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If she was confused, she could only imagine how disoriented he was. Gently she touched his back, smoothing her palm up the muscled expanse. "I'm awake," she murmured, her touch telling him she was there because she wanted to be, that everything was okay.
He lifted his head, and their eyes met. She felt an almost tangible shock as she stared into those blue eyes, eyes that were completely aware and revealed the sharpness of the personality behind them, as well as his comprehension of the situation.
Hope blushed. Her cheeks heated and she almost groaned aloud. What should she say to a man she was meeting for the first time, when she was lying naked beneath him and his erection was firmly lodged inside her?
He trailed one fingertip across her lips, then lightly stroked her hot cheek. "Do you want me to stop?" he whispered.
The first time had caught her unawares, but Hope was always brutally honest with herself, and she didn't allow herself to pretend she had been unwilling. This time, however, they were both fully cognizant of what they were doing. She didn't stop to analyze or question her response; she simply gave it. "No," she whispered in return. "Don't stop."
He kissed her then, a kiss as gentle and searching as if nothing had ever passed between them, as if he wasn't already inside her. He wooed her as if it were the first time, kissing her for a long time until her mouth slanted eagerly under his, until their tongues twined together. His hands were tender on her breasts, learning how she liked to be touched, teasing her nipples into tight peaks. He stroked her belly, her hips, between her legs. He licked his fingertips and stroked them over the ultrasensitive bud of her clitoris, drawing it out, make her gasp and arch her hips upward. He grunted at the resulting sensation as she took him even deeper.
She thought she would die from sensual torment before he finally began moving, but she enjoyed it so much she didn't urge him to hurry. She hadn't realized how hungry she was for this, for a man's attention, for his body, for the exquisite release of lovemaking. Even her frustration earlier, in the bath, hadn't prepared her for her total surrender to sensuality. She reveled in every kiss, every touch, every stroke. She clung to him and returned the caresses, trying to return some of the pleasure he was giving her, and judging from his groans she succeeded.
The time came when they no longer needed the gentle touches, when nothing mattered but the pounding drive to orgasm. Hope let herself get lost in the urgency of the moment, let her body drown in pure pleasure… and then he aroused her again, whispering, "Let me feel it again, let me feel you come."
His self-control held, barely. When the pulses of her third climax began, he made a deep, helpless sound in his throat and shuddered over her.
This time she didn't allow herself the luxury of sleep. This time he gently withdrew and collapsed on the blanket
beside her. His hand sought hers, clasping her fingers against his callused palm.
"Tell me what happened," he finally said, his voice low and even. "Who are you?"
An introduction at this point seemed unbearably awkward. Hope blushed again, and cleared her throat "Hope Bradshaw."
The blue eyes searched her face. "Tanner. Price Tanner."
The fire was getting too low. She needed to put another couple of logs on, but getting up and standing naked in front of him was somehow impossible. She looked around for her pajamas and, in an agony of embarrassment, realized she needed to bathe before putting them on.
He saw where she was looking, and he didn't suffer any such modesty. Unfolding his long length from the floor, he stepped over to the stack of wood and replenished the fire.
Hope did exactly what she had been embarrassed to let him to do to her, looked him over good, from head to foot. She liked what she saw, every inch of him. His muscles were delineated in the firelight, revealing the slope and curve of broad shoulders, wide chest, the long bulge of strong thigh muscles. His buttocks were round, firm. Even flaccid, his penis was intriguingly thick, and his testicles swung heavily below them. Price Tanner. She repeated his name in her mind, the syllables strong and brisk.
Tink looked a little grumpy at having had his sleep disturbed. He got up and sniffed at the stranger, and wagged his tail when the man leaned down and patted him. "I remember the dog barking," Price Tanner said.
"He heard you before I did. His name is Tinkerbell. Tink, for short."
"Tinkerbell?" He glanced at her, blue eyes incredulous. "He's gay?"
Hope sputtered with laughter. "No, he's just an eternally optimistic, goofy dog. He thinks the world is here to pet him."
"He may be right." He studied the sodden mass of his clothing, the water puddled on the floor. "How long have I been here?"
She looked at the clock. Two-thirty. "Three and a half hours." Too much had happened in such a short length of time, and yet she felt as if only an hour or so had passed instead of almost twice that. "I dragged you in and got you out of your clothes. You must have stepped into the lake, because you were wet from the waist down. I dried you off and wrapped you in a blanket."
"Yeah, I remember going into the water. I knew this place was here, but I couldn't see a damn thing."
"I don't know how you made it this far. Why were you on foot? Did you have an accident? And why were you out in this weather anyway?"
"I was trying to make it down to Boise. The Blazer slid off the road and broke out the windshield, so I couldn't stay there. Like I said, I knew this place was here, and I had a compass. I didn't have much choice except try to get here."
"You're a walking miracle," she said frankly. "Logically, you should be dead out in the snow."
"But I'm not, thanks to you." He returned to the blanket and stretched out beside her, his gaze somber. He caught a tendril of blond hair, rubbing it between his fingers before smoothing it behind her ear. "I know when you got under the blanket to get me warm, you weren't expecting me to jump you as soon as I was half conscious. Tell me the truth, Hope: Were you willing?"
She cleared her throat. "I—I was surprised." She touched his hand. "I wasn't unwilling. Couldn't you tell?"
He briefly closed his eyes in relief. "I don't have a real clear memory of anything that happened until I woke up on top of you. Or rather, I remember what I did and what I felt, but I wasn't sure you felt the same." He spread his hand on her belly and lightly stroked upward to cover her breast. "I thought maybe I'd lost my head, waking up with such a pretty, brown-eyed little blond naked next to me."
