nearly one hundred and fifty miles long and about half as wide. The roads that wound up into the mountains were crumbling in disrepair. They’d been riding steadily upward all morning, stopping only for a quick lunch of bread and cheese that Kayla had thought to tuck into the bag behind the seat,
“Left. Definitely left.” To her surprise, Cal hadn’t argued when she’d told him she’d navigate. She’d been prepared to cite examples of her innate ability to tell direction. But he’d simply handed her the map.
He’d looked exhausted when they met out in front of the hotel lobby that morning, and she’d had to wonder if he’d slept as badly as she had.
She’d tossed and turned all night long, and when she
had
slept, her dreams had been filled with disturbing images—Cal’s hard, powerful body pinning her to the bed as he gazed down into her eyes. Long, slow, soft, steamy kisses that made her melt, kisses that built in intensity and urgency until they were neither slow nor soft.
And then she struggled beneath him, asking him to stop. He didn’t answer, and when she looked at him, his face had changed. He wasn’t Cal any longer, and the fear nearly smothered her.
She’d awakened with a start, sitting up in bed, drenched with sweat. She’d spent the remainder of the night with the light on, slipping in and out of a dreamless, restless sleep.
Cal waited as she zipped the maps back into her fanny pack, and when she once again put her arms around his waist, he put the bike in gear, lifting his feet off the ground and repositioning them on the footrests.
He was wearing jeans and his worn-out cowboy boots again today, despite the fact that the tropical sun had already sent the temperature soaring into the nineties. A light-colored T-shirt hugged his upper body, and Kayla had the feeling that he wore it only out of deference to her. If he’d been alone in this heat, his shirt would have been off.
Her own T-shirt was folded and in her fanny pack. She wore only a bandeau bathing suit top with her shorts and sandals, and even then she was much too warm.
The road grew narrower, the jungle thickening almost discernibly on either side, as if seeking to swallow them whole. It was barely wide enough for a single car to pass through. Even on the motorcycle, Kayla felt vines and tendrils occasionally brush against her arms and legs.
The motorcycle’s small engine whined as they climbed steadily uphill. Despite the fact that the road was shaded, Kayla felt a trickle of perspiration travel down between her breasts. She was glad Cal was wearing a T-shirt. If he hadn’t been, their skin would have stuck together. As it was, his body heat and hard muscles brought back memories of the previous night’s disturbing dreams.
“Right before we get to the top of this hill there should be another road off to the right,” she told him, leaning closer to his ear to be heard over the engine.
He nodded once. “There’s some kind of turnoff ahead.”
It looked to be hardly more than a path, but as they got closer, it was clear that it had, at one time, been a road.
“Go past it,” Kayla shouted. “If there’s nothing else before the rise, we can come back.”
They got to the top of the hill with no other turnoffs evident on either side of the road. Cal turned the bike around and coasted back down the hill.
“Let’s take it.”
Cal stopped the motorcycle at the beginning of the road, and turned slightly in his seat to look at her. “Put your shirt back on. I don’t know who we’re going to run into out here, and I don’t want to give ’em any…ideas.”
“Such as the idea that since I’ve got my bathing suit on, I might want to go for a swim?”
He met her gaze evenly. “You know damn well that’s not what I meant.”
“Then say what you mean—don’t talk in code.”
“Cover yourself,” he said bluntly. “You’re underdressed.”
“In your opinion. According to certain Pygmy tribes in Africa, I
“Left. Definitely left.” To her surprise, Cal hadn’t argued when she’d told him she’d navigate. She’d been prepared to cite examples of her innate ability to tell direction. But he’d simply handed her the map.
He’d looked exhausted when they met out in front of the hotel lobby that morning, and she’d had to wonder if he’d slept as badly as she had.
She’d tossed and turned all night long, and when she
had
slept, her dreams had been filled with disturbing images—Cal’s hard, powerful body pinning her to the bed as he gazed down into her eyes. Long, slow, soft, steamy kisses that made her melt, kisses that built in intensity and urgency until they were neither slow nor soft.
And then she struggled beneath him, asking him to stop. He didn’t answer, and when she looked at him, his face had changed. He wasn’t Cal any longer, and the fear nearly smothered her.
She’d awakened with a start, sitting up in bed, drenched with sweat. She’d spent the remainder of the night with the light on, slipping in and out of a dreamless, restless sleep.
Cal waited as she zipped the maps back into her fanny pack, and when she once again put her arms around his waist, he put the bike in gear, lifting his feet off the ground and repositioning them on the footrests.
He was wearing jeans and his worn-out cowboy boots again today, despite the fact that the tropical sun had already sent the temperature soaring into the nineties. A light-colored T-shirt hugged his upper body, and Kayla had the feeling that he wore it only out of deference to her. If he’d been alone in this heat, his shirt would have been off.
Her own T-shirt was folded and in her fanny pack. She wore only a bandeau bathing suit top with her shorts and sandals, and even then she was much too warm.
The road grew narrower, the jungle thickening almost discernibly on either side, as if seeking to swallow them whole. It was barely wide enough for a single car to pass through. Even on the motorcycle, Kayla felt vines and tendrils occasionally brush against her arms and legs.
The motorcycle’s small engine whined as they climbed steadily uphill. Despite the fact that the road was shaded, Kayla felt a trickle of perspiration travel down between her breasts. She was glad Cal was wearing a T-shirt. If he hadn’t been, their skin would have stuck together. As it was, his body heat and hard muscles brought back memories of the previous night’s disturbing dreams.
“Right before we get to the top of this hill there should be another road off to the right,” she told him, leaning closer to his ear to be heard over the engine.
He nodded once. “There’s some kind of turnoff ahead.”
It looked to be hardly more than a path, but as they got closer, it was clear that it had, at one time, been a road.
“Go past it,” Kayla shouted. “If there’s nothing else before the rise, we can come back.”
They got to the top of the hill with no other turnoffs evident on either side of the road. Cal turned the bike around and coasted back down the hill.
“Let’s take it.”
Cal stopped the motorcycle at the beginning of the road, and turned slightly in his seat to look at her. “Put your shirt back on. I don’t know who we’re going to run into out here, and I don’t want to give ’em any…ideas.”
“Such as the idea that since I’ve got my bathing suit on, I might want to go for a swim?”
He met her gaze evenly. “You know damn well that’s not what I meant.”
“Then say what you mean—don’t talk in code.”
“Cover yourself,” he said bluntly. “You’re underdressed.”
“In your opinion. According to certain Pygmy tribes in Africa, I
Similar Books
