Only 04 - Only Love

way back to camp, the dog lifted his huge, blunt head and thumped his tail against the ground several times in silent greeting.
    “Your mistress is still sleeping, isn’t she?” Whip asked softly. “Good. I could use a little rest myself. Didn’t sleep worth a damn last night. Stay here and guard us.”
    Soundlessly Whip went to the place where Shannon was. He took off his heavy jacket and slid beneath the blankets, stretching out next to her. Shannon murmured sleepily and turned toward him, burrowing into his warmth, nuzzling against him, sighing.
    At first Whip thought that she had awakened. Then he felt the utter relaxation of her body and knew that she was deeply asleep. The realization that Shannon turned toward him even when she was asleep was like a silver needle of emotion stitching through Whip’s soul, pain and pleasure combined.
    Shannon, don’t love me. I don’t want to hurt you, honey girl.
    The only answer that came was the smell of spearmint and woman combined.
    Whip’s heart turned over and his body hardened in a savage rush. He knew he couldn’t stay with Shannon for much longer…but he could make a lifetime of every moment they had together.
    Slowly Whip eased beneath the blankets, breathing deeply of warm, woman-scented air.
    I would love to kiss those sweet breasts, but I shouldn’t wake her.
    Even as Whip told himself that Shannon needed sleep more than she needed loving, his hands were moving over her old, painfully clean shirt.
    Silk and lace lay warmly beneath, shocking in their femininity after the man’s shirt.
    What the hell…! Where did she get this?
    Long fingers untied silk bows one by one. But it was Whip’s mouth rather than his hands that moved the silk aside, discovering the even softer silk of Shannon’s skin.
    Shannon murmured and sighed and shifted, lifting herself to his kisses.
    Whip hesitated and asked very softly. “Shannon?”
    Her only answer was a sigh. Except for the subtle tightening of her nipples beneath his lips, her body was still completely relaxed, trusting him in a way no one ever had.
    Even himself.
    Honey girl, how am I going to live without you?
    His tongue touched the tip of each breast. The velvety hardness of Shannon’s nipples teased his lips, silently asking for another kind of caress. He gave it to her softly, delicately, holding her within his warmth even as he tugged her nipples to hard peaks with his mouth.
    Shannon’s body moved languidly, held between the heat of Whip’s caresses and the growing heat of her dreams.
    Don’t wake up yet, sweet woman. Let me taste your dreams.
    Long fingers found and unfastened Shannon’s pants, pushing the loose fabric down her legs and over her feet. She stirred restlessly, then calmed when Whip held her close.
    “It’s just me, honey girl,” he murmured against her ear.
    Shannon made a sleepy sound and cuddled even more closely against Whip.
    He lay very still, trying to slow the savage hammering of his heart that had begun when his fingers encountered the silky underwear. He wanted to look at Shannon wearing only that bit of softness and lace. He wanted it until sweat gathered in the small of his back.
    But he wanted to touch her sleeping dreams even more.
    Whip knew if he cast off the covers so that the swelling light of dawn could bathe Shannon, she would awaken. So he held her until she lay relaxed in his arms once more. Then he eased slowly down her body beneath the blankets, his mouth following the opening in the chemise, tracing the margin between silk underwear and satin skin.
    Shannon stirred as heat flushed her body, a seething warmth that was summoned by Whip’s slow, thorough loving. She sighed and her hips moved in the languid rhythms of his caresses.
    Her sensuous response consumed Whip as softly and completely as he was consuming her. The world became infused with heat and the elemental perfume of a woman’s desire.
    Honey girl, Whip groaned silently. God, I could die trying to get enough of you.
    A tiny, shuddering sound escaped Shannon’s lips. It was Whip’s name, called as much in dream as in waking.
    He answered with a silky movement of his mouth and her name whispered into the seething darkness beneath the blankets.
    For a time Shannon could find no difference betweenher dream and the hot awakening that flushed her skin. Then pleasure speared softly through her, stopping her breath. When the sweet, pulsing sensations passed, she moaned, wanting more.
    Whip felt the