her brother and father. One of them died in a mine collapse in Pennsylvania and the other from lung cancer. Dad refused to move to St. Louis with her, and she refused to stay here in the hills and watch him slowly fade away.”
“How old were you when she left him?” she asked as she stuck a sock-covered foot into her jeans.
“Three. My mom knew we had to move, anyway. There weren’t any schools for the blind around here.”
“Were you mad at your dad? For refusing to leave and go with you to St. Louis?”
“Not until I was a teenager, but teenagers always feel like they need a reason to be mad at something,” he said mildly. “I got over it quick enough. It never kept me from living with him every summer. It never kept me from loving every minute of being in this forest. I wouldn’t have missed coming to these hills for all the teenage angst in the world.”
She smiled.
There was a pause.
“I’m going to start a fire now, honey.”
“Okay,” she said, sounding a little breathless to her own ears. Something about the way he’d said the last alerted her to his underlying message—he was going to have to leave her in the dark for a bit. She did her best to ignore the building pressure in her chest and came up on her knees. The air in the cave felt cool on her naked skin. Her nipples tightened as she poked around for the armholes of her jacket.
“Were you and your mother all alone when you went to St. Louis?” she asked, eager to hear his voice when he moved away from her.
“We moved to my grandmother’s in St. Louis. That’s where I grew up. My mom went to school too. She got her nursing degree,” he said, the location of his voice informing her that he’d stood and moved several feet to the right of her. She heard the sound of his boots scraping in the soil. She heard a familiar metallic sound and went still when a tiny flame pierced the darkness, illuminating the cave to an amazing degree. John squatted next to the stacked wood he’d prepared earlier, his elbows resting on his spread knees.
Jennifer paused, her opened jacket parenthesizing her bare breasts, and just stared at the unexpected vision of him in wonder.
The flame caught on some of the dried leaves, amplifying the light. His features were cast in a golden glow. She knew he couldn’t see the flames, but she had the impression from the way he positioned his face that he waited for the heat to strike his skin. He’d pulled up his jeans but only partially buttoned his shirt. She could see his chest in the opening and the dusting of dark hair. Her gaze dropped to his crotch. The details of his powerful possession and their frantic mating swamped her consciousness in a rush.
He looked up at her suddenly, and she would have sworn he saw her just as clearly as she saw him. Her fingers strayed to the soft skin of her breasts. Her fingertips traced the crown of her beading nipples. The wood snapped as the fire caught hold and flared. John wore an intent expression as he tilted his head.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Dressing,” she said in a tight voice. She pinched at her nipples lightly. His nostrils flared.
“What are you doing ?” he repeated as he stood slowly, his eyelids narrowed. It was like he knew she hadn’t answered him . . . not really.
Excitement mounted in her as he took several steps toward her. The growing fire outlined his form from behind as he came to a halt. His shadow towered over her.
“I’m touching my breasts while I look at you.”
Her hoarse whisper seemed to echo around the cave, not diminishing. The sound of the trickling water throbbed in her ears. She saw the gleam in his eye.
“And does it feel good?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “The nipples feel especially sensitive after the way you sucked on them.”
“Are you touching them now?”
“Yes. I’m pinching them, very lightly.”
He grew so rigid, she paused in playing with her breasts. She couldn’t quite read his
“How old were you when she left him?” she asked as she stuck a sock-covered foot into her jeans.
“Three. My mom knew we had to move, anyway. There weren’t any schools for the blind around here.”
“Were you mad at your dad? For refusing to leave and go with you to St. Louis?”
“Not until I was a teenager, but teenagers always feel like they need a reason to be mad at something,” he said mildly. “I got over it quick enough. It never kept me from living with him every summer. It never kept me from loving every minute of being in this forest. I wouldn’t have missed coming to these hills for all the teenage angst in the world.”
She smiled.
There was a pause.
“I’m going to start a fire now, honey.”
“Okay,” she said, sounding a little breathless to her own ears. Something about the way he’d said the last alerted her to his underlying message—he was going to have to leave her in the dark for a bit. She did her best to ignore the building pressure in her chest and came up on her knees. The air in the cave felt cool on her naked skin. Her nipples tightened as she poked around for the armholes of her jacket.
“Were you and your mother all alone when you went to St. Louis?” she asked, eager to hear his voice when he moved away from her.
“We moved to my grandmother’s in St. Louis. That’s where I grew up. My mom went to school too. She got her nursing degree,” he said, the location of his voice informing her that he’d stood and moved several feet to the right of her. She heard the sound of his boots scraping in the soil. She heard a familiar metallic sound and went still when a tiny flame pierced the darkness, illuminating the cave to an amazing degree. John squatted next to the stacked wood he’d prepared earlier, his elbows resting on his spread knees.
Jennifer paused, her opened jacket parenthesizing her bare breasts, and just stared at the unexpected vision of him in wonder.
The flame caught on some of the dried leaves, amplifying the light. His features were cast in a golden glow. She knew he couldn’t see the flames, but she had the impression from the way he positioned his face that he waited for the heat to strike his skin. He’d pulled up his jeans but only partially buttoned his shirt. She could see his chest in the opening and the dusting of dark hair. Her gaze dropped to his crotch. The details of his powerful possession and their frantic mating swamped her consciousness in a rush.
He looked up at her suddenly, and she would have sworn he saw her just as clearly as she saw him. Her fingers strayed to the soft skin of her breasts. Her fingertips traced the crown of her beading nipples. The wood snapped as the fire caught hold and flared. John wore an intent expression as he tilted his head.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Dressing,” she said in a tight voice. She pinched at her nipples lightly. His nostrils flared.
“What are you doing ?” he repeated as he stood slowly, his eyelids narrowed. It was like he knew she hadn’t answered him . . . not really.
Excitement mounted in her as he took several steps toward her. The growing fire outlined his form from behind as he came to a halt. His shadow towered over her.
“I’m touching my breasts while I look at you.”
Her hoarse whisper seemed to echo around the cave, not diminishing. The sound of the trickling water throbbed in her ears. She saw the gleam in his eye.
“And does it feel good?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “The nipples feel especially sensitive after the way you sucked on them.”
“Are you touching them now?”
“Yes. I’m pinching them, very lightly.”
He grew so rigid, she paused in playing with her breasts. She couldn’t quite read his
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