She paused long enough to suck in a steadying breath, then began rubbing the stick back and forth. Her motions were self-conscious and stiff. The stick flipped from her fingers more times than not, but she doggedly snatched it back and tried again. She would get this fire started or she would die trying!
Amanda was vaguely aware of when Jake swaggered to the opposite side of the pile. He hunkered down in the ankle-high grass, and although she could feel his gaze smolder over her, she was too busy—mentally commanding the sticks to combust in a fiery display that would knock a certain conceited half-breed on his ear—to pay
him much attention.
Until he laughed.
His rich, deep, oddly pleasant laughter cut through the night and sliced through Amanda like a knife. The sound won her undivided—not to mention furious-attention. Her hands paused in mid-rub. Her gaze snapped up. The crease furrowing her brow was a good indication of her fury. "You think this is funny?" she demanded.
Jake nodded. It took effort to trap his laughter in his throat. The amusement in his eyes didn't fade a bit. "Yeah, princess, I think it's hilarious. Don't you?"
Her gaze flared with indignation. "I most certainly do not. For your information, Mr. Chandler, I happen to be trying my best to get this fire started."
"Is that a fact? Well, for your information, Miss Lennox, you'll never do it the way you're going about it." His attention plunged to the stick she sandwiched between her stinging palms. "Want some help?"
"If it wouldn't put too much of a strain on you."
"Okay, listen up." His gaze volleyed between her eyes and the stick. "Think of it as..."
One golden brow slanted curiously high. Now what, Amanda wondered, had doused his laughter so quickly? And why did his expression suddenly look tight and strained? The muscle in his jaw had stopped ticking. Why? What sordid thought had crossed his mind? Whatever it was, it must have been a good one to have that sobering an effect on a man that nothing seemed to bother.
"What, Mr. Chandler? Think of it as... what?"
His gaze shifted, grazing the swell of her breasts before lifting. The corners of his mouth kicked up in a wicked grin as their gazes meshed. "Think of it as like... making love," he said slowly, suggestively. He heard her gasp, but ignored it. "You've got to rub the stick harder. Faster. Get enough friction going to make a spark. Then you've got to... Well, hell, princess, let me show you."
Amanda squirmed. Her heart fluttered when she saw Jake push to his feet. He sauntered around the pile of wood, and only once he'd breached the barrier did she realize it had made a wall between them. She felt his heat seep into her back and hips before she actually felt him—in all the same places. Was it possible to breathe when one found oneself in a situation like this? Apparently not. At least she couldn't!
He knelt behind her, vising her hips between his legs. His pelvis ground against her bottom when he shifted, settling himself in.
Amanda stifled a groan. The contact between her sensitive bottom and his hard-muscled thighs was jarring. A sensation bolted through her; it was like being struck by lightning. Shock that Jake would take such liberties—both verbal and physical—made her shake. At least that was the reason she gave herself for the quivers shooting through her.
She didn't think he noticed her reaction, and she was grateful for that. And then she wondered if maybe his ignorance wasn't due to the way his attention was focused on positioning himself behind her? His hips wiggled and pressed; it seemed to take forever for him to find a comfortable spot!
Starting at the hips, he rolled his weight forward until his bare chest was plastered against her back. A row of buttons trailed down her dress. The tiny nubs bit into her skin from the pressure of his weight grinding into her. The pain was nominal—more an aggravation, really—easily forgotten, among the sensations swirling in her tummy, sensations that seeped rapidly downward.
Jake's head appeared over her shoulder. He was close enough for Amanda to make out every detail of his sculpted profile. Close enough for her to smell the scent of his skin. It was a heady aroma; one that inundated her with each small, rapid breath she labored to draw into her burning lungs.
He angled his head, and their cheeks brushed. His skin felt smooth and warm as it whisked her own. "Pay attention, Miss Lennox. I'll only show you this once. Now, let's see," he muttered, his voice a hot rush of air in her ear. "First, well need some of this." His chest rubbed her back when he moved. As she watched, he fluffed a handful of dry grass around the base of the stick.
"That's the bed," he told her, inclining his chin toward the scattered grass. "The bed is, initially, what you want to start the fire on." He paused. "Are you with me so far?"
"Um-hmmm," she squeaked, then gulped and cleared her throat.
"Good. Now this," he nodded to the stick, "is the... Jesus, lady, you're going to snap it in two if you keep holding it so tight! Ease up a bit. No need to strangle the damn thing. Uncurl your fingers and... that's better. Now balance the stick between your palms. Good. Now this time I want you to make your movements flow. What you need to do is... stimulate the bottom stick until it smolders. That'll take a nice, easy, back and forth stroke. Steady, but not jerky. You want to get that friction I was telling you about started. Back and forth, back and forth. I can't tell you how important rhythm is. Once you've established the pace, you can't let up or you'll have to start from scratch. Understand?"
Think of it as like... making love.
Amanda stifled a moan and nodded.
"Good. Give it a try."
"Like this?" she asked, and realized she'd overcompensated by making her tone too husky and low. To distract Jake from noticing, she began rubbing the stick. Her movements were still awkward and inept, but this time her clumsiness stemmed from a different source. It stemmed from the man behind her, the feel of his hard body planing her back, the unreasonably strong curl of desire his words caused to simmer in the pit of her stomach.
Her fingers quavered. The stick flipped out of her grasp, and landed on the ground beside Jake's knee.
He picked it up and handed it back to her. His sigh of disappointment rustled the golden wisps clinging to her cheeks. Her skin burned from the fan of his breath. "To tell you the truth, princess, that doesn't do much for me. Try it like this."
Her gaze dropped. Amanda knew she should be protesting this sordid lesson, but she didn't have a voice to protest with. It made her pride feel less battered to think she was only allowing this because learning how to build a fire without the use of matches could come in handy in the future. And it would. But that wasn't why she couldn't move or talk, and she knew it.