She drew in her breath at the shock of him sliding hard and thick inside her, and then she opened her eyes and looked at him looming in the dark above her, rocking into her, and was amazed. J.T. Wilder, she thought as her breath came raggedly, inside me. She held on to him, trying to remember that it was just physical, that it didn't matter that this was J.T., hot and real and holding her tight, making her dizzy while he kept her safe. It's just sex, she told herself, and then he moved deeper into her, careful not to hurt her, and she shuddered as he hit something good. He bent down and said, "Shhhh," with so much tenderness that she came undone, all her defenses gone, nothing to keep her safe but him. He felt so right, not just good, but right, nothing to guard against, nothing to fear, it was right that they should be this way together, interlocked, fused, and she relaxed into him, stopped being just a body for him, stopped making him just a body for her, and loved him with everything she had.

She whispered, "J.T.," and he slowed and whispered, "It's all right," and she said, "I know. "She kissed his cheek and then his mouth, gently, again and again, as she began to move against him, with him, taking him in deeper, rocking slowly so she could feel the slide of him inside, giving him all of her because it was him, because it was going to be him from now on, knowing what shed known since she first saw him on the bridge, that this was the beginning.

"'Lucy?" he said, and she slid her hands down his back, learning the territory of him, the way his muscles moved as she touched him, the secret places on him that made him hers, thinking, Here, as he drew in his breath, Here, as he shuddered against her, Here, as he moaned her name, feeling herself glow with the knowledge of him. Mine, she thought and tilted her hips, and he rolled with her, pulling her on top, and then she began to explore in earnest, fingertips and tongue, sliding down his body, feeling him slide out of her as she kissed her way down. He had round scars that she guessed were from bullets, thin scars that might have been knife cuts, muscles that tensed under her fingers, nerves that twitched under her mouth, and the more she learned him, the more she loved him, until she stripped the condom off and touched him with her tongue, heard the sharp intake of his breath in the night, felt his body tighten under her, and took him completely, making him her own.

She felt his hands stroke into her hair, felt him move to her rhythm this time as her fingers bit into his thighs, digging into the muscles there. And when, a few minutes later, he pulled hard on her hair, she moved up his body, breathing heavily in the dark, and sank down over him, taking him into her. He rose up, saying, "Lucy!" and she shoved him down, arching over him. "You're mine," she said, and kissed him deep and slow as she tightened herself around him. "Mine," she whispered against his mouth and began to move, and he slid his hands down her back and said, "Oh, God, Lucy," and surrendered to her, moving with her, pulling her close.

The woods closed in around them, dark and deep, and she thought, This is the safest place I'll ever be, we are the safest place I'll ever be, and lost herself in them, in the pulse they made together. They rocked each other closer, higher, hotter, the pressure building inexorably until she was tight everywhere, the sizzle bubbling beneath her skin, craving his touch, his hands, his mouth. Her breaths became sobs, and he rolled, pinning her beneath him, and the weight of him bearing down on her, pulsing deep inside her, made her clutch at him as he held her tighter. He whispered, "Let go, Lucy," and she gave herself up, felt the kick in her blood and then the surge, and she cried out and let him take her, over and over, shuddering safe beneath him, mindless with lust and love.

When J.T. moved away from her hours later, Lucy roused at the loss of his heat, then came awake completely as he stood. "What?"

"It's almost dawn," he said from the darkness, making rustling sounds as he got dressed.

Lucy yawned and peered into the darkness. "I can't see it." She lay back, still half asleep, and saw the stars overhead, a million pinpricks of light, a million possibilities ahead of her. And all of them with J.T.

She laced her fingers behind her head. "There are an awful lot of stars up there in a very dark sky. I don't think that's dawn."

"It's close," he said, and she decided that anybody who camped with gators probably knew when dawn came better than she did. "We call it BMNT in the Army," he added. "Beginning morning nautical twilight."

Oh, good. Military terms. That was what she wanted to hear. So much better than, Last night was the best of my life, and I'll love you forever. "Nautical. Are we at sea?"

"No. But this is when the bad guys always attack. So we always do stand to."

" 'Stand to'?" Lucy stretched. "Sounds good to me. Can you stand to lying down?"

Wilder laughed and she liked the sound. "It means get ready for the Indians to come riding in. They always attack just before dawn in the movies, right?"

Guess that's a no. Just her luck, she'd fallen for the one man in the world who wasn't interested in morning sex but who was worried about Indians riding in. Low sex drive and politically incorrect. Probably because he watched too many damn Westerns. Well, they could work on that. She sat up and felt around for her clothes, finding her shirt first and putting that on, then her jeans, wondering how long it would take to convince him that they were soul mates. She'd probably have to bring him back to consciousness after she dropped the forever part on him, so the soul mate thing could be even trickier. More sex, she thought. That might help. It would help me. She stood up, still half asleep, wishing they were in a hotel room someplace so that she could close the curtains and drag him back to bed.

Dragging him back to swamp in the approaching daylight did not appeal as much. For one thing, she really did not want to see where she'd been sleeping. Not that there'd been much sleeping.

But tonight, definitely a bed, she thought. "You ever had room-service breakfast in bed?"

"Nope."

What a surprise. "We'll try that next time," she said, keeping her voice light. "But we have to be in a room first."

"Here." He handed over her bra, and she said, "Thank you," automatically and squinted at the ground to find her underpants. "This afternoon, before the shoot," she told him, when she had her underpants and bra rolled into a ball. "You and me. In a hotel room. Yours, mine, I don't care, but there's going to be a bed."

"What makes you think I'm that easy?" he said.

She stepped across the bedroll and pulled him to her, kissing him good, feeling herself shiver because it was him.

"Right," he said when he came up for air. "This afternoon. Hotel room."

"Damn straight," Lucy said, and kissed him again, loving the way he made her head reel. "You are definitely my Animal of the Month," she said, and kissed him one more time, and then she sighed and started off for the road until he caught her. "I have to get back," she said, tickled that she'd gotten him that easily, and he turned her in the opposite direction.

"That's back," he said, pointing through the woods in the other direction.

Okay, so you're not that easy. "I knew that," she said, fighting a grin. "I was just testing you."

"How'd I do?"

"You're adequate," she said, and he swatted her on the rear as she stepped across the bedroll and headed back for the camper.

By the time Lucy hit the edge of base camp, the sky was just beginning to show pink in the east and she was awake enough to realize that walking out of a swamp with some of her clothes in her hands could cause comment. And then there was the goofy smile she was pretty sure was still on her face from being swatted on the butt by a tight-assed military man.