Safe Harbor

by Christine Feehan

  He bit down gently, forcing her once more out of her comfort zone and into another realm, the little bites causing flares of heat and arrows of darting pleasure snaking hungrily through her body. Her thighs tightened around him and her hips began a helpless bucking.

  He caught her around the waist and lifted her. "Slow this time, Hannah. Slide down slow and ride me." He refused to let her impale herself hard and fast as she wanted to--drawing out the pleasure, forcing her to go slow.

  "Jonas. Please."

  The soft pleading filled his already full cock with pounding hot blood. He felt every silken muscle as he pushed with torturous slowness into her fiery folds. She was so tight she had him gasping, the shock waves riding his body, ripping through him, demanding release, but he held her hips, lifting her with exquisite care and moving in her with an almost languid pace until she was sobbing his name, begging him for more.

  "Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered. "You like this, I know you do. You want something else?"

  Oh, God. She needed. Needed him wild. Slamming into her, pounding into her until he drove her up and over the edge. She needed release and each slow stroke sent whips of lightning streaking through her body, every nerve ending singed and scorched and desperate for more. "Please, Jonas, I can't take any more. I can't." Because she might go up in flames before she had a chance to actually shatter. Or she'd shatter before she went up in flames. Either way, she had to have release.

  Without warning, he rolled them over, sliding her under him, easily, smoothly, dragging her legs over his shoulders, hands on her hips to hold her still. The first thrust was a streak of sheer fire, his cock steel hard, ramming through her swollen, sensitive folds, driving deep, so deep she was afraid he would land in her womb. She heard herself scream, a ragged gasping cry, but he was already withdrawing and slamming home again.

  There was no way to control the pleasure, she felt insane with it, giving herself up to it as he pumped into her body with hard, desperate strokes. He pushed her knees back, pulling her hips closer under him, giving him a better angle to go even deeper, driving over knots of nerves screaming with fiery sensations. She writhed under him, her hips bucking, her head thrashing, her muscles tightening around him, gripping him hard.

  He whispered against her neck, his mouth skimming down her soft skin, his voice a rough rasp that washed more heat over her. The tension in her built and built, and still he drove into her, taking her on an endless flight. She thrashed, nails biting deep into his shoulder, her small cries turning frantic. He was relentless, driving her up but never over, bringing her to the edge until she was clawing at him, pleading again.

  Jonas could barely hold on with her sheath pulsing around him, so tight and so slick, he felt he was moving in a fiery bed of silk. She was strangling him, so hot he was melting, but he wouldn't stop, wouldn't take her over until she knew--until she was certain.

  "Who do you..." He gasped. Clenched his teeth as her body clamped down on his. "Belong to? Say it, Hannah. Tell me you're mine."

  "Jonas." His name came out a wail. She tried to lift her hips to meet his, but his hands held her tightly, keeping her pinned while his body tortured hers with pleasure. "You. You idiot. There's never been anyone else." Her hand curled around his neck. "Oh, please, Jonas, I don't think I'm going to survive."

  The sheer lust in her voice, the pleading cries, drove him so far past control he couldn't have held back if he wanted to. He shifted subtly, the movement rocking her, as his cock filled her, burying deep, swelling, the friction increasing to the point that she simply fragmented, her body coming apart under him. His own body jerked hard, the pleasure bordering on pain as he washed her in his release. Still her muscles wouldn't let go, wouldn't stop clasping him, wringing the last drop from him.

  He collapsed over her, burying his face in her neck, his hands finding hers and holding them to the mattress on either side of her head.

  "I love you, Hannah. I'm not going to be able to come home at night without having you in my bed." He rubbed his face over her breasts, nuzzled a nipple and drew it into his mouth, feeling her body spasm around his. He licked, watching her face, watching the pleasure wash over her. "I want this. I want you. It's been so damn long, baby, empty nights without you, long years waiting to have you. I don't want to wait any longer."

  It was difficult to think clearly when his body was so deep in hers and his mouth was on her breast, sending streaks of fire from her nipples to her groin. She would give him anything, do anything. He had to know that. Why didn't he know that?

  "I want to be with you, too, Jonas. Everything is mixed up right now, but..."

  "There isn't going to be a 'but,' Hannah." Jonas sucked at the tender mound at the curve, just above her nipple.

  "What are you doing?" She tried to lift her head to see, but he was holding her down and her body was too relaxed to move. More than anything she didn't want to dislodge him, loving the feel of him buried inside her. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You'd better not be putting another mark on me."

  He kissed her lips, spearing his tongue into her mouth. "I hate to be the one to tell you, baby, but you have marks all over you. My fingerprints and my mouth are on the inside of your thighs as well as on your breasts, and your belly." He kissed her again. "Mine."

  "You're so possessive." She kissed him back. Bit his lower lip. "I left a few marks of my own, to show who you belong to."

  He flashed a small grin and rolled off her onto his back, retaining possession of her hand. He brought it to his mouth and nibbled at her fingertips. "I don't want a big fancy wedding like your sisters are planning. I want to do it fast, right away, without the newspapers and magazines hanging around."

  She turned her head to look at him, her heart pounding hard. "You think I'm going to marry you?"

  "Damn straight you are. I'm not some little play toy, Hannah."

  She burst out laughing at his arrogant tone. "And here I thought I was going to have so much fun." She leaned over and nipped his earlobe. "Most men ask."

  "You'd just say no. You already did say no."

  "I did not. I said later; that's not the same thing." She rolled onto her side and pushed her fingers through his hair. "When I came here to your house and played dress-up, your mother and I talked about weddings. Little girls love weddings and I was no exception. She said, if you ever got married, she'd have it here, at this house, and everyone would come dressed like the 1920s. She'd have a speakeasy dance hall for the reception in your ballroom. She showed me the flapper clothes and then we got dressed up and had tea. We should do that."

  His heart nearly stopped. "Have the wedding here?"

  "Wouldn't you like that? Dress like she wanted and have the ceremony here? It would be such fun. Joley would love it."

  "I would, too, but would you?" His eyes searched hers.

  She smiled. "Absolutely. I think it sounds perfect." She grinned at him. "If we're going to get married, I mean."

  He kissed her nose. "Oh, we're getting married, baby. You don't want ten kids running around without my ring on your finger. Your father would make you a widow before you ever became a wife."

  She laughed and rolled over, wincing. "Wow! I guess I am sore. I must be out of shape."

  "I don't know, Hannah, you outlasted me. Come on. I'm going to run you a bath." He jumped up, uncaring that he was naked, went into the connecting bathroom and turned on the faucet. He stuck his head out the door when she didn't move. "You coming?"

  "No. I can't walk. I'm going to stay right here all day." She pulled the sheet over her.

  "No, baby, you need to soak in a tub, you really won't be able to walk. As it is, you're going to be sore. I don't have any bath salts, or crystals or whatever it is you girls all use, but I lit some of the candles Sarah gave me last Christmas. Don't tell her I said this, but they're soothing."

  She laughed. "You're so funny, Jonas, not wanting to admit candles and crystals have healing powers." She rolled onto her side a
nd propped her head in one hand, elbow on the mattress, studying him. He was completely at ease in his nudity.

  "I admit it. It's just that you all think I need those things for protection." He glanced into the bathroom to check the water level in the tub.

  "You do need them, silly. In our own way, we try to shield you the way you do us. You matter to all of us..."

  He swung around. "You're mine, Hannah. It's no longer a family thing." There was finality in his voice.

  Hannah frowned. He'd always enjoyed the relationship he had with the Drake sisters. He knew he was family to them. He loved them. She couldn't imagine why what she'd said would irritate him. "What's this sudden driving need to establish dominance, Jonas? What's wrong?"

  He sighed. "Come here." He crooked his little finger at her.

  Hannah rose, wrapping herself in the sheet, trying not to be annoyed that he always made everything sound like an order. "I'm here. Tell me what's wrong."

  "Lose the sheet first."

  Just like that, as tired and as sore as she was, her body responded. Her breasts tightened, her womb clenched and a frisson of excitement skittered down her spine. "I want you, Jonas, I swear I do, but I think if you make love to me again, you'll kill me."

  A reluctant grin curved his mouth. "It would be a nice way to go, locked to you forever. Inside of you. Deep. Right where I belong." He tugged at the sheet.

  Hannah let it drop to the floor.

  "I like looking at you. Don't hide from me." He caught her chin and leaned down to kiss her. "Not me. Not ever."

  "Jonas..."

  He simply picked her up, carried her to the bath and set her in the steamy water.

  "I can't go home with that skirt and blouse and nothing else." The water felt so good. She could just stay there all day, forget the bed. She rested her head against the lip of the tub.

  "I'll find you an old pair of my jeans and a shirt. I have to have something around here that will fit you."

  "You didn't tell me what's bothering you."

  He stood watching her, his expression grim. "You didn't say you loved me, Hannah. I know you want me, but you didn't say you loved me."

  "I said it a million ways. Do you think I'd let another man touch me the way you did? Or put his mouth on me? His tongue in me? Jonas, don't be an idiot. If you know me at all, you'd never doubt for one moment that I love you with everything in me. And I have told you before. On the beach I told you."

  "That isn't the same as when we're making love. I told you a dozen times last night. You never said it."

  "I thought I was saying it, over and over." She hid a smile. Jonas was so big and bad, but underneath it, he was as vulnerable as she was. "I love you, Jonas Harrington. And I trust you not to forget it."

  He grinned at her, that same cocky, satisfied grin he often wore, the one that always made her heart melt. "Have your bath, baby. I'll be back with some clothes for you in a sec."

  Jonas rarely threw anything away and he rummaged through his drawers in the hopes of finding clothes small enough for her. Tucked away in a box in his closet, he found a pair of jeans from years earlier. He thumbed through the shirts and found his favorite old plaid. As he started out of the room, he glanced at the dresser. The pictures he kept there were all facedown. He'd bumped it when he'd gotten a little wild with Hannah. Smiling, he lifted the middle one and set it upright.

  It was one of his favorites of Hannah, with the sun shining on her hair and a dreamy expression on her face. He kissed his fingertips and brushed it across the glass just as the phone rang.

  "I'm tossing the clothes in, Hannah."

  "Don't throw them in the water!" Hannah stood up to catch the jeans and shirt as they sailed into the bathroom.

  The shirt was far too big, but it covered everything, and the jeans were old and faded and snug on her. As she pulled them up over her hips, she saw Jonas on the phone. He went suddenly still, the expression on his face harsh as he reached out and snagged his jeans, putting them on one-handed.

  Something was wrong. Really wrong. "What is it?" Hannah asked, anxiety creeping into her voice as she observed his murderous expression and the uneasy glances he sent her way. "Are my sisters all right?" But she would know if one of them was in trouble. She always knew.

  Jonas put down the phone, his hand going to the nape of her neck. "Early this morning, when Jackson was heading into the office, someone tried to run him off the road. He was in my car and still using my jacket. I have his."

  "Oh no. Was he hurt?"

  "The car is totaled and he's got a few scrapes and bruises, but he's alive." He grabbed a shirt and shrugged into it. "Jackson's been with me through more nasty battles with the bullets flying and neither of us thinking we were going to get out than I care to remember. I don't like that he took another hit for me." He paced across the floor, too restless to stay still when he was puzzling it all out.

  "This doesn't make sense. They had to have thought it was me driving the car, but clearly you weren't in the car. Why would they make me a target?"

  Hannah slid down the wall to the floor, crossed her arms over her breasts and drew up her knees, making herself smaller, huddling in the corner. This was her fault. Someone had tried to kill Jonas and poor Jackson had gotten in the way. Anything that happened to him had been because of her. Why? She didn't understand what she could have done to make someone hate her so much. Her sisters were in danger, and so were Jackson and Jonas. She closed her eyes on the tears burning so close.

  Jonas glanced at her white, pale face and instantly knelt down beside her. "It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay. Jackson is all right."

  She shook her head, rocking back and forth. "Where can I go that I won't take the chance that someone I love is going to be hurt?" She looked up at him with sorrow and shock in her eyes. "Who could possibly hate me so much they not only want to destroy me, but everyone I love? What could I have done to cause this?"

  Jonas had seen victims of crimes, hundreds of them. He'd reassured them, soothed them, broken bad news and good news, but it had never been personal. Her emotion choked him, strangled him, made him feel helpless and racked with fury that someone could put that look on her face. "Nothing, Hannah. You didn't do anything at all. People who choose this kind of madness are ill. A slight can be imagined, fantasized. It isn't really about you. It's about them and their self-absorbed hatred, an all-consuming destructive emotion. It isn't someone you know. No one who knows you could ever do this to you."

  "I don't know what to do."

  "I do, sweetheart. This is what I do. I'm taking you back to your house..."

  She shook her head. "I don't want them going after my sisters."

  Jonas framed her face with his large hands. "Baby, you're not thinking clearly. Your house eats people for snacks. Your trees throw them into the ocean. Your balcony comes alive and your windows repair themselves. You and your sisters are damned safe in that house, which, by the way, I'm never going to look at in the same way again."

  She almost managed a smile as she allowed him to pull her up. "All right. I'll go home with them, but you'd better stay in the house as well. I mean it, Jonas. Whoever is doing this is obviously trying to kill you now."

  He looked around, found their shoes in the living room and handed her sandals to her. She flushed, seeing her skirt, blouse and coat right at the entrance to the doorway.

  "We didn't get far, did we?"

  He grinned at her. "Best night of my life, Hannah. Thank you." He leaned over, kissed her and pulled on his shoes. "Let's get out of here. Let me go first, just in case. Get right into the truck."

  She nodded and waited for him to take the lead. He stopped long enough to lock the door behind him, and hurried to the truck, his gaze quartering the area around them, looking for anything suspicious.

  Hannah settled in the truck, drew her seatbelt across her and drummed her fingers on the seat in apprehension while he shoved the key into the ignition.

  Jonas reached f
or her hand, his fingers running over hers in a little caress before he picked up her hand and brought it to the warmth of his mouth. "It's going to be all right, baby. It won't be much longer before we figure this out." He nibbled on the tips of her fingers and turned the key.

  The engine whined, but refused to turn over. Jonas swore under his breath.

  "Maybe we should talk to Abbey. She hates using her abilities, but she can determine truth," Hannah said hesitantly.

  "I don't think we have anyone she can question yet." There was something worrying at the back of his mind, something just out of reach, if he'd just remember it. He turned the key again and the motor made the same noise, refusing to start.

  Jonas snapped his teeth together and grabbed the key, impatient, but suddenly he went still. His alarms were screaming at him, his stomach burning with knots, he just had been too absorbed in Hannah to focus on it. Jackson's track was always--always--in perfect running condition.

  Hannah frowned, the sudden stillness in him sending her natural alarms shrieking. "What is it, Jonas?"

  He reached down and unsnapped Hannah's seatbelt. "Get out of the track. Get out now, Hannah. Hurry, damn it."

  She reacted to the urgency in his voice, the fear. She tried to push open the door, remembered it was locked and reached for the handle.

  "Run for the trees, away from the house. Run fast, baby, I'll be right behind you."

  Hannah slid out. "Tell me."

  "There's a bomb in the track." His voice was calm, but his eyes were savage. "Get the hell out of here, Hannah--now."

  Chapter Nineteen

  HANNAH didn't wait to ask questions. She took off running away from the house toward the trees to the back of Jonas's property, her heart thundering in her ears. She glanced over her shoulder, to reassure herself Jonas was coming. He was right behind her, his body squarely between hers and the truck.