He was hers. And she was his. And she had to see that. She had to know that.
With one last bellow of unfettered delight, he lowered his arms and his chin. Rain sluiced off his face in sheets, running into his eyes. But he had no trouble seeing the shocked, wary expressions of the villagers. They probably thought he’d lost his mind. Flipped his lid. Gone clean crazy. And, in a way, he had. Because from one second to the next, he’d fallen crazy, head-over-heels in love.
A bolt of lightning crashed overhead, cleaving the angry clouds in two and casting the tiny village in harsh, white light. The tart smell of electricity burned through the air, and somewhere in the distance a monkey screeched out a frightened call. Then it was as if a spell had broken. The villagers jumped and scattered, climbing up ladders to run inside their high-built huts. The children screamed with glee as they raced in from the stream’s edge, scampering up the latticework built beneath their bamboo homes to disappear inside. And Abby…well, Abby stood there in the deluge, gaping at him.
And, yes, she, too, probably suspected some of his screws had come loose. And maybe he was proving her right by grabbing her wrist and jerking her forward. Maybe he had gone stark-raving mad. But the truth of the matter was he didn’t give a rat’s…uh…hedge cutter’s ass. Because he loved her. And, hue puta, he wasn’t going to go one more second without letting her know it.
“Carl—”
But that’s all she managed before he threw his arms around her, lifting her feet from the waterlogged ground and dipping his head to hungrily claim her mouth. Since it was already gaping open in a little O of surprise, it made it that much easier to slide his tongue inside. He tasted her, savored her, drank in her surprise and bewilderment, and gave back promises of devotion and tenderness. She was so sweet, so pure. Her breath candied by the lingering juice of the rambutans. And despite the fact that he’d filled his belly, he was ravenous. Starving. So hungry for her that he probably would have laid her down right there in the mud and the muck, showed her with his hands and mouth and body all the things he felt for her, had not an incessant tapping on his shoulder forced him to lift his head.
“What is it?” he growled, a little surprised to see Yonus standing in the rain beside them. He’d completely forgotten the man existed.
“You should take shelter in the ceremonial hut!” Yonus yelled above the violent crack of another bolt of lightning. The rain had drenched the man’s jeans, darkening the material and causing them to hang heavily on his thin frame. He was pointing to the central structure at their backs. “I will go take refuge with the family next door”—he hooked a thumb over his shoulder—“and come for you once the storm has passed! My truck is parked on a logging road about a mile away! I can drive you to a petrol station and then take you back to your motorcycle!”
And suddenly Steady remembered why laying Abby down in the mud and the muck was out of the question. Because it was time for them to be on their way toward the safety of the Thai border. Well past time for them to be on their way.
Flicking a harried look toward the edge of the village where the jungle grew thick and green, blinking away the rain that ran into his eyes, he tried to imagine dragging Abby through the undergrowth in the middle of this torrential downpour. She could do it, he knew. Hell, the wonderful woman had proved she could do almost anything. But was that really their best option?
Lifting his wrist, he checked the time, doing some quick calculations. Afternoon storms here tended to be violent and fleeting. Lasting no more than an hour or two. So, even if he decided to take off and haul Abby through the worst of the drencher, they still wouldn’t be able to make better time than simply staying here, waiting out the storm, and taking Yonus up on his offer of a ride. Though, unbeknownst to the young Orang Asli man, he wouldn’t be carting them back to the Ducati, but rather the remaining ten miles to Thailand.
Glancing down at Abby, he was charmed to discover she looked like a drowned kitten. Her hair was plastered to her head, her eyes blinking against the pouring rain, and her succulent little mouth was back to forming the perfect O. Jesús Cristo! Did she have any idea what a temptation she was? Probably not. But, if things went his way, he was just about to show her.
“It’s a deal!” he yelled to Yonus.
Chapter Fifteen
“What the frickin’ sticks has gotten into you, Carlos?” Abby demanded incredulously, plopping down on the palm-leaf mat spread across the floor of the little ceremonial hut. “Is rain some kind of aphrodisiac for you or something?” she asked while twisting the water out of her sodden hair. “What’s with kissing the bejeezus out of me right there in the center of the village, in the middle of a torrential downpour, with our new buddy Yonus playing the part of the unwitting voyeur?” And FYI, your mouth should come with its own warning label: Caution! These lips have been known to melt ovaries!