Escape Out of Darkness (Maggie Bennett 1)

It was hopeless. He was much larger than she was, and his hands were everywhere. The silent afternoon was punctuated by the sound of their heavy breathing, the grunts and curses as she fought like a madwoman. All in vain. She ended up lying beneath him on the floor by the bed, her wrists held down by his arms, his body straddling hers, as she glared up at him, panting in exhaustion and fury.

She’d managed to connect more than once, she noticed with triumph. She’d split his lip by banging her head against him, there was a long scratch down one side of his face, and if she were really lucky, she might have given him a black eye. He just sat there, his weight holding her immobile, his face impassive.

And then suddenly the whole tension shifted and changed, from raw anger to a blazing sexuality that was free from rage. Slowly he leaned down and kissed her, full and hard on the mouth, and she could taste the blood she’d drawn. Without hesitation she opened her mouth to him, reaching out for him with a passion just as raw and overwhelming as her suddenly vanished anger.

He released her hands to rip at her jumpsuit, and she did the same, pulling his shirt off him, straining against him with a desperation that knew no bounds. And then they were naked on the rug, hot, straining flesh melting together. He entered her immediately, and within seconds she was arching around him, shivering and crying and moaning her release into his hungry mouth. And he joined her, his body rigid in her arms, and they sank together into that tiny death that was a triumph over the greater one they had just avoided.

It was a long time before either of them moved. Maggie thought she might have fallen asleep for a few moments, she couldn’t be sure. She felt almost shell-shocked, comatose, unable to move even her eyelids.

Slowly Mack pulled away. She could feel him looking down at her, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. Her muscles refused to obey her, which was just as well. If she could have moved, all she would have done was to hide her face.

“Open your eyes, Maggie,” he said, and there was a strange note in his voice. One that sounded almost like laughter. It was so unlikely that she found she had to look, and sure enough he was smiling down at her, his clear hazel eyes torn between amusement and wonder.

“Do you have any idea how perverse that was?” Maggie inquired.

“Yup,” he said. “Kinky as hell. Great, too. Does it bother you?”

Since he was still pinning her hips down, there was no way she could turn and bury her face in the rug. And in his current playful mood, that might have caused even more trouble. She just looked up at him, her face shadowed, and his smile softened. Leaning down, he kissed her again, very gently. “It does, doesn’t it?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she admitted on a broken sigh. “A little. And I think what bothers me the most is that it doesn’t bother me half as much as it should.”

He laughed then, a gentle, reassuring laugh as he pulled her unresisting body into his arms. “Don’t worry, Maggie, I’m not suggesting we make a habit of beating each other up before sex,” he drawled in her ear. “I think we had to let off some steam after this afternoon. But don’t, and I mean this, Maggie, don’t ever do that again. I don’t need you playing games to pander to my machismo. I don’t think I have any machismo.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” she murmured against his salt-sweaty chest. “In the best possible way.”

“And you, my dear, are a total woman. In the best possible way,” he added swiftly.

“A total woman who’s got carpet burns on her butt.”

“Why don’t we move up to the bed for a short nap?”

“Sounds good to me,” she said. “You move first.”

“We can do it together.” He hoisted her up, and she saw a sudden wince of pain cross his face in the darkened room.

“Are you all right?” she asked as he placed her gently on the bed, following her down and pulling her back into his arms. Back where she belonged, she thought absently.

“I may limp for a few days,” he said on a note of laughter. “You managed to connect once or twice when you were trying to kick me in the shins.”

“Oh, no, Mack, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, yes, you did. Let’s just be glad that you’re more adept with your toes than your knee, or neither of us would be half as comfortable right now.” He tucked her against him, and his mouth was soft and teasing on her shoulder. “Go to sleep, Superwoman. We can go another ten rounds tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” she murmured. “The question is, who won this round?”

His hand cupped her breast, and even in her sleepy, satisfied state, the nipple hardened against him. “I think we both did, Maggie May.”

It was getting dark when Maggie awoke. Some inner sense warned her as the blackness was beginning to close around them, and she reached out and turned on the bedside lamp. Mack stirred sleepily, turning to bury his face in the pillow, and she smiled down at him, giving in to the impulse to run her hand through his shaggy blond hair. There was a surprising amount of gray mixed in with it, and, leaning over, she pressed her mouth against the nape of his neck in a light butterfly kiss before sliding off the bed and heading for the sybaritic bathroom.

Even the towels were huge and thick and wonderful. When she stepped back out into the lamplit room, Mack was sitting on the side of the bed. “I was going to join you in there,” he said, replacing the telephone.

“I got cleaner this way,” she said absently, rubbing her hair. “Who were you calling?”

Mack just looked at her. Her tone of voice had been anything but accusing, but they both could read the undercurrents. “Not the rebels, Maggie May. I called room service for some dinner, the cleaning service for our clothes, and I tried the U.S. Embassy, but it’s after hours. They even have goddamned answering machines down here.”

“Why did you call the embassy? They’re not going to tell us where Van Zandt is. They’re going to deny he even exists.” She sat down beside him on the bed.

“I was thinking they might offer us some protection. Even if the CIA is pissed at me for interfering in their business. I still don’t think the Feds want American citizens to be gunned down in Honduras.”