[Atlantean's Quest 01] The Arrival by Jordan Summers Read Free Book Online Page A

her tongue tangoed with his, turning, dipping and rotating, voracious in its demands for a deeper connection.
    Reluctantly he pulled away from her, fighting the primal urges coursing through his body. He replaced the netting around her cot and slipped out the same way he’d come. See you tomorrow, my Queen.

Chapter Four
     
    Dawn’s pink tentacles stretched across the vast blue sky. Animals scurried in the underbrush, crunching leaves and small ferns beneath their clawed feet. Filling the air with a dissonant symphony, macaws and parrots sang out, each vying to outdo the other.
    Rachel rubbed her bloodshot eyes, pretty sure someone had dumped a pound of sand in them sometime during the night. Her head pounded like a jackhammer, threatening to roll off her shoulders. Muscles ached as if she hadn’t slept a wink. The strange cry had echoed in her mind, refusing to let her drift off until the hour drew late.
    To make matters worse she’d had the most erotic dream of her life, similar to the ones she’d had back in New York. Yet this one was different because last night she’d finally seen her dream man’s face.
    The beauty of his features made him even more godlike than before. The dream had felt so real , sizzling flesh upon flesh. And that tongue, mmm. Just the thought sent a jolt of electricity slicing through her.
    No more masturbating until I return to New York.
    She shook her head, trying to clear the fogginess that had taken up residence. The tent smelled like a spice rack had been emptied in it. Awareness tingled at the back of her mind.
    Rachel had detected the same odor last night in her dream. Rising, she slipped her pajama top over her head. As she folded the cotton she noticed the buttons were off by one.
    Rachel shrugged. She hadn’t seen it last night, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d buttoned her sleep shirt the wrong way. Besides, she’d been all thumbs because of her scare down by the water.
    Her black lace underwear was missing. Had she gotten so caught up in the dream that she’d slipped them off during the night? If so, then where could she have put them? She’d heard of wet dreams, but this was ridiculous.
    She searched through the crumpled material in her pack, confused and slightly embarrassed by her lack of control. Rachel donned clean clothes and pulled her hair back, securing the mop under a New York Yankees baseball cap.
    She rolled her sleeping bag and folded all her things into her pack, including the mosquito netting. She was set.
    Pulling a rose colored lipstick out of one of the pockets, she applied it without the use of a mirror. No sense roughing it too much.
    She was about to untie the flaps on the door when a flash of sunlight out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She walked to the back wall of her tent, and saw that a thin line of light shown through. Her brows furrowed as she examined the fabric. The slice was clean, as if it had been cut with a very sharp instrument.
    Just like the back of the equipment tent.
    Fear gripped her in a tight fist, sending the air rushing from her lungs. Rachel ran her hands along the rough edges of the three-foot opening. Her heart began to pound frantically, stampeding in her chest until she thought it might burst. With trembling fingers she pulled the area apart. It opened to the jungle.
    She looked into the heavy underbrush. Her eyes scanned the thick growth, searching for anything that could put an end to her growing panic. Nothing.
    He wasn’t a dream , screamed in her mind with increasing volume.
    She dropped the flap and turned to the entrance of her tent. She unzipped the door and exited quickly. Her hands refused to stop shaking.
    People bustled around the fire. The wet jungle air surrounded her, enticing, beckoning, and thankfully calming her rising anxiety. She had to get a grip.
    Last night she’d let a stranger caress her, kiss her, and make love to her with his tongue. Was it the same man who had watched her