The Rogue Hunter (20 page)

By the time Sam reached the beach, she was sorely regretting the urge that had brought her out. She was also swearing to herself that she would never again delay heading to the doctor's to have any complaint taken care of. Thanks to her ear infection, she was sure she'd bruised herself in at least three different places and scraped her palms something fierce.

Relief slithered through Sam as she stepped off the path and felt sand underfoot. Some of the lakes were all rock and leeches were a problem, but either this lake was naturally sandy or the Latimers had shipped sand in. Either way, as long as she stayed away from the rocks she could see off to the side and protruding from the water, she should be fine.

After dropping her towel on the ground, Sam took a moment to run her flashlight over the trees behind her one more time. When nothing seemed out of place and no one leaped out at her, she turned out the light. For a moment Sam couldn't see a bloody thing and nearly turned it back on, but then her eyes began to pick up the moonlight reflecting off the lake and she was slowly able to make out more.

Letting out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Sam set the flashlight on the dark shape that was her towel, and then moved forward to dip one foot into the water. Lovely, she thought, and quickly stripped, removing her shorts and panties first and dropping them onto the towel before reaching for the hem of her T-shirt. That soon joined her shorts, as did the bra that she didn't really need, and Sam turned back to the lake. The water was cool against her heated skin as she walked into it, but not unpleasantly so, and she closed her eyes and sighed as it began to draw the heat from her body. The liquid lapped higher as she continued forward, caressing her calves, her knees, her thighs, her—

A small gasp slid from her lips as the cold water reached her groin and a slight frisson of shock ran through her, but she knew it would pass quickly, and kept going until the water covered her breasts. Leaning back in the water then, Sam let it soak into her hair as she peered up at the stars overhead. She was just noting that there didn't seem to be as many of the twinkling lights here as there were visible in Magnetawan, and wondering why that would be, when the snap of a branch caught her ear.

Stiffening in the water, Sam lifted her head to peer toward shore, eyes widening when she saw a dark figure standing onshore beside her towel. Panic was just starting to course through her when she recognized Mortimer's shape.

"You're back sooner than I expected," she called, relief thick in her voice.

"Decker and Bricker met me halfway to save me some driving," he explained.

Sam's eyebrows rose. In that case, he'd taken much longer than he should have. She supposed he'd stopped to have a coffee with Decker and Bricker, though, before returning. Considering the trouble they'd gone to and the driving they'd saved him, it seemed only right. She didn't comment, however. Her mind was on other matters as it suddenly occurred to her that she was stark naked in the water. A quick glance down assured her that all the important bits were under water. She glanced back to Mortimer and said, "It's hot in the cottage. I thought I'd cool off. I'm glad you're back though; I was getting hungry."

"So am I," Mortimer said, and Sam stilled. The words were husky and carried a suggestive tone that made her eyes sharpen.

Surely he hadn't meant what it sounded like, she thought, and simply gaped as he suddenly tugged his T-shirt off and dropped it on her own pile of clothes. His jeans quickly followed, and then Mortimer walked forward into the water.

Sam's eyes were wide open, but all she could see of his body in the darkness was shadow and more shadow. She couldn't help but think it was a damned shame she'd left her flashlight on shore. In the next moment, these thoughts fled and her heart rate sped up as she realized he was wading straight toward her. Sam had the brief urge to flee for shore, but it was very brief and easily overwhelmed by an even stronger urge to wait and see what would happen. She was distinctly recalling the passion and fervor of those moments outside the restaurant in town, and her body was growing heavy and tingly with anticipation.

Mortimer continued steadily forward until he was a bare few inches away and then stopped abruptly. He then stood silently, perhaps allowing her the time to protest or flee, but when a moment passed and she did neither, he reached out, slid a hand into her wet hair, and drew her forward.

Sam went willingly, sucking in a little gasp of air as their bodies brushed together in the water, and then his mouth was on hers. The kiss started out gentle, almost questing. He was obviously making an effort to go slow, but Sam didn't need
slow
. Either just the memory of what had happened earlier had wound her up for this, or that earlier passion had never really died, merely been buried under other concerns. The need and yearning and aching want he'd stirred then came roaring back to life almost the moment his lips covered hers. Sam barely managed to remain quiescent in his arms for the first moments of his gentle kisses before her body acted of its own accord. It wrapped itself around him like a wet blanket, legs closing around his hips and arms around his shoulders even as her mouth opened under his.

Mortimer immediately gave up any semblance of questing or gentleness. His tongue slid out to invade, his kiss becoming demanding, and his hands began to move over her, cupping, fondling, and squeezing even as they urged her tighter still against him so that she rubbed against his hardness where it was trapped between them.

Sam groaned into his mouth with pleading. She was sure every last drop of water had been squeezed out from between them and still it wasn't enough. The lake suddenly didn't seem so delightfully cool. It almost seemed they were heating the water with their passion, and then Mortimer tore his mouth away and began to trail kisses downward as the hand at her bottom lifted her up slightly.

Sam let her head fall backward with a groan, offering her throat to him, and he paid it due homage, but it was just a passing pleasure; his mouth soon continued down and he lifted her higher out of the water until he could latch on to one erect nipple. That brought another gasp from her, and she shifted her hands to his head to hold on as he drew the bud into his mouth and laved it lovingly. Her hips were now shifting against his stomach, her legs now caught around him above his hips, and she missed the hardness of his erection between them. Sam had no sooner had the thought than Mortimer's hand dipped down and brushed lightly over the open center of her.

Despite her thoughts of a moment ago, that was too much for Sam. She'd never experienced pleasure this intense. It was as if she were experiencing it in some sort of strange echo chamber. The pleasure seemed to redouble with each touch and caress until it filled her head and body. Crying out, she kicked her legs free and tugged on his head, forcing it away from her breast and upward so that she could reclaim his lips as she slid down his body. Sam kissed him almost desperately then, little mewls of pleading sounding in her throat.

Mortimer kissed her back as she demanded. She was vaguely aware of his moving them toward shore, and when sand brushed against the bottoms of her feet, she instinctively jerked them upward and then wrapped them around his hips again. That was when she felt the shift of muscles under her legs and realized he was walking, but the movement was rubbing his hardness against her core again with each step, and all she could do was moan and arch into the caress as she was bombarded with wave after wave of increasing pleasure.

Apparently Mortimer was affected too because halfway back to shore he changed direction, and after a couple more steps, she felt cold stone against her bottom. Letting her feet drop so that she was standing, Sam glanced around as he again broke their kiss. She saw that he'd taken her only as far as the nearest half-submerged boulder, and something niggled at her mind, but then Mortimer urged her to lean back against the rock and began to lick and suckle at her breasts again.

Moaning, Sam allowed herself to be distracted and slid her hands into his hair to hold on as he was bowed over her like a branch, leaning her back over the boulder. Her hips and legs were trapped against the front of it by his as he concentrated on first one breast and then the other. Each shift of his body made his erection rub against her enticingly, and Sam was gasping and almost whimpering, the fingers of one hand tangled in his hair and the nails of the other no doubt scoring his shoulder as wave after mounting wave of pleasure accosted her.

When he lifted his head and caught her mouth with his, she opened for him and gasped as his tongue thrust in, rasping her own. But she wanted more. She wanted him inside her, thrusting into her like that. Her body was actually aching and weeping for him.

Much to Sam's relief, Mortimer seemed to want it too because he suddenly caught her at the waist and lifted her to sit on the edge of the boulder. She immediately spread her knees for him to step between them and then when he did, kissed him without reservation, thrusting her own tongue inside to wrestle with his. At the same time, her hand moved to his behind to squeeze and urge him forward as her feet rose to push against the submerged front of the rock and shift her lower body forward until his hips were cradled between her open knees.

Mortimer urged her back to lie on the boulder as he kissed her, but then, much to her dismay, he paused. She blinked her eyes open, staring up at the dark shape of his head and—though she couldn't see his face in the darkness—she heard the strain in his voice as he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Are you kidding me?" The words slid out on a disbelieving laugh before she could catch them back, and then she bit her lip. Most men wouldn't have had the strength to give her the option to back out at this stage. She owed it to him to at least consider it seriously, Sam thought, and did just that. The facts were they'd known each other only a couple of days. There had been no promises. This could be a one-time deal, a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am-and-he-disappears thing. She'd never had a fling in her life and had, in fact, only had one lover prior to this. Oh yeah, and they had no protection. She could get a venereal disease, or pregnant, or—

Dear God, what the hell was she thinking? Sam screamed silently as all her excitement of a moment ago began to rapidly wane. She was just trying to figure out a way to tell him that she wasn't so sure after all when she became aware that his hand was moving over her hip in a probing manner that had nothing to do with the heat and passion of a moment ago.

"What?" she asked with bewilderment when he suddenly moved back a bit and bent to look at her hip.

"I'm not sure," Mortimer muttered. "Just a minute. Stay here."

Much to her amazement, he was suddenly gone, splashing through the shallow water to shore. Sitting up on the boulder, Sam stared after him with incredulity as he bent to pick up something.

"What is it?" Sam asked with confusion. She didn't realize he'd grabbed the flashlight until he turned it on and the beam hit her square in the eyes.

"Sorry." Mortimer turned it down along her body and then around to her hip where his attention had been captured. "I just—Oh… That's not good."

Sam blinked rapidly to try to recover her vision and twisted to look where he was shining the flashlight beam. She found herself staring at some sort of dark spot on her hip. She stared at it blankly and then realized there were more than one. She could see at least three fuzzy, dark spots that slowly came into focus.

Sam stared with dawning horror as she realized what they were… and that there were more than three.

"Leeches!" That horrified shriek tore from her throat as she threw herself wildly off the boulder. She hardly even noticed that she'd toppled Mortimer into the water; she was too busy scrambling out of the leech-filled lake and running for the cottage.

Chapter Eleven

"Leeches."

Mortimer had to fight to hide his amusement as Sam muttered that word with a loathing that went bone-deep. His gaze traveled over her back where she lay before him on a towel on the table in the cottage, and he shook his head at the sheer number of the little bloodsuckers. There must have been a whole nest of them living on that boulder, he thought, and silently berated himself once again for setting her on the boulder rather than carrying her the few feet to her towel on the beach. If he had, he'd probably be buried inside her warm heat, shouting out his release. Instead he stood, frustrated and bare-chested, in the now damp, uncomfortable jeans he'd dragged on, removing leeches from Sam's back. Well, her back, her buttocks, her legs… He still had to do her front too.

Grimacing, he bent to slide one finger next to where a leech was feeding and used his nail to push the sucker away from the wound until he broke the seal. At the same time, he used another finger to detach the posterior sucker and then quickly plucked it from her back before it could fasten itself to her again. It was a time-consuming process.

"Can't you just burn the little bastards off," Sam snarled, shifting uncomfortably on the table.

Surprised by the first curse he'd heard from her, Mortimer glanced up to find her glaring back over her shoulder with resentment.

"I already told you that it's best not to," he said patiently, knowing she was embarrassed. On top of that, every spot where he removed a leech was probably itching like crazy… and being covered with leeches was just gross, really. Well, it would be for her. Not that it was exactly a joy to see her so, but he wasn't shuddering with horror every couple of minutes as she was.

Mortimer's gaze slid over the spots where he'd removed leeches, noting the free-flowing blood coming from the wounds. He was glad he'd fed—and fed well—on the fresh supply of blood that had waited in Decker's truck when he'd met them.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sam muttered, drawing his attention again. "If you burn them off, they regurgitate their meal, spitting up their stomach contents back into the open wound, and that could cause infection because of the bacteria in their bellies and blah blah blah."