Roxton leaned against the large tree that was their home. He was staring. He knew that he shouldn't be but he just couldn't stop himself. He had been watching the jungle from the treehouse railing when he spotted her. He was transfixed. He had always been transfixed. She dazed him with her wit and her beauty. She was his match that he was sure of.
She was washing her blouses in that old wooden tub that they found on their initial days in the Amazon. Veronica had no use for it, so Marguerite adopted it as the washing tub. Oh, Roxton enjoyed laundry days. Marguerites always washed wearing only her camisole and jophers, in order to clean the shirt she was wearing that day as well as the rest of the laundry. And today was no different. There she was in all her stunning glory. Her hair was pinned up in a way that Roxton rarely saw. Her hair wasn't braided like usual, but the curls were pinned loosely.
"Like what you see, John?"
Roxton jolted out of his trance, and found himself very very close to Marguerite who had that look in her eye. The one that meant business. She lowered her eyes to flicker over him, and hummed slightly to herself.
"What if I do, Marguerite? Hmm?"
And for once she had no reply. No witty remark. She just looked back at him. Clear and focused, and a little hesitant.
He breathed in deeply. If he judged this wrong, If he was too eager, If he scared her, He might not get another chance like this one. He had only one thought : she might be ready. Oh, god. Is she ready?
He stepped impossibly closer to her. He used his height as an advantage as she was forced to tilt her head up to keep eye contact. Neither said anything.
He moved in closer and without warning kissed her. It was hard and demanding, and his hand wound around her back keeping her with him. She half gasped as he arched her backwards with his passion. She was stunned. She was relieved. She was oh so many feelings. She felt a hand weave into her hair cupping the back of her head. He was rough and gentle.
He almost growled aloud when she finally responded vigorously and set her hands on his chest and neck. She broke the kiss to steal a breath, and his lips trailed her cheek and settled on her neck.
He could have swore she moaned as he sucked at her pulse point. Their lips met again, and Marguerite felt herself pushed against the rough bark of the tree. His hands were daring as they settled on her ass, keeping her pressed against him. Her leg rose of its own accord to wrap around him.
They both moaned at the delicious friction.
His kiss was so passionate it stole her breath away. He had her pinned against the tree, pinned against his solid body. He growled when she abruptly writhed into him. God, He wanted to feel this good forever.
They finally broke to pant out breaths, still pressed together oh so closely. Their foreheads were touching. And Roxton dared to look in her eyes. The normally turbulent silver orbs were dark and peaceful. Neither moved. They listened to the sounds of the jungle around them.
There wasn't a raptor, or a reporter in sight.
Quickly, she pressed her lips against his. Light, and passionate. Like she was savouring it. He could imagine her doing it for the rest of their lives. Casual. Loving. Fantastic.
And then she gave him a look. Oh. It was that kind of look. And just like that they collided again. All passion and fury, and the distinct belief that it was finally time. It was finally their time.
Finally.