Morgan's Rescue Page 15

  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.

  As he suckled her, he felt her melt against him. He curved his other hand along her lower back and hips and drew her close, feeling the veil break within her. A small cry escaped her lips and he teethed her nipple, transferring her attention from the discomfort below to the pleasure above. Pilar had frozen momentarily as he’d pierced her virginity, but as his lips and tongue continued their ardent attention at her taut nipple, she sighed like a contented jaguar and lowered her head till her forehead rested against his hair. Realizing her pain was gone, he released her nipple and, sitting up, brought her legs around him so that she could sit on him. The look in her eyes was one of cloudy pleasure, the last remnants of pain quickly dissolving as he moved his hips to bring that pleasure full circle.

  Framing her face, he took her mouth, deeply. Irrevocably. Thrusting his tongue into her hot, liquid depths, he allowed it to tangle with hers. Her hands clenched at his shoulders and she surged forward like butter melting upon him. He felt her body accepting him, and to his great joy and intense pleasure, she began to move her hips in a rocking motion, her movements so evocative that at last they snapped his massive control. The tantalizing friction within her hot tight confines was too much for even him to bear. Groaning deeply, he helped her move against him and heard her gasp, this time with the luxury of pleasure.

  The scent of orchids teased his flared nostrils, heavy and fragrant even as the velvet of her body encircled him, holding him a willing prisoner. With each rhythmic movement, Culver felt himself hurtling toward an explosion he could no longer contain. He gripped her hips hard and felt the volcanic release surge through him and into her. She cried out, and he growled her name, his arms wrapped tightly around her slender form. He felt as if he became a jaguar in that moment, and she, his eternal mate.

  Culver’s eyes closed, and all he could do was hold her tightly, rigid with such a white-hot pleasure such as he had never tasted before. The oneness with her that spun through him at that moment was unlike anything he’d experienced in his life. They were no longer man and woman. They were one being of light and energy, and Culver understood for the first time in his life what love really meant. It meant losing himself completely in his mate—a giving over, a wonderful surrendering of not only his physical body, but of his heart and soul as well. In those split seconds after his release, he felt two things. One was that he wanted Pilar to be pregnant with his child—a child created out of their intense coupling and the love he held for her. The second was that Pilar was his mate for life. No other woman could ever
hold his heart as she now held it, gently within the confines of her own heart and body. No one… .

  As he picked up a strand of her hair and tested its pliancy between his thumb and index finger, Culver shook his head. If Pilar had known how many times he’d almost broached the subject of marriage, she’d no doubt have laughed at his foolishness. Always before, Culver had taken his time with a woman, set his own pace. And never before or since Pilar had he been so smitten. They’d made love three more times in those long-ago, dangerous days. And although he’d loved her, he’d never said the words. But this time he had a chance to make unerringly clear exactly how he felt about her.

  Yes, they could have made some beautiful children between them, and God knew, these children would have been well loved. He’d been willing to give up his traveling for her—for them. Raised in a loving household of eight, Culver knew the strength of the family unit. His parents had loved him and his siblings well and continuously, and he’d wanted to experience that with Pilar through children created out of the fires of their own love.

  Now that idea—once so certain—was a dust-covered dream, buried deep in the vault of his heart, with no chance of resurrection. But dammit, he wanted—no, demanded—a second chance. Culver laid the strand of hair gently on the side of Pilar’s face and watched it bend to the contours of her bone structure. He didn’t dare think of the future—or the past. Only the present was alive now. Very possibly, they had no future at all, beyond this day and evening. By nightfall, they would have arrived at the fortress. From then on, each breath they took might be their last.

  A gut-wrenching cry started deep within Culver as he continued to stroke Pilar’s cheek. Life was so unfair. Of all the people who deserved to live, Pilar was foremost. She wasn’t a bad person, just a woman caught in a culture that didn’t respect her as a human being. They could have had so much together had she not run back to Fernando to fulfill her marriage obligation.

  The fire in Culver’s loins throbbed like a pulsating drumbeat begging to be released—by her. Pilar knew she might not survive this day. She had already kissed him. Might she consent to make love to him? His heart beat hard at the errant thought. As he laid his hand on her shoulder, his fingers lightly kneading the flesh beneath her blouse, he decided he was going to find out.

  Chapter 9

  Just as Culver leaned forward to place his mouth tenderly against Pilar’s, he heard the heavy whapping of helicopter blades moving rapidly in their direction. Instantly, he gripped Pilar’s shoulder and shook her awake.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he rasped, practically dragging her out of the shelter and into his arms. He saw the confusion in her sleep-ridden eyes as she gripped his shoulders to steady herself.

  “What?” she asked thickly.

  It was still dark, but Culver’s eyes had long since adjusted to the gloom. “A helicopter,” he said in a harsh whisper, pulling her away from the lean-to and into the jungle’s cover. He put his arm around her waist holding her close beside him as they crashed through a tangle of vines and over brush.

  Fear gushed through Pilar as she clung to Culver for balance. He was like a bulldozer, knocking down small trees and plants as he lunged forward. In her barely functioning mind, she knew the helicopter could be one of Ramirez’s. Keying her hearing, she tried to shake away the hand of slumber. She had been sleeping deeply, better than she could recall in a very long time—but then, she’d been in Culver’s arms. She’d felt safe. Protected.

  Even now as she stumbled along, sometimes tripping over exposed roots in the darkness, she felt protected. Culver wasn’t wearing his shirt, and she felt the power of his muscles as she hugged his waist.

  The helicopter drew closer, the whap, whap, whap of its blades punctuating the dense fog still lying like a blanket over the treetops.

  “Here,” Culver grunted.

  Pilar felt herself being hauled up beside a huge rubber tree. He flattened her against the tree’s smooth bark and moved protectively in front of her, shielding her with his body. Her face was pressed against his naked chest, the hair tickling her nose. She heard the powerful pumping of his heart, felt the strength and warmth of his body as he leaned forward to completely shield her from any possible view as the helicopter moved ever closer.

  Pilar wanted to struggle, but it was useless. Culver was looking upward, his eyes narrowed, his eyebrows drawn in concentration. Now she was experiencing the warrior side of him, a side she’d known so well eight years ago. By shielding her with his body, he was making himself a potential target. Her mouth went dry as the sound of the helicopter continued to reverberate through the jungle. While the fog absorbed some of it, the humidity accentuated the vibration, so that Pilar could feel the resonation through the trunk of the tree she was pressed against.

  Fear mingled with concern for Culver. If it was one of Ramirez’s helicopters—and who else besides the Peruvian army had them out here?—it could mean a team of drug runners was being flown in. Or the aircraft could be intending to land at the fortress and take millions of dollars worth of the white powder known as cocaine to some distant drop point.

  Pilar’s hands rested tautly against Culver’s waist. Perspiration made her palms slick against his skin. She looked up as the vibration and noise heightened, and Culver automatically pressed her more closely against the tree. What if Ramirez’s pilots saw them? Did the aircraft possess the infrared technology necessary to detect them by their body heat alone? Real fear choked Pilar, and she struggled to breathe.

  The helicopter roared overhead, probably two or three hundred feet above the canopy, skimming the edge of the fog. Culver let out a ragged sigh of relief as the chopper continued its trajectory toward the east. Easing away from the trunk of the tree, he could barely make out Pilar’s stricken features in the growing light of dawn. Terror showed in her eyes and in her parted lips. Her hair lay in disarray around her face, and automatically he smoothed several strands away from her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” he rasped unsteadily. Stepping away from the tree, he kept his hand on her arm, because she seemed as if she might fall. Pilar touched her brow and gave him a grateful look as he guided her away from the tangled roots of the tree to a flatter area.

  “I never expected a helicopter,” she confided breathlessly.

  Culver frowned. “Makes two of us.” Shaking his head, he added, “I got too relaxed. I should have been expecting something like this. Though we’re on the periphery of Ramirez’s fiefdom, I should have been more alert.”

  “No,” Pilar whispered as she turned and faced him, her hands resting on his forearms. “You couldn’t have known, Culver.”

  “Maybe not.” He absorbed Pilar’s upturned features. Her clothes were wrinkled, clinging to her curves in the humidity. How hauntingly beautiful she looked. His mouth twisted tenderly as he reached out and caressed her hair. “You look so beautiful… .”

  Where had that come from? Culver cursed himself for allowing the intimacy to escape. For an instant, he thought he saw Pilar’s dark, fear-filled eyes turn tender with longing—for him. But just as quickly, she hid her reaction to his words, to his touch. Bitterly, he forced his hand back to his side.

  “Come on,” he growled, “we’ve got to get packed up and go. We’re going to have to be careful today. Really careful.”

  Still trembling from his unexpected caress, Pilar had to force herself not to step closer to Culver. Right now, she wanted to kiss him—and love him. Her heart bled with the truth—that he could never want her as she needed him. Culver might have forgiven her, but Pilar knew that the past now lay buried permanently between them. Not even a man of Culver’s generous heart could be expected to forgive her for the dark secret she carried.

  Following him back to the lean-to, Pilar gently put to rest her heart’s overwhelming longing for him—for a future together. After all, today could well be the last day of her life. She was going to absorb each moment with Culver and enjoy him on every level she could. And he
wouldn’t even have to know.

  “We’ll stop here,” Culver said. It was midday, and in about three hours they would reach Ramirez’s fortress. The jungle was thick around them, and the path they followed had probably been made by wild pigs. More than once, Culver had spotted jaguar spoor along the trail. The big cats probably waited patiently in the twisted, gnarled limbs of a rubber tree over the path, then dropped silently down upon whatever unfortunate pig or other animal passed by below.

  Pilar shrugged out of her pack and placed it beside a fallen log, which she gratefully used as a seat. Culver joined her, sitting about six inches away. They hadn’t spoken much today. They knew that small villages were situated all around them, and hunters could be out combing the jungle for meat, or women might be looking for roots and berries nearby. The jungle was so thick that unless one knew exactly what to look and listen for, a person could easily pass within ten feet of another and not be noticed. Consequently, they had kept verbal communications to a bare minimum, relying on hand signals when necessary.

  After taking a refreshing drink of water, Pilar passed her canteen to Culver. She watched as the container nearly disappeared within his huge, callused grasp, and he tipped his head back to drink. His neck was thick and strong, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. His face was bathed in a sheen of sweat that accentuated his rugged features, and dark strands of hair lay plastered against his brow. As he finished drinking, he looked directly at her, and Pilar felt herself melting inwardly beneath his pale blue gaze as he studied her in the intervening silence. A tingle spread deliciously through her as his careful look seemed to caress her face, lingering on her mouth, then moving down to embrace her breasts. But he turned away abruptly, frowning, and capped the canteen.