said those things back there. And I shouldn’t have walked away.”

“I’m a big girl, Zach,” she said, her hushed tone making
the hair on his arms prickle in awareness. “I can take care of myself.”

Zach winced. “Yeah. I guess I ought to get used to that.” Her expression was unreadable and after a long silent moment when he didn’t have the first clue what to say or do next, he finally gestured behind him. “Would you like a marshmallow? I’ll let you cook this time.”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t want a marshmallow.” She stepped closer to him. “And I don’t want to sing camp songs.” Another small step. She tilted her head to look up at him. “And I don’t want to dance.” Her hand pressed lightly on his chest, and his breathing came to an abrupt halt. “But most of all,” she said so quietly, he barely heard her over the pounding rush in his ears, “most of all, I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

She tilted up on tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. It took everything he had to harness the overwhelming need to drag her into his arms and hang on for dear life.

“Dara,” he said, his voice barely a rasp against her lips. “Dart—”

She opened her mouth slightly and kissed him again, taking advantage of his parted lips. He groaned, a shudder of need rocking him so badly, he held on to her hips to steady himself.

“We need to talk,” he said, using superhuman effort he hadn’t thought himself capable of in order to keep from responding to her. The hard ache between his legs throbbed, reminding him there were some things even his steel will couldn’t control. “Dara, please.” He lifted his head and framed her face with his hands. “We can’t do this until we figure a few things out first.” His breath
was coming in short, deep pants. “You were right. I’m not … maybe you shouldn’t … not with me.” God, why was this so damn hard to say?

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I should. And especially with you.”

“Why?” he demanded, feeling equal parts confusion and frustration. “You know what I’m like. You said you knew this was wrong. That you’d get hurt.”

He dropped his hands to his sides, lowered his gaze and took a deep breath, then looked back into her eyes. “I want you, Dara. More than I could have ever imagined wanting someone. But even more, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I stood back there by the lake and had a long talk with myself. And I came to a few inescapable conclusions.”

“Such as?”

Her lips curved ever so slightly, and Zach felt his stomach drop to his knees. “I know you, Zach Brogan. I know what you are is more than just what you do.” She paused for an unsteady breath. “And I know that in order to experience the joy I could have with you, I have to risk the pain.” She reached up and pulled his head down to hers. “And I know I need you badly enough to take that risk again.” She kissed him hard and long, and somehow he managed to keep his hands at his sides.

She lifted her mouth from his and looked him straight in the eyes. “There. Now we’ve discussed it. So, please, Zach, kiss me back.” Her voice dropped to a dark, husky whisper. “And this time, don’t stop.”

Had her expression faltered even once, had he detected even a glimmer of indecision, Zach told himself he
might have been able to resist. But all he found when he looked in her eyes was passion, and need, and the tiniest trace of vulnerability. It was that glimpse of her unprotected heart that touched a chord deep within him. He was feeling the very same thing, and knew that if pain was a result of what was about to happen, he would likely share in it equally.

But his hands were on her hips, skimming the sides of her breasts, gently squeezing her shoulders then diving into her hair as he angled her mouth for his. And the instant his lips touched hers she groaned, her slender frame vibrating with the depth and force of it. And that easily, all his inner battles, the possible reprisals and any future regrets simply vanished.

He wrapped her in his arms, fitting her soft curves snugly against his chest and hips. He immediately took the kiss as deep as he knew how, expressing the only way he could all the emotions in his head and heart. His tongue took her mouth, as his hands felt her, his hips cradling hers, and he rocked her, carrying her away with him.

And then even that wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel her skin. And he wanted friction; hot, steaming, pul-sating friction. He wanted to feel her slide over his bare chest, he wanted to feel her long, smooth legs tangled with his, he wanted her fingers stroking him, he wanted his inside her.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her a few inches off the ground. “Wrap your legs around my hips,” he commanded against the damp pulse in her throat. She did, and when he felt her softness press against the front of his jeans, he almost lost it again. His groan was long and
rough, as he licked her neck, nipped at the soft spot just beneath her ear.

She bent her head and pulled his earlobe between her teeth and sucked. His breath escaped from clenched teeth. He lifted his head, focusing on a tree behind her, and was moving toward it before he’d even consciously made the decision. The act of walking rubbed her against him in the most delicious, mind-numbing way, and for an instant he thought he might have to lay her down on the ground and rip the clothes from their bodies.

“Lord, I ache, Zach.”

He’d never get them undressed in time. And that damn tree was at least a hundred miles away.

Her legs tightened around his waist. She rocked against him.

He grunted and rocked harder against her, his need for her too primal to control. “Dear God, Dara. Stop. Stop it.” Even as he begged her, he trailed sucking, biting kisses down the side of her neck, pulling at her shirt with his teeth, shifting her up so he could capture the hard nipple pressing against the soft cotton in his mouth.

She moaned and arched her back, offering herself to him so openly, it nearly brought them both to their knees. He staggered to a halt, continuing his erotic foray across the front of her shirt until he’d soaked the other side with his mouth and tongue.

She writhed in his arms. “Let me down, Zach. I’m getting dizzy.” She gasped when he pressed her hips down against him. “Oh, God. I can’t take … much more … of this.” He pulled her up and pressed her down again, this time letting her feet drop to the ground. “Don’t stop now.”

A short gust of laughter at her conflicting demands forced its way out of his laboring lungs. He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply again, then held her against him with one arm when her knees wobbled. He wove his fingers into the hair brushing the nape of her neck and tilted her head back.

“You’re really sure about this.” It wasn’t a question, and Zach didn’t expect her to answer. He had the answer he needed just by looking in her eyes.

“No tree, Dara. Not on the cold ground.” He grinned, feeling suddenly strong, invincible and immortal in a way that even free-falling from the moon couldn’t match. “And definitely not with my pants on.”

She was breathing heavily, and her laughter was a cross between a choke and a sob. “Yeah,” she managed.

He swung her up in his arms and turned toward the two small canvas domes. “Your cave or mine, Wilma?”

She looked at the tents, a small frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows. “Did you, ah, bring any …?” The most erotic blush he’d ever seen colored her moonlit skin.

He grinned. “Any what?”

She punched him on the shoulder. “You know.”

He walked to the nearest tent, finding that even the pain due to the new fit of his jeans was a sweet ache. “Yeah, I know. And before you nail me with another right hook, yes, I did.”

Her smile nearly made him drop her. It gave a whole new meaning to the term wanton. “Then your cave it is, Fred.”

Zach grinned, then tossed his head back and howled at the moon. Dara’s sweet laughter filled the night air,
prompting Zach to lift her shoulder height and bury his face in her stomach, nuzzling her. She shrieked, still laughing until his head dipped down just below her belly button. The sound strangled in her throat, and she clutched fistfuls of his hair in her hands.

“Zach, what are you—? Oh God.”

Zach lifted his head and dropped a swift kiss on her parted lips before kneeling down with her in his lap, his back to the tent entrance.

He kissed her again. “Lady, you are one hell of a sweet, mind-blowing thrill.”

Zach scooted backward through the small opening until he was in the center of his sleeping bag. He pulled his shirt off, then he pulled her on top of him.

Straddling his hips, Dara let her gaze drift over Zach’s bare chest and up to his face. The circle of woven mesh fabric sewn into the peak of the dome bathed them in soft silvery moonlight.

“Only you would have a tent with a moon roof.”

Somehow the shared laughter right in the middle of such exquisite sexual tension only increased her need for him. It was as hot and wild as she’d imagined, but with Zach the intimacy was teasing and fun, filled with a sexy sort of playfulness that was all the more powerful for how open and uninhibited it made her feel.

Zach’s brand of lovemaking was as free and unique as the man himself. In the small confines of the tent, Dara felt as if she were soaring high above the ground.

She reached for the button of his jeans.

Zach groaned, his hips lifting automatically against her. “Better be careful, you’re playing with dynamite there, sweetheart.”

Dara laughed and tugged his zipper down. “Mmm-hmm.” She slid her hands into his pants, not in the least surprised that he wasn’t wearing anything else. She looked up at him through half-closed eyes.

Zach gasped as her hand closed around him.

His eyes narrowed as she lowered her head, but his wicked grin was way past daring. “Careful, that could blow at any minute.”

“Just what are you referring to sir?” she asked, her voice sultry and amused.

With a burst of choked laughter, Zach reached for her hips and swiftly reversed their positions. He pulled her under him and lifted one knee between her thighs, then slowly pressed upward, flexing his thigh again and again until she was moaning.

He pressed his face against her neck, nibbling, sucking and licking. “Teach you to play with explosives.”

“Teach me,” she gasped.

Zach was past needing to be asked. He toed off his shoes, shoved his pants down and off, then straddled her thighs. Bending low over her, he began to unbutton her blouse, placing kisses on her soft skin as he bared it. The blouse disappeared, and Zach was torn between continuing downward, or languishing for a while. She arched her back under his heated gaze, and the decision was made.

He ran his flat palms over her nipples until they tightened and his mouth savored each one at great and delicious length.