thrusts.
He turned his head on the pillow, smiled an apology into her sleepy, amused eyes, and thought, I am the luckiest sonofabitch on earth.
Two seconds ago, he'd been as embarrassed as hell. He hadn't lost control like that since he'd been sixteen and one huge randy hormone.
And here she was, smiling. Making it a joke. Making everything okay.
He'd make it up to her for going off like a rocket the moment he pressed into her incredible wet heat. Swear to God, he was going to take her places she'd never been before for being so generous and for telling him with her sweet, forgiving smile and really fine sense of humor that it was okay. She wasn't judging him by his less than stellar nanosecond performance.
"That's Lieutenant Rocketman, if you don't mind."
Her soft laugh sounded lush and sexy against the pillow. "I stand corrected."
"Did I tell you I was a sprinter in high school?"
Still smiling, she sat up. "Never would have guessed it."
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down beneath him.
Levered above her on his elbows, he stroked a strand of her incredible hair back from her eyes. Soft. Her eyes were as soft as summer grass.
"God, you're beautiful. Why aren't you ticked off?"
"Let's just say I'm an optimist."
Yeah. So was he. And she was giving him more than enough reason to be optimistic about a lot of things.
The animal lust was quenched. A new tenderness replaced it. He ran a finger down her bare arm, amazed all over again by the silken feel of her skin. "Got to love an optimist. Don't love this so much, though. You've got too many clothes on."
His fault. They'd barely made it inside her apartment and he'd attacked her. Dragged her to her bedroom and dealt with the minimum amount of zippers and cloth and managed to roll on a condom to make what had just happened happen.
It had been that or die. He'd been sure of it. He was going to implode from the inside out.
Lord did he have a lot to make up for. Starting now.
He reached behind her and slowly slid down the zipper on her dress. "I hope I didn't ruin this."
Another sultry look on that gorgeous face had every muscle in his body knotting with need. "What you need to worry about," she said, lifting her arms so he could slide the dress up and over her head, "is ruining me ...and I don't feel even a little bit damaged."
He had to be dreaming. He had to be. He touched her again, just to make sure.
"Not that you have any reason to believe me," he shrugged out of his shirt and kicked off his pants, "but I have every intention of well and truly wrecking you before this night is over."
She reached behind her back and unhooked her black lacy bra. An adorable dimple dented her left cheek. "And you plan on starting this devastation ... when?"
Chapter 6
JOLO ISLAND
PRESENT
Darcy semidozed where she'd been shoved down against the red bark of a Narra tree. Was it forty-eight? Seventy-two hours ago that this nightmare had started? More?
She didn't know. She knew only one thing, and of that one thing she was certain.
She was past the fear stage.
The body and the psyche could only handle so much stark, raw terror before one or the other shut down. She'd reached the point of no return several hours ago. And she'd made a choice.
She chose to be pissed off. And she chose to live.
Provided she got lucky. It all came back to that.
She lifted her head and shoved the damp hair from her face with her bound wrists. Another morning had passed. Her captors had slogged through the heat and humidity, dragging her through the thickening undergrowth, and pressed deeper into the jungle. Slower, though. They moved much slower than they'd traveled yesterday. Part of it was due to the terrain.
Moss and vines covered hidden rocks and made them slippery. Heavy undergrowth and gangly roots snagged her feet and slowed everyone
He turned his head on the pillow, smiled an apology into her sleepy, amused eyes, and thought, I am the luckiest sonofabitch on earth.
Two seconds ago, he'd been as embarrassed as hell. He hadn't lost control like that since he'd been sixteen and one huge randy hormone.
And here she was, smiling. Making it a joke. Making everything okay.
He'd make it up to her for going off like a rocket the moment he pressed into her incredible wet heat. Swear to God, he was going to take her places she'd never been before for being so generous and for telling him with her sweet, forgiving smile and really fine sense of humor that it was okay. She wasn't judging him by his less than stellar nanosecond performance.
"That's Lieutenant Rocketman, if you don't mind."
Her soft laugh sounded lush and sexy against the pillow. "I stand corrected."
"Did I tell you I was a sprinter in high school?"
Still smiling, she sat up. "Never would have guessed it."
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down beneath him.
Levered above her on his elbows, he stroked a strand of her incredible hair back from her eyes. Soft. Her eyes were as soft as summer grass.
"God, you're beautiful. Why aren't you ticked off?"
"Let's just say I'm an optimist."
Yeah. So was he. And she was giving him more than enough reason to be optimistic about a lot of things.
The animal lust was quenched. A new tenderness replaced it. He ran a finger down her bare arm, amazed all over again by the silken feel of her skin. "Got to love an optimist. Don't love this so much, though. You've got too many clothes on."
His fault. They'd barely made it inside her apartment and he'd attacked her. Dragged her to her bedroom and dealt with the minimum amount of zippers and cloth and managed to roll on a condom to make what had just happened happen.
It had been that or die. He'd been sure of it. He was going to implode from the inside out.
Lord did he have a lot to make up for. Starting now.
He reached behind her and slowly slid down the zipper on her dress. "I hope I didn't ruin this."
Another sultry look on that gorgeous face had every muscle in his body knotting with need. "What you need to worry about," she said, lifting her arms so he could slide the dress up and over her head, "is ruining me ...and I don't feel even a little bit damaged."
He had to be dreaming. He had to be. He touched her again, just to make sure.
"Not that you have any reason to believe me," he shrugged out of his shirt and kicked off his pants, "but I have every intention of well and truly wrecking you before this night is over."
She reached behind her back and unhooked her black lacy bra. An adorable dimple dented her left cheek. "And you plan on starting this devastation ... when?"
Chapter 6
JOLO ISLAND
PRESENT
Darcy semidozed where she'd been shoved down against the red bark of a Narra tree. Was it forty-eight? Seventy-two hours ago that this nightmare had started? More?
She didn't know. She knew only one thing, and of that one thing she was certain.
She was past the fear stage.
The body and the psyche could only handle so much stark, raw terror before one or the other shut down. She'd reached the point of no return several hours ago. And she'd made a choice.
She chose to be pissed off. And she chose to live.
Provided she got lucky. It all came back to that.
She lifted her head and shoved the damp hair from her face with her bound wrists. Another morning had passed. Her captors had slogged through the heat and humidity, dragging her through the thickening undergrowth, and pressed deeper into the jungle. Slower, though. They moved much slower than they'd traveled yesterday. Part of it was due to the terrain.
Moss and vines covered hidden rocks and made them slippery. Heavy undergrowth and gangly roots snagged her feet and slowed everyone
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