“Would you like to go to your room?” Donovan spoke softly at her shoulder. “I’m sending the bags up, and I’ll join you later. I told the team where we are, and now I need to dispose of the car.”
A momentary queasiness hit her at the thought of being separated from him. He made her feel safe, and Luxor had turned into a dangerous place. But she imagined this hotel had a bathtub to make her sigh with pleasure and enough aromatic toiletries to make her forget the street smells of food, exhaust, animals, and sweat. “The room sounds good,” she said, smiling.
He accompanied her upstairs, along with the bellhop. The duffle bags that had originally struck her as utilitarian now looked plain ratty in these luxurious surroundings. If the bellhop noticed, he was too polite to give any indication, and in fact smiled warmly at his generous tip.
Jess barely remembered to thank him before rushing past the elegant sitting area to the large window leading to a balcony with a view of the Nile. From the nighttime street below, cars and motor bikes revved their engines and honked horns, but the dark Nile was peaceful. Lines of feluccas bobbed at anchor near the shore, sails down and single masts arrowing upward toward the stars, while a large tour boat motored by, lights reflecting off the water in twinkling majesty. Across the river, floodlights from the Valley of the Kings cast a low glow in the sky.
She turned away reluctantly to survey the rest of the room and found it as impressive as the view—thick carpets, heavy red drapes, Victorian-style furniture, and through an open door, a glimpse of a beautifully tiled bath with a tub.
Also, one large bed. Donovan hadn’t bothered to consult her about sleeping arrangements. Dr. Epstein would find that pushy and presumptive. Jess approved.
Donovan stood with one hand on the doorknob, looking reluctant to leave. “I have to leave the car some distance away, so I might be forty-five minutes, an hour tops. Lock the door behind me. And stay in the room.”
“Don’t worry, I plan to be in the bathtub the whole time.”
His gaze heated. “Half an hour,” he said, revising on the spot. He left abruptly.
She went directly to the bathroom. It wasn’t large, but included a bidet and a small washer and dryer, which excited her far more than the flat-screen TV she’d noticed in the sitting area. As expected, the hotel supplied a wonderful assortment of toiletries that she opened and sniffed as she ran her bath water. Lining them up on the edge of the tub along with her razor, she slipped into the hot water and sighed. Perfection.
Tension seeped from her muscles, wiping away the last residual fear from the attack. They were safe; it was something she could rely on Donovan to ensure. The relief of not worrying was a luxury she could get used to. She lay back in the water, blissfully limp.
Jess considered whether she had time to wash and dry her hair before Donovan got back and decided that she probably didn’t, but that she wasn’t going to have sex with him with her scalp smelling like stale sweat. And they were definitely going to have sex. Holding her breath, she dipped beneath the water, letting it saturate every millimeter of skin and hair. Then she reached for the shampoo.
…
She was barefoot and wrapped in a fluffy hotel robe when the bathroom door opened. She turned the hair dryer off as she met Donovan’s gaze in the mirror.
“Thirty-five minutes,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Where did you leave the car?”
“At the bottom of the Nile.”
She was sure there was a story there, but the question flew from her mind as he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Sinking his face into her damp hair, he inhaled deeply. “Jesus, you smell good.” Before the pleasant tingles had a chance to travel all the way to her toes, he stepped away. “I need a shower.”
She actually hadn’t minded the scent of dust and sweat on him, but he was already peeling off his clothes. She didn’t mean to stare, but he wasn’t watching her, and what woman could look away from that fine ass? He stepped into the water, and she bit her lip, holding back a groan as she turned the dryer back on. Another five minutes would do it, and that’s probably all the time it would take him to shower.
She was reaching inside the voluminous sleeves of her robe, applying lotion to her arms when the water shut off. Two minutes later he stepped behind her again and took the bottle from her hands. “Let me,” he said. His voice was low and rumbly, stirring the fine hairs on her neck to attention. He poured a dab on his hand and rubbed his palms together, then reached inside the collar of her robe and began smoothing the silky cream over her shoulders.
She nearly melted against him. His touch was gentle but firm, a caress that turned into a massage. When he pushed the robe over her shoulders to expose more skin, she didn’t object, it felt incredible. She moaned and rolled her head as his fingers found places beneath her skin that the hot water hadn’t reached, removing tension she hadn’t known was there. It was calming and luxurious, and she lifted her eyelids lazily to watch in the mirror.
He wore nothing but a towel riding low on his waist. All she could see of his chest was wide, beautifully sculpted shoulders that promised to narrow to the lean hips she’d already seen from behind. His biceps flexed and rippled as he ministered to her tired muscles. Her gaze drifted lower, and she regretted that his thighs were hidden beneath the towel. A towel that could be removed with one flick of her finger. A whole new brand of tension poured through her.
His fingers stopped. She raised her eyes to find him watching her in the mirror. Slowly, he trailed his hands down her arms to her waist, drawing her back against him. With only her robe and his towel between them it wasn’t difficult to feel his erection pressing against her lower back.
He grasped the ties of her belt as he dipped his head next to her ear. “I believe I’d like to take you up on that offer you made in Chicago.” She didn’t have to ask which offer. Clearly, he was referring to her brief loss of sanity when she’d offered to fuck his brains out. Except now it didn’t sound insane, it sounded inspired.
His hands worked the tie until it fell open. The robe parted slightly but not enough to reveal anything. He raised his hands and helped himself, slipping it farther down her shoulders until her breasts were exposed. He cupped a hand beneath each one, stroking gently and flicking her nipple as it turned to a hard bud beneath his touch.
She stared at their reflections, entranced. His touch was confident, unhesitating, and he didn’t pause to ask permission in the tender, considerate manner Gene had used. According to Dr. Epstein this was the sort of approach that should have her shrinking away in fear, her hormones shutting down fast enough to frost his testicles. But happily, her body wasn’t in agreement with her therapist. Desire rushed between her thighs, dampening her curls.
She saw her cheeks flush with excitement before she let her head loll back. Her breasts swelled in his hands and wet heat zapped her pelvis. Apparently she could cross one worry off her list—she hadn’t brought along the lubrication that had always been a necessary aid with Gene and the two men before him, but it looked like she wouldn’t need it. Her body was doing just fine on its own.
She’d barely processed that when he turned her in his arms. Running his hands into her hair, he lifted it then let it fall, sliding it through his fingers as he brushed kisses over her cheek. “You drive me crazy,” he murmured.
She could say the same. She slid her hands around his back, pressing into what felt like a solid wall of muscle. Her breasts brushed his chest, tickled by a sprinkling of dark hair. She couldn’t help but make comparisons with Gene—Donovan was slimmer and yet more muscular, hard where Gene had been soft. Decisive where Gene had been hesitant. And scruffy with what was now at least four-day’s growth of beard, where Gene’s cheeks had been smooth and soft. Gene had even shaved before the few times they’d had sex out of consideration for her delicate skin, so as to not leave whisker burn. She’d thought that had been nice. Now she found herself eager to have Donovan’s rough cheeks rub against her, ev
en if it irritated her skin. She was up for a good, hard dose of testosterone.
She wondered if he was making comparisons, too, and what kind of women he usually chose. Gorgeous women, she was certain. Worldly and sexy. Probably beautiful but tough, like Avery. That seemed more likely than the sheltered, mousy type she’d always been, afraid of the world and obsessed with taking precautions. She was truly the rabbit to his wolf—her father had gotten that part right.
Damn it, she didn’t want Donovan to see her like that. It hit her hard, like a slap to the psyche, a realization that she didn’t want to fit the mold she’d been trying so hard to wedge herself into for the past ten years. She wanted to be an equal partner with Donovan, at least in his bed. She might not know how to shoot a submachine gun or take out enemy forces like Avery undoubtedly did, but she was a woman with sexual desires and she enjoyed having sex. If she didn’t enjoy it quite as fully as most other women, at least she could make sure that he did.
Well, she could do her best, anyway. That hadn’t always been enough for Gene, but Donovan seemed to be a lot more motivated than her last lover.
Currently, his motivation was making a tent in front of his towel. As he took her mouth with his she slipped her hand down and pulled the towel off. She didn’t have a chance to look down because her tongue was suddenly occupied and didn’t want to stop, but she had the pleasure of reaching around to slip her hands around the tight cheeks of his ass and squeeze. He groaned and pressed closer, and his erection slipped through the open front of her robe, probing against her abdomen. He pushed her robe the rest of the way off. It pooled at her feet and nearly tripped her as he backed her against the bathroom wall and ground into her.
He was eager and insistent, and she was breathless with the knowledge that she did that to him. He wanted her, and it only increased her desire to feel how much. How big. She reached between them, wrapping her hand around him and stroking as she mimicked the move with her tongue.
He raised his head as he pushed into her hand and groaned, “Jesus, Jess.” Encouraged, she slid her hand lower, cupping his balls as she sank down to take him into her mouth.
He caught her arms seconds later, jerking her upright. “Damn, woman. Too much.” Pulling back, he led her the short distance to the bed. It had been made when she went into the bathroom. Now the covers were turned down and a condom sat on the nightstand. No, two condoms. She smiled.
Before she knew what was happening, he scooped her off her feet and laid her on the bed. He climbed over her, a knee on each side pinning her in place. The erection she’d been fondling jutted upward above her stomach. A quiver of anticipation went through her, and she raised her hips in a silent plea.
His eyes turned dark and hungry, but he seemed to be in no hurry to satisfy her. Holding himself above her, he kissed her breasts, licking and sucking until she squirmed from the intense pleasure rocketing down to pool between her thighs. “Patience,” he murmured, kissing her mouth. His hand slipped down her stomach and into the cleft between her legs. The quiver became an electric shock as he slid a finger inside her, then stroked her once, his finger sliding through wetness as it moved upward to press against her clitoris. She sucked in a gasp at the strong ripple of pleasure. God, if he did that again she’d come right out of her skin.
He chuckled and murmured, “Holy shit, Jess.” She had no idea what that meant, but it sounded reverent, so she figured it was good.
His mouth went back to her breasts, a heavenly sensation that also gave her the opportunity to run her hands over the muscles of his back as they bunched and rippled, and down to his slim hips and tight ass. God, the man was hard all over. She’d never thought a perfect body was important, not if the man had a good heart and soul, but it turned out there was a lot to be said for physical perfection.
His mouth moved between her breasts, and the scratch of his whiskers against her soft skin sent another bolt of heat streaking downward. Everything that marked him as different from the men she usually dated seemed to be a major turn-on. His mouth moved lower, and his hands followed, framing her waist, then her hips. She knew where he was going and started to tense. Gene’s tentative licks down there had felt good, but mainly made her self-conscious.
“God, Jess,” he murmured. “I love the way you smell, and the softness of your skin.”
She relaxed, sighing as his fingers smoothed the thin line of hair between her legs.
“And I love how wet you are for me.” His finger dipped in and circled again, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
“And the way you taste.” His tongue touched her, as she’d known it would. But it didn’t dart away again as she’d expected. It pushed firmly against her and licked a wide path straight up to the sensitive nub at the top.
“Ohmygod!” Her nerve endings exploded and her hips raised against his mouth in a purely involuntary reaction, seeking more. Before her surprise had a chance to ebb, he did it again and her brain shorted out. She sucked in a quick breath, nearly choking on it as his tongue dallied over her clitoris. As she squeaked out a strangled, “Tyler,” he plunged two fingers inside her. With a hoarse cry she came apart, muscles clenching around his fingers as she helplessly rode the delicious spasms that tore through her. When they finally stopped, she released her clenched grip on the blanket and covered her eyes with the back of her hand, panting heavily.
He laughed softly and raised himself to hover over her face. “God, you were so ready for that, Jess.”
“You have no idea.”
He kissed her, and a combination of her taste and his mingled in her mouth. The realization sent another shiver of excitement through her, and she kissed him again, just because she hadn’t had a lover like him before and had no idea where she’d find another one. “Thank you, that was wonderful, but I was kind of hoping we’d do that together.”
“We will, sweetheart. Don’t you believe in multiple orgasms?”
“Yes, but…” With a real person? She didn’t want to tell him how unlikely that was. He wasn’t listening, anyway. He was kissing her cheek just in front of her ear while his hand teased her nipple to alertness and his erection rubbed between her legs, just off target enough to drive her crazy. So she started paying attention to what he was doing, turning her head to catch his lips with hers, arching her breast into his palm, and reaching down to stroke his hard length. This time he uttered a happy, “Mmm,” and allowed her a couple long strokes before sinking against her to trap her hand and prevent any further touching. Groaning into her neck, he said, “It feels too good when you touch me.”
It felt good to her, too, especially when his erection pushed against her so close to where she wanted it. And she did want it. That pulsing hunger was building inside her again, and even if she couldn’t achieve an orgasm, she wanted to have him inside her, to feel him stiffen with his own pleasure. Feeling beside the bed, she found the condom and ripped it with her teeth.
“In a hurry?” he asked, smiling.
“Yes.” He wouldn’t understand, and she didn’t want to explain that the sort of eagerness she felt right now rarely happened to her, and when it did, it never lasted long enough to become more than a vague hope of fulfillment. But he’d made her come alive, and all she knew was that she had to have him inside her now. Pushing him off, she sat up and fitted the condom over him, hurriedly rolling it down his length. He watched through narrowed eyes, then pushed her back down and climbed between her legs.
His gaze had gone all dark and serious, watching her as he spread her legs farther apart. She felt vulnerable and aroused at the same time. She stared back, drinking in every move he made, every glimmer in his dark eyes. Touching her again, he rubbed and circled with his fingers, making her even wetter. She squirmed from the desire building inside her. “Please, Tyler,” she whispered.
He smiled, then leaned over her and reached between them to place himself at her opening. His eyes held hers as he paused there, barely inside her, and the crazy, restless fee
ling increased until she wanted to scream, “Now! I need you now!”
As if he’d read her mind, he pushed inside in one smooth stroke, filling her. She sighed and closed her eyes, tilting her hips to feel him better, to absorb every wild twinge of pleasure jolting her just from having him inside her. This sexy, dangerous man, who was supposed to make her frigid with terror, instead heated her like no one else ever had.
He moved with a deliberate thrust, rubbing against her at the end, and her eyes popped open. It felt good, so good that she wanted to open herself farther to take in more of him. She lifted her knees higher, watching him move with breathless fascination.
His gaze sharpened. Reaching behind one knee, he pulled her leg up, accomplishing exactly what she’d wanted, opening her to him completely. With his eyes holding hers, he pumped into her. Faster. Harder.
She gasped at the jolt of pleasure, then lost herself to amazement as she realized the urgent, intense pressure was building to another climax. She panted a breathless, “Oh,” then wasn’t sure if she closed her eyes or simply lost the ability to see as an explosion of pleasure rocked through her, gripping her muscles so hard she stopped moving, lost in rigid, toe-curling joy.
Donovan’s shoulders bunched and he groaned into her neck as he thrust against her one final time, his release seconds behind her own. The wonderful explosions trailed off until she lay still beneath him, lazily trailing her fingers up his back and threading them into his hair. She stared at the ceiling, lost in awe and thrilled to her toes.
She’d come! The Big O. She’d climaxed with a man. A handsome, sexy, smart man, who was also bossy and domineering and oh yeah, don’t forget, a killer. He’d given her the best, biggest orgasm of her life. With his penis! And, oh God, with his tongue. A sound escaped her throat, half laughter and half sob.
He raised his head, his smile changing to a look of confusion. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head and gave him a weak smile. Then—damn it—a tear leaked from the side of her eye.
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