Page 60 of Passion's Wicked Torment

The message was clear, and though it shocked Kristin at first, she knew she could accept it. His eyes were telling her many things. But most of all, they were saying this: There is nothing we can do. We’re going to die. Accept it with the courage I know you have. Then, once you do that, we can move on from this fear of dying ... to making the most of our last minutes together.

She shut her eyes tightly, not knowing if she was really able to bear up under it. She was not as strong as he. But then she felt a peace come over her, transmitted to her by the firm, caring way his hands held hers. She opened her eyes and looked at him. And she nodded.

He rewarded her with a smile. I knew you had it in you, his smile said. I knew you wouldn’t let me down just because it’s the end.

Now that the unsaid words were understood, now that they could both accept their fate without flinching, Hunter moved on to the words that could be said.

“Kristin, there’s something I want to tell you. I wasn’t going to say it to you now, but . . . well, it looks like it’s now or never.”

“What is it?” she asked softly.

“When I brought you back from Europe and put you on that train to California, the way I was acting, it was a lie. You thought I didn’t love you anymore. Babe. . . .” He smiled gently, and shook his head. “I couldn’t stop loving you if my life depended on it. You had a hard time after Chad died, and you reacted badly to it. But you snapped back to form. I didn’t stop loving you then. I’ll never stop loving you.”

“You . . . you seemed so cold at the train station.” “I wanted you on that train. I didn’t want you hanging around with me in New York, where you’d be in danger from Ironman. The best bet for getting you far away from here, I thought, was to make it seem as if there were nothing for you to stay for. Not my love, or anything else.” He grinned. “As usual, I misjudged your pigheaded stubbornness. I’ll bet you don’t even have relatives in California, do you?”

She shook her head and tried to smile.

Hunter became solemn for a moment. His face was very serious. He glanced at the locked cabin door, as if wondering how long it would be before Ironman would come for them. “Babe, I’m going to feel silly saying what I want to say to you, because it’s not my style to talk this way. But ... I want you to know how I feel, whether it makes me feel silly or not.”

She squeezed his hands, encouraging him. She let her eyes encourage him too.

“I wish I was a poet,” Dallas Hunter said. “Because what I feel for you is poetic. Or what I think poetry is all about. A bum like me, what do I know about poetry? But when I look at you like this, babe . . . when I think of all the deep emotions, all the protective, loving feelings I have for you, it’s like I want to crush you inside me.

“I never felt emotions like these before,” Hunter went on. “You’re so ... so much of everything I ever wanted in a girl. So spirited, so lovely, inside and out.

You’re so wonderfully right for me. . . .” His words trailed off, and he looked embarrassed. He shook his head.

“What is it?” she asked softly.

He grinned at her. “I told you I’m no poet. This sounds corny as hell.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“It sounds ridiculous! Listen. Words aren’t going to do it for me. But I want you to know how I feel about you. It’s like I’m going to explode with love for you.” He had not used that word to her since that time on Ana Pris Island so long ago, before that horrible misunderstanding that had driven them apart. Kristin felt soft and warm at hearing that word from him and seeing the word echoed in the intense way he gazed at her.

He pulled her against him. He looked her in the eyes, and she understood what he wanted. She returned his look proudly, her chin high, defiant against the forces of the world that sought to tear them apart. They’d show the world! Together, the two of them, they’d show the world.

“Yes,” she whispered, understanding what he wanted. One last time. One last time.

His eyes never left her face as his fingers began tracing the outline of her chin, her lips, her eyes. Then his mouth parted and moved forward, and she felt his warm lips upon her cheek . . . her forehead . . . her ear and eyes and then, lastly, her yearning mouth.

The kiss was wonderful, more glorious than any she had ever experienced. His arms were around her, holding her slender body against the hard strength of his. His hands moved along her back, touching her, pressing over her shoulder blades and spine and derrière, up and down, leisurely, possessively.

Kristin was breathing rapidly and shallowly with the excitement of the emotions she felt. It was not only her passion that made her feel this way, but more. It was the fullness of her love for him, and the warm, comforting aura of his love for her, which enveloped her, surrounded her. She let her hands roam over his shoulders and upper arms, squeezing Ms muscles, feeling the hardness of him.

Their kissing had become passionate and intense by now, without her being aware of the change. His hips were pressing hard against hers. He could feel her own answering pressure. Kristin put her hands under his black sweater and let them roam up his flat, hard stomach, over the curly haired plane of his chest. She began tugging at his sweater to make him take it off.

He stepped back from her. He jerked his sweater off and then undressed fully. Before coming to her, he grabbed the single chair in the room and wedged its back against the doorknob, blocking the door from opening.

He came to her. She felt his hands on her clothing, quickly, surely, removing every stitch. When she stood before him stark-naked, her skin was tingling, and her nipples were erect. Every inch of her flesh seemed alive with vibrant sensation. His hands moved over her breasts, along her flanks, touching her everywhere, gently at first, but then becoming more demanding and insistent as he became lost to his passion.

Her own hands, too, seemed motivated by a will of their own, for they were rubbing all over his hard body. She could not keep her hands off him. When she let her hands glide down over his hard stomach and hold the hard fullness of him, she heard him gasp with pleasure and saw his eyes half close. She turned her head up, standing on tiptoes, and nibbled at his lips.

He bent down and put his arm under the back of her knees, then lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bunk. He lay her down on the soft cover. His mouth began traveling all over her body, lighting fires that ravaged her. Her nipples ached with pleasure, and his lips came to warm them, to tease them even further aflame. His lips traveled over her stomach, lower still, then his face was down at the most sacred part of her.

She began panting and moaning, whipping her head from side to side as the incredible pleasure ravaged her, building to a monumental intensity. She stopped him before it was too late, pulling at him, making him take his face away from the blessed torture he was causing her. She made him come up onto the bed with her, so that they were face to face. And then their eyes locked once more.

One last time, she thought. One . . . final . . . time . . . before they died.

When their bodies finally came together and moved together, it was as if the heavens had parted and taken them in. As if they were floating freely through the spectacular star specked sky, their bodies joined in eternal bliss, the coolness of the heavens surrounding them as they sped across the universe.

Because it was the last time, there was no sense in holding back. Kristin gave herself to him more fully than she ever had before. She had thought she’d given herself completely before, but now she knew she was wrong. Nothing that ever happened previously was like this. They were one! Their eyes were open, locked on each other, aware of the endless love and immense, incredible caring they had for each other . . . aware of the white-hot pleasure they were giving each other as they shared this moment.

Their bodies moved in tormenting, liberating, joyous union. Kristin thought she would burst into tears at the look in his eyes, at the sight of him loving her so deeply. The scent of him was in her nostrils, the taste of

him on her lips and tongue, the force of his essence driving high up into her. And then, when she saw him surrender helplessly to the pleasure she was giving him, she could not stop from bursting into tears. “Oh, Dallas!” she cried.

He crushed her against him as he peaked within her. “My love!” he groaned from deep in his throat. He grasped her for dear life, squeezing her so tightly, she could not breathe as he shuddered and flowed within her, giving her himself, all of him. He had never before let her see the intensity of the emotions he felt. This was his gift to her, letting her see the fullness of his caring, without attempts to disguise it behind a wall of masculine hardness.

And seeing it, hearing these words, feeling the quaking of his body against her tender flesh, she too soared over the peak and exploded into an ecstasy of blinding lights and brilliant sensations and wave after wave of unceasing pleasure. His love was ravaging her, his very love! His love was a torrent guiding her, molding her, caressing her.

When it was over, Kristin could almost not believe she was still on earth. The moment had been too spectacular, too perfect to be followed by an earthly reality. But when she opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, she knew that this was perfect too. He kissed her on the lips. And then he kissed the tears away from her eyes. She had not even been aware that she was crying.

She did not ask him what was next. She followed his lead. He did not make any effort to get up and dress; so she did not either. They lay in bed, touching, caressing, gazing at each other. Then, when the sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, Hunter stood up from the bed.

---