“Enough,” Keeley called. “Alive, he’ll make an excellent lab experiment. It’s the reason I didn’t flash him away before he attacked.”
To find out just what kind of disease she would spread? Smart.
Torin glared down at Tarzan. “Congratulations. I’ve decided to spare you—so that I can watch you suffer.” He straightened, his gaze flicking to Keeley. She remained on the ground, and concern propelled him to her side.
“What’s wrong, princess?”
She braced her weight on her elbows, hanks of bright red hair framing overbright cheeks. Bruises already marred the elegant line of her throat. After nibbling on her bottom lip, she said, “I might have twisted my ankle.”
“Let me see.” He gently lifted the hem of her sweats. Slight swelling, minor redness. Rage bombarded him. He made to stand up and return to Tarzan— Will rip out his throat...with my teeth. But Keeley wrapped her fingers around his wrist, stopping him.
“You have blood on your face,” she said, a soft, girly inflection to her tone...one that made his chest constrict painfully.
“Not mine.” He wanted to replace the memory of being choked with a memory of pleasure. That he couldn’t...another bomb of rage detonated. “Let’s get out of here before more guys with spears show up.” He used vines to tie Tarzan to him, planning to drag the warrior behind him, then lifted Keeley in his arms, careful not to expose any of his skin.
She snuggled against him, happy, a ray of sunlight staying locked on them as he trudged forward. “Torin...you know how I said I twisted my ankle? Well, I did. But I also healed.”
“Want me to put you down?”
“The opposite. I want you to hold me closer.” She started nibbling on her bottom lip again. “Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but what we did in the cabin has only made my craving for you worse.”
Strong currents of lust overtook him. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Don’t tell the truth?”
“You only make things harder for me.”
“That’s the point!” she said. “We both want a happy ending. But maybe I also want it a little more in between....”
Resist.
Heading north, he came across multiple booby traps. He figured what was left of Tarzan’s village was that way and switched direction. After another hour of hiking, he came across a deserted cave.
He eased Keeley atop a boulder, and though he hated to do it, released her. When she stared at his lips and licked her own, he forced himself to move away from her.
As roughly as possible, he tied the still-unconscious Tarzan to a rocky wall. “I need to secure the perimeter.”
“You’ll be careful.”
“I always am.” Except with you. And that had to change. Before it was too late.
Torin worked like a madman, turning branches into spears, setting vines as trip wires, digging pits and hiding them with foliage. At some point, every bit of heat was sucked out of the air, leaving a thin layer of ice. The end of his nose frosted over, and his lungs burned. He finished up and washed his gloves in a nearby river. The water iced, too, and he cursed.
He raced back to the cave before he was cryogenically frozen. First thing he noticed when he stepped inside: Tarzan was still unconscious. Second: Keeley had created a curtain from twigs and leaves and hung it from the roof of the cave, creating two compartments. Tarzan’s side, and hers. A warm fire crackled on hers...close to where she leaned against the rocky wall, her knees raised and spread.
She was naked—ready for him.
“I wanted to welcome you back properly,” she said with a slow, almost shy grin. Light and shadows twined over her, as if she’d come to life from a painting. “Also wanted to tempt you...have I?”
Torin stopped breathing. Walk away. No, run away. But already he could scent her...all that cinnamon now laced with vanilla...and already he was too close to her, couldn’t even remember closing the distance. But he had, and suddenly, she was within reach and he was dropping to his knees.
“We’ll be careful this time” she said. “All I need is a chance to prove there’s a way.”
“Yes. A chance.” He trembled as he gripped her knees—electric, even with the gloves—and forced her to part farther...
Never seen anything more beautiful. He brushed a fingertip through the moist heat she offered. Want this all to myself. Want her.
He must have spoken the words aloud, because she moaned, arched her back, and said, “I’m yours.”
“I’ll take care of what’s mine.” Will maintain absolute control.
He wasn’t sure what miracle had convinced her to do this, to make her so impatient to have him despite everything he’d done to her, but he would be forever grateful. Or eternally sorry.
Time would tell.
But he wouldn’t be leaving. Wouldn’t be stopping early. Not again.
He rolled her nipples between his fingers, then pinched them gently, wishing he could suck one, then the other. He resisted the urge—must resist—and returned his attention to her core. Can’t stay away. He parted her, found the spot that would make her beg, and pressed.
“Torin,” she cried. “Yes!”
He pressed harder. He’d never gone this far with a woman, but with Keeley, he wanted to go further.
“Inside me,” she beseeched.
He slid a finger in nice and deep and marveled. “You’re so wet for me.”