“It was,” he said, stepping into her space. “But I’m liking it less every passing minute.” The look in his eyes made her breath hitch. If she’d wondered about his interest, there was no doubt now.
“Is there any alternative to that plan?” she asked.
“There is if you don’t mind getting up before the crack of dawn to drive to Gunnison.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “What do you want to do?” she countered, her eyes searching his.
“What do I want?” His arms caged her on either side, his body pressing hot and hard against hers. “You, Aiwattsi. Only you.”
*
They barely made it into their room before his mouth claimed hers, hot, aggressive, and devouring. Mindlessly she flung herself into it. Mouths melding, tongues thrusting and retreating, moans mixing and mingling. Dizzying, devastating, drugging kisses. Searching hands peeled away clothes. Touching, teasing. Sucking and stroking. Agonizing emptiness. Merciless need. Their limbs tangled and entwined.
Restless and writhing, he reached out. Gazes locking. He probed, then pierced hard and deep, shock and pleasure surging, senses swimming. Primal, pulsating pleasure.
Blissful friction. Rasping, ragged breaths. Erotic echoes of slapping flesh.
He plunged and pummeled in a ruthless, relentless rhythm.
Frantic and feverish. Edging them toward ecstasy.
Aching, quaking, quivering. Surging swells and sinuous spasms. Clutching, clawing, clenching, convulsing. Two voices cried out in ravaging release.
*
Sweating and spent, Keith lay watching Miranda. She opened her eyes to his. Her sleepy gray pools stared back at him and a sated smile gave a soft lift to her mouth. “I don’t understand what you do to me,” she said. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone.”
Neither had he. He was more comfortable with Miranda than he’d been with anyone in a very long time—maybe ever. He’d hidden himself from others, but he hadn’t hidden from her. He didn’t want to hold anything back. He wanted her to see him clearly, not as a romantic hero, but exactly as he was, with all his flaws and foibles, to know and accept and trust him as a friend as well as a lover. He reached out to trace her lips with a finger. “Are you content?”
She arched against him with a feline stretch. “Right now I am.”
He rolled her on top of him. “Tell me what else makes you happy, Aiwattsi.”
Her lips twitched. “Besides orgasms?”
“Besides the orgasms I give you?” he teasingly corrected.
“I’ve never known any other kind.” She looked down at his chest, tracing a circle around his nipple, her golden brows furrowing. “I’ve never really thought much about it. I guess my best times have always been spent with the people I love. I was happy when my father was alive. I hardly remember him, but I always feel warm and fuzzy inside when I think of my early childhood. I get the same feeling when I think about the times I spent at my grandparents’ ranch. So I guess that’s happiness.”
“What about your work?” he asked. “Does it make you happy?”
She hesitated. “That’s a completely different feeling. It’s like magic happens when I capture something special on film, but working for Bibi was all about the money not the magic.”
“Are you going back to California?”
“No. I’m not going back,” she said resolutely. “I know my options in Montana are extremely limited, but I’ve thought about this long and hard. I’m going to look for freelance opportunities. Worst-case scenario, I can always fall back on commercials and television work.”
“But not filmmaking,” he said.
“Probably not, aside from my documentary,” she replied sadly. “I thought I wanted to make movies, but that life is all about money, beauty, power, and influence. Who you really are as a person means almost nothing out there. That’s not what I want.” She looked up, seeking his gaze. “What about you? What makes you happy?”
“This,” he said simply. “I like being with you.” He wanted to say so much more, but fear kept him in check.
“But what do you want from life?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still trying to figure it out. I’ve done a lot of soul-searching in the past year, but I still don’t have any answers. I don’t know what I want or where I’m going beyond here and now.”
“Do you intend to keep working for Mitch?”
“I haven’t decided,” he said. “It’s what I’m doing now, but I’ve quit thinking beyond the present. There’s little point when all my needs are met.”
“Are they all? Truly?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “My needs are very simple—air, food, water, clothing, and shelter. I have all of these.”