Read Online Midnight Rainbow by Linda Howard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Howard
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have been moaning
and bitching about how uncomfortable she was, rather than calmly curling up on
the ground for a nap. But a nap sounded pretty damned good right now, he
thought.
Grant looked around. The rain had become a
full-fledged downpour, pounding through the canopy and turning the jungle floor
into a river. The constant, torrential rains leeched the nutrients out of the
soil, making the jungle into a contradiction, where the world's greatest
variety of animal and plant life existed on some of the poorest soil. Right now
the rain also made it almost impossible for them to be found. They were safe
for the time being, and for the first time he allowed himself to feel the
weariness in his muscles. He might as well take a nap, too; he'd wake when the
rain stopped, alerted by the total cessation of noise.
Reaching out, he shook her shoulder, and she
roused to stare at him sleepily. "Get against the back of the
lean-to," he ordered. "Give me a little room to stretch out,
too." She crawled around as he'd instructed and stretched out full length,
sighing in ecstasy. He pushed their backpacks to one side, then lay down beside her, his big body between her and the rain. He lay on his back,
one brawny arm thrown behind his head. There was no twitching around, no yawning or sighing, for him. He simply lay down, closed
his eyes and went to sleep. Jane watched him sleepily, her gaze lingering on
the hawklike line of his profile, noting the scar
that ran along his left cheekbone. How had he gotten it? His jaw was blurred
with several days' growth of beard, and she noticed that his beard was much
darker than his hair. His eyebrows and lashes were dark, too, and that made his
amber eyes seem even brighter , almost as yellow as an
eagle's.
The rain made her feel a little chilled after
the intense heat of the day; instinctively she inched closer to the heat she
could feel emanating from his body. He was so warm… and she felt so safe… safer
than she'd felt since she was nine years old. With one more little sigh, she
slept. Sometime later the rain ceased abruptly, and Grant woke immediately,
like a light switch being flipped on. His senses were instantly alert, wary. He
started to surge to his feet, only to realize that she was lying curled against
his side, with her head pillowed on his arm and her hand lying on his chest.
Disbelief made him rigid. How could she have gotten that close to him without
waking him? He'd always slept like a cat, alert to the smallest noise or
movement—but this damned woman had practically crawled all over him and he
hadn't even stirred. She must've been disappointed, he thought furiously. The
fury was directed as much at himself as at her, because the incident told him
how slack he had become in the past year. That slackness might cost them their
lives.
He lay still, aware of the fullness of her
breasts against his side. She was soft and lush, and one of her legs was thrown
up over his thigh. All he had to do was roll over and he'd be between her legs.
The mental image made moisture break out on his forehead. God! She'd be hot and
tight, and he clenched his teeth at the heavy surge in his loins. She was no
lady, but she was all woman , and he wanted her naked
and writhing beneath him with an intensity that tied his guts into knots. He
had to move, or he'd be taking her right there on the rocky ground. Disgusted
at himself for letting her get to him the way she had, he eased his arm from
beneath her head, then shook her shoulder. "Let's get moving," he
said curtly.
She muttered something, her forehead puckering,
but she didn't open her eyes, and in a moment her forehead smoothed as she
lapsed back into deep sleep. Impatiently, Grant shook her again. "Hey,
wake up."
She rolled over on her stomach and sighed
deeply, burrowing her head against her
and bitching about how uncomfortable she was, rather than calmly curling up on
the ground for a nap. But a nap sounded pretty damned good right now, he
thought.
Grant looked around. The rain had become a
full-fledged downpour, pounding through the canopy and turning the jungle floor
into a river. The constant, torrential rains leeched the nutrients out of the
soil, making the jungle into a contradiction, where the world's greatest
variety of animal and plant life existed on some of the poorest soil. Right now
the rain also made it almost impossible for them to be found. They were safe
for the time being, and for the first time he allowed himself to feel the
weariness in his muscles. He might as well take a nap, too; he'd wake when the
rain stopped, alerted by the total cessation of noise.
Reaching out, he shook her shoulder, and she
roused to stare at him sleepily. "Get against the back of the
lean-to," he ordered. "Give me a little room to stretch out,
too." She crawled around as he'd instructed and stretched out full length,
sighing in ecstasy. He pushed their backpacks to one side, then lay down beside her, his big body between her and the rain. He lay on his back,
one brawny arm thrown behind his head. There was no twitching around, no yawning or sighing, for him. He simply lay down, closed
his eyes and went to sleep. Jane watched him sleepily, her gaze lingering on
the hawklike line of his profile, noting the scar
that ran along his left cheekbone. How had he gotten it? His jaw was blurred
with several days' growth of beard, and she noticed that his beard was much
darker than his hair. His eyebrows and lashes were dark, too, and that made his
amber eyes seem even brighter , almost as yellow as an
eagle's.
The rain made her feel a little chilled after
the intense heat of the day; instinctively she inched closer to the heat she
could feel emanating from his body. He was so warm… and she felt so safe… safer
than she'd felt since she was nine years old. With one more little sigh, she
slept. Sometime later the rain ceased abruptly, and Grant woke immediately,
like a light switch being flipped on. His senses were instantly alert, wary. He
started to surge to his feet, only to realize that she was lying curled against
his side, with her head pillowed on his arm and her hand lying on his chest.
Disbelief made him rigid. How could she have gotten that close to him without
waking him? He'd always slept like a cat, alert to the smallest noise or
movement—but this damned woman had practically crawled all over him and he
hadn't even stirred. She must've been disappointed, he thought furiously. The
fury was directed as much at himself as at her, because the incident told him
how slack he had become in the past year. That slackness might cost them their
lives.
He lay still, aware of the fullness of her
breasts against his side. She was soft and lush, and one of her legs was thrown
up over his thigh. All he had to do was roll over and he'd be between her legs.
The mental image made moisture break out on his forehead. God! She'd be hot and
tight, and he clenched his teeth at the heavy surge in his loins. She was no
lady, but she was all woman , and he wanted her naked
and writhing beneath him with an intensity that tied his guts into knots. He
had to move, or he'd be taking her right there on the rocky ground. Disgusted
at himself for letting her get to him the way she had, he eased his arm from
beneath her head, then shook her shoulder. "Let's get moving," he
said curtly.
She muttered something, her forehead puckering,
but she didn't open her eyes, and in a moment her forehead smoothed as she
lapsed back into deep sleep. Impatiently, Grant shook her again. "Hey,
wake up."
She rolled over on her stomach and sighed
deeply, burrowing her head against her
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