Virgin Seduction

He must have, because the sound he made was only a half-hearted snort. He did not growl at her as fiercely as before.

But then pain hissed between his teeth. He had unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open, and was trying to shrug it away from his shoulders and back. The flashlight in his hand was an encumbrance to him now, and she thought it a minor victory that he did not object when she took it from him.

She switched the light on and trained it on his back.

'How bad is it?' He was straining to see over his shoulder.

She hastily turned off the light. 'Not so terrible as I expected.' She imagined the lie balanced on her tongue like a soap bubble. 'I will have them out in no time. But first, we must have some antiseptic, I think. There is something here, surely? A medicine kit?'

Cade braced on the sink and glared at his hands, anchoring himself in the familiar shape of them, dark against the white porcelain as he felt his world, his life spin out of his reach. He felt an odd sense of fatalism, like an off balance skier heading down a treacherous slope. One way or another he was bound to get to the bottom.

'Yeah, in the plane,' he muttered. 'Somewhere around here, too, probably, but I'm damned if I know where.'

'Never mind, I think I have seen something…' Her voice, somehow both breathless and tranquil, had retreated back into the kitchen. 'Yes-here it is. This will do, I think…'

Curious to see what it was she'd found, afraid he already knew, he met her in the hallway. Sure enough. There was just enough light for him to see the bottle in her hands.

'Hey,' he said, in a voice ragged with outrage, 'that's good bourbon.'

'Yes-it is alcohol, is it not?' He watched as she unscrewed the cap and took a sniff. His jaws cramped and his mouth began to water. 'Mmm, and it smells good, too. Much nicer than the medicine kind. Come-' she waved the bottle imperiously '-it will be better, I think, if you lie down.'

Cade meekly followed her into the bedroom she'd chosen-the one with her things in it. His heart was thumping and the energy dynamo inside him was whining away at fever pitch. And this rushing noise in his head-was that the sound of his life-events, fate-racing by, just beyond his reach?

She stood beside the bed and watched him come to her, the bottle of bourbon in one hand, the flashlight and needlenose pliers in the other and her eyes full of mysteries. She drew a breath and when she spoke her voice was breathless still, but no longer the slightest bit tranquil. 'First,' she said-and he knew he could hear a tremor in it-'it will be necessary for you to remove your trousers.'

And he felt a shivering, quivering, wholly unexpected desire to laugh when she abruptly turned her back and closed her eyes. He thought it was so like her. His virgin princess…

Oh, Leila thought, I really wish my voice had not trembled. She felt shaky all over, and she really could not allow that. It was not fear that made her tremble-she still felt that heady and wonderful sense of power, a kind of strength she somehow knew must be uniquely female. No-she shivered now with excitement Something new…something she had never felt before. She shivered and shivered and could not seem to stop.

'I think,' Cade said in a muffled voice, 'that's about the best I can do. Hurts too much to bend over…'

She opened her eyes and turned, and her heart felt as though it had lodged in her throat. He was lying facedown across the bed, looking all gangly and ungraceful with his feet hanging over the edge. His trousers were bunched around the tops of his boots. Except for that, and a strip of white cloth across his buttocks, he was naked.

She placed the bottle of bourbon, the pliers and flashlight on the bed and gulped a breath of air. 'Well,' she said brightly, 'I told you you would need my help.'

She snatched another breath. Then she firmly grasped one booted foot and pulled. She felt his muscles tighten and pull against hers, and in another moment the boot slipped off and dropped onto the floor with a thump. Light- headed with that triumph, she went to the other foot and quickly did the same. Then she took hold of both legs of his blue jeans at the same time and pulled them off, then dropped them on top of the boots. By that time her legs were trembling so badly, it was a relief to sit down on the bed.

Except that when she did, she heard the gasp of Cade's indrawn breath. 'What?' she whispered, afraid that she had hurt him. Already! She had not even begun to pull out the cactus!

'You're all wet,' he mumbled. 'You'll catch cold.'

Yes, she was. Strange, but she had not thought about her wet clothes at all. Leila was quite certain she would not catch cold-she was never ill-but clearly she could not proceed with this delicate business dressed as she was.

There was only one thing to be done. One by one she pulled off her riding boots and dropped them on the floor beside Cade's. Then she stood up. 'I will only be a moment,' she whispered, and sternly added, when he raised himself on his elbows to try and see what she was doing, 'No-you must lie still. And…close your eyes.'

Then, as quickly as she could manage with nerveless, shaking fingers, she peeled off her blouse and jodhpurs and let them fall to the floor along with the rest of the wet clothing.

Her flesh cringed with goose bumps as she sat once more on the bed, taking care this time not to let her clammy skin touch Cade's. Her breasts felt hard as marble, and hurt where they brushed the inside of her bra. She drew yet another deep breath-why could she not seem to get enough air?

'I am ready,' she whispered. Cade's only reply was a mutter she could not understand.

She picked up the flashlight and switched it on-caught her lower lip between her teeth and exhaled carefully through her nose. She had seen men's naked bodies before in pictures, of course, and in Rome and Paris, and in the British Museum there had been statues. But there was a great difference, she was discovering, between flat paintings and cold bronze or stone, and a warm, vital male body. What astonished her most was an almost overwhelming desire to touch. That little valley low on his back, just above the waistband of his underwear, dark with a furring of golden brown hair. The longing to bury her nose and mouth in that valley, to feel the softness of his hair on her face…it was so intense it made her head swim. Even as a small child Leila had liked to explore with her nose and mouth, lips and tongue, smelling and tasting as well as touching.

And she would-she silently promised herself that. But first there was the impediment of the cactus spines to deal with…

They did not look like much, really, just a scattering of prickles not very different in color from his skin, and a few drops of blood. Some of the prickles had already come away with his clothing. There were a few on his shoulders and elbows and thighs, more on his lower back, and quite a few more, she was certain, imbedded in the white cotton that covered his backside. Her hand shook as she picked up the pliers. She set them back down on the bed and picked up the bottle of bourbon instead.

'Well?' Cade's voice sounded muffled. 'What's the holdup? Let's get this over with.'

'Be still,' she said. Her voice sounded cracked and strange. Balancing the flashlight across her lap, she unscrewed the top of the bottle. The flashlight teetered as she pulled up one leg and turned herself toward him. Carefully, she poured a tiny amount of the liquid in the bottle into that golden nest of hair.

His muscles contracted and his spine arched. He muttered something she could not hear.

'What?' Breathless, she held the bottle poised…motionless.

'I said, 'That's a helluva waste of good bourbon.''

'Do you think so?' Leila tilted her head and regarded the bottle thoughtfully. Then she sniffed it again. It did smell good. Perhaps…She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a very large swallow.

What the hell-?Cade pushed himself up on one elbow to stare at Leila, who all of a sudden had begun to gasp and choke and wheeze as if she were dying. It took him about half a second to figure out that it wasn't lighter fluid she'd swallowed, but only a pretty good slug of his bourbon. He snaked out a hand and rescued both the bottle and the flashlight while he waited for her to get her breath back.

'But-it tastes terrible,' she croaked when she could speak again, glaring at him accusingly, as if it were somehow Cade's fault. 'How can you drink this?'

'It grows on you,' he said, and automatically, because of his father, added, 'Too much, if you let it.' But his mind wasn't on bourbon, or the words coming out of his mouth.

Because he'd just realized what he was looking at, pinioned in the yellow circlet of the flashlight beam. Something that up to now he'd only dreamed about. Leila…wearing bikini panties and a lacy white bra and