Lost in You (3 page)

He was a glorious, gorgeous male animal.
 

A punch of lust knocked the breath from her lungs. She’d never wanted a man on such an elemental level. Never. No talking. No foreplay. Just an animalistic mating. Hard, fast, sweaty, dirty raw sex. Him pounding into her until she screamed her pleasure, shattering the woodland silence.
 

Oblivious, Becker bent down and splashed water on his face. Raked his hands through his hair. Droplets of water clung to his dark stubble and glistened on his eyelashes. His nipples were tight.
 

Lacy ached to feel those rigid points with her tongue. Longed to trace the water’s path down his river-cooled body with her hot mouth.
 

He stiffened. Seemed to look right at her. Then went on cleaning himself. Thoroughly.
 

Did Becker realize he was tormenting her as his wet bandana wiped every inch of his amazing body?
 

Probably.
 

Still, she leered until he returned to camp.
 

The narrow stream tumbled over a rock-lined bed. In several spots along the grassy edge, water pooled deep. Lacy plunged her hands into the icy coldness, scrubbing with a small stone until her fingers turned pink.
 

Satisfied all traces of snake oil were gone, she whipped off her tank top and rinsed it. Felt strangely freeing to flaunt her naked breasts and cup the cool, clear liquid, letting it flow down her body like an invisible lover’s caress.
 

Was Becker lurking? Feeling that same inexplicable desire she’d experienced watching him?
 

She stayed bare-chested until her shirt dried, just in case.
 

Lacy sat on a bed of moss, hypnotized by the transformation of day into night. Twilight turned the sky a majestic purple. Stars twinkled. A soft breeze wafted by, stirring the hair stuck to her nape. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d existed in such peace. No agenda. No people criticizing her. The scent of pine and the underlying earthy aroma of the forest filled her lungs.
 

When a rank smell replaced the sweetness of the night air, Lacy immediately scrambled to her feet.
 

Was there a dead animal close by? Or just a stinky, hungry creature hunting for a meal? She started to run, but stopped when she remembered the Discovery Channel warning that predators
liked
prey to run. In the near dark she staggered through the meadow, the stench increasing with every step.
 

She stopped. A fire lit the darkness surrounding the campsite and smoke drifted toward her.
 

It appeared that awful smell was dinner.
 

Chapter Three
 

It looked worse than it smelled.
 

Becker eyed the crispy chunk of meat on the end of the stick. Screw this. He didn’t have to demonstrate his stubborn streak to her. He’d rather starve than eat barbequed snake.
 

Lacy limped into view, smile pasted on her freshly-scrubbed face.
 

“What’s that delicious odor?”
 

Odor. Not aroma. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for his culinary skills. He scowled at the red-hot coals. Time to call a halt to this juvenile, I’ll-eat-it-if-you-will game.
 

When she stopped—downwind from the campfire smoke—he glanced up.
 

The dancing firelight bathed her in an ethereal glow. She looked half-angel, half-temptress. Which one was the real Lacy? How could he find out firsthand?
 

He was tired of baiting her. Since they were stuck with each other for the rest of the hike, they might as well make the most of it.
 

Becker mustered his most charming smile. “That stench is dinner. And you’re more than welcome to eat my share because I sure as hell am not touching it.”
 

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Really?”
 

“Scouts honor. I’d rather chomp on pine needles.”
 

She plopped beside him on the log. “Thank God. Honestly, I didn’t know if I could—Hey! Wait a minute!” She whapped him on the arm.
 

“Ouch! What was that for?”
 

“For making me carry that stupid snake. If we weren’t gonna eat it, we could’ve left it for the buzzards.”
 

Hopefully she’d credit the fire for the red flush on his cheeks, not guilt. “Sorry. Don’t know what came over me. I’m usually not such a jerk.”
 

Lacy looked dubious at his declaration. “I know what came over you. Being out in the wilderness does strange things to men.”
 

“Define strange.”
 

“A temporary reversion to caveman ways. You know…” She grunted. “You man, me woman. Me make fire, you make dinner.”
 

“Error in your logic. I’ve made the fire
and
dinner.”
 

Lacy blushed a delicate rosy-pink, captivating him completely.
 

“You missed the point.”
 

“Which is?”
 

“The need for men to prove they’re
real men
.”
 

He lifted his brows, waiting for what promised to be an entertaining explanation. “Like?”
 

She kicked a pinecone into the flames. “Like my ex-boyfriend Ross didn’t have a clue what ‘GPS’ meant, but put him in Central Park with one and suddenly he’s an expert? Please. He can’t find his way out of the men’s room.”
 

This guy had soured her on more than the great outdoors. Becker didn’t find it as amusing as he’d imagined. “Ross sounds like an asshole.”
 

She blinked. “Whoa. Sorry about the ‘men suck’ tangent.”
 

“Why didn’t you back out of this hike?” He stirred the coals. “Since it was your ex-boyfriend’s idea?”
 

Lacy propped her elbows on her knees and gazed into the fire. “Because I’m sick of being called a marshmallow. A creampuff.” She slanted him a sideways glance. “A cupcake. I wanted to prove I’m an adventurous woman.”
 

Oh yeah, he definitely had one way in particular she could prove that adventurous side—and it sure as hell didn’t involve GPS.
 

Their gazes clashed. By the way Lacy fidgeted, Becker figured his lustful intentions were clearly written in his eyes.
 

She glanced away quickly. “So, since we’re not having snake filets, how about if I cook?” She rummaged in her backpack, unearthing two protein bars, tossing one to him. “Guaranteed edible.”
 

“Thanks.” He bent forward to chuck another branch on the fire.
 

Lacy was frowning at him when he sat up.
 

“What?”
 

“You’re bleeding.”
 

He craned his neck but couldn’t see. “Where?”
 

“From a scratch on your back. I can’t believe you didn’t feel it. Then again, I suppose a tough outdoorsman like you is used to getting hurt.”
 

She dug in her backpack and waved a big Band-Aid. “Voila.”
 

“You carry Band-Aids?”
 

“A necessity for wearing stylish shoes. Hold still.” Soft fingertips gently danced over his skin.
 

Goose bumps broke out across his body. He hissed, but not from pain.
 

“Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
 

“No.” He smiled slyly. “Thanks for tendin’ my wound, little lady.”
 

Lacy batted her lashes. “Careful, mountain man. I might think you like me.”
 

“Maybe I do.”
 

The air between them turned sultry, heavy with promise, though neither voiced the obvious. Silence stretched for a time as they listened to sounds of the night.
 

Becker heard a jingle. He’d noticed she constantly fiddled with the silver bracelet circling her right wrist.“Where’d you get that?”
 

“A gift from my friend, Cat.”
 

“Can I see it?”
 

“Sure.” She scooted closer, offering her arm.
 

“Pretty. What is this?” He pointed to a twisted, dangling blob.
 

“A
Sita
knot.”
 

“Which is?”
 

“A Celtic symbol denoting the four phases of the moon, the four stages of life and the four seasons.”
 

“Did Cat give this to you because you’ve been friends
for-ever
?”
 

Lacy groaned at his pun. “No. She gave it to me before I left as a symbol of new beginnings.” She smiled wistfully. “But crazy Cat kinda runs on her own kooky calendar.”
 

“How so?”
 

“Well, the traditional Celtic season for new beginnings, Samhain, doesn’t happen for a few months.”
 

“I know,” he murmured, stroking his thumb over her silky skin beneath the bracelet.
 

“You do? How?”
 

He’d never admitted to anyone outside his family that his crazy mother had christened him “Sam” after he’d arrived on Samhain Eve.
 

Since childhood Becker had discounted his mother’s warnings about the power of fate and karma, as much as her belief in crystals and superstitions. Nonsense in his opinion. Hard work, not fate, ruled his life. “My mother is into all that New Age crap.”
 

“It’s not crap.” She attempted to yank her arm away.
 

Becker held fast. “Wrong word choice.”
 

“Then what did you mean?”
 

He flicked the charm. “Do you believe this bracelet can somehow change your life?”
 

“Yes. Not by itself, but I see it as a reminder I
can
choose my own path. I’m not doomed to keep repeating the same mistakes.”
 

“Such as?”
 

“Bad jobs. Bad relationships. Bad decisions.”
 

“Has your luck changed since you put it on?”
 

“Into bad luck, maybe. First I got lost, now I’m stuck with you—”
 

He dropped her arm like a hot coal.
 

Lacy leaned until their shoulders touched. “Wrong word choice.”
 

“Touché,” he said.
 

“I seem to be bad luck. I’d hoped it’d change on this trip.”
 

Becker couldn’t help himself. He reached for her, smoothing fine wisps of hair from her velvety-soft cheek. “Maybe it has.” His touch lingered when her eyes sparked with desire. With the back of his hand he leisurely traced the outline of her face from temple to chin, sweeping his thumb over her plump bottom lip. “Firelight looks good on you, Lacy.”
 

“Becker—”
 

“Sam.”
 

“Sam—”
 

“Ssh. You talk too much.”
 

Her breath caught as he brushed his lips across hers. Once. Twice.
 

As he was about to dive into her succulent mouth for a real kiss, an animal screeched.
 

Lacy jumped. “W-what was that?”
 

Bad timing. Shit. Or good timing. What had he been thinking? His responsibilities for her didn’t include kissing and exchanging life goals.
 

He scanned the sky. “Probably an owl.” Better to put some distance between them. “I’m whipped. Let’s douse the fire and hit the hay. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
 

Surly Becker had returned. Big surprise. No skin off her nose he’d changed his mind. He hadn’t asked for her help as he trekked to the stream for water to put out the fire.