Walking After Midnight (34 page)

He stiffened as if all his muscles had tightened in a single spasmodic jerk. Would he fight to the end, this gladiator of hers? Summer drew back her head, her lids opening languorously. The black eyes blazed down at her, as scorching as the embers of their fire. She kissed him, softly, briefly. Still he didn’t surrender. Summer smiled at him as her breasts nuzzled into his chest. His eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened. Summer could feel the momentary cessation in his breathing.

Then, „To hell with it,“ he muttered thickly, and his mouth came swooping down on hers.

He kissed her as if he were starving for the taste of her mouth. His lips and tongue alternately caressed and plundered, while his arms locked around her waist and back, holding her as if he never meant to let her go. Summer met his greediness with her own need, her arms wound tight about his neck, her head thrown back against his shoulder. She felt suddenly weak, as if all her muscles had turned to jelly. She doubted that she could sit up on her own if he should release her. Not that there was any chance of that. She could feel his passion building like steam in a pressure cooker; already she was being seared by its heat. He had taken over the kiss completely; she merely followed where he led.

When his mouth left hers at last to slide hotly across her cheek to her ear, Summer moaned. He nipped the tender lobe, his teeth arousing rather than punishing, then kissed the soft skin below it.

„I want you,“ he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. Uttered in a hoarse, ragged voice, the phrase was incredibly sexy. Summer began to tremble.

„I want you too.“ She threaded her fingers up through his hair and pressed her mouth to the warm hollow below his ear. She could feel the racing of his pulse against her lips.

He was leaning back against the trunk of the pine and she was lying against his chest, her legs curled around his, the quilt covering them both. His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head as he tilted her so that his mouth could have easy access to the softness of her throat.

Summer closed her eyes against a momentary glimpse of bats swooping after insects across a night-dark sky and refused to allow herself to remember where they were or why. She blocked out everything except the feel of Steve’s hands and mouth and body. He was what she wanted, what she needed – just Steve.

His mouth traced its way down her neck, nibbling and sucking and licking at the soft column. Finally he reached the throbbing hollow at the base of her throat. He stopped there for a moment, his lips pressed against her skin. She could feel the hardness of his mouth, the roughness of his unshaven jaw, the warm wetness of his tongue as it lazily explored the soft depression. Then one large, warm hand found her breast.

Summer’s head swam. Her nipple hardened instantly, pressing against his palm through the layers of sweatshirt and T-shirt and bra. He found the eager bud, stroked it with his thumb, then took it between his fingers, gently rolling it back and forth. The pleasure was so intense that Summer gasped.

She was suddenly starving for the feel of his skin against hers. Her hands slid down his chest, burrowing under the Nike shirt, reveling in the feel of the hard, hair-covered flesh. She stroked his chest, his belly. He was warm, so warm – all she wanted was to get closer to that warmth.

Her questing fingers encountered the waistband of his shorts. She found the button, freed it, tugged the zipper down. His mouth burned the skin of her neck, his hand on her breast went suddenly rigid, and she got the impression that he had ceased to breathe. Then her fingers slid beneath his briefs, across his tightening abdomen, to close around the huge, hot, hungry part of him that was made for her possession.

„Jesus!“ As her fingers closed on him he groaned, then groaned again. Suddenly he was rolling with her, flipping her onto her back with such urgency that she lost her bearings and had to cling to his shoulders as the only solid things in a shifting world. They were tangled, momentarily, in the quilt. With a muttered oath, he jerked free of it, casting it aside. Then he was on top of her, his body hard and heavy, his breathing coming in fast, ragged pants. His mouth fastened on hers with a greedy passion that stoked an answering fire in her. Summer kissed him back hody, wanting his lovemaking with a fierceness that she would never, before this day, before Steve, have believed herself capable of feeling.

With the tiny part of her brain that was still functional, she realized he was what she had been seeking for years. A man who needed her; a man to love: Steve.

His hands were unsteady as he undressed her, and Summer had to help him. Unable to get the sweatshirt zipper all the way down, he gave up and jerked the garment over her head. Summer was still wearing her T-shirt and bra, and, impatient, he merely tugged those out of his way, leaving them twisted beneath her armpits. As his fingers found her breasts, closing over the soft mounds in a grip that should have hurt but didn’t, she moaned and forgot all about trying to help him work the fastenings on her clothes. He kissed her breasts, and she thought she would die with the sheer exquisite pleasure of it. Then suddenly, abruptly, his hands and mouth were removed. She opened her eyes to discover that he had left her to tug off his shorts, his shirt, his shoes. Hands shaking, she sat up to help him, running her mouth greedily over his body as they both pulled at his clothes.

When he was done, it was her turn. He yanked her T-shirt and her bra over her head without bothering to unfasten the latter. His hands found her breasts, and he bent his head to kiss her, but she eluded him.

She had different prey in mind.

With her hands on his shoulders she pressed him down on the smooth, slick carpet of fallen leaves, kissing his neck, running her mouth over the warm, hair-roughened skin of his chest, nibbling at his tightening abdomen, on the way to her prize.

When she found him with her mouth, he groaned. He was huge and hot and hard as she kissed him, licked him, swallowed him whole. His muscles clenched, his eyes closed, and for a moment, as she took him higher and higher, she reveled in her power. He was hers, all hers, and she was claiming him.

Then his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her away from him, pulling her up. He turned with her, flipping her onto her back and yanking down her shorts and panties with a quick series of near-frenzied movements. Her shorts and panties were about her ankles, and she still wore her shoes, but he couldn’t wait to strip her properly. With a groan he came down on top of her again. Her knees parted of their own volition and her arms wrapped around his neck as she welcomed him. He thrust home with hard urgency, and Summer gasped. His answering growl enflamed her. She rose and fell with her own urgent need as he moved in, then out, then in again in a relentless, driving rhythm. Her head was thrown back, her mouth wide open as he took her, and she took him, too. Her nails dug deep into his muscled back; her thighs squeezed his hips. She was mindless with pleasure, delirious with it, trembling with it. There was no room in her head for anything except the wonder of her own need – and the knowledge that this was Steve.

His hands closed over her buttocks, lifting her so that he could thrust more deeply inside her, and with a harsh groan his mouth clamped over the tender nipple of her left breast.

Summer could stand no more. Pleasure more intense than anything she had ever imagined burst gloriously inside her.

„Oh, Steve! Steve!
Steve!“

She shuddered and clung, crying out her joy into the endless dark. He responded with one final, savage thrust and his own harsh cry, shaking as he held himself inside her.

Then, with the suddenness of a passing storm, it was over.

Summer lay limply on the ground, conscious of a steadily increasing litany of discomfort. There was a hummock of grass between her shoulder blades. Her legs were freezing. The big lummox collapsed atop her weighed a ton.

And it was starting to rain.

33

„It’s raining.“ Summer kissed his bristly cheek.

„Mmm?“ Steve didn’t open his eyes, didn’t lift his head, didn’t smile at her, didn’t
move.

„I said it’s raining.“ A fat drop plopped on her nose to underline the point. She shoved at his shoulder. „We’re going to get soaked.“

His eyes opened then. The dangerous black depths glinted at her for a moment, and then he stirred, kissing her nose. „You’re beautiful,“ he said.

„So are you,“ she answered, smiling.

„I bet you say that to all the guys.“ He fluttered his eyelashes at her in exaggerated flirtatiousness.

„Nope. Only the handsome ones.“

He laughed. „I’ve been called lots of things in my life, but never handsome.“

„Obviously you’ve been hanging out with the wrong kind of woman.“

„Obviously.“

Another drop splattered on Summer’s forehead. Suddenly Muffy was there beside her, whining, peering anxiously down into her face. Summer wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think Muffy had ever been out in the rain before.

„Damned voyeuristic mutt,“ Steve muttered. „Bet she watched the whole thing.“

He rolled off Summer and sat up, knees bent, arms resting on his knees as he cast what appeared to be a wary look around, seemingly paying particular attention to the lower branches of nearby trees. For what? Summer wondered, and then she figured it out.

The fire hissed and sizzled as another few raindrops hit.

„Looking for Deedee?“ Summer asked sweetly, sitting up and restoring her shorts and panties to their proper position. Steve glanced at her, narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips, and finally nodded.

„I think she’s haunting me.“

Summer couldn’t help it. Despite the half-joshing tone of his voice, she saw red. She hadn’t won the battle to lose the war!

She grabbed a pine cone from the ground and heaved it at him. It caught him on the chin.

„Hey!“ he said, rubbing his chin and looking surprised. „What was that for?“

Summer threw another one. It hit its target too. Then she scrambled to her feet and loomed over him, catching him by both ears and dragging his head around, glaring down into his upturned face with her nose no more than six inches from his.

„I don’t want to hear another word about Deedee! Not so much as another syllable, understand?“

For a moment he looked almost alarmed. Then he grinned, reached up, grabbed her around her waist, and pulled her down onto his lap.

„I like my women jealous,“ he said, and kissed her. His hands found and fondled her bare breasts. He was naked and she was half so and his kiss was setting her afire….

A shower of raindrops broke them apart.

„It’s going to storm,“ he said, lifting his head to the distant sound of thunder. „We’ve got to find some kind of shelter.“

„What do you suggest?“ She knew as well as he did that there was no shelter around for miles.

„Pack everything up but the quilt. I’ve got an idea.“

Summer got dressed, then did as he told her while he pulled on his cutoffs and shoes and vanished into the trees. In the distance lightning flickered briefly across the sky. The wind blew more raindrops across the clearing. Their fire sizzled and danced. It was going to pour at any minute.

„Come on.“ Steve reappeared, kicked out the fire, grabbed the gym bag and Muffy, and headed back into the trees. Somehow Summer didn’t think a forest was the best place to be during a thunderstorm, but, hugging the quilt to her bosom, she followed.

She would follow those broad shoulders to hell and back.

Beneath a sheltering grove of what, from the smell of them, seemed to be cedars, he had thrown together a crude shelter consisting of one picnic table turned upside down atop another one – this, Summer presumed, was to make doubly sure the rain didn’t drip through the cracks in the top – with pine branches leaning against the sides.

„Give me the quilt.“

She passed it to him, and he crawled beneath the picnic table to spread the quilt on the ground. Raindrops began to fall in earnest. Summer joined him in a hurry. When they were settled, they lay spoon fashion, cocooned in the quilt, with Summer’s T-shirted back snuggled against Steve’s bare chest, and his arms around her waist. Their heads rested on the gym bag. Their shoes, and Summer’s socks, sat side by side near one jury-rigged wall.

Thunder rolled ominously. Rain began to fall in a steady stream. Muffy whined and looked with piteous entreaty at Summer. Summer pulled the little dog against her chest and wrapped the quilt around her, too.

The three of them were unexpectedly cozy in their makeshift shelter with the rain coming down all around but not touching them. The air was cool, and damp, and smelled of rain and leaves. The patter of raindrops hitting the top of their shelter was soothing. With Steve’s arms around her, Summer was warm and dry, and, despite the circumstances, felt curiously content.

„Tell me about your dentist friend.“ Steve’s voice was a low rumble in her ear. Summer slanted a glance back over her shoulder at him, smiling to herself.

„He’s a very good dentist,“ she said demurely.

„Do you sleep with him?“

„That,“ Summer said, wriggling around so that she was facing him and then tweaking his nose, „is none of your business.“