Page 57 of Cutter’s Lady

“Good old Blake. He’s always the most important thing, isn’t he?”

“He’s the reason we’re here.”

“I know.” Cutter’s mouth was a grim line. “Frankly, I have no clue whether he’s here or not. They might have him hidden away in a smaller, more secret camp. It doesn’t matter. Nothing can happen until Mora comes, anyway. Apparently he’s not in camp at the moment. Velasquez told me tonight that Mora’s supposed to be back tomorrow. All we can do is hold tight until he comes.”

“Will Mora back you up? I mean, is he really your friend?”

She could feel the movement of Cutter’s shrug against the bed. “Who knows? We used to know each other pretty well. He was an officer in the old San Cristóbal army when I was a U.S. military consultant here and we used to grab beers together.”

“He was in the former government’s army?”

“Yeah. He became increasingly disillusioned with the army and the government in general, though. He was very close to Teresa, and she influenced him, I guess. Especially her death. Anyway, he left the army sometime after I was discharged, and within a year he was fighting for the guerrillas. Now he’s the leader. I haven’t seen him in several years. People change, particularly when they’re on the run. It’s a hard life; it makes people hard. Having power also changes people, and now Mora has power, at least with his group. I don’t know. He may spit in my eye.”

“That’s reassuring.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think he will. At worst, he’ll be cold to us. He knows I’ve helped Sister Mary Margaret, and he has great respect for her.”

“He knew her, too?”

“Yeah. When I was in her hospital, wounded, he used to visit me. He and Mary would talk about all sorts of things. Vicente had a more philosophical nature than I do, and he was troubled because he was losing faith in his own people. So he would talk to her. He was extremely fond of her.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“Why, Leslie…” Cutter rose up on one elbow, turning to her. “Still jealous?”

Leslie’s mouth twisted. “I am not jealous. I was never jealous of Mary.”

“Liar.”

“I am not!” Leslie rolled over to face him furiously. “I don’t care what your relationship with her is—or with anyone else, for that matter.”

She stopped, suddenly breathless and uncertain. She shouldn’t have turned over where she could see him. Cutter loomed above her, so close she could feel the tickle of the hairs on his arm beside her. A strip of moonlight through the tiny window highlighted his skin but cast his eyes into deep shadow. She could see the harsh planes of his face, the curve of his shoulders, the hard expanse of his chest darkened by hair. A faint smile played about his mouth, and to Leslie it looked distinctly predatory. Images of bathing his chest earlier flooded her mind. She couldn’t stop remembering how his skin felt beneath her hands, couldn’t stop wondering how it would taste.

Cutter ran a forefinger slowly down her cheek. Leslie’s heart began to slam in her chest. His finger moved to her lips and traced them lingeringly. Leslie felt a compelling urge to take his finger between her teeth and bathe it with her tongue. She wondered what he would do. “You aren’t jealous,” Cutter told her softly, “just about as much as you don’t want me.” His face loomed closer. “I’m more honest. I’ll admit that I want you so bad it hurts.”

His lips grazed hers and retreated fractionally. He spoke, his breath teasing at her lips. “Be my woman tonight. For real.”

Leslie’s throat was so dry she couldn’t speak. His words deepened the growing ache between her legs. Primal passion, she told herself, engendered by the release of adrenaline that their danger had caused. A simple, physical thing, which she refused to yield to. Her mind was stronger than her body, and so was her will. She didn’t give in to foolish impulses or destructive urges. “No,” she grated out. “It’s crazy. We couldn’t. There isn’t even a door. Anyone could come in at any moment.”

“It wouldn’t be anything they haven’t seen before. They’ll leave.”

“I don’t want to be on public display! Velasquez is probably sitting out there watching us right now.”

“He couldn’t see anything; it’s too dark in here.” Cutter’s hand slipped down her body, exploring the softness of her breasts and the gentle give of her stomach, the sharp points of her hipbones. Leslie had to hold back the urge to moan. “Besides, he joined his buddies by the fire when we came in here.” His fingers traveled down her leg and slowly up again, curving over the roundness of her ass, and his mouth teased against hers. “This could be our last night on earth and I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”

“Can’t you be serious about anything?” Leslie was glad to have something to focus on besides trying not to respond to his touch. “We’re in the middle of a rebel camp, and you’re making jokes about being murdered! Your friend may not turn up. We really could be dead tomorrow. I think some of those guys would shoot us for looking at them the wrong way.”

“Maybe making jokes about it is the only way I can stop myself from doing what I really want to.” His face was deadly serious now and so close that she could see the blaze of his eyes even in the dark. Leslie had no doubts about what it was he really wanted to do.

Cutter sighed and dropped his head, burrowing in her neck. His lips were warm and velvety, sending shivers through her as he spoke. “God, you smell good.” He kissed her neck, teasing with his teeth and tongue. His breathing was ragged. “Leslie. I promised myself I wouldn’t let you get to me like this.”

His mouth slid up to her ear, nibbling at it with teeth sheathed by his lips. His tongue softly traced the intricacies of her ear. “But I want you so much, I’m ready to beg.” His voice was feverish, his breath searing against her skin as he moved across her cheek to her mouth. He paused for a moment, his mouth hovering over hers. “Tonight, when your hands were all over me, I could have burst from wanting you.” He kissed her, his mouth hot and urgent, opening hers to the full passion of his kiss. His tongue was velvet and silk and fire, roaming the sensitive flesh inside her mouth, seeking to drive away her restraint.

Leslie tried to remember why this wasn’t smart, why she had been hiding from it, but no reasons came to her mind. She was fast becoming conscious of nothing but the scent, feel and taste of Cutter; he was overpowering, dizzying. He was consuming her. He was making her want to be consumed. Tentatively Leslie’s hands slid up his arms, exploring the differing textures of hair and skin. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his arms, and she pressed her body upward, moving her mouth against his.

Cutter sucked in his breath in surprise and his kiss turned fierce and hungry. He shifted so that the full length of his body lay on hers, glorying in the soft yielding of her flesh beneath his hard weight. Cutter moaned and slid his leg up and down the length of hers; his hands dug into her hair, cupping her head and holding it still under the onslaught of his kisses. He was seized with a fury of desire. He wanted to touch her everywhere, kiss her everywhere, take her immediately and explore her entire body, all at the same time.

Leslie clung to him, almost frightened by the sheer intensity of his passion, yet unbelievably stirred by it, as well. She ached to respond to him with equal passion; she wanted to know his touch, his taste, the full power of his body. She wanted the wildness, the freedom. A door was opening on something she had never known before, and she had to see it. Had to have it.

“Cutter,” she breathed as his mouth released hers. His frenzied lips trailed down her throat. He found and caressed the pulse at the base of her throat as his hands moved up to cup her breasts.

“Stop me now,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and a bit shaky. “If you don’t want me, stop me now. In a minute I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

Leslie’s eyes were soft and glowing. She reached out to slide her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of it trickling between her fingers. “I don’t want to stop you.”

He made a strange low sound, half groan, half sigh, and he buried his face against her breasts.