“Oh. Well, Mrs. Renoir, just as soon as you give me the nod that it’s okay to move, I’ll see if I can’t scare up some moaning and shouting.”

“So that’s what’s wrong with this Ferris wheel? It’s not moving?” She made a tsking sound. “And you said you were an experienced operator. Um . . . why are you trembling?” she asked, her hands flexing on his shoulders.

“Because you are so damn hot and tight and beautiful, it’s taking every ounce of strength I possess not to drive into you like a mindless idiot.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect O.

Feeling his restraint slipping, Luke forced a smile. “Here’s an idea: Why don’t you move first?”

The second she tentatively squirmed—which sent rockets of pleasure shooting through him—Luke realized that had been a really bad idea. He dropped his forehead to hers with a groan. “No, don’t move.”

“I’m sorry. Am I too damn hot and tight and beautiful for you?”

He snapped his head up to stare down at her, and found her smiling at him.

“Vroom-vroom, husband,” she whispered.

The last thread of his restraint broke on a bark of laughter. Luke dropped to his elbows to lace his fingers through her hair, and attacked her mouth as he lifted his hips just enough to push into her again. Swallowing her moan of pleasure, he repeated the action, rising back up so he could watch the play of emotions on her face.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to his chest, her fingers kneading into him, her encouraging mewls growing demanding. Her breathing turned ragged as he increased his rhythm, and Luke felt her tightening with building energy as she rose up to meet his thrusts. He reached between them and caressed her, watching her eyes glass over as she arched up into his touch.

“Come with me, Luke!” she cried, her breathing growing more ragged as she moved restlessly, straining toward her release.

Luke rose to his knees, grasped her hips, and pulled her into his thrusts. He wanted to whisper encouragement but found he was beyond speech, every fiber of his being completely focused on the explosion building inside her.

He suddenly stilled, holding her high on his thighs, and reached down and caressed her again. Her climax broke with a cry of utter abandon, and she tightened around him in pulsing waves of molten heat.

His own climax hit hard and fast, tearing a shout from his throat as her wild convulsions pulled him into the maelstrom, his mind emptying of all thoughts save one: that miracles packed one hell of a powerful wallop.

Chapter Seventeen

“I am so going to kill my sisters,” Cam muttered as soon as she could speak, her racing heart threatening to crack her ribs.

“Why?”

“For neglecting to mention how mind-blowing sex really is.”

Luke rolled toward her and propped his head on his hand. “Mind-blowing, huh?”

Silently thanking her very wise mother for teaching all her daughters about the delicate subtleties of the male ego, Cam reached over and patted Luke’s heaving chest. “I’m sure it was because I had such an experienced operator at the controls.”

He grunted agreement, then flopped onto his back. “So long as you realize that it wouldn’t have been mind-blowing with any of your old boyfriends. If they were so dumb they didn’t even realize they weren’t having sex, they sure as hell wouldn’t have known which buttons to push, much less when.”

Cam snuggled against him with a sigh of utter contentment, her amused smile turning into a yawn. “You better get some sleep,” she murmured, resting her cheek on his thumping heart. “Because just as soon as I get my strength back, I’m going to start pushing your buttons.”

Luke was reluctant to open his eyes, worried that if Camry knew he was awake she might attack him again. The insatiable woman had somehow managed to keep the Ferris wheel running all night, at times so fast that he’d gotten dizzy. She’d also managed to put a healthy dent in her stash of condoms, and Luke decided he was buying himself a red cape and a T-shirt with a large S on the front of it.

“Are you awake?” she asked from the depths of the sleeping bag, where her cold nose was pressed into his ribs.

“No.”

“Is the sun up?”

“It must be, since I can see my breath.”

The edge of the sleeping bag folded back, and two sleepy green eyes blinked up at him. “I suppose we’re going to have to get dressed and go rescue Max and Tigger before Roger spoils them rotten.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Luke said, not moving. “You trudge right up there and save them while I stay here and pack up camp.”

“Oh no.” She threw off the sleeping bag and immediately started scrambling into her clothes. “You’re coming with me.”

“He’s your long-lost relative. You should spend some quality time alone with him before we leave,” he said, sitting up and looking around for his long johns. Finally remembering he’d undressed outside, he pulled the sleeping bag back up around his shoulders. “Can you reach outside and get my clothes?” he asked, seeing as how she was already mostly dressed. “The heater must have run out of fuel.”

“Hours ago.” She poked her head out the tent flap—giving him a really nice view of her really nice backside—then reappeared with his clothes and boots. “It looks like it’s been snowing quite a while,” she said, shaking the snow off his long johns before handing them to him. “And you have to go to Roger’s with me so you can help me steal the snowcat back.”

“Well, why not,” he said with a snort, slipping into his cold clothes. “What could possibly go wrong stealing from a man who can turn us into toads? At least we’re keeping our crimes in the family.”

“And while we’re at it, I’ll distract him so you can find the data bank,” she said, handing Luke his boots. “Hey, what happened to your laces?”

He put on the boots and tied what was left of the laces. “I seem to remember something about you starting the honeymoon without me.”

She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing a dull red.

Luke cupped her face in his hands. “Good morning, wife.”

“We’re really married, aren’t we?” she whispered back.

“After last night, I certainly hope so.”

“Any second thoughts?”

“Only that our honeymoon suite was a tent instead of a five-star room in Tahiti.”

“Oh no! I love that our wedding night was out here in the wilderness.” She pulled his hands down to hold them in hers. “The tent was cozy and intimate, and I swear it was like we were the only two people on Earth.” Her eyes sparkled with humor. “And there’s also the added bonus that only the animals heard you shouting for mercy.”

“Okay, that does it,” he growled, pushing her onto her back to pin her down with his body. “There’s one more secret little button that I didn’t push last night,” he said, having to raise his voice over her laughter, “because I didn’t want you fainting from passion overload. But now I—”

A fiberglass support suddenly snapped overhead, and the tent collapsed, billowing down around them.

“Dammit, I told you this wasn’t a four-season tent.” He pushed up to his hands and knees, using his body as a new tent support. “But oh no, you wanted the larger one so there would be room for the dogs. Just as soon as you stop laughing, could you maybe find the zipper and crawl out?”

He grunted when her elbow rammed his chest, then jackknifed his hips when her head butted his groin, and she fell back with a giggle. “Anytime today,” he ground out, pushing at the tent to shake off some of the heavy snow. “We need to get down off the mountain before the storm intensifies.”