Morgan's Rescue (24 page)

     
Culver nodded and studied the area. "I think we're safe here," he told her gruffly. Pilar wore a short-sleeved, khaki blouse and slacks, with a brown leather belt cinching her slender waist. Though her clothing was masculine by South American standards, it took nothing away from her powerful femininity. That shined through, Culver decided, whether she was in a clinging white silk gown at an embassy ball, as when they'd met, or dressed for this dangerous mission, where they played a deadly tag with cocaine growers in the mountains north of Lima.

     
Culver saw the relief in Pilar's face and allowed a partial smile to form on his mouth. They were both hot, dirty and stressed to the limit. For a week, they'd been chased by Ramirez's soldiers. But now it looked as if they'd gone deep enough into the jungle to lose them. Culver knew the respite was temporary, but they desperately needed time out for a good night's sleep and a chance to recoup.

     
"Turn around," Pilar ordered, her lips curving in a shy smile.

     
Reluctantly, he did so. His loins ached with need. Being around Pilar was an exquisite torture he could barely endure. At twenty-five, he'd thought he knew everything about the wiles and ways of women from his CIA travels around the world, but he'd been so very wrong. Pilar's sultry golden gaze made him feel like a wildfire out of control.

     
Hearing a splash, he turned automatically, an unconscious agent's reaction to the slightest sound after a month on the run from men who would kill them without hesitation.

     
Too late.
Pilar stood in the center of the emerald pool, her wet hair gleaming in the afternoon sunlight that dappled the sparkling surface. His mouth went dry and his heart started a slow pounding that this time wasn't due to fear.

     
Pilar was naked, her lithe golden body gleaming with the water that ran off it in rivulets as she lifted her hands to slick back her nearly waist length hair. When her lashes lifted and her gaze met his, she froze, standing like a statue, her hands still in her hair. Her lips parted. Culver groaned, the sound coming out in an animal-like growl. Somewhere in his spinning senses, as he devoured her with his gaze, he recalled the old shaman telling him he'd meet a jaguar priestess north of Lima who would steal his heart. Well, right now, Culver would gladly sell his soul to the devil himself to have her.

     
Though everything in his training forbade it, it was as if an invisible force was pushing him forward. He held Pilar's startled gaze as, piece by piece, he dropped his clothing on the bank. It was as if some strange spell had come over him. Was it her huge golden eyes rimmed with sable brown that held him captive? Culver no longer cared. All he knew in that suspended moment out of time was that Pilar was his; they belonged together. She was his mate, his destiny.

     
Culver heard a splash and realized he'd stepped into the cool water of the pool. White sand glowed beneath his feet as he waded toward Pilar, their eyes still fixed upon each other. This time, he knew, he was helpless to stop himself. A new and urgent desire to make Pilar his once and for all overwhelmed him. The water deepened as the sand sloped gently downward. Pilar stood in waist-deep water, her small, uplifted breasts taut,
the
nipples full and hardened.

     
Slowly, very slowly, she allowed her fingers to ease from her hair. Culver's eyes narrowed and he felt his body respond powerfully to her femininity. Culver was young, and strong and handsome as he walked toward her. With each step he took, he was mesmerized by the flow of her thick black hair rippling around her shoulders and breasts. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and he saw her lift one hand and barely
touch
the top of her breast as she waited breathlessly for him.

     
It seemed so right to him—her waiting as he waded slowly toward her. He saw the intent in her golden eyes, which captured and held him prisoner. Oh, how many times had he ached to kiss her? As the dappled light moved across his tight, hard body, Pilar's lips parted in anticipation. Yes, this was right.
So very, very right.
No longer did Culver allow years of training to whisper that loving this woman was forbidden. From the moment he'd met her at the ball, he'd known Pilar was destined to hold a special place in his life.

     
Culver knew that Pilar lived in two worlds: Quechua and Spanish.
And between two religions—Catholic and shamanic.
Perhaps that was why this felt so right. She was South American; he, North American. All her life, Pilar had experienced opposing lifestyles and philosophies. It seemed fitting that her first time loving would be with a man who was not of her world.

     
As Culver halted mere inches from her and reached out with his right hand, Pilar closed her eyes and waited. He knew she didn't know how to love a man—only whatever she might have heard from other girls on her university campus. It didn't matter. Now she waited for his touch—for that coming together he'd dreamed of since their fated meeting in
Lima
.

     
As his palm grazed her wet hair, a small gasp escaped her lips. Culver's fingers trembled imperceptibly as they ranged downward toward her shoulder, where the thick, ebony mass lay, then curved across her left breast.

     
"I'll be gentle. . . ."

     
His growled words seemed to ease the fear of the unknown he'd seen banked in her eyes. His touch proved galvanizing, provocative. Pilar swayed, seeming dizzied by the feel of his lingering fingers on her sensitive skin. Barely opening her eyes, she looked at him. Despite her innocence, he could see a kind of knowing in her gaze—probably due to her shamanic upbringing, he realized.

     
Without thinking, for being around Pilar seemed to erase his conscious mind and open his heart, he reached out and took her small hand, placing it on his chest. His skin tightened instantly at her touch, and he froze momentarily as Pilar boldly allowed her gaze to move upward, to meet the need he knew must be burning in his own eyes. He was barely aware of the light splashing of the waterfall behind them, of the melodic call of the birds and monkeys. All that existed in his world at this moment was Pilar.

     
He was going to kiss her. She was a novice at the ways of men and women, and Culver saw momentary anxiety in her eyes, as if she was afraid she might disappoint him. As her other hand came forward and touched his skin, her fingers automatically ranged upward, and Culver felt as if the sun itself was touching him. A new level of understanding seemed to come to life in her expression. He dipped his head to take her mouth, to ask her to surrender to something beautiful within her, and suddenly all the anxiety disappeared from her eyes. In its place, he saw a wonderful look of primal, heated desire, so essential that Culver groaned. Pilar
raised
up on her tiptoes and lifted her chin to meet him halfway.

     
As Culver's mouth settled on hers, he felt her tremble. In one smooth motion, he lifted her off her feet and up into his arms. Their mouths clung together as she lay warmly against his bulk. She'd closed her eyes, her arms automatically wrapping around the thick column of his neck as he waded back out of the pool with her. Culver
lay
Pilar on the soft carpet of grass, aware only of the natural way her supple body settled next to his. She was on her back, and he moved above her, his callused hands framing her face as he began in earnest to teach her how to kiss him.

     
He kept his mouth tender and cajoling, and her lips parted beneath his gentle assault. He tasted her power as she tasted
him,
the ragged moisture of her breath flowing across his face as he eagerly returned her tentative, exploring kiss. Her nipples tautened against him as the wall of his chest met her rounded breasts. He sank more heavily against her, and as he deepened the kiss, Culver's senses spun out of control. A low moan, like the throaty growl of a jaguar, reverberated in Pilar's chest as Culver's hand captured and followed the curve of her breast. Automatically, she strained upward, and Culver realized hazily that while she might not know exactly what she was asking for, her body knew.

     
He encircled her breast with his fingers and felt her skin tighten deliciously. Tearing his mouth from hers, he allowed his lips to settle on that hard, straining peak. Pilar uttered a small cry of surprise and pleasure. Automatically, she threw back her head and pressed herself against him. Her fingers opened and closed spasmodically against his thickly bunched shoulders as he suckled her, and a white-hot sensation bolted downward through him. Reaching out to her, he slid his fingers between her ripe, curved thighs, which parted willingly to him.

     
The world ceased to exist for Culver. He knew only the feel of Pilar's untutored mouth on his, the softness of her inner thighs. His breath became ragged, and he felt a silent plea from her as he slowly began to ease his fingers into the velvety inner folds of her womanhood. Oh! The pleasure was golden, hot sunlight falling wonderfully upon him. Her thighs parted farther, of their own accord, and Culver felt the depth of her need. No longer did he worry about taking her virginity or what her future husband might think. She had captured his soul and willingly offered herself to him in return.

     
Each stroking sensation of his fingers brought another shattering cry of pleasure from Pilar. As she moaned and twisted in his arms, pressing herself wantonly against him, a pressure began building like the power of a volcano within him. He heard her cry out his name, felt the reverberation of her voice move through him like the deep tone of a shamanic drumbeat. Moisture and warmth combined, and moments later Culver heard Pilar utter a small cry of surprise, felt her whole body tighten in an exquisite trembling that moved him to awe. He growled her name, but saw that her world in those moments consisted only of heat, light, intense pleasure and her gasping breaths. She clung to him, her form bowed tightly against his, hungrily absorbing the continued pleasuring of his fingers as he brought her to an exquisite fulfillment she'd never known before.

     
Moments later, Pilar opened her eyes and looked dazedly up at him. Culver's face was mere inches from hers, and at the sated, dazed expression in her luminous gaze, he felt alive as never before, all his senses intensified. He breathed in her exquisitely feminine scent, his body trembling as if the last of his control was disintegrating.

     
"You're like those orchids," he rasped, leaning down and caressing her lips.
"A beautiful, opening orchid."
He stroked her again, and she moaned, her lips—more sure now—needy upon his. Smiling to himself, Culver was thankful he'd had enough control to allow her the gentle discovery of her first orgasm. She was trembling with pleasure, and he felt her thighs open again in silent invitation. There was only one way to do this, to welcome her into the world of a man loving his woman. In one sure motion, he rolled onto his back, moving Pilar on top of him, positioning her legs across him so that the moist wetness of her womanhood made direct contact with him. He groaned as he felt her featherlike weight settle provocatively upon him. Gripping her arms tightly, he felt his lips draw away from his clenched teeth as her womanly heat bathed him.

     
The sultry look on Pilar's face as she settled upon him included surprise and joy. Culver watched her expression closely as he gripped her slim hips and slowly began to ease her back and forth across his hardened member. Her lips parted, and he saw her eyes go gold again with utter pleasure. "Enjoy me," he growled. "Take me into you as much as you want. . . ." This way, he knew, he would not hurt her. This way, she'd have a chance to adjust to him naturally, as her own desire dictated. He continued to rock her back and forth, feeling her hands move of their own accord across his torso and chest. She seemed lost in a world of intense pleasure, and Culver felt the hot explosion within his knotted loins moving closer. He didn't know how much longer he could control himself.

     
When Pilar leaned forward then eased back, Culver growled. Her silken depths were hot and tight. He felt her hesitate, felt her body begin to accommodate him—felt the veil within her that told him unequivocally that she was a virgin. Moving his hands upward, he caressed her straining breasts and captured her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Instantly, she gasped, and her hips moved in a primitive knowing. Culver increased the intensity of his contact, pressing up against that wall within her. He knew she was feeling pressure as well as some pain. Stretching upward, he put one hand on her back and brought her forward, his lips capturing one of her nipples.