Isis closed her eyes as he slanted his mouth over hers in a leisurely kiss that was completely at odds with their circumstances. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing hers in a game that made her pulse race, crowding fear from her mind and replacing it with heat and need. The kiss became hard, filled with longing. She hoped from both sides, because her heart pounded erratically against her rib cage, and she was vaguely aware it was more from passion than fear.
Sand shifted beneath her feet and blew against the back of her legs as he drew her more tightly against him. The heat from his body warmed her everywhere they touched. Waves of pleasure rose like a tide inside her, the swells getting incrementally bigger as the kiss deepened.
The kiss, the embrace, was an affirmation of life in this desolate place and Isis soaked it up like rain on the parched desert sands. She needed this right now. Needed him.
She sighed, slipping her hand around his neck, and up into the short strands of his hair at his nape. She used her other hand to cup his firm butt, which flexed as her fingers tightened. She felt the small twitch of his lips at the contact.
God, he smelled so—male. The smell of his sweat, the scent of cold desert air on his skin, and the welcome heat of his hard body pressed tightly against hers turned her on like nothing else.
She knew what it felt like to have him buried deep inside her, knew the pull and pulse of her internal muscles in response to his every thrust and parry. She knew the sounds he made, and the feel of his hair-roughed chest against her sensitive breasts. She knew the sounds he made when he climaxed, and the weight of his body when he was replete.
And she wanted to feel all those things now. It was only when he brushed his fingers over her cheeks that she realized how cold she was everywhere they weren’t touching. He disengaged slowly, leaving her lips damp and chilled. “Fortunately,” he told her, his broad hands sliding down to cup her upper arms to hold her steady as she swayed unsteadily, “we have a lodestone that will take us straight back to your Valley of the Scorpions.”
“We do?” She blinked back her good sense. “Oh! We do!” She dug it out of her back pocket and handed him the little chamois pouch.
He took it and stuck it in his front pocket, then stepped back, scanning the area. “Unless they left us with my GPS or watch, which I doubt, it’ll be a little harder to pinpoint the location, but I know when I’m heading in the right direction.”
“You’re right, let’s gather everything we can use, then get a good night’s sleep. We can set out at first light.”
“Sorry.” Thorne cupped her cool cheek. “No good night’s sleep for us tonight. We don’t know if or when they might come back. We’ll do better walking while it’s cool. Hopefully we’ll reach civilization at sunup.”
Briskly she rubbed the goose bumps on her bare arms, the cold invading more than just the surface of her skin. She’d had other plans in mind that had nothing to do with sleep or walking through the wilderness. “Seriously? Wasn’t it enough to dump us out here? Now you think they’re coming back to finish the job.” Wrapping her arms around her body, she shivered. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.”
“Tuck your pants into your socks to discourage wildlife, then grab that bag over there, and let’s see what they’ve given us to work with.”
“I still have my camera bag. There’s a little money if we need to pay someone for transportation or food.” That was, if they didn’t end up walking in circles until the vultures or heatstroke got them.
“Water’s our priority. Okay, let’s see what we have to work with.”
Glad to have something constructive to do, Isis stuffed her pant legs into her socks, then hauled the light duffel bag over to where Thorne was dumping the other two. Heavy boots would better serve them out in the desert than running shoes, but at least they hadn’t been wearing sandals when they’d been taken. She was grateful for small mercies.
Unzipping the bags, they tossed the contents onto the sleeping bag. Some clothing, his and hers. Isis held up a familiar T-shirt. “Isn’t this the shirt you wore in London? It is! And here’s my bra!