Encouraged by his response, she grasped him lightly, moving her hand slowly up and down, from the base of his shaft to the tip, while she ran the bar of soap between his legs. A long groan escaped him, and he thrust into her hand, all while his fingers played over the base of her spine, which, no doubt about it, was highly sensitive.

“You know,” she said, her voice husky with arousal, “this hiking gig is turning out much better than I ever thought it would.”

“No argument here. Ahhh…that feels really good.”

“This?” She tightened her fingers slightly around his shaft and circled the pad of her thumb over the engorged head.

“Yeah. That.” His fingers slipped lower, over her buttocks, then between them to stroke her from behind. The soap slipped from her hand and she raised her leg, hooking it over his hip, opening herself to his wickedly arousing touch. Leaning down, he lightly grazed her neck with his teeth. “Really glad you brought that second condom,” he murmured against her ear.

“Me, too. I only wish I had it in my hand right now.”

“Personally, I really like what you have in your hand right now.”

Her chuckle turned into a sigh of pleasure when he eased two fingers inside her.

“Still cold?” he murmured against her neck.

“No. God, no.”

His magic fingers brought her to the edge, but just before she plunged over, he stopped, pulling his fingers from her body and a moan of protest from her throat.

“Hold that thought,” he said, the glitter in his eyes letting her know he knew exactly where he’d left her. He moved to her shorts, snatched the condom from her pocket, then returned. After tucking their towels under one arm and lifting the bucket of water by the handle, he took her hand and led her to the large rock several feet from the riverbank where he spread the towels across the gray surface, then stepped up behind her.

Peeking over her shoulder, she saw him bend down, then a gentle trickle of cold water touched her shoulder, meandering downward, eliciting a gasp. He rinsed all the soap from her body with that same unhurried drizzle, walking slowly around her so as to rinse everywhere, the leisurely trails of cold water an erotically charged contrast to her overheated skin, invigorating and stimulating as they coasted downward.

When all the soap was washed away from her tingling skin, Kayla returned the favor, pouring a snail-paced stream of water over his body, watching the suds cruise down his taut muscles, leaving him clean, wet and more beautiful than any man had a right to be. His gaze never left hers, his eyes dark with desire, his chest rising and falling with his increasingly rapid breaths.

The sight of the suds trailing down his body, so tight with arousal and with his obvious effort to remain still, shot arrows of fire through her. By the time she finished, she was all but panting to feel him inside her. In spite of the cold water and the approaching chill in the air as the sun’s light waned, she felt hot. Desperate. The folds between her legs swollen, heavy and pulsing. She dropped the bucket. It fell to the ground with a dull thud, and she reached for him.

“Brett…”

His name passed her lips, a husky murmur filled with the need she couldn’t have hidden even if she’d tried, and the fire already burning in his eyes flared brighter. Without a word he stepped behind her, pressing his front against her back. Heat emanated from his wet skin, shooting fevered shivers through her. Helpless to remain still, her hips circled against his erection which nestled against the base of her spine. She heard his quick intake of breath, and he smoothed his hands down her arms, entwining their fingers. He then leaned forward, bending her body beneath his, setting her palms against the towels covering the rock.

“Don’t move,” he whispered against her ear.

“Who wants to move?” She felt him straighten, and in a haze of lust, heard the condom wrapper being torn open. Bent at the waist, she looked over her shoulder. Saw him roll on the protection. Their gazes met and held. Then, grasping her hips in his large, strong hands, he stepped behind her.

Anticipation that bordered on pain curled through her, and she widened her stance, arching her back, her body screaming for him, for release, as if she hadn’t been touched in years.

His first thrust was a long, slow, delicious slide that dragged a ragged groan from her throat.

“Again,” she whispered.

He withdrew, then sank into her again and again, his strokes leisurely, teasing, each one pushing her closer to a climax she desperately wanted, yet also wanted to postpone for as long as possible because he just felt…

“So…good,” she said, her voice a throaty groan.

She surged back against him, and he leaned forward, blanketing her body with his. His hands came around her, one playing over her breasts, rolling her hard nipples between his fingers, while his other hand coasted downward, over her abdomen, then between her legs, teasing her sensitive flesh with relentless perfection while his body stroked deeply in hers.

The added stimulation of his fingers, his lips and teeth nipping along her nape, his deep moans brushing past her ears, shot her over the edge as if she’d been fired from a cannon. Throwing back her head and arching her back, she cried out, pulsing waves of pleasure roaring through her. She felt his body stiffen, and with a harsh sound, he thrust deep then shuddered against her.

She was still breathing heavily, aftershocks still rippling, when he withdrew and turned her around and gathered her against him.

His warm breath feathered across her cheek, and she closed her eyes, absorbing the feel of his skin against hers, the steady, rapid thump of his heart against her cheek. The gurgling rush of river water spilling over rocks and the distant waterfall provided background music, combined with the twitter of birds and the gentle rustling of the leaves. Kayla inhaled the scent of damp earth and cool water mingled with the musky fragrance of their passion clinging to his skin, and a sense of warm contentment suffused her. She felt sated. Relaxed. And happier than she’d felt in a very long time. Because of this place and the unexpected sense of peace it gave. And because of this man and the myriad of emotions he inspired.

Lifting her head, she opened her eyes. Their gazes met. Held. Neither said a word, yet she swore something passed between them. A silent communication that spoke of passion and intimacy and said more clearly than words that what they’d shared was…extraordinary.

Keeping one arm tightly wrapped around her waist, he raised his hand and brushed back the damp curls clinging to her cheek with fingers that weren’t quite steady. “Kayla.”

The way he whispered her name, with that note of wonder and reverence and desire, resonated through her, tightening her throat. She swallowed to find her voice, then replied with the only word she could. “Brett.”

He lowered his head, and she parted her lips. Their kiss was a slow, deep, intimate, tender mating of lips and tongue, that now, in the aftermath of passion, soothed rather than inflamed.

When he finally lifted his head, he rested his forehead against hers, and said, “That was…”

She nodded, her nose bumping against his. “Yeah. I know.” Then a grin tugged at her lips. “You know, sandwiched between you and this boulder, it occurs to me that I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I’d always thought that was a bad thing, but in this case-” she heaved a happy sigh “-definitely a good thing.”

He chuckled, then dropped a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. “As much as I hate to say it, we’d better get back. Alberto told me that if we didn’t return in an hour, they’d send out a search party.”

“Okay. But you may have to carry me. Once again you’ve robbed me of my knees.”

He leaned back and his lips curved into that lopsided, dimple-producing smile that quickened her pulse. “Seems only fair. You robbed me of my wits. You have this very detrimental affect on my concentration.”

“Really? Seems to me you’re very capable of focusing on the matter at hand.”

“I guess I need to qualify my statement-you have this very detrimental affect on my ability to concentrate on anything other than you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his admission. “Is that a complaint?”

“Hell, no.”

“Well, in that case, I’m not sure whether to say I’m sorry, or Thank goodness it’s not just me.”

“I know which one I’d prefer.”

“Well, I might as well admit it. If I don’t, my nose will grow two feet, à la Pinocchio.” She raised up onto her toes and gave him a fast, teasing kiss. “It’s not just you-you have the same effect on me.”

“Well, don’t think for a minute I’d consider saying I’m sorry, ’cause I’m not. I’m damn glad.” The amusement faded from his eyes, and his expression turned serious. “Damn glad I came to Peru. And that you did, too. Damn glad for the accident of fate that booked us on the same excursion.”

The reality of her deception roared back with a vengeance, and the flood of guilt nearly drowned her. In the space of a heartbeat she went from post-coital euphoria to miserable self-reproach, all made worse by the fact that she really liked this man. More and more, with each minute she spent in his company. Which only served to increase her guilt more and more, and fill her with a sense of genuine distress because she couldn’t help but wonder if their brief affair might not have turned into something deeper under other circumstances. As it was, she’d be an idiot to allow herself to become emotionally involved, because there was no doubt he’d walk away and not look back if he found out the truth. And if he chose La Fleur to manufacture his formula, he’d eventually find out.