Moonlight glinted silver streaks across the swamp. As far as the eye could see, darkness pressed in on the senses, making those silver streaks seem like rips in the fabric of the night for their ability to let your eyes pick out scant details. I just prayed not to see any telltale double yellow glitters reflect back at me. The heat was slaked in the night but between the dank water we'd dragged ourselves from about thirty minutes earlier and the ever-present humidity, slickness on the skin was guaranteed.

"Deal's a deal," he called from inside the cabin. "Get in here."

I looked back out over the swamp. One more sweep, just to be sure. A pretty effective delaying tactic as well.

Nothing. I could hear the swamp's usual nocturnal noises and relished again that we'd found the old Cajun cabin, its sturdy stilts elevating the flooring well out of Louisiana's vast Atchafalaya Swamp. It was well hidden within the cypress, with their knees and the shrouds of Spanish moss that hung like witch's wigs from the taller branches.

The floor creaked and I could tell he was still carefully exploring inside the cabin, determining what was there that could be put to use. I looked down at myself and sighed. So fucking glad I didn't have a mirror to see my face and hair; still, I was pretty sure what I looked like. How in God's name would that man want to go through with this? Deal or no deal ... surely he didn't mean it?

The creaking was a lot closer and I turned to watch him move from the open doorway and onto the wide galerie where I was crouched. In the softness of the moonlight, I could see his skin slick with a soft layer of sweat. Up to the thighs, his jeans were still heavy with the wetness of the swamp's waters. We'd been wading for hours. Before that, we'd swum in the channel until we finally realized that we needed to hide among the cypress knees.

Heavy perspiration stained his black shirt above where it had splash marks from the shallow water we'd been struggling through for the last hour until we finally found this refuge. And his short hair was plastered to his head. I noticed he no longer had his rifle slung over his shoulder. His holster was also history. He must have shucked them off inside the cabin, anticipating making me honor our bet.

Well, damn. I stood up and faced him. "You don't really want to do this, do you?" I asked him, my voice quiet and not because I thought there was even a remote chance anyone but him would hear me.

"It's what's kept me going for the last few hours," he said, holding out his hand, his way of insisting that I give up willingly.

"Should I be flattered? If you tell me I turn you on looking like this, I'm really going to think you're even more of a sicko than I already suspect you are," I replied, feeling some of my energy coming back into me.

He beckoned to me, his arm still outstretched, his fingers curling in to motion me closer. Growling at me: "Come here. I promise to be gentle."

There it was again. That thing he did with his voice. Almost from the first time I'd heard him speak directly to me, I'd heard that timbre and been fascinated by it. By him. But I'd gotten so used to him flirting with me without taking it any further that I'd honestly figured he wasn't interested in me. And then this happened to us and I was no longer certain if he was still flirting or if I was just handy. Maybe it was just the danger we were in, together.

But, whatever it was, his words spoken in that tone of voice made my heart skip. I swallowed deep and decided to see how far he'd push it. When I reached the place he stood, he settled his back against the doorjamb, spread his legs out just far enough for me to fit between them and beckoned me to come right up against him. "Look at me, love. Don't get all shy on me."

That voice. It seemed to move through me, its soft rumble - I swear it seemed like I could touch it, like it was something more solid than sound waves. My eyes met his; my heart was beating so hard in my chest that I wondered if he could see it vibrating under my skin.

Surely he wouldn't take it any further?

His fingers reached toward my face; I shut my eyes and felt those fingers sweep my damp hair back. His mouth glanced across my jaw line, moving swift and gentle up toward my neck. I felt this little shiver snake down my spine at his touch.

"How do you want it, Sarah?" His voice had a new, rougher edge to it. His hands were no longer as gentle in their probing movement through my scalp and down my back.

Oh, no, I moaned inside. He was going through with it.

I looked back out at him, but his face was buried in my neck by then, his lips dragging in a mouthful of my skin and then nipping me ever so lightly. My hands came up to his chest and I braced myself against his body because what he was doing was making my legs feel like rubber. "You don't want me like this, do you? On a bet?"

He chuckled against my skin for a second before leaning his head back against the doorjamb, snaring me solidly within his strong gaze. "No. You're right. You need to want it as well." He bent toward me again, his eyes fixed to mine, serious in their composure. He kissed me, closed mouth, light pressure. Then drawing back to watch me. "But I know you want me every bit as much as I want you. So are we going to or not?"

Goddamn. His arms were pressing me in to his body. His voice was seducing me and his eyes could see it happening. I did want him. I'd wanted him from the first time he'd really flirted with me. But, until this moment, I never thought there'd ever be an opportunity to do much more than make him the centerpiece of my wet dreams.

What would it be like with a man like this, I wondered as I took him in. Even in such insane and improbable circumstances, would I be willing to risk it? What would he feel like? Would he be as good at this as he was in saving my life?

"Donne-moi un petit bec doux, cher." Leaning into him, rising up on my toes, closing my eyes as I slid up to kiss him. His lips felt warm, soft and like they knew what to do. I felt them open and his tongue barely touched my lips before I was opening my mouth and meeting his tongue. This little moaning noise resounded from deep in my throat. His tongue explored my mouth; the pressure increased as he put a hand behind my head and drew me more firmly into the kiss.

When we drew away from each other, he whispered, "Wow. That was nice."

For some reason, I blushed at how impressed he sounded and I was so happy it was so dark where we were. "I like that thing you do with your tongue," I told him softly.

"You do know you're killing me here," he replied in this growling voice, his hands dropping down to my ass and grinding me into him.

Feeling how hard he was, it quickened my pulse even more. I could feel wetness between my legs and knew it wasn't from either the swamp or the night's humid air.

"So, Sarah," his mouth now at my ear, his whisper getting that same deep rumbling quality to it, "why don't you let me take you away from all this for a little while?"

"Just tell me that we can do this again when we're both a lot cleaner and looking better," I whispered back to him, trying to keep it light even while it felt very significant to me. I gasped to feel his hands at my back as they began dragging my shirt up from my belt. His mouth found mine again and his tongue was in deep.

It was like a flame went through me. He was shoving his big hands up under my shirt and making all these satisfied noises while his body moved slowly against mine. Before I knew it, I was kissing him back with total abandon. He was so right; I wanted to escape even if it was just for a short time. I wanted to think about something other than what had consumed my mind most of that day.

My own hands began to slip his damp shirt off his body. He stopped kissing me long enough to reach down and drag if off, slinging it inside the cabin. Then he pushed me up against the opposite doorjamb and his fingers worked my shirt buttons loose even as my fingers attacked his belt.

He slid my shirt off my shoulders and then he paused while his body leaned in hard against mine and kissed the bare skin he'd exposed. His tongue trailed down from my shoulder's edge almost all the way to my elbow. I sighed and felt my body melt into his. His breath on my neck made me look up at him as he pushed my shirt the rest of the way off. I tried not to but I glanced down in the darkness at my newly exposed skin.

Even in the near absence of light, I could see the patterns of grime and muck that had attached itself to my chest and abdomen. He saw me looking and put his thumb under my chin, drawing my face up to look at him.

"Neither of us is gonna win a beauty contest tonight, love. Doesn't that make this just that much more nasty?" His voice made me wetter.  He backed up against the other side of the doorway. Smiling at me, tilting his chin down. "Good girl. Now get out of your boots and pants for me."

In the moonlight, I saw the sweat on him, and the rivulets it made along the grime: evidence of the fact that he was the reason I was still alive. I might have known these swamps but he knew how to survive the people who were hunting us in them.

And he'd known that to keep me moving he needed to goad me into it. At one point, hours earlier, when I'd simply given up and was more willing to be found than to take another step, he'd started out by bitching at me about my inability to get my bearings. I had yelled at him about that - who can perform when people are trying to kill you? He got right in my face and told me I was useless. That he'd been depending on me and I'd let him down. Then, to rub it in, he bet me. Whichever of us found a safe, dry place to spend the night could name their prize. If I found one of the old camps set out here in uncharted offshoots of the main bayou, he had to carry me the next day when I got tired. Okay, he'd said, then if he found the place, I had to let him fuck me that night.

When he'd said it, my head had swiveled up to look at him. Stop being a jerk, I had told him. He laughed at me, angering me into accepting the bet. After all, I was the local girl and I enjoyed the advantage. This rushing anger at the feeling he was making fun of me had energized me into moving again. Taking the lead and getting serious about finding a way out of the mess we'd found ourselves in.

But when I'd flagged again, he drug me behind him through the shallows. Until he'd spied the rickety cabin that Cajuns from this area undoubtedly still used as a hunting camp. And, so, he'd won the bet.

Somehow, I was having trouble remembering why this was such a bad thing.

I watched him toe off his heavy black boots, then tip them over to let the watery muck drain out.  

"You know, Sarah, we do need to get the wet things off for a little while. Give them a chance to dry," he said, in this softer but more serious voice. I must have just been standing there staring at him, probably looking lost and scared. "Go on, woman. Get undressed. You're safe with me. I won't ravish you unless you're a willing participant. But in these quarters, no sense in false modesty."

And when he began to slide his zipper down, I was studying him and realized I was mimicking his actions with my own zipper. He smiled at me, turned his back on me and shoved his jeans down. After he slung the pants out on the deck to dry, he quickly skimmed off his underwear and dropped them on the decking.

Turned to look at me over his shoulder. It made me move. Boots off and, without any characteristic show of modesty, I simply peeled every scrap of clothing off me and laid them on the deck, following his lead.

"Sarah?" His soft voice, still serious, questioning me as I moved up close to him, reaching out to touch his chest. When I didn't move, his hands pulled me into him. One behind my head grabbed me into another deep kiss and one at the small of my back gripped me to his body. He felt like magic to me. A hard body, a probing kiss and a man who knew what he was doing. My arms slid around his neck and tightened when he groaned into me.

I felt the doorjamb slam into my back and he was yanking me up off my feet. His body was slick against mine and he had an arm under my ass, his body pressing me so hard into the wood that I gasped into his mouth. He kissed me with a relentless insistence and his body wriggled into mine with this methodical rhythm. It was wonderful and wicked-sinful.

He pulled his lips away from mine, almost grunting to me, "I've been wanting to do this to you for so long, love. Let me see if you're ready for me."

My eyes widened at the rough feel of his thumb slaking through the wetness of my slit. The moonlight glinted along his teeth as he grimaced at me. And without even a pause, I felt the head of his hard cock at my opening. "Say something, love. Join in," he said, his mouth on my throat.

When he stopped moving, I understood he was still trying hard to be sure he wasn't forcing me into something I might have not wanted. "Please," I whispered in a hoarse voice. "Fuck me. Please."

He shoved hard into me until I cried out. Panting, his mouth at my ear, he stopped again. I felt myself relax around him. Shaky whisper to him: "My God, you're huge. You need to go a little slower for me."

I felt him nod against me. "I'll try," he said. Another trick with that voice of whiskey. And this time, he pushed hard but not so fast that I couldn't take it. I felt myself gush again, my body supplying the intoxicating lubricant. In a trice, he was hilted and he swiveled inside me, grinding against my clit.

"My Lord. Ça c'est bon." It came out of me without a thought. I closed my eyes, held on to him and gave myself permission to take from him what I needed. I heard a soft chuckle of satisfaction from him and then he was pumping into me. "Oh. My. God."

"You feel so fucking good. Nice and tight. And hot. Yeah, baby. I feel you starting to come. Hang in there." Panting the words out to me, his mouth pausing in between sucking kisses on my sweaty skin.

Between the voice that was caressing me like the black velvet of the night and his body doing its own way of talking to mine, I was drowning in the experience of him. I felt myself about to slide over the edge and grabbed his face with my hands. Forcing him to kiss me and coming the moment his mouth sucked hard on my tongue. When he broke the kiss, I felt like I was hanging suspended between reality and dream. Like I'd be adrift without the clutching grip I had on his neck. Out of breath and then feeling the night recapture me.

He thrust in harder, shifting his stance and driving in deeper even as my climax was slowing. "Ah, yeah. I'm coming, love. Coming hard. Fuck me," saying it in this gravelly voice that ramped me up again as he pumped in a few more times, so hard and deep that I squeaked at the way it felt. And then coming so hard, I could feel his spasms. His sounds of base satisfaction were like gifts to me.

And then, he just held me there. My legs were somehow wrapped securely around his hips, ankles locked together; I didn't even remember doing it. We were both still panting and he complained about how hard it was to catch his breath in the thick humidity of the air. I wasn't saying a thing. Just hanging on. Holding on. Trying to stay in that moment with him. Feeling his fluids running out of me and dripping along my thighs.

Finally, we were both breathing normally. He whispered against my ear, "I'm going to put you down now, Sarah."

On my feet and feeling unsteady. He bent down and kissed me; long and slow. Then he leaned away from me and our eyes met. That's when he noticed that I wasn't reacting the way he would have thought I would.

"Sarah? You all right? Sarah?"

"Sarah?" My eyes snapped up and looked at Marie. "You with us?"

"Of course. Just thinking," I replied, not missing the smirk she gave over my shoulder toward the customer sitting in one of the counter stools in my station. Cleared my throat and tried to recover. "Order up, Teej, special, over easy, wheat."

"My, my, my. That's a tasty one there, I believe," Marie stage-whispered to me. "You better let me tend to this one, sweetie. Over easy, my foot. Something tells me he might be interested in something off the menu."

I rolled my eyes at Teej. He snickered, glanced at the order ticket I'd just stuck up on the clip and his eyes dropped back to the grill in front of him. "That girl never met a man she wouldn't go over easy for," he muttered to me.

Making me giggle. Turned back to the customer and saw Marie trying to pour him a cup of coffee. Tea. He'd wanted hot tea. Not coffee. So I grabbed the hot water, filled up the small metal pitcher and brought it to him with an assortment of tea bags and the cup and saucer. Marie was too busy flirting and he was too busy enjoying it for either of them to acknowledge me.

And in the normal morning rush, I had no time to linger. Chasing between customers, taking and filling orders, refilling coffee and water, taking off the hands that went where they shouldn't, sassing the regulars, cleaning tables when the busboy got behind ... Typical morning, all things considered.

In the midst of all that, this customer had decided to be a pain in the ass. Trying to get me to stop and chat about the swamp, about where the museum was, about whether or not the church was the one he'd read about in some airline travel mag, about how could he arrange for a fishing guide into the swamp. I tried to answer him in between rushing to serve, but finally I told him the tourism office near the expressway would open at 9 a.m. and they'd be a good choice for him to visit.

"Ah. Oh. Well, I was really hoping to get a local's viewpoint," he said, his voice this gentle depth that made me stop and look at him. Really look.

I'd watched him move into the restaurant. I'd been at the counter waiting on someone, taking an order, and when he walked through the door, his silhouette looked familiar. I had thought it was my brother, honestly. Similar body type, except this one had biceps my brother would have killed for. And as soon as he moved toward where I was standing, I knew it wasn't Rory. Totally different walk, although both had a definable confidence in their stride. When he straddled the stool next to the customer I was talking with, he'd smiled at me and, honest to God, my knees felt it.

But now, I had the opportunity to look at his face. Handsome. Dark stubble barely there. Hair cut neat. Eyes that made me want to stare. And a chest so strong and broad that I blushed at what I was thinking.

Smiling at me again. "Yeah, well, the people in the tourism office are locals," I replied and tried to pull my eyes from his. They were the most beautiful shade of blue-green and they seemed to convey this sense of him that was arresting.

"Sure, but will they tell me the truth or will they just send me where they send all the tourists?" he said, his smile twitching, like we were sharing a joke together.

Marie 'just happened' to be walking by at that point. She stopped, leaned on the counter and his eyes swiveled instantly to her. Not to her face but to the breasts she was making sure he had a view of as she rested on her elbows and pressed her boobs up between her arms so they almost spilled out of her top. Which, I noticed, she'd managed to unbutton even lower than normal.

"If you're looking for a personal guide to our town, I'd be glad to offer my services," she told him, in that low, smoky voice of hers that made men mad for her. "I can show you everything good this place has to offer."

When his eyes finally flicked up to her face, he smiled at her and I think even Marie got nervous at the force of his focus on her. "Now that's too good of you, love," he drawled in an accent I'd finally decided was Australian. "But something tells me you're not the girl to take me out fishing."

Long way from home. Should we have been suspicious? That some handsome stud was sitting in the middle of our little town, deep within south Louisiana's Cajun country, and so many miles from his homeland and I don't know when's the last time someone from down under had come through? Maybe. But then I'm not that suspicious by nature. Cautious, shy and harboring secret dreams ... but not suspicious.

"Fishing? You mean like ... Vraiment?" Marie's voice was so surprised that it made Teej and I trade amused glances. She drew herself up, all indignant because she knew he was telling her 'no.' Not a word she normally heard from men. Her snippy voice said, "If I'm going to get all hot and sweaty, it's going to be for something better than slopping in the swamp and hauling in fish I can buy at the market. You want a girl to take you fishing? About all you'll find is little Sarah here."

Making me look up at them, startled to hear my name and unhappy to find him grinning at me as Marie flounced off.

"So, how 'bout it, love? Fancy being my guide?" he asked in this amused voice and that was the moment when I wondered if he was really flirting with me.

"No. I don't. I ... I have more important things to do today," I said. Heard Teej chuckle behind me; turned and glared at him over my shoulder. He shut up instantly.

"Then I guess I'm at the mercy of the tourist people."

Teej spoke up, calling out through the order window, "Sarah's cousin guides. Sarah, give 'em the phone number. Go on, girl."

On my pad, I scratched out my cousin's cell phone number. "Hank might be available. I don't know if he had anybody today," mumbling and handing the number over. Then looking up at him, saying, "It's pretty late to head out for fishing, you know. It's not too good the later it gets. He'll probably want you to wait till the morning."

"See? Now you can be sure the tourist people wouldn't have told me that. That's why it's best to talk to the locals."

"Sarah?"

He touched my arm, his fingers gentling into a stroke until I finally did something. From flip out of nowhere, I was crying. He tried to put his arms around me but I hit his chest with both fists and he backed off.

"Foutré." Soft Cajun curse slipping out in my water-logged voice. "We're gonna die out here. I cannot believe ..."

"We're not going to die, Sarah. We'll find Rory and we'll ..."

Eyes hard on him. "Yeah? Vraiment? City boy, you gonna muck your way through this big ole swamp on yer own?" In my stress, reverting to the accent I'd spent years trying to overcome. "I'm telling you, that I am, that we're not getting out of here. We can't walk out of here. We got no food, no boat, no ..."

He was smiling at me and I stopped, hands on my hips, and glared at him. He shook his head, chuckled and said, "Good to see some of that fire back in you, love. I was afraid I was losing you."

And all of a sudden, I realized I was standing there. Nude. Looking right at him. Nude. He was looking right at me. No cover. None. It was dark, but not dark enough. And I was crying and had nowhere to hide from him. My hands flew up and my face dove down behind them. "What have I done?" whispering, more to myself than to anyone else.

This time, when he put his arms around me, I accepted their comforting presence. In fact, I ended up dropping my hands, reaching out to hold onto his body and just snuggled into him. And cried out the day's bad things.

"C'mon, love. Stop all this. We're not gonna make it if you fall apart on me," he told me, his chin resting atop my head. "Why don't you come sit here with me and catch your breath? Come see what I found for us."

I let him take me by the hand, like a little girl, and lead me over to where he'd spread a tarp out over the rough cypress planks that made up the cabin's flooring. Sniffling and trying hard to get a grip on my emotions, I avoided looking at him. And then his hand was coming in front of my face and in his palm, he was holding a granola bar.

Looking up at him, he was grinning at me. "Better now?" I nodded. "You were right about this being a hunting camp. There's a bit of food here for us. Start with this, okay? You'll feel yourself soon."

"Any towels?" His puzzled eyes considered my question. "Anything dry I can cover up with?"

He got up instantly, went rummaging inside another room and came out with two silver emergency blankets. He wrapped one around me and while I adjusted it over me, he was tucking the other one around his waist. A gesture I really appreciated. I'd been debating if it was more unnerving to be sitting in the nude next to him or if it was worse having him sitting nude next to me.

Feeding me camp provisions. Having me sip warm canned beer the hunters had left here for their next visit. Relaxing like this was totally okay. Trying to make jokes in the darkness. Being there, solid and manly. Making me feel safer.

"Merci, Terry," I whispered finally. Cleared my throat and looked over at him. He was staring out the window, nodding at my words. "Thanks for not giving up on me."

He moved toward me, so close that he could reach out and run a thumb down my jaw line. Our eyes were steady on each other. "Sarah, I need you to tell me something. If we had some kind of boat, do you think you can find the cabin that Rory's at?"

"Sure. I think. We'd need to find a channel and let me get my bearings. But we shouldn't be all that far. Why?"

"No reason. Except ... I found a canoe stored in another room."

My eyes got huge. "A canoe? Then let's go. We can paddle at night. I can pick us through the swamp."

"No. You need rest. We both do. Let's sleep for a few hours and then go."

He was among the last of my breakfast customers to leave. After he'd gone, I did the rest of the morning's drudge work and then looked around to survey who was left inside this small restaurant where I had been waitressing for two years. All of my stations were empty so I was free as a bird. Teej just grinned at me when I grabbed my sketchpad and stepped past him in the kitchen on my way out the back door.

We took our breaks as we got them. This would be my biggest break until the early lunch crowd of mostly senior citizens descended on us. And after the lunch rush, my work day was over.

Out the back door, Teej had made a little haven for me. Well, now, that boy said it was for all of us, but he'd put it in for me. We all knew it but no one would have dared joke about it to Teej. He'd put in a cedar picnic table and a cypress swing. And he'd covered the area with a great awning to keep the sun and rain off of us.

It was the perfect place for me. I'd sit myself in the swing and sway in the relative quiet while I stared at the Bayou Teche that ran beside the restaurant and draw whatever possessed me. Sometimes, I had pictures from magazines that I used as the basis of a drawing I wanted to do. Sometimes, I drew the bayou itself or the ducks or the flowers along its shore. Whenever the wild irises would gush their yellow and purple at us, I couldn't resist drawing their deceptively delicate shapes.

My brother Rory called me the closet artist. Everyone knew I drew but no one ever saw my work. It wasn't good enough. Even after so many years and going to college to refine whatever natural talent the good Lord had seen fit to grace me with.

But then, I'd tried making it on my talent, hadn't I? Three years of hard knocks and failure before I'd come home to St. Martinville with my tail between my legs.

Back where I belong, I'd told Rory. He'd been furious. If you go home, you'll never leave, he'd told me as I was packing. We'd been standing in the middle of my half-packed apartment in Atlanta.

It was like that with Rory, though. Ever since he'd left home, he'd barge into my life in these lighting strikes between gigs and try to order me to live the way he thought I should. He was the reason I'd gone to college. I was content at home, doing some graphic design work on the side and helping Pawpaw with his guiding business in the years after high school. But Rory had paid for college for me so I finally went away from home for the first time; he wouldn't let me quit college whenever I'd get homesick or simply tired of feeling out of place.

Then, he was the one who found me the job in Atlanta. Some mysterious connections he had. I worked in an art gallery by day and drew by night. Dreams of my own show had come to fruition but it was a pretty solid flop. The gallery owner adored Rory and she insisted I keep trying. But it was never the same for me after that.

And then Pawpaw had died and it just seemed like I should be home taking care of the family business. But by the time I got home, Rory had already talked my cousin Hank into taking over the fishing guide and dock business. I was pretty pissed at Rory about that but then I got stubborn, like the good Cajun girl I am, and I moved into Pawpaw's old house and took the waitressing job, just to piss him off liked he'd pissed me off.

I looked up at the crunch of gravel and found my good-looking customer of the morning about to take a seat on the swing next to me. Tugging on a cigarette and smiling at me again. My mind had been so far away and he'd been able to sneak up on me.

"Nice. Is this your boyfriend?" he asked me, that smooth voice of his sounding a little rougher around the cigarette.

Glancing down at the sketchpad and seeing a face. I must have been drawing him while I focused on his memory. "Nope. It's my brother. Rory," I told him.

He pulled the pad from my hands. I could have slugged him. Everyone knew you weren't supposed to do that. This was my secret world.

"He looks familiar for some reason. Would I have seen him in the restaurant?" he asked, studying the sketch like he was really interested.

My eyes narrowed at him. "No. Rory doesn't live around here anymore."

"Hmm. That's so odd. I could swear I know him. What's he do for a living?"

"He's a security consultant. Works overseas."

"Ah. Well." Clearing his throat, handing the pad back to me, looking me in the eyes and smiling that way again. "Guess you don't see much of him then, love. How long's it been?"

Too fucking long. He was still too pissed at me and he swore he wasn't coming home anymore until I asked him to come help me move to another city. "Been a while. Why?"

The man chuckled and his hand reached out to pat along my shoulder. "Relax, love. Just trying to make conversation. Besides, where's that old Southern charm I hear so much about?"

"Try Mobile. Down here, we don't much like strangers getting so personal."

"Ouch. I'll piss off then, shall I? But, before I go, tell me the acceptable way in these parts for a man to make time with a good lookin' woman when she won't talk with him?"

That smile again and he must have been joking. And then thinking about what he'd asked. Honestly. Why was I so sensitive about Rory? He hadn't asked anything that personal. Embarrassed to have been so rude, I smiled back, saying, "Sorry. Just not used to someone I don't know asking so many questions. I get enough of the third degree from my aunts without it coming from total strangers."

"Will you hit me if I ask another question?" When I shook my head at him, he asked, "I called your cousin. He's booked up for the morning but he said I should ask you to take me out. He said you still do some guide work and that he's got a boat you can use if you'll take me. He also told me tomorrow's your day off."

Looking at him in surprise. "You want out in the swamp mighty bad, don't you? The fishing's not all that great this time of year, bebe, for you to be getting this excited about it. Heck, you can probably catch about the same just off the bank of the bayou here."

"It's not the same, though. Came all this way and I want to be in the swamp. Not just for fishing but also because I really want to see it for myself," he said, looking off over the greens of the bayou banks.

Strange the way the light bouncing off the banks turned his eyes almost all green. I was studying his eyes when they focused back on me. Something about the look, suddenly so serious, it seemed a bit too hard.

Giggling in the morning light. He was still sleeping but I suspected he might have been at least half awake and listening to me prowl around the old cabin. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle the giggle.

Snuck back in to where he was sleeping atop the tarp. He looked ... almost peaceful. But not really. Relaxed but ready. I tilted my head and crept right up to his hip and looked down at him. He was covered from the waist down with the emergency blanket and that meant I could stare unimpeded at his chest and arms. Damn. What a man. Closed my eyes and sighed.

And then suddenly, his arms were wrapped around my thighs and he was dragging me off balance. Toppling down on him, his hands caught me. Then turning me on my back and pinning my arms above my head as he loomed over me. "What are you doing sneaking around?" he growled, low in his chest, giving me a mock glare. "Were you going to try to take advantage of me?"

Grinning at him and then laughing. "That thing you called a canoe? God. You're such a ditz. It's a pirogue. And I'll get us to Rory's in no time in that."

"Pirogue?"

"It's the best type of boat for the swamps. It's why we use them up in here. Shallower draw and glides so fast. But it's less stable than a canoe so you'll have to obey my instructions or you'll tip us over into the swamp. Okay? Think you're capable of taking orders from me?"

"You just want to pretend you know something I don't," he said, his face coming slowly closer to mine.  "Maybe we should make another bet? Let's see now. What can I challenge you that gives me the best shot at having my way with you again?"

Looking deep in his amused eyes. "You don't need to win any bet. This morning, you just have to touch me."

At a loss for words. For the first time since I'd met him, I'd taken him totally by surprise. He released my arms and his fingers touched my lips. Then his hand held my jaw still while he dipped down and buried his tongue in my mouth for long minutes. Until ... He stopped on a dime. Like something had happened to change his mind.

Eyes on mine. Soft voice on my ear. "Did I take advantage of you, Sarah? Last night? Maybe you just needed me to hold you. Maybe that's all you really need right now."

"Will you take me out in the swamp in the morning?" he asked me, low voice and more serious.

The back door banged shut and I glanced away to see Marie mincing toward us. The man's eyes, like every man's eyes, were drawn to her and he studied her closely as she came and sat at the picnic table.

"Sarah, you really gonna do some guiding again?" she asked me and her tone was perfect for what she was thinking. So many of the women I knew thought I was still the same old tomboy I'd been growing up and it never failed to amuse them. "Y'know, Terry, Sarah here's a real coon ass. It's not just in her blood, darlin', it's her. That family of hers, they were the original swamp rats. How old were you before they finally put you in school in town, Sarah?"

Funny thing about Marie was that she actually liked me. That's why it hurt, her trying to make me squirm with this stranger around. He looked at me and I just knew there had to be some redness tingeing my cheeks. His name's Terry, I thought, and somehow Marie probably got that out of him within 30 seconds of talking to him. He probably had her phone number about two seconds later.

"No guiding. Not tomorrow," I muttered. "Sorry. I'll be out too late tonight to even think about getting up early in the morning."

Marie giggled and slapped her hip. "Dang. That's right. Tonight's the fais-do-do at the church. Sarah, you're playing fiddle tonight, eh?"

"Um. Yeah." Mumbling and then trying to scoot out of range of Marie's suddenly loaded gun. "Sorry, um, Terry, is it? But there are other guides. I'll, um, send Teej out 'cause he knows a few and he can give you some names and ..."

"Fiddle?" Terry asked, his hand touching my hip as I walked in front of him. He was smiling at Marie but his hand was warm on my body, drawing me to a stop. "She plays fiddle? Can I come? I don't have anything else to do."

"Sure, 'tit bebe, sure. Ask me out to dinner and then I'll let you take me to the fais-do-do. I'll teach you the two-step," Marie told him, that voice of hers dropping into the oozing-with-sex voice that no man I ever knew was ever immune to.

This one wasn't. They had a date all set up before I dragged myself away from his warm hand and made it to the door. Inside the kitchen, I leaned against the coolness of the cement wall and closed my eyes. I could still feel his hand.

My hand went behind his head and drew him toward me. "You didn't take advantage of me. What happened ... it was something I wanted, Terry. It was something I needed. I'm not sorry. Are you?"

He let me pull him into a deep kiss. When he tried to draw away from me, my body went with his and he finally just gave up. I felt his fingers sliding between my thighs and I spread my legs for him. Moaning into his mouth as his thumb and forefinger almost instantly stroked my clit. My arms dropped from around his neck and I fell backwards onto the floor. "Christ, bebe. Oh. God. You're gonna make me ... Oh."

He moved his fingers off me just before I was able to come. I was watching his face and he was studying me closely. "Rory's going to kill me," he sighed down at me.

"Not if I kill you first," I muttered and grabbed for his cock, stroking it until he groaned out at me and began lightly thrusting into my hand. "You better be planning on following through with what we started, mon ami."

Getting this evil smirk on his face. "You've woken up in a spirited mood. How 'bout I let you work off some of the excess energy? Let's see what you can do. Come sit on me."

And, with that, he slid onto his back and his big hands were around my waist even as he turned, pulling me with him. Before I even realized exactly what was happening, I was straddling him, on my knees and looking down at Terry.

He had one hand playing with my wetness while his other hand was positioning his cock to plunge inside me there. "Do it," I groaned to him, closing my eyes to better concentrate on what he was making me feel.

"Look at me, love. Let me see how it feels when I fuck you like this," he said, deep voice rumbling hoarsely from his chest. When I looked back down at him, this lingering smile fled from his face as his hands grabbed me around the hips and he pulled me firmly down onto him. "Damn but you feel so good."

Breathless for a moment from the feeling of him filling me up that way. All I could do was nod in response and then he was making these satisfied grunting moans as his hands moved my hips against him.

"C'mon, baby. Show me what ya got," he grumbled at me.

He looked so seriously intent on me and it instantly made this massive shiver race down my back. I leaned over him and kissed him hard on the mouth, grinding my pelvis against his, feeling his big cock sliding in and out of me even as the angle I was at let me rub my clit delightfully against his ridge of coarse hair. My hands were splayed out on either side of his head and I was so intent on the rhythm that was already sending the most exquisite shuddering feelings racing inside my stomach.

His big hands were caressing my breasts. He was driving his cock up into me with light thrusts timed to rock into my rhythmic movements. My mouth released his and I was breathing hard, trying to suck in air while what we were doing was leaving me breathless. "You've got the best fucking cock," I panted out to him.

"Now you're gonna talk dirty to me, love? I like it. But you'll have to ... unh ... do better. Oh, yeah. That feels good," he said in this husky voice.

"Oh. Fuck. Don't talk. You'll make me come." Barely able to speak. Our eyes meeting and it nearly sent me speeding over the edge. Closed my eyes but it was too late. "No! No, I don't want to come yet ... Foutré!"

My head dropped down against his chest and I felt him start chuckling even as the wave of my orgasm swept me up.

"My turn," he said, taking those big hands and brushing them up and down my back. "C'mon. Come back to me, Sarah. I want you to enjoy what I can do for you. I want you coming so hard you fucking pass out from how good it feels."

One of his hands pulled up on my chin until I was looking in his eyes. "I'm here," I whimpered to him.

"I can see." Wiggling his cock into me and I gasped at how it felt to have him grind that way against my clit. "Oh, this is gonna be fun. Lay down here on me, love."

Pulling me onto his broad chest and then pushing each of my legs until they were atop his legs. With my legs closed like that, I felt so much tighter and he felt so much bigger inside me. And, at that angle, my clit was in constant contact with his body. I was shaking almost instantly.

His hands clamped on my hips and he began moving me slowly against him even as he began thrusting up into me. All these things started zapping inside me and I was begging him to just fucking make me come. "Fuck me, Terry. Fuck me so hard. Damn. Do it."

"That's right, baby. I'm gonna fuck you hard." His big arms came crushing in around my waist and ribs. Gripping me so tight and then he was shoving me down onto his cock even as he was thrusting hard up into me.

From nowhere, I was sobbing into his chest and coming so hard that it was one of those white comings. The kind where your eyes roll back in your head and about all that you can see is white light zapping inside your brain.