Edge of Survival (16 page)

Her blood pulsed thickly through her veins. “Daniel?” She didn’t know what she was supposed to do from here, she couldn’t touch him the way she wanted. She felt gauche and inexperienced.

“I’m
not
going to make love to you, Cam.” The words were gruff as his beard scratched her skin.

Disappointment rose in her even as he undid her jeans. He slipped one hand inside her panties and his fingers teased. “But I’ll give you what you want.”

Thought scattered. She arched up, head thrown back on his shoulders. She just wanted
him
inside her, but he was scraping his teeth over the junction of her neck and shoulder, one hand banded across her stomach as if to hold her in place as his fingers sank deep inside her. She groaned. He increased the pressure on the tiny nub of flesh that begged and pleaded for her to spread her legs wider and take anything he had to offer. She immediately flew apart with such force she cried out his name, flashes of color burning through her closed lids.

“Damn. I wish you could see yourself.” He continued to stroke her, nipped her neck, causing sensations to quiver through her body everywhere he touched. “I knew this would be good, Doc.” He still held her imprisoned with that one hand, as if scared she might move. “But this is still just sex. I don’t want you tangling it up into anything more complicated than lust just because I can make you come.”

She wanted to argue but he drove deeper, rediscovered her nipples and simultaneously zeroed in on her G-spot. It felt so amazing. Her heart banged crazily and her breath came in short sharp pants. Daniel played her body like a virtuoso.
Oh my God.
She was spinning again, cartwheeling through space. When she finally crashed to earth, she realized she was alone in her ecstasy.

This was not what she wanted.

He was too controlled, too calm and too damn detached.

He’d removed himself mentally. As soon as he’d stopped kissing her lips, as soon as he’d turned her around so he couldn’t see her face, he’d become mechanical. The moves were perfect, and her body was begging for her mind to shut up and take what he offered. But he was treating her as if she was just another woman. Just another easy lay. And while it might feel better than she’d ever imagined, she needed more.

They might not love each other, but he meant something to her. He had to mean
something,
else she wouldn’t be here.

She took the arm that pinned her and pried it loose so she could swing around to face him. He didn’t try to stop her, but his eyes hooded.

“It can be ‘just sex,’ Daniel.” She planted a hand on his chest and pushed him back as she climbed off the desk. “But this is you and me having sex, not some nameless hookup. I don’t sleep around.”

He watched her through half-closed eyes, hiding all his thoughts and emotions beneath sharp blue glitter, but now he was breathing hard. He looked pissed, which made her feel better.

“I want to have sex with you, Daniel, because I like
you.
I think of you as a friend.”

His eyes dropped like magnets as she inched her jeans down her thighs, stripping her panties with them. She kicked them away. Naked except for her medical emergency bracelet. “Think you can cope with the concept of having sex with a friend without imploding?”

She didn’t let him think about it. She undid the button of his pants and slid the zipper over the length of him. She eased down his shorts and cradled him with both hands, never breaking eye contact.

“I don’t usually mix the two,” he admitted, his voice rising to a groan.

She raised her brows. “You’re going to have to man up.” And she dropped to her knees before him, holding him firmly, else she was pretty sure he’d have bolted. She trailed a tongue down the center of his stomach, feeling him swell with her touch. She wanted to drown in lust. She wanted to explode with passion. Her body cried out for freedom in this one small thing.

“I just hope you can keep up,” she murmured. She felt him twitch, felt him go rigid with anticipation, the muscles in his thighs bunching as if he might pull away. He wasn’t breathing easy. He wasn’t in control. He had his hands in her hair as she made love to him with her mouth. And when she started to hum at the back of her mouth, he put his hands on her shoulders and groaned. “Enough.” And dropped to his knees.

Cam smiled as she grabbed the hem of his jeans and pulled them until his feet hit the floor with a thud. He was naked. She was naked. And he wasn’t looking quite so detached anymore. In fact, he looked panicked. And annoyed. And hot. For her.

It gave her the confidence to straddle his hips.

His eyes flared. “I want to see you.”

“I’m right here—”

He flipped her on her back and she squeaked.

“I want to
see
you.” And he kissed her, tasting like darkest sin, like double chocolate without insulin, like pure malt whisky injected into her bloodstream.

A tight sensation built low in her belly. His lips and tongue explored hers, kissing her deeper, becoming more insistent as his entire body pressed against her. His strong thighs moved between hers. She ran her toes up the back of his calves, exploring the difference in texture of their skin, the crispness of his body hair. His hands cradled her head. He abandoned her mouth, placing sweet kisses on her cheeks, on the bruise on her chin, on her eyelids and nose. Her thighs relaxed and she spread her legs wider, loving the satiny hard feel of him against her. She could feel the restrained demand of his body, but was absorbed by the rampant sweetness of his mouth on her skin.

The innocent teasing kisses stopped as the thick ridge of his penis pressed against her. They both stilled and looked at one another through lash-covered eyes.

The feeling of need was biting at her now, biting at her control, but she would not beg. She wet her lips, wanting to feel him inside her, and squirmed, imagining him there, but knowing they needed protection.

“Do you have a condom?” she managed.

He leaned over to yank open a desk drawer and pulled out a whole box. “I have shares in Trojan.”

She ignored the comment, knowing he was still trying to cheapen the experience in case she fell madly in love with him and followed him around all day with puppy eyes. Well, she could be clinical too. “Good. Do you want to do it here, or on the bed, or on the desk? Missionary, doggy, bondage—”

“Shut. Up. Cam.”

She shut up and grinned, but only because he’d called her Cam. He was trying to get into the foil package and failing. He threw one away and tried another. His fingers shook and Cam laughed and held out her hand. She’d thought he’d have more finesse.

“Let me do it.”

She took the package from him and used her teeth. His eyes flared as she removed the condom and crooked her finger to get him to come closer. But he had other plans and his dark eyes gleamed. He leaned over and started kissing her again, trailing his tongue over her breasts. She writhed and twisted, but he never let her get close enough to touch him the way she wanted to. And she really, really wanted to touch him. Strange that she’d blinded herself to the notion for so long.

He stroked his fingers up her ribcage and down her tummy, smoothly but firmly as if memorizing the contours of her body. She shivered and let her head fall back as she gave herself up to sensation. His touch raised a trail of heightened excitement across her skin that left her nerves stimulated to overload. Their skin burned. Then he nudged her knees apart and she finally got to reach down to stroke the hard velvet length of him and protect them both.

She was quivering as if she was on a sugar low as he inched forward, probing to find her hot wet center. She’d thought she’d known the difference between love and sex but she’d been wrong. This felt more intense and powerful than any time she’d fancied herself in love with her fiancés. Maybe he was right, or maybe he was just damned good at sex. Her fingers tightened on the powerful muscles of his back.

Although, dammit, he could get a move on, she was desperate here.

“Daniel,” she urged, raising her hips in mute appeal. “I want you inside me, now.”

He smiled that killer smile. “Cameran Young, you are such a hussy.” He held her gaze as he finally pushed deep inside and it felt wonderful. He filled her completely, moving slowly but firmly, easing her hips up off the floor.

Too quickly Cam saw stars fall in the depths of his eyes and shattered into a million pieces of light. Daniel drove deeper and harder, trembling to hold himself up. Before she could recover, before sight and sound returned, he cried out her name as he joined her.

Daniel lay awake in bed, Cam pressed snug to his side, her hair spilling over his chest, her naked body warm and super-soft. There wasn’t much room in the single bunk and it should have been uncomfortable. It wasn’t. He needed to wake her up and send her back to her cabin so he could get some sleep. He didn’t. Right now, for a couple more minutes, he was content to lie and listen to her breathe. They’d made use of the floor, the desk and finally the bed before she’d fallen asleep. He brushed her hair off her forehead and placed a kiss there because she was sound asleep.

Abstinence had to be an aphrodisiac because it had been a long time since he’d managed three times in one night. Although he was usually drunk and once was normally enough.

But not tonight.

Obviously his libido had decided if he was going to fall off the no-more-sex-this-trip wagon he would fall off it in spectacular style.

And he’d known the moment he’d found her at his door that he wouldn’t be able to keep the vow he’d made to himself. The whole time she’d been talking, he’d been imagining her naked and trying to remember if it was sex or one-night stands he’d sworn off. Because if it was only the latter he was in for one hell of a tour. He’d tried to scare her into leaving, tried to make her be the one to walk away because he couldn’t do it. But she hadn’t gone anywhere.

He didn’t understand his hunger for her.

The sex stuff should be a cinch because he’d gone for months without getting any in the past. And it hadn’t been a problem. He’d done things far more difficult in his life than resist a woman. Selection and that soul-draining forty-mile escape and evasion marathon through the merciless Welsh mountains carrying seventy pounds of gear. And abstaining from sex wasn’t even close to enduring jungle training in Brunei or jumping out of airplanes over the Irish Sea or swimming a mile in full kit. He’d resisted interrogation better than he’d resisted Cameran Young’s bare breasts. Maybe that was what the Regiment needed to weed out losers. Stacked, naked, bossy women.

Fuck. Even thinking about her perched on that desk turned him on again, and he needed to get a grip. The scent of her hair teased his nostrils. It smelled fresh and spicy like ginger. Although, God knew, even when she stank of clove oil and fish, he liked being close. Obviously he was worse off than he’d realized.

She stirred uneasily against his chest, which was now slippery with sweat. Her hands clenched into tight little fists and her breathing sounded short and choppy. He eased away from her and placed his hand on her brow. Shit. She was burning up.

“Cam?” He touched her shoulder but she mumbled and pushed him away. Her hair was wet and clung to her brow, her lips looked dry.

“Cam!” He shook her harder, fear gripping his heart with needle-sharp talons.

She opened her eyes but they didn’t focus on him. “Hmm. Dweaming.” Her words were slurred. She closed her eyes and her head flopped to the side. Fear rushed his system like a bucket of cold water smashed in his face. His mouth parched, he scrambled out of bed and grabbed her hands and pulled her upright. She slumped back down onto the pillows.

What the hell was wrong with her?

“Cam? Cam!” He started shaking her gently, panic short-circuiting his brain as she slowly woke up.

Her pupils dilated and contracted until they finally settled on him in an unfocused daze. “Daniel? Ugh.” She collapsed back against the sheets, rubbing her forehead as if in pain.

“Don’t go back to sleep.” He held her hands tight, her fingers slippery but cold.

“I need my pack,” she said in a croaky voice.

Daniel raced to the desk and pulled it down from the shelf. He unzipped it and placed it on the sheets beside her, rummaging through it. “What do you need? What’s the matter?” He felt her forehead again. Hot and sweaty.

“Headache. I think I’m hypoglycemic.” Her words with thick and slow. “I need to test my blood sugar levels…”

He pulled out the lance he’d seen her use to prick her thumb and held her hand in his lap. Just an hour ago the sight of her hand in his lap would have aroused a completely different response in his vascular system. Now it was terror.

“Sorry,” he said as she flinched away from the lancet.

“Not your fault,” she whispered quietly.

Not her fault either, he thought as he pulled out a little strip of paper and blotted the single drop of blood onto it the way he’d watched her do many times. He grabbed her meter and turned it on, taking a moment to get the strip in the slot. “Thirty. Shit, that’s too low isn’t it?”

She nodded. “I don’t usually have these problems.” Then she dug through her bag and pulled out a tube of Life Savers, fumbling two into her mouth, biting down with a crunch. Sweat ran down her temples, sliding down her neck and between her breasts.

“Can you run and get me apple juice from the kitchen, please?” Her voice was fuzzy. The words not shaped quite right.

“You’ll be all right?” Daniel asked. “You won’t collapse?”
Or die?
Shit. What had he done to her?

“I’ll be fine.” She held up her candy. “Pure sugar. Just hurry.”

He ran. The tile and metal were cold under his feet, and he only realized he was naked when he got to the galley. Who the fuck cared anyway. It was 3 a.m. and no one was awake down here. He grabbed a rack of fruit juice and four bottles of water, one spinning off and rattling down the stairs as he took them three at a time. He dashed back to his room and pulled the plastic wrap off the case of juice boxes. It took him three attempts to nail a straw through the stupid little hole.

Cam propped herself up on her elbow to drink, naked except for the sheet. Daniel got up and closed the door.

“How often does this happen?” he asked. Did she really live life like this? And carry on as if everything was normal?

“Not very often,” she admitted and then carried on sucking the juice. He passed her a bottle of water when she was finished, and she took a sip. She tried to sit up so he piled the pillows behind her head.

“What else do you need? Chocolate?” He went to his desk drawer and pulled out a Mars bar from his stash.

Her smile lacked energy and she shook her head just a fraction. “I’ll wait fifteen minutes and then test again. Otherwise I’ll be spilling ketones all night.”

That sounded like fun.

“This is because we had sex, isn’t it?” God, he was furious with himself. He should have asked her, checked if it was all right for a woman in her condition to do all that stuff.

She sniggered though she still looked like shit. “Not because we had sex but…the unexpected exercise.” Her eyes sparkled. “It was worth it though.”

“Cam…” He narrowed his gaze in warning. This wasn’t a joke.

“You’re regretting it.” She sucked in her lower lip, blinked rapid-fire and looked away.

Her hands felt warm now, not as clammy.

“I don’t regret having sex with you, but I sure as shit don’t want this to happen to you ever again.” And that was the end of making out with Cam, which should have been a good thing because it would bring him to his senses and allow him some distance, except…it wasn’t.

“It wasn’t the sex, Daniel. Seriously. I normally check my blood sugar before I go to bed.” She looked at him from under her lashes, a blush forming on her cheeks. “Tonight I forgot.” She groaned and looked at the ceiling. “Plus, I didn’t eat all my dinner because I needed to make sure you were all right, which was obviously just a cover for me being horny.”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose.

“And then all that added…activity.” She took another gulp of water. “I’m an idiot and my head hurts.” She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. “Hypoglycemia is a pretty common occurrence with diabetes, especially those of us who aim for tight control. But if I’m low before I go to sleep there’s a specially formulated snack I eat that releases sugar slowly into my body through the night. Really, Daniel.” She looked up and her color already looked better. “This isn’t usually a problem for me.”

He sat down and took her hand in his. Not a problem? Sinking into a coma when you were asleep and not being able to do a damn thing about it? Not a problem? What if she’d been alone…what if he’d already sent her back to her room so he could sleep without fear of having a stupid fucking nightmare?

She sat forward and stroked his hair. “It’s what we do.”

God. There was a hole in his chest filled with frustration and anger.

“When I was a kid, my parents would check my blood sugar every hour. Can you imagine having a child with diabetes?”

Daniel began to feel physically sick.

“My parents slept in separate bedrooms for nearly a year after I was diagnosed and had this alternate alarm system set for every two hours. But I’m pretty sure my mom woke every hour just to make sure dad didn’t miss his stint.” She looked at the tips of her fingers. “After a while I slept through the testing. But every morning I’d have sore fingers and my log book would be filled out.” She hugged him, her bare breasts pressed against his back, but he wasn’t feeling lust. What he was feeling now was something far more terrifying.

“Isn’t there some kind of warning system you can rig up?” He clasped her hand to his chest.

“No. Although I was reading about dogs who wake their masters if their blood glucose goes too low. Don’t ask me how the dog knows, but I was thinking about getting a pooch sometime in the future anyway.” She smiled and seemed to understand he was trying to handle a whole new set of circumstances. “I’ve been dealing with this for a long time, Daniel. I understand if it freaks you out.”

She’d been dealing with it longer than he’d been in and out of the army. Damn, he was a selfish sonofabitch to walk around like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders when he knew other people suffered. Cam was reopening his eyes, but he’d seen disease and poverty rip through a nation. Seen starvation carve out the bones of children.

But it didn’t change the fact he couldn’t help them anymore. He couldn’t even keep himself out of trouble without one crutch or another.

“It
is
terrifying thinking you can go to sleep and not wake up, I’m not gonna lie. But I’m not living my life in constant fear.” She squeezed his fingers, which had gone slack in hers. “I’m not doing that to myself.”

He looked away because he couldn’t speak past the thick lump of emotion lodged in his gullet. This woman was killing him by bringing him back to life. He did not want to come alive. If he lost his sense of self again, if he lost things that were important to him—it would
kill
him.

“So it wasn’t the sex that made my blood sugar low, although I understand if you’re not interested anymore.” She gathered the sheet around her breasts. “I mean, it’s gotta kind of weird you out being given that sort of wakeup call in the middle of the night.”

He couldn’t breathe. Middle of the night wakeup calls he was used to. He just hadn’t realized how many other people suffered them too. Nightmares and flashbacks seemed feeble and transient compared to coma and death.

“I mean it was just sex between friends.” Her tone wavered uncertainly. “I wasn’t expecting a relationship or anything.”

He’d remained silent too long, and Cam started to fidget as if she was about to climb out of bed and walk away. But he still couldn’t speak. He couldn’t look at her.

“I should go—”

“No.” He finally turned to face her and let her see the emotions raging through him. “You…
we
…weren’t just a one-night thing. It’s more than that.” He took in a deep breath of air that restarted his brain and brought him back to reality. “I’m not saying let’s run off to Vegas and get married—”

“Heaven forbid.” She sniffed and wiped her nose, and he wanted to laugh.

“But it was more than just one night,” he told her.

Whatever she was feeling was hidden by a veil of curls as she leaned down to grab her meter to recheck her glucose levels.

She sighed. “Even so you’d better pass me my clothes. You need some sleep and I’m going to be awake for at least another hour—”

“Stay.” Where the hell had that come from?

“No.” Her meter beeped, but she refused to look at him.

He leaned over but couldn’t see the screen. “What’s it at?”

She showed him the readout, her eyes dark but shimmering in the dim light, her smile sad but showing off her dimples. “Sixty-two.”

“Stay,” he repeated. And she wrapped her arms around her knees and nodded.

***

Dwight turned on his flashlight even though it was dawn. His head hurt and one eye was swollen shut and throbbing because that nutcase had caught him with a lucky punch. All he’d done was give that little bitch a slap. She’d deserved a hell of a lot more than that after all the shit she’d stirred up. He touched his chest and winced, wondering if he had a broken rib because every time he breathed, a sharp pain shot through him. One slow step at a time he climbed the ridge and headed into the bush toward Sylvie’s ATV.

Daniel Fox thought he could take him on? He was gonna teach that asshole a lesson he wouldn’t forget in
years.

Clambering over exposed roots and through prickly shrubs was hell on his injuries but he forced himself onward. Too much to do to take a sick day. Too much at stake. He eventually found the dark hulking shadow in the gloom, and took a moment to catch his breath. He started to lean against a spruce tree but thought better of it—didn’t want to leave any evidence behind. As a precaution he’d borrowed someone else’s boots for the walk. He fumbled in his pocket for the latex gloves he’d taken from the geologists’ lab. A branch cracked loudly in the twilight and his head snapped up. His heart banged painfully, but he didn’t see nothing. There was a problem bear around the camp. He’d had it removed twice already. Next time he’d shoot it, but he hadn’t thought to bring his rifle. A red squirrel scampered through the leaves and he relaxed. Propping his flashlight on a stone, he pulled on gloves which smelled like rubbers and retrieved a sealed Ziploc from his pocket. He took out some Q-Tips, fumbled and dropped one on the ground.

Swearing, he knelt in the damp leaf litter, the moisture creeping through the thick denim of his jeans. He pulled a bottle of water from his shirt pocket and wet the end of the bud. Then he angled the light beam onto the dark encrusted blood on the ATV and worked the tip of the cotton bud into it. The end came away a dirty brown color.