by Rebecca York
“Did you do this?” she whispered.
“Yes. For you. I want everything to be perfect for you.”
“I want everything to be perfect for you, too,” she answered, then felt a dart of guilt. “What am I doing?” she asked in a small voice.
The expression of satisfaction disappeared from his face. “You don’t want to be with me?”
“Of course I do. But I’m making this up. It’s not real.”
“Yes it is.”
“But it’s only my dream.”
“No. It’s my dream too,” he answered, his voice firm.
She stared at him in disbelief. “How?”
“I don’t know. But I know it’s real. I’m here with you. Back there, we were uncomfortable with each other. I didn’t know how I was going to spend time at the safe house alone with you. And I think you felt the same. Neither one of us could admit how much we wanted each other in real life. But we can admit it here.”
“Lord, yes,” she breathed, so thankful that she wasn’t just giving herself forbidden pleasure.
He fumbled for the belt of the robe, opening the tie and sweeping the edges of the garment out of the way.
She’d deliberately worn nothing underneath, but now she felt exposed as he took a step back and looked at her.
“Beautiful.”
“I want to be—for you,” she said, admitting what she couldn’t say in reality.
“You’re perfect.”
He reached for her, running his fingers down her sides and over her hips, and the feel of his large hands on her naked body sent a shock wave through her.
He brought his hands inward, moving to her stomach and playing with her navel before reaching to cup her breasts.
She heard a needy sound escape her lips as he took her breasts in his hands, and her need redoubled as he stroked his thumbs across nipples that had hardened to tight points of sensation.
When she felt him go still, she raised her head, giving him a questioning look.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked in a gritty voice.
“Would we be here together if both of us didn’t want this?” she countered.
“Good point.”
Her gaze locked with his, she shrugged her shoulders out of the robe, letting it fall to the floor as she reached for his belt buckle and opened it before finding the metal button at the top of his jeans.
She kept her gaze on his face as she lowered the zipper. Both of them held their breath as she reached inside. She’d expected to encounter his shorts. But just as she’d worn nothing under her robe, he was naked under his jeans.
“Oh.”
“I guess we were both on the same wavelength.”
“Convenient,” she murmured, surprised by her own boldness.
He sucked in a sharp breath as she closed her fingers around his erection. “That’s good. Probably too good.”
“I want it to be good,” she answered.
He threw his head back, enjoying her attentions for a few more moments before lifting her hand away, then used his feet to drag his jeans down before kicking them away.
Determined not to be shy, she reached around him, cupping his bottom, stroking and kneading her hands over his warm skin.
“That’s nice.” He did the same for her, but after gliding his hands over her bottom, he reached lower into the folds of her sex, caressing her there with knowing fingers.
“Oh, Lord,” she managed to say, her voice sounding almost like a moan.
His other hand went back to her breasts, squeezing and tugging on her nipples.
“I don’t think I can stand up much longer,” she whispered.
“Me neither.”
With the sumptuous bed only steps away, he lifted her up and carried her over, laying her on the horizontal surface. He looked magnificent standing over her.
He joined her on the bed, gathering her close, holding her for long moments as he brought his mouth back to hers.
They exchanged greedy kisses before his mouth moved to her ear, where he sucked on her lobe, then trailed his lips down to her neck and lower.
When he buried his face between her breasts, she clasped the back of his head.
He turned to the side, finding one nipple with his tongue, then moving so he could suck her into his mouth while his hand trailed down her body and into her slick folds.
As he stroked her there, she thought she would go up in flames.
“Don’t make me wait,” she pleaded.
He lifted his head so that he could speak. “I want you as hot as I am.”
“I am!”
“We’ll see.”
When he dipped into her vagina, she felt her muscles ripple around his finger. He gave her a knowing look, then trailed moisture up and around her clit, and she knew she couldn’t take much more.
Sliding her hand down his body, she caught his erection in her fist, squeezing and releasing, feeling the heat and power of him.
He gasped out her name.
“Do it now,” she answered, rolling to her back and opening her legs for him.
He knelt in the V of her thighs, then angled his body so that the tip of his penis probed her opening. And then he was inside.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she breathed.
“Oh yeah.”
When he began to move, she matched his rhythm, knowing he was holding back, waiting for her to catch up with him. She was so hot that she climbed quickly to his level where she was helpless to do anything besides drive for her satisfaction.
She climaxed in a burst of ecstasy that carried her into space.
She knew he was with her as she felt his body go rigid, and heard his shout of satisfaction.
His weight pressed against her until he rolled to his side, gathering her to him, his breath still coming fast and hard.
“Thank you for this,” he murmured.
“At first, I thought I had only imagined I was with you.”
“No. You brought me here,” he answered, his voice ringing with conviction.
The declaration was comforting, yet she had to ask, “Now what?”
The question hung in the air between them. They’d both done what they desperately wanted to do, what neither of them could have admitted at the safe house. But they’d come together in this place that was beyond the realm of ordinary life. Really, it was beyond her previous experience. She’s been in the VR. And she’d been in the real world. This was neither. And she wanted to stay here with Grant.
The concept was tempting, yet she knew that it was outside the laws of time and space. She could pretend they were safe, but that only increased the danger for both of them.
The insight made her clasp Grant more tightly, and in turn, he gathered her closer.
She snuggled against him, so glad to be in his arms like this.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“I think you had a lot to do with the great sex.”
She flushed. “Well, I was thanking you for coming here.”
“You called out to me.”
“How?”
“I don’t exactly know. Like I said, maybe I could hear you because of the way my brother and I communicate mind to mind.”
“But you don’t have a mental experience where you step into the same location?”
Never. We just have conversations in our heads that nobody else can hear.”
“And how do you start the conversation?”
“One of us ‘calls’ the other. Kind of like you called me.”
“But I didn’t know I was doing it.”
He shrugged. “It worked.”
“Did it really?” she asked.
Chapter Seventeen
As Jenny asked the question, everything around her changed. One moment she was in Grant’s arms. In the next heartbeat, she was back in the guest room of the safe house.
She had been on her side, snuggled against Grant. In reality, she lay on her back with the covers tangled
around her legs and her hand down the front of her sweatpants. She quickly pulled it out and lay with her breath coming fast, still awash in sexual satisfaction.
In the VR? No in her very own fantasy VR, where she’d been talking urgently to Grant, trying to reassure herself that he’d really been with her there and that the pleasure she’d experienced hadn’t been hers alone.
He’d told her he was with her, feeling the same things she was feeling. And of course he would say that in her fantasy. Yet the hand between her legs told her that she’d been the one to bring herself to climax. At least as far as reality was concerned.
The idea of facing Grant now made her face heat as it had a few moments ago in her dream encounter. Yet she couldn’t simply leave the all-important question hanging in her mind. Had he really been there making love with her?
Turning her head, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was four in the morning. Was Grant still downstairs? Or was she going to have to knock on his bedroom door?
Her mouth twisted into a grimace as she climbed out of bed, straightened her clothing, and headed for the door.
She didn’t want to face Grant now. Yet she knew honesty required her to do it.
Gripping the banister, she made her way down the steps, then into the great room. Grant was standing beside the easy chair, his gaze riveted to her. The moment she saw his face, she knew she hadn’t been conjuring up reassurances to make herself feel better. He had been in the fantasy VR with her.
She walked straight into his arms, and he clasped her to him, the way he had done when they’d been lying in that fancy bedroom a few minutes earlier.
Her arms tightened around him. “It was real,” she whispered.
“Sort of real.”
“I mean, we were together. It wasn’t just me, conjuring up a Grant simulacrum, like the woman who works behind the desk at the Mirador. Or the nurse who takes care of Shelly.”
“No. It was me—making love with you,” he said, his voice edgy and his meaning very clear.
She nodded against his shoulder. “I wanted you so much.”
“I wanted you too, but it seems neither one of us could admit it. We were each clutching at the reasons why we had to stay apart.”
But she could still feel her own uncertainty as they held each other.
“You put me in a guest room,” she said in a barely audible voice. “You should come up to bed with me now.”
“That’s what you want?”
“Yes.”
He clasped his hand with hers, and they climbed the steps to the second floor, where they walked into the room she’d just left.
When he looked at the bed, she flushed. “I guess I was pretty . . . restless.”
“Uh huh.”
He turned to her again, and they came together for a long sweet kiss.
Kissing and touching, they slowly undressed each other, then climbed into the bed. As they made love all over again, she savored every precious moment of the encounter. She wanted to be with this man—so much, even though she was still the woman who could bring down death and destruction on him and all of his friends.
But they were here together now. And she wouldn’t deny herself anything she could gather up from these precious moments with him.
“Our first time together,” she whispered as she lay in his arms in the aftermath.
“Yeah.” He settled her more comfortably against himself, and she nestled down to sleep beside him—overwhelmed by the luxury of the whole experience. When she reached for his hand, he wove his fingers with hers.
They could be a married couple, sleeping beside each other as they did every night of their lives. But they weren’t any kind of married couple, and sleeping beside Grant was a rare joy.
Questions were still swirling in her mind. But she wouldn’t spoil this moment by asking them. Not yet.
oOo
Grant woke early and turned his head, looking at the woman lying next to him. Making love with her had been fantastic—just as good in the real world as in the fantasy version of the VR.
Still, he didn’t trust Jenny any more than he would trust a sideshow barker touting the wonders of the exhibits inside the tent behind him.
He wanted to wake her up. Maybe in that moment when she was caught off guard, she’d tell him why she was still hiding something important from him.
Instead he eased out of bed, scooped up the clothing he’d discarded on the floor, and headed down the hall to his own room. After showering and dressing he went downstairs to the computer and scanned the e-mail from Decorah Security.
Using high tech equipment, Lily had been able to sequence the DNA from the two dead men. And Teddy used the information when he’d tapped into a government database.
It turned out that both men were petty criminals from New Jersey, which at least backed up the story about where Jenny was from. But that was as much as they’d been able to glean.
Grant made a low sound. Too bad he couldn’t talk about the results with Jenny. But if he did, he’d have to lie and say they had DNA from three dead guys—instead of the two actual bodies.
But he was sure the dead men weren’t the key to finding out what Jenny was hiding. It was the woman herself—if she’d only trust him enough to tell him what was going on. Which gave him an idea he hadn’t considered earlier. They’d taken DNA from the dead men, but they hadn’t tested Jenny. Suppose he got DNA from her? Would that tell them who she really was?
He sent a message to Lily.
“What if we test Jenny’s DNA?”
“Good idea. How do we get a sample?” she asked.
“I can get it at breakfast. But then what?”
“I can send a messenger over.”
“We’d better have a cover story for why he’s coming.”
“I decided she should be having protein shakes?”
“Okay.”
With the plan in place, he turned in a status report on the time since he’d left the Decorah patient facility—leaving out all of the personal stuff. He debated telling Mack about establishing a telepathic link with Jenny, then decided it was prudent to include the information. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to explain how they’d done it. He didn’t want to have a big discussion about that now.
After sending the message, he walked into the kitchen and checked out the supplies. In his family, the men had been as good with a skillet and spatula as the women. And the least he could do for Jenny was make her a good breakfast. The trouble was, he didn’t want to do the least. He wanted to do the most—if she would only let him.
oOo
Jenny woke much later than she expected and found that Grant had already gotten up—but let her sleep.
After a quick shower, she pulled on jeans and a knit top, then hesitated for a few moments. There was something she wanted to ask him, but was it a good idea to bring up—business?
Well, maybe there was no way around it, she told herself as she exited the bedroom.
She was still focused on the problem as she walked down the hall. But as she descended the stairs, delicious aromas wafted up toward her, making her stomach growl, and she realized that she’d eaten almost nothing in twenty-four hours.
When she walked into the kitchen, Grant was standing at the stove frying French toast. He kept his gaze focused on the skillet, making her wonder if he was having a similar problem to hers. Was there something he didn’t want to talk about—but felt was necessary?
Focusing on the food, she crossed the floor and picked up one of the pieces of bacon he’d fried.
“This is good.”
“Thanks.”
“I should be doing the cooking,” she said.
“Why?”
“It’s the woman’s job.”
He turned to her. “What would you have cooked if I hadn’t started breakfast?”
She looked at what he’d produced. “Probably burned toast and overdone scrambled eggs.”
When he raised an eyebrow
, she admitted, “I don’t actually know a lot about cooking.”
“You had a maid when you were a kid?”
“Yes. And later, too.” she said in a low voice, hoping she had made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about her background.
He gave her a quick look, then got down plates from the cabinet.
“Help yourself.”
She took another strip of bacon and two pieces of French toast, then poured on some of the syrup that was sitting on the counter.
“Coffee?”
“Yes,” she answered, thinking that this was another milestone—their first meal together. But how many more would there be?
They took seats across from each other. Focusing on her plate, she used her fork to cut the French toast and took a bite.
“Really good.”
“My dad taught me to make it.”
“What did he do? I mean his job.”
“He was an outfitter in Western Maryland.”
Glad to keep the conversation’s focus off herself, she asked, “What exactly is an outfitter? He made clothing?”
Grant laughed. “No, he took people on outdoor expeditions. Like rock climbing, whitewater rafting, camping in the wilderness. Exploring natural caves. And when my brother and I got old enough, we sometimes went along.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“You never did anything like that? I had friends whose sisters were Girl Scouts, and they got to go camping.”
“No, I was expected to be a perfect little lady.”
“Okay.”
She cut off a piece of French toast and pushed it around her plate, thinking it was better to shift away from herself, even if she didn’t exactly like the topic.”
“I wanted to ask you about that video you showed me yesterday.”
His head jerked up. “What about it?”
“Can I see it again?”
His voice took on a sharp edge. “Why?”
She picked her words carefully. “Maybe if I look at it, I can help you with some more information. Do you have a copy of the tape?”
“Yes. Maybe after breakfast we could look at it.”
“Thanks,” she said and went back to eating the meal he had prepared, although her appetite had diminished considerably. Afterwards she cleared the table, then opened the dishwasher, looking at the spokes inside and wondering exactly how to put the dishes in. She decided the plates should line up in rows and the cups should be in the top. When she turned around, she saw Grant watching her.