Lora Leigh - Primal

By the time he finished hanging his shorts and T-shirt, she had a meal ready: tortilla soup and crumbled crackers. Since they hadn’t eaten since the mouthful of crab the night before, it smelled divine. They devoured the food in silence, and then she sat back in her chair, regarding him with a determined expression.

“So I’ve been going over what happened in my head,” she said. “Because I can’t quite make myself believe it. I mean, it did happen, right?”

No question what she meant by it . “You didn’t imagine the incident, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You broke their arms. With your mind.” Her incredulity hit eleven on a scale of one to ten.

He put his spoon down and folded his hands in his lap, staring down into his white ceramic bowl. Patterns formed in the smears of soup: charged particles attracting others. As a child, he’d once imagined worlds existed on that scale.

“That’s accurate.”

“I don’t even know what to say. Wait, yes I do. Are you going to hurt me?”

The question hit him like a lash, though he supposed it was reasonable. He felt utterly exposed. Silas might’ve said any number of things, but he could only manage to answer, “No.”

But she noticed, and contrition flashed across her expressive face. “I shouldn’t have asked that. Duh. You saved me . . . and you did again with your brain trick, even though it hurt you. You’re a hero .”

“I’m not.”

“You are to me.”

At that, he finally raised his head; it was the second time she’d said so. She’d propped her elbows on the table, and the way she’d leaned forward to make her point, it pulled the sheet dangerously low on her breasts. He looked—and he wanted her. Silas wished he didn’t, because it reminded him of all he’d lost and everything he could never have again. But she was beautiful in the way of a sunset in the mountains or a black swan diving by night: haunting, memorable, but ultimately ephemeral. The memory might linger, but she would not.

Juneau went on. “I guess I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, and really, I’m just numb, and tired, and I don’t have any more shock to spare.”

“Don’t be afraid of me.” He wanted to beg because he’d liked the easy way she treated him. It had been precious and new, and he hadn’t known how much he needed it until the fear crept into her eyes.

“I’m not.”

She seemed to sense his doubt and came around the table. To his astonishment, she planted herself on his knee. Oh, that was not a good idea. Though he didn’t intend to hurt her, it didn’t mean he lacked all male instincts. As she leaned into him, he noticed she smelled like him—the same soap, the same shampoo—but on her, it gained layers of sweetness. She’d taken her hair out of the braids, and it curled about her shoulders, brushing his bare skin in tantalizing sweeps as she breathed.

“I don’t know how to put this,” he said roughly, “so I’m just going to say it. I can’t have you so close to me.”

“Why not?”

Could she really be asking that? He found it hard to believe any woman could be so naïve. But he spelled it out anyway.

“Because we’re nearly naked, and you’re gorgeous.”

Juneau surprised him by leaning in and running her fingertips up his bare arm, tracing the pattern of his tattoo. Christ, it felt good. His muscles tensed. Maybe she wanted to go where this led after all.

“It might not be smart,” she said, “but I want you. I want sensation to dispel the pain and the exhaustion. I want to bang my heels on the bed until we both pass out and wake up feeling one hundred percent better, even though nothing has changed. I can tell you agree by the way you’re trying to pierce my hip.”

It was too much to hope she hadn’t noticed. But it had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with her golden skin and long legs and the way she sparkled with life. He had been dead so long that he wanted to get inside her and feel her heat. Maybe she could revive him all the way.

“That’s a natural physiological response to your warmth and proximity.”

Juneau raised both brows. “So you’re saying you don’t want to?”

“It’s more that I don’t trust anything good coming so easy.”

She grinned down at him. “I never said I’d come easy. I intend to make you work for it.”

He didn’t understand her lightness, especially under these circumstances, after everything they’d seen, and what she knew about him, for God’s sake. He said so aloud. Her smile faded a bit.

“Are you going to judge me, too? Tell me I’m not serious enough? Answer this: how does that help anything? How does misery make things better? I learned a hell of a long time ago that it’s better to decide to be happy—and pay attention here, Silas—make no mistake, happiness is a choice . If I choose to focus on all the terrible things in the world, then I might as well shoot myself because it’s not getting better. Or I can take my pleasure where I find it. I refuse to live my life under a rain cloud, even if other people think I should.”

“And what do you have to be happy about?”

“I’m alive. I’m clean and full, and I’m with you.”

God, he found her all but incomprehensible. How could anyone think being stranded with him was a good thing? And yet some frozen, lonely part of him melted just a little. Just enough.

She added with an impish grin, “Look, if you’re worried about your reputation, I’ll tell everyone you put up a big fight.”

Maybe all those years of playing dumb made him that way in truth. “What?”

She sealed her finger against his mouth. “Shh, don’t talk. I just want to kiss and touch you a little. We won’t do anything you don’t want . . . and we’ll stop as soon as you give the word.”

Reluctant amusement curled through him, leavening the ache in his cock. Eighteen years ago, he’d said the same thing to some girl he desperately wanted to fuck. Juneau made it impossible to brood, and just as difficult to excoriate himself with old guilt. Silas fell into the moment with her, willing to let her lead for a little while.

He gave a lopsided smile. “Fine. As long as you don’t tell.”

Then her mouth took his in a way that he’d never known: demanding and authoritative. She took, her tongue gliding against his, owning the kiss. It should have been funny when her hand crept up his chest, circling furtively toward his nipple. Instead it aroused him fiercely. By the time she turned her attention to his neck, he was squirming in the chair.

She sat back, her breath coming in little gasps. “Are you seduced yet?”

“Completely.”

His hands moved, almost of their own accord to where her makeshift sari knotted on her shoulder. She watched him, eyes shining. As he’d guessed, she sunbathed in the nude, so she was golden all over. Her body was finely made, almost too pretty for him to touch, and yet it sent a jolt of pure lust through him when he covered her breasts with his palms. She made a sweet sound in her throat, her head falling back. Juneau closed her eyes as he caressed her, sweeping his thumbs in delicately teasing circles. He turned her, so she straddled his lap, giving him better access.

“Your lips, now.”

He had to be dreaming. But disbelief didn’t stop him from leaning forward to nuzzle her breast in a soft, openmouthed kiss. She sank her hands into his hair, whimpering, and it gave him the courage to use his teeth a little. Oh, she liked that. Juneau responded with her hips, grinding on his cock.

“You’re gentler than you look,” she whispered.

“Is that all right?” He hardly knew what to do after all this time.