Unforgettable Read Free

bounced off the walls of the tent.
    With a whimper that might have been a cry of pain or longing, she threw her arms around him. “I can make you love me. Please. Let me show you.”
    He had no doubt she could do it. The soft mounds of her breasts molded against his torso. Through the fabric he felt the heat of her body and the throb of her pulse in her taut nipples. Her eyes were incandescent, riveting. Her lips, so temptingly close to his, were slightly parted, revealing the pink tip of her tongue. The warmth of her body seeped through his, tiptoeing through his veins and trembling through his chest as erotic as jungle drums at midnight.
    She tugged his hand to her breast and coasted it along her chest until his warm palm was centered on her tightly spiraled nipple. He tried, he honestly did, but couldn’t resist cradling her softness in his palm, testing the weight of her breast with a slight rise of his wrist, exploring the pliant fullness with his fingertips, then brushing the peak with his thumb.
    What was he doing? This woman must be on drugs—or lo l o —crazy. She needed help—not sex. He eased her back onto the mattress.
    She bucked, thrusting her hips against his, sending an upward surge of heat through his groin. He slung one leg across the tops of her thighs, anchoring her in place. The fight went out of her as he lay beside her, his body half covering hers. The rapid tempo of his own breathing startled him, yet she didn’t seem the least bit agitated. If anything, she seemed detached, on another plane entirely. This was just too friggin’ weird.
    “Don’t do this to me,” she whispered, desperation in her voice. “I can make you love me.”
    Her hand glided across his torso, tracing the contours of his chest, her eyes on his. They had a haunted quality as if she were seeing something, experiencing something that he couldn’t.
    Her hand . Oh Christ… her hands were in his pants. Faster than a bolt of lightning, one hand shot inside his underwear. She touched him lightly with her fingertips, a low moan rising from her throat, her eyes narrowing slightly.
    “Don’t!” he said, pulling her hand away.
    He sucked in a gulp of air, amazed to discover he was hot and achingly hard. Squeezing his eyes shut, he called on the reservoir of strength he had used so successfully to cauterize his feelings during the past two years.
    It took a full minute for his breathing to return to normal and for the pressure building in his chest to diminish and erase the lingering imprint of her hand. Then he eased his eyes open, almost afraid of what he might see.
    Her head was resting against his shoulder. She was still staring at him, a sheen of tears glazing her eyes. She’d aroused him, true, and part of him hated her for it, but she was scaring him now. Something was terribly wrong with her.
    He told her what he thought she wanted to hear. “I love you.”
    She moaned, a plaintive sound that bordered on a sob, a cry so piercing it vibrated through his bones. Her eyes had that faraway look, yet they bored into his, seeming to speak to him alone. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
    “I’ll never hurt you,” he said, feeling lolo —crazy—himself for talking to someone who didn’t even know he existed.
    Her tense body relaxed, becoming soft and pliant in his arms. He released her hand and, with a sigh, her eyes closed. She went utterly still just as the light went out, leaving them in complete darkness.
     

 
     
    2
     
     
    S he awoke by degrees, drifting upward through cushioning layers of sleep, dimly aware of a buzz in her head. She tried to open her eyes, but they were too heavy. Her whole head seemed unnaturally large and noisy, the drone of a million hornets filling her ears.
    “Breathe deeply,” she told herself.
    She sucked in air so hot and so thick that it was like breathing through a wet blanket. The smell filling her nostrils made her gag. Was she in a kennel? The odor of wet dog and something equally