Her lips parted as she remembered the last time he'd touched her. The expertise. The pleasure. She looked at his hand resting on the tepee opening. The long, blunt fingers, the beaded wrist-band leading on to a forearm so negligently masculine it made her chest tight.
He moved then and she blinked in surprise, drawn out of her daze of appreciation as he stooped to enter the tepee, only to emerge a moment later, his quick gaze scanning the encampment before it came to rest on her pale figure silhouetted against the dark background of the forest. She saw his chest relax as he released the breath he'd been holding.
Then he started towards her and again her lips moved soundlessly. Oh, my. She'd thought the Lost Boys were breathtaking.
Her cheek rested dreamily against the tree trunk as he strode across the clearing, sure-footedness belying his towering stature. His skin was darker than her own. Smooth. And under it flowed muscles as invisible as a cat's.
The closer he got, the weaker her knees felt until he stood right in front of her, blocking the light and all she could see was the dark intensity of his eyes. She stared up into them, dizzy with desire.
Then she realised she was just dizzy.
Her head fell forward and he caught her as she slumped, lifting her into his arms. Dee was only vaguely aware of being carried the few paces back to his tepee. But she was intimately aware of the body she was cradled against. The skin was damp and exuded a mysterious nocturnal scent so laden with pheromones that it bypassed the foreplay build-up and took her straight to the point of penetration-readiness. He stooped to enter the tent, then laid her on the furs, her boneless body melting into a puddle of limpid desire.
But that desire was suspended as he turned away to put wood on a fire she hadn't known was there. In a daze of readiness, she waited for him to return to her side, and once back, he knelt and rested a hand on her shoulder.
'Don't be frightened of me,' he said, gazing deep into her eyes. 'I won't hurt you.'
'I know you won't,' she said softly, recognizing the voice. It was that of her rescuer. Her champion. 'You've been very kind.' And gentle. Yet there was no gentleness in his eyes. They ate hers.
Dee had trouble keeping her heavy eyelids open, so deep was her arousal. She couldn't seem to remember to breathe and the light-headedness was getting worse.
'You removed the compress,' he said, in such a strange voice she felt a shiver chase down her spine.
'I had to,' she replied. 'Too much liquid.'
He nodded. 'I should have thought of that,' he said, and his forehead creased into a frown of such beauty it made her throat ache just to look at it.
They stared at each other in silence and a stray breeze came through the opened door-flap caught the feather hanging from his hair, brushing it against his slightly parted lips.
Dee felt her own lips tingle. She imagined herself as that feather, hiding in his silky hair, brushing over his lips, perhaps sliding inside. She looked at his dark skin and wanted to taste every inch of it, wanted to hear the fierceness in his eyes escape his lips.
'I don't even know your name,' she said, wanting to draw the moment out even as she knew it couldn't go on much longer.
'Among my people I am known as Long Shadow,' he replied and there was no mistaking the pride in his voice.
She nodded. 'I like your name. It suits you.' There was a sound of permanence about it that made her think of canyons and tall trees. A dependability she sensed in the man too. Having given his word, he would keep it. He'd make a formidable champion. And an unforgettable lover.
He was staring into her eyes again, but reluctantly, as though he couldn't break away.
'Are there others?' she asked. 'Other…?'
'Redskins?' He gave the word an odd inflection but she was too dazed to look for hidden meanings. 'No. We are alone,' he assured her.
'Good.' Any second now he'd reach for her, yet she prolonged the moment with conversation. 'My name is Wendee — '
Disconcertingly, his eyes flickered and managed to disengage from hers. 'I know you are Wendee. You are Peter's Wendee,' he said, and abruptly released her shoulder to sit back cross-legged.
Dee lay still, staring at him, lost to this sudden shift of intention. Her body cried, come back to me, take me, but her mind argued caution.
She knew he desired her. She'd seen it in his eyes. And he'd already touched her intimately… when he'd thought she was asleep.
What did that mean? He didn't look shy. There must be another reason. Perhaps he thought she belonged to Peter and was not to be tampered with?
That was a misconception she could quickly dispel. 'I've been with the Lost Boys and the mermaids,' she said, displaying her credentials.
'I know. My camp overlooks the mermaid lagoon,' he replied, his face curiously expressionless. 'I watched you there every day.'
She caught her breath, the liquid desire resurging. He'd seen… 'What did you see?'
'I saw…' He blinked, a slow deliberate motion. '…two women.'
'Making love?'
There was a pause where she held her breath. Then he said, 'Yes. I saw that. Many times.'
Dee nodded. She could feel the flow between them. Their eyes were locked and sexual energy coursed through her. The weakness she'd felt moments earlier was gone. She wanted this man and she wanted him now.
'I wish I'd known you were watching,' she said, her breaths coming more quickly as the heat of his gaze worked on her. She could almost feel her juices flowing, her muscles growing lax. She licked her lips and he followed the movement with deadly attention.
'Someone always watches,' he replied softly, his eyes still on her lips.
'Even now?'
'I watch now.'
'What do you see?' she asked. And as his eyes returned to hers, her hand rose to rest on his thigh. Beneath the soft buckskin his muscles were tensed and hard, and the combination of sensations was breathtaking. Her fingers spread in a stroking action, enjoying the feel of it.
'I see a woman…' his voice was barely above a whisper, his chest, under the breast-plate, rising and falling faster than her own.
'Who…?' she prompted, her hand drifting closer to the symbol of masculinity she'd so wanted Skye to experience — the testosterone driven force she herself wanted to feel rampant between her thighs.
Lying so close to him, she could scent the muskiness of his desire. But one sense wasn't enough. She wanted to touch and taste and see this warrior's ultimate weapon. She wanted it to conquer her.
And he knew. His eyes were staring straight into hers and she knew it must all be there for him to see.
She wanted to hear it. 'What do you see?' she asked again, softly, seductively.
'I see a woman…' A muscle twitched along his jawline. 'I see… a woman who's yet to regain her strength,' he finished purposefully, his hand closing over hers to return it gently but firmly to her side.
Dee blinked, as though she'd been slapped, and her preoccupation with her own desire dissipated as the focus of her attention switched back to Long Shadow.
'I'll make broth,' he said, only the slight tremor in his voice betraying his arousal. 'You're not ready for solid food yet.'
She watched incredulously as he rose in a single smooth motion to move about the inside of the tepee collecting pouches and a gourd. That done, he knelt at the fire with his back to her and began preparing the meal.
He wasn't going to make love to her.
Dee felt panic welling up inside. Sex was like eating and breathing to her now. She needed it to survive. But having accepted Peter's dominion over her life, she must have faith in him to provide for her.
She closed her eyes, forcing her mind to blankness. She heard his movements, the crackle of the fire, the
