When he set her on her feet the first thing she did was pull the curtains closed. Then she stepped into his arms.
He tried to undress them both between long kisses, hands fumbling. Isabel took pity on him finally and stepped back. Watching his eyes she pulled that soft nightgown over her head and let it drop, then stepped out of her panties.
She seemed uncertain as she watched him carefully and Joe couldn’t understand that. She was perfection itself. Long slender neck, delicate collarbones, full breasts, tiny waist, long slender legs.
“God.” He reached out a hand and hesitated a second. He had such rough hands, callused hands. Was he going to scratch that delicate skin? She took hold of his hand and placed it on her left breast. He smoothed his hand gently over that incredibly satiny skin and felt her heartbeat pounding.
She was excited. God, so was he.
A heartbeat. She was alive, in this room, with him, when she should have been in the ground these past six months. His own living miracle.
“Now you,” Isabel said, looking at his sweatpants.
God yes. He shucked them without taking his eyes off hers.
Isabel placed her palm at the top of his chest and ran it slowly down him. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered and he’d have laughed if he could have.
He blew out a breath. “I don’t have condoms, Isabel.” He could have slapped himself but it wouldn’t have made any difference. He didn’t have condoms with him and he didn’t have them in his house, either. And he wasn’t about to get dressed and cruise town for an open drugstore. No, sir.
He could lie and say that he had tons of self-control and would pull out in time and in the past that would have been true. But right now he knew he had very little self-control.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything but she surprised him. She stepped forward, right into his arms, breast to chest. She burned him all along his front.
“I was put on the pill,” she said, watching his face. “There’s been no one for quite a while and I’ve had every blood test known to man.”
Joe froze then huffed out a strong breath. Bareback.
“I haven’t had sex in at least two years,” he answered. “And ditto the blood tests. Don’t even have high cholesterol.”
She smiled but he didn’t smile back.
The idea of entering Isabel bare was making him shake. He was so excited he thought his heart would hammer its way out of his chest.
He was...dangerous. He had to be really, really careful here. He had strong hands, he had to be gentle and he didn’t know how to do that so he did the only thing he could. He walked to her bed and lay down on his back, hand out.
“Come to me, Isabel,” he whispered. If she was on top she could maintain some control.
She took his hand and moved to him. He caught one knee and gently lifted it over him. Isabel moved over him, braced herself on her hands, bent her head to his, her hair a soft curtain that closed them off in a private magic kingdom.
Joe stared into her eyes, hands roaming up and down that satiny back.
“I’m not going to last at all the first time,” he whispered. “Just so you know.”
She smiled faintly, bent down farther and kissed him.
Joe pulled his cock away from his belly, positioned it against her opening, wanting so badly to go slow, knowing he wasn’t going to manage it.
“Now, Joe,” Isabel said into his mouth and he thrust upward, hard, spilling as he entered her, his entire body shaking and sweating, coming as hard as a freight train. He jerked and trembled and kissed her and held her tight, completely out of control.
It ended, finally. He gentled his hands, pressed his head back against the pillow, completely ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, Isabel,” he said, laying a forearm against his eyes. He couldn’t stand to look at her.
“Whoa.” Isabel peeled his forearm away. Smiled into his eyes. “I came, too, didn’t you feel it?”
God no, he’d been too busy living through his own personal earthquake. But he thrust a little in her and she was very wet. Maybe not just from him.
“You did?” His voice was hoarse. She smiled and nodded.
Thank you, God. That was an orgasm he didn’t deserve. Someone up there loved beat-up soldiers.
She was smiling and she wasn’t mad. Another miracle.
Joe was still rock hard. He hadn’t even taken the edge off.
He rolled over, taking her with him and smiled down into her eyes. He moved in her a little, knowing he’d have better control this time.
“And now,” he said, “for my next trick...”
* * *
Isabel woke up smiling. No nightmares. None. Of course Joe had kept her awake most of the night so she hadn’t had time for any REM sleep. Whatever, she felt rested and...happy.
Wow. Happy.
She was lying on a strong, broad chest with a nap of rough curly chest hair. This guy didn’t manscape like everyone she knew. No, it was like resting on a soft carpet over a hard floor. Her ear rested against his chest and she could hear the steady heartbeat. Sixty beats a minute. A beat a second. So steady it felt like a machine that could go on forever.
Well, last night it hadn’t been that steady. After that first wrenching orgasm, Joe had been breathing like a bull and she could see the fast heartbeats throbbing in the veins of his neck. Fast and hard.
Her lips curled at the memory.
Joe’s hand was cupping the back of her head and his hand tightened briefly. “I can hear that smile.”
His voice was so deep, a low rumble in his chest.
The idea of hearing her smile charmed her. “Can you? You have very keen hearing.”
“You have no idea.” He gently pulled her head up until they were staring at each other. “Good morning.”
This morning his face was sheer sex appeal. All of him was, actually. From the sexy smile in a stubbled face, the wide shoulders, the lean muscles, the red-hot heat in his dark eyes, it all spelled sex. Writ large all over him.
Isabel blushed all over as she remembered last night and his eyes grew even darker as he saw her blush. His mouth tilted up on one side. “I love it when you do that.”
Isabel blew her bangs out of her eyes. “What, blush? I should be way beyond blushing. It’s embarrassing.”
She was propping herself up on his chest with one forearm. Next to her thigh, his penis started hardening. Which was amazing, considering last night. She’d had a banker boyfriend who’d had fewer erections in six months of dating.
“I like making you blush,” he stated and his eyes dropped to her mouth. Isabel knew she looked like a woman who’d had sex all night. Her hair was a tangle of curls that would take a brush with stiff bristles to tame. She was sure she had beard burn all over her face, neck and, um, breasts and probably had a few hickeys, too. She hadn’t had a hickey since the early years of high school. Her mouth felt swollen. Everything felt swollen, including the tender tissues of her sex.
She blushed even harder.
Without any visible effort, Joe placed his big hands under her arms and lifted her fully over him. They were laying face-to-face, breast to chest, groin to groin. And he was now fully erect. Again. His penis was like a warm steel tube against her belly, growing warmer and harder by the second.
“You are, um...” she whispered.
“Yeah. Hell yeah.” His voice was hoarse, eyes burning into hers. He squinted, as if she were a thousand miles away and he had to see every nuance of her expression. “You up with that?”
Was she up with that? She’d had more sex last night than in the past year. And the past six months after the Massacre had been like an historical period, the Era of No Sex. 400-300 BC. It was hard to remember, it felt like eons ago. At the time, she couldn’t imagine anyone touching her or wanting to be touched. Her entire body had been dead to sex, lifeless and dry. She wasn’t lifeless and dry now.
Isabel pressed down with her belly just as he pressed upward and h
er entire body just bloomed with heat. It opened up, happy to be here in bed with Joe. Knowing for a certainty that good things were about to happen.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded strangled. She coughed to loosen it up. “Yes, it appears that, um, though my head says ‘enough is enough’, my body seems to have other ideas.”
His face was sober now, tense, white lines bracketing his mouth. Thin nostrils flared as they took in more oxygen. “Let’s see,” he said suddenly.
What did he mean—oh. A big hand smoothed over her bottom, farther down, slid a finger inside her. She was wet, ready. Her body knew that before her head did.
Joe lifted his head and kissed her, one of those melting kisses where she had to close her eyes because they couldn’t stay open. His entire body was kissing hers. Wiry chest hairs rubbing against her erect nipples, hard belly rubbing against hers, rough-haired thighs opening hers. His hand cupped a breast, callused thumb circling her nipple, an electric arousal. Oh God, it felt like her skin was crackling, like some painless fire was burning her alive, only it wasn’t killing her, it was bringing her back to life.
His mouth moved to her ear, giving it a little nip that brought goose bumps. He kissed it, whispered, “Lift up.”
Isabel could hardly breathe from the excitement. She had to consciously expand her lungs and pull in breath.
“Lift,” he growled.
She lifted, coming up on her knees. Still watching her carefully, Joe fit himself to her and slowly, slowly guided her down on him, holding her hips.
The pleasure was so intense it felt electric. “God,” she gasped.
“Tell me about it.” His face was tense, rigid. Everything about him was rigid, tightly holding on to control. When he was completely inside her, he stopped, lifting up to kiss her.
As if she needed more stimulation.
Isabel angled her head, licked her tongue in his mouth and felt the answering surge of his penis inside her. Her body answered the only way it knew how, clenching tightly. They gasped in each other’s mouths.
Isabel licked his lips, moved her mouth over that strong, stubbled jaw, licked his ear, bit his earlobe. With each movement of her mouth, his movements grew stronger, faster. She bit his mouth and he jolted, lifting his hips off the bed, moving incredibly deep inside her.
Isabel moaned and Joe wrapped his arms around her so tightly she could feel every movement he made inside her and out. As he started thrusting hard, she was riding him with her body, her belly feeling his rock-hard belly against her, the hair on his thighs abrading the insides of hers, his hands holding her to him as he thrust inside her. Every single inch of her felt possessed by him, touched by him, her body as an extension of his, their excitement rising together, identical, until with a hoarse groan that felt wrenched from him, he started spilling inside her just as she rose over the top. With him.
Spent, Isabel fell bonelessly forward, lying on Joe’s hard, muscled body, breathing heavily. She felt like she’d run a marathon at the spa. Exhausted, yet jazzed. Her body was humming but her mind was completely empty.
When she moved, he slipped out of her and she was sorry but the rest of his body was exciting enough. There was no sexual energy left in her, all fizzled out, though she was still able to appreciate the perfect specimen beneath her. Her hands came to rest on the balls of his shoulders, the muscle there so hard she couldn’t dent it with her fingers.
“Wow,” she murmured, eyes closed. A little nap right about now sounded just great. Vast physical effort, blinding pleasure, a little nap. Perfect sequence of events.
She could feel Joe pushing his chin down to look at her. All he’d be seeing was the top of her head. Her tangled bed-hair head.
“Not so fast, Sleeping Beauty.” He tensed beneath her.
Another round? God no. She couldn’t possibly. The newly awakened sexual part of her brain consulted her body for a second, but nope. Not happening. This was the time of lax muscles and that little nap. Besides, he wasn’t growing erect. If he had he’d have been a wonder of nature or else he’d swallowed about ten little blue pills.
“We’re not sleeping.”
“We’re not?” she asked, not really caring what he said. She wasn’t getting up for anything or anybody. “Yes we are. At least I am. I’m staying right here.”
“Nope, honey. I’m really sorry to contradict you, but we’re getting up.”
In your dreams. With difficulty she dragged her hand out from under the warm covers where it had been perfectly happy to clutch his shoulder. In comparison to the warm cozy space under the covers, the air felt cold. She held out her index finger and wagged it back and forth in the universal “no” sign, then put her hand back under the warm covers against his hot skin, where it belonged.
He grabbed her hand, kissed it and sighed. “We gotta get up, honey. Sorry.” And the beast threw the covers off!
Without opening her eyes, she reached down blindly to grab them, pull them up and huddle deeper in the warm blankets. Then, in an act of incredible cruelty, he pulled them away again.
She sat up, indignant. Joe smiled into her eyes and tapped her mouth. The one he’d kissed all night. “God, you’ve got a sexy pout.”
“I’m not pouting,” she huffed.
“World-class pout. A real champ. I’d love to let you sleep, but I can’t, because in about an hour’s time Metal and Jacko are coming over and I don’t think you want to find yourself opening the door in your nightgown.” His smile was pure sex, eyes narrowed as he glanced at her nightgown on the floor, where she’d tossed it. He could have no idea that in her pre-Joe stage, a nightgown of hers would never be on the floor. Ever. Apparently fabulous sex made you lower your housekeeping standards.
“Wait.” She frowned. “I thought they were coming over in the afternoon to play poker in your house. What are they coming here for this morning?”
“We’ll play poker all right. Later.” Joe’s face went from pure male sensuality to sober soldier in an instant. “This morning we’re all going to work to make your place more secure than Fort Knox. Remember I said that last night? No one is ever going to creep up close to your house and look in your bedroom window.” He gave a short, sharp nod. “You can take that to the bank.”
Something loosened inside her, something she hadn’t realized was twisted tight. “You really believe me then. That there was someone here last night.” It mattered. He wouldn’t have called in his friends and colleagues if he thought she’d conjured up an intruder in her sick mind.
Joe’s face pulled tight. “Of course I believe you. The fact that I couldn’t find evidence doesn’t mean anything. The ground was too cold to bear prints and I imagine he wouldn’t be foolish enough to smoke a cigarette and throw the butt on the ground. But someone was here. And he had night vision. That’s not ever going to happen again.”
“Thank you,” Isabel said quietly. She was wide-awake now. Joe and his friends were going way out of their way to help her. She knew only one way to pay them back. “I’ll fix lunch for all of us and then snacks for the poker players and then dinner for Felicity and Lauren. It’s the least I can do.”
“Breakfast, too? Or is that pushing it?”
Pushing it? After the best night of her life, after he was going to spend his morning and afternoon making sure she was going to be safe, breakfast, lunch, snacks and dinner were definitely not pushing it. His friends were going to dedicate at least a half day to her safety. And Felicity and Lauren? She was starved for female company. She was going to take enormous pleasure in preparing a light dinner. It used to be her specialty—chick food.
This was going to be fun.
Isabel rolled that idea around in her head, tasting it, savoring it.
Fun.
Something that had fled her life six months ago.
She cupped Joe’s bristly, square jaw. His skin was hot, the unshaven beard rough. She hoped he never grew a beard, fashionable as they were nowadays. It would hide the crisp clear lines of his jaw.
Isabel smiled into his eyes. “Breakfast coming right up. And if your friends are going to help me make this house more secure, I am more than happy to feed them. Particularly since, according to local gossip, they’re going to lose their pants to you at poker. Consider lunch and snacks their consolation prize.”
Chapter Six
Washington, DC
The rally was held in the Sentinel Hotel, two blocks from the Burrard, which was still being restored. Party leaders would have wanted the rally to be in the Burrard itself, but the reconstruction work kept getting bogged down in setbacks.
Which, of course, Blake was organizing. A broken, burned-down Burrard, still in ruins, was a potent symbol of failure. Of an inability to pick up, restore and move on.
Exactly what he wanted and what his team of men orchestrated. Every night a team of men went in quietly and undid the repair work and set little traps guaranteed to slow work the next day.
The consortium of owners had gone through three construction companies and was about to fire the fourth. Of course nobody knew he held a majority share through lawyers. That was how he’d gotten the blueprints to set the explosives.
The Burrard was gone and would never come back. Hector Blake would make sure of it. And in a year or two, when the plan was complete, it wouldn’t be just the Burrard that would be a smoking ruin. Half the country would be a wreck.
So today’s rally was in the Sentinel, old and staid and not giving off the vibe the Burrard, all sleek glass and steel, would have.
After their talk at the Voyagers Club, Blake hadn’t contacted London in any way. Neither had any member of his staff been in touch. London would be puzzled. He might even wonder if he’d imagined their meeting, imagined Blake handing him the nomination on a plate.
Because this was Blake’s event, no question. His face was on a thousand posters, on banners held high in sweating fists, on screens set throughout the huge ballroom. The crowd spilled out from the hotel, lining the sidewalk. His handlers had herded them out here so that the journalists could shoot him emerging from his limo walking straight into a warm bath of wildly enthusiastic supporters.
Midnight Secrets Page 10