"Greed, like the love of comfort, is a kind of fear." – Cyrill Connolly
If, twenty-four hours ago, anyone had told Lara that she would find herself in Kurtis Trent's arms, she would have laughed about it. Not that twenty-four hours ago she had felt like laughing at all. She did not feel like laughing at that moment either. Emotions she wanted to hide so much flooded her, but she did not want to fight against them anymore. All she wanted was to feel him close.
His lips gently took hers, and the sensation of it ran through her. Feeling helpless to resist, she opened up to him, letting him demolish the walls of reticence she had build up around her. They all crashed down and Lara felt as vulnerable as ever before.
The kiss deepened and her blood was simmering right under her skin. Lips met lips, flesh met flesh and their tongues were mating with every slow, gentle thrust.
"I'm so afraid of you." – she whispered when his lips let go of hers. God, how she loved every little thing he did to her. That bold feeling that swept through her, pounding in her like an impatient beast ready to break free.
"No, it's not me you're afraid of." – his mouth stayed gentle, waiting for hers to answer. "It's you." – when he said those words, Lara realized he was right. He looked at her with such endless patience that Lara was unable to move her stare away from the blue eyes.
"I can't lose you again." – she said, not trying to hide her feelings anymore. They pushed to the surface when Kurtis had touched her so tenderly and there was no way to fight them back anymore.
"You won't." – he slowly brushed a curl of hair out of her face, scanning her features again and again. Even if his body still covered her, she did not feel the weight of him. They simply melted together. "I won't hurt you." – he whispered.
She was unlike anybody he had ever met in his life. Right at the first time he had known she was different. Amazing. Not being able to get enough of her, he lowered his mouth to hers, took the kiss deep, gradually deep, so that the warmth of it flushed over her, smoothing her fears and the quiver of her body. It was this yielding he wanted ever since he had spotted that sadness in her eyes. Now he knew it was the loss that put it there and he would be able to chase it away and get the smile back on her face as he had planned. It was beautiful how her gorgeous lips curved into a smile and he wanted to see it again.
"Again. Please." – she murmured softly when he pulled away. "I want to feel you again." – and he gave more to her. More of that rough, edgy sensation that layered in her with every little touch. She sighed when his lips touched her. A sigh of relief and pleasure she had not felt for ages. Her breath caught when his hands slid down her arm, roaming on her as they felt like. They almost did not hear the click that came from somewhere close to their ears.
...
...
"How much time is left?" – Wellington asked, sitting lazily in the wide chair under the shadow of the tent. He was sipping a cold drink, but still little pearls of sweat appeared on his forehead. The sun wandered high on the clear blue sky, the striking white light almost melting everything. When he moved his gaze over to the far horizon, the sand looked like it was steaming.
"Eleven hours and twenty-five minutes." – the scarred-faced man looked at his watch. He was standing at the other side of the tent, rigid like a statue ever since Lara Croft disappeared in that hole. He moved his stare over there, but could only see a dark spot. Would she ever get out of there again? Alive? He opened his mouth to talk, but changed his mind before any word left his lips.
Wellington stood up, and started to walk up and down, taking care not to leave the shadow of the tent. Patience was not his virtue. Wiping off the sweat, he stopped and stared at the man standing in front of him. His eyes ran over the scar on his face, his cold look made him shiver, even despite the heat.
"Did you make sure Lady Croft understands the situation?" – he asked in an impatient tone.
"Of course." – he answered without taking his eyes off Wellington. He knew there was no trust between them.
"I knew she would be the right one." – he eagerly rubbed his hands together. A move of pure greed.
"Why did you choose her?" – he could not resist asking the question. When he had first seen her, he could see a sad, reserved woman. He could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes. On the way here he had found out that she was tough indeed.
"Because I knew she would be the only one who could get the book out of there." – Wellington sat back on the chair. A strange smile appeared on his face as if he was still hiding something. The longer the man looked at him, the more certain he was that something was kept hidden from him.
"You know what's in there, don't you?" – he asked without moving even an inch.
Wellington raised his head, looking at him with his small pig-eyes. The satisfied smile got even brighter and he eased back on the chair.
"Would this change anything if I tell you?" – he obviously enjoyed the situation. He had been waiting for this chance for years and he would not let it go this time. Lara Croft was his ticket to power, to wisdom, to long forgotten secrets. The other man was only staring back at him with the same expression. "On the other hand, why not?" – he laughed a little, his fat stomach shaking.
When he saw that the other was not stirring, he tilted his head a bit. Money, he thought. You could buy everything with money. Even these guys who thought of themselves to be really tough.
"I give you a little hint so that you have something to think about while you stand there." – he talked in a disdainful, derogatory voice. "That book…. It's very well protected. Let's say Lara Croft will need all her talent to get to it. I really hope that she will. It would be a shame for that old man to die." – he laughed out coldly, his voice slowly dying away in the silence.
The scarred man swallowed, but no one would have noticed.