For Your Eyes Only

by Rebecca York

  She hardly noticed when he pulled her shirt over her head. All she knew was that she was gloriously free in his arms, moving her naked breasts against his chest, crying out with the rasp of his hair against her sensitized flesh.

  He clasped her to him, restricting her freedom of movement. “I want the pleasure of watching your face when I touch you in all the places that feel good.”

  She was beyond knowing what to expect from him— beyond knowing what to expect from herself.

  “I want you stretched out on that bed,” he whispered. “Beside me. With nothing between us.”

  A shiver went through her.

  “Does that frighten you?”

  “A little. But it makes me…hot.”

  “Good.” Again he took her hands and this time he brought them to the buckle of his belt. “But first I’d like some more help.”

  He waited patiently while she undid the belt and the metal hook at the top of his slacks before moving to the zipper, vividly aware of his rigid flesh behind it.

  She felt him stop breathing as she moved her hands to his hips, slipping them inside his slacks and under his shorts, caressing his strong muscles. She wanted this, wanted him naked so she could love him. It was as simple as that. So she hooked her thumbs over the edge of his pants and pushed her flattened palms down his slim flanks. He exhaled the breath he’d been holding then, telling her how much he liked what she was doing. Using his feet, he kicked the pants the rest of the way off and out of the way. Her hands slid up and down his hips and thighs, learning his superb body.

  There was one more place she needed to touch, one more part she needed to know. When her fingers brushed that hard shaft, he went absolutely still. She closed her hand around him, measuring his hot, rigid length and heard him utter an exclamation that was more groan than anything else.

  His forehead settled against hers. “Ah, Jenny, sweetheart, that feels so good. Too good.”

  He stepped back from her, and before Jenny could miss his touch, his hands were back on her, removing her remaining clothes.

  “Lord, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “You’d better let me lie down before you knock me off my feet.”

  She was the one who was having trouble standing. Just in time, she felt him bend to pull down the covers. Slipping between the sheets, she moved aside to make room for him.

  He came down beside her and gathered her to him. She snuggled against him, wrapped in his embrace, his scent, his warmth. She had never imagined this much joy.

  He kissed her eyelids and her cheeks before taking her mouth in a hot, deep kiss, and she discovered that there was more.

  “Let me love you, Jenny.”

  “Yes.”

  She thought he would part her legs and move between them, and she waited for the warm sensuality to change to insistent male urgency. Instead he pressed his lips to the thrumming pulse point at the base of her throat before sliding them lower, kissing the tops of her breasts and finally finding one distended nipple.

  “Oh, Ben. Oh,” she gasped in pleasure as he took it into his mouth and sucked. She gasped again as his fingers mirrored the erotic touch with the other side. A small explosion seemed to go off inside her, and she arched into the caress.

  He murmured low erotic phrases against her skin as his hand slid slowly down her body, giving her time to know where he was headed. When he cupped his fingers over the mound at the juncture of her legs, she tensed. But the tension changed into melting desire as he began to caress the exquisitely sensitive flesh.

  Again she called his name. Then she could only draw in panting little breaths as the gliding strokes of his fingers turned her molten. He took her to some high plane she had never visited before, then higher still. Until her body writhed and her hands moved restlessly, beseechingly over him.

  “Ben, please—” she pleaded, not even knowing what she sought.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “Oh, yes.”

  When his hands left her, she whimpered. He told her that he was getting the condoms he’d set on the night table. Then he was back with her, over her, gently moving between her legs.

  She felt his touch and started to tense, afraid she wouldn’t find pleasure in this part of their lovemaking. Her first surprise was his tender kiss as he surged forward and into her. Then he went absolutely still.

  “Ben,” she gasped.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. Oh, no.”

  “My sweet Jenny.” He kissed her as he began to move. At first it was a slow sensuous rhythm that tuned her body to his, then faster, as hot currents surged through her. Frantically she moved against him, desperate for something she couldn’t name. She felt as if she were on the verge of exploding. Her heart hammered, her body was drenched in sweat, vibrating with pleasure almost beyond bearing.

  She would die if she didn’t—if she didn’t—

  “Ben, I need—”

  His hand moved between them, stroking as he had before. Then, with a sudden convulsion, her whole body tightened and released over and over on wave after wave of ecstasy so intense that she sobbed out his name.

  She heard him shout something incoherent as he went rigid above her.

  Jenny clung to him, lost in a haze of rapture as little aftershocks of pleasure still quivered through her. Ben rolled to his side and took her with him. The physical storm had left her limp, the emotional storm was even more intense. “I didn’t know….” was all she could manage.

  He kissed her damp brow. “Well, now I feel damn cocky.”

  She giggled. “I guess you should.”

  An arrogant male laugh vibrated in his chest as she cuddled against him. “You must be exhausted. I am too. I only got a couple of hours sleep last night.”

  “So what are you like in bed when you’re fully rested?” she murmured.

  “You’ll find out later.” Reaching down, he pulled up the covers that had slipped to the bottom of the bed. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  L. J. SMITH GLANCED at the door, then back at the kneehole under his desk. Bolted to the right side was an easy-toaccess holster that had come in handy during business meetings back in the early days of Techno Transfer. He hadn’t used it in a few years, but this afternoon he’d loaded it with a .357 Magnum in preparation for his conference with Arnold Heiser. Heiser was one of the most talented hackers working for him, but also one of the most dangerous. A couple of times another fellow in the office—Billy Compton—-had tried to pick a fight with Heiser. He’d walked away in cold silence. After the second incident, Compton hadn’t come back to work. Smith was used to a certain amount of staff turnover. He just wasn’t sure that particular departure had been voluntary, or even whether Compton was still alive—even though he’d electronically transferred the remaining balance in his bank account to another institution. L.J. had ignored his nagging suspicions because Heiser was so good. Now he couldn’t afford that luxury.

  He turned to his computer and scanned his file on Heiser. Probably the man thought he’d wiped out his tracks, but L.J. knew a good deal about him. He was from Oklahoma City. He’d had a mediocre school record—and a couple of minor scrapes with the law. He’d kept to himself. No school sports. No after-school clubs. But he had taken a job as a bag boy at the local supermarket to make his spending money. The family had been lower-middle-class. There were two kids. The other was a sister who was fourteen years older. The parents were in their mid-fifties by the time Arnold was born. Pretty late for a pregnancy, Smith mused. The father had died the year after that. When Heiser was eight, the big sister had run off with a smalltime hood and never reappeared.

  L.J. paged down to the newest information, stuff he wished he’d dug up earlier. The week Heiser had left Oklahoma City, a woman who worked as a waitress at a diner near his home had been found dead in a rural area east of town. There was no conclusive proof that Heiser had done it. But the woman had been strangled—the same as Marianne Blaisdell, whose credit-card information had ended up i
n the Techno Transfer database.

  The door opened, and L.J. glanced through the window into the outer office. It was Heiser, right on time and looking pleased to be there. The rest of the staff had the evening off because L.J. had told them that the electric company had scheduled a power outage, so there was no point in hanging around.

  That gave him plenty of privacy for his chat with Heiser, who thought he was coming in to get a bonus for his excellent performance.

  JENNY STIRRED, suddenly aware that she was cold. Irrational panic seized her as she felt over the bed for the large, male body that had been keeping her warm.

  Ben wasn’t there, and she started to get up, then realized she was naked—except for her watch. She was still wearing it, and it told her the time was late afternoon.

  Heat flooded her as she recalled her lovemaking with Ben. She’d never thought she was capable of such sensuality, but he had proved her wrong—the way he’d challenged so many of her assumptions. He was a skilled lover. She had sense enough to realize that. But she had responded so deeply, so totally. And she knew that would be impossible unless…unless she loved him.

  The realization shook her. She’d been afraid to open herself so completely. But it had happened anyway. She’d been helpless to deny her feelings for Ben. She hugged the knowledge to her heart, wondering when she would have the courage to tell him, wondering when she’d lose the edge of worry that tempered the joy.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and the tempting aroma of food drifted toward her. Snatching at the covers, she pulled them above her breasts just before he stepped into the room.

  “Hi.” His greeting held that smile she’d come to savor so much.

  “Hi.” She’d bet her expression matched his.

  “How are you?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Glad to hear it. I brought us some supper.”

  “I eat a lot neater when I’m sitting at a table.”

  “I thought about that. But I wanted to keep you in bed.”

  She blushed.

  “For carnal purposes,” he clarified, his tone deepening.

  “Remember, you’re the one who said a three-pack wouldn’t be enough.”

  Her face was burning now.

  “But first I intend to feed you. It’s canned split pea soup. Carrot and celery sticks. Ham sandwiches on whole wheat. Iced tea.”

  “Sounds great. Would you hand me the robe hanging on the back of the closet door? So I can get up for a minute.”

  “I don’t mind the view.”

  She wished she could stop reacting so blatantly. “I’m not exactly used to this kind of thing.”

  “I see.”

  “So what are you wearing? Or are you walking around my house naked?” she suddenly asked.

  “Yeah, since I was planning to come back to bed.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  She heard him laugh as he put the robe into her outstretched hand. “Okay, I’m turning around so you can put it on.”

  “No cheating,” she warned.

  “No cheating.”

  She made a quick trip to the bathroom, then returned to the bed and heard him fluffing up the pillows.

  “Climb in and I’ll put the tray on your lap.”

  She followed directions. As he leaned over her, she caught the warm, familiar scent of his body.

  “Naked, huh? So how do you look?” she asked boldly.

  “One thing about hooking up with you, I don’t have to worry about appearances, do I? I’ve been told my face wouldn’t win a beauty contest.”

  “Right. You’re lucky beauty-contest winners don’t cut it with me. But I’ll bet women take a second and third look at your body. Give me a picture.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, I lift weights three days a week, and I run. My stomach’s still flat. I think you know my shoulders are pretty broad and that I’ve got a fair amount of hair on my chest. It’s dark. The same as on my head. And I’m five-ten.”

  “I think we’re skirting the parts in the middle,” she said, shocked that she could be so brazen.

  “If we get into that, we’re not going to get anything to eat—food, anyway,” he muttered. “And I’m hungry. So I’m going to get my supper.”

  Before she could react, he turned and left the room.

  She suppressed a giggle. While he was gone, she felt the contents of the tray, discovering where everything was.

  Ben came back and claimed the other side of the bed.

  “So, did hunger get you up?” she asked after taking a sip of the soup.

  “Partly. I also checked in with my office.”

  “And?”

  “Probably Jesse James used the Techno Transfer software to tap into World Connect.”

  “I should have asked before—what’s Techno Transfer?”

  “An outfit that specializes in computer-generated false IDs and stolen credit numbers. I’m almost positive the man who killed Marianne works for them.”

  She swallowed painfully. “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry I brought it up,” he muttered.

  “I’ll feel a lot better when he’s behind bars.”

  “I’m not going to leave you alone until he is.”

  “How? I mean—you have to work, don’t you?”

  “I took some personal leave.”

  “Ben, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to,” he said gruffly.

  They ate in silence for several minutes, and she sensed that he was still unsettled.

  “My cooking’s not as fancy as yours,” he finally said.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s hard for me to remember to put everything back in the right place. But I’m getting used to your kitchen. You’ll find most things where you left them. Except for the dirty dishes in the sink.”

  “You cooked. I’ll clean.”

  “It’s only about twenty minutes from here to my office.”

  She wondered where the string of observations was leading.

  “Your house needs some repairs. Like the back window that won’t open. And the trim that needs painting. I could do them.”

  “You don’t have to do all that for me.”

  “I’d want to.” He cleared his throat “If we got married.”

  She’d been caught in the act of picking up her soup mug. It clattered back onto the tray. Was it possible he’d said what she thought? “Wh-what?”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Ben, we hardly know each other.”

  “You think it’s a bad idea? Too soon? Am I crowding you?”

  “I love you,” she said thickly.

  He lifted the tray from her lap and set it on the bedside table, along with his own. Then he turned and gathered her close. “Maybe I didn’t say it right. I love you. I want to marry you.” His tone had turned mock playful, yet she sensed the urgency behind the words. “If you don’t say yes, I’m going to use every erotic technique I can think of to arouse you to a fever pitch of sexual need—and keep you that way until you tell me what I want to hear.”

  “You’d resort to torture?” she managed to say.

  “Yeah, I would.”

  “I’m too weak to withstand torture.”

  His hand cupped her breast. “Last chance,” he warned.

  “I guess I’d better say yes.”

  He hugged her fiercely, rocking her in his arms. “Okay. I pushed you pretty hard. But I swear you won’t be sorry.”

  “Ben, knowing you love me makes me so happy. But are you sure you don’t want more time to think about it? I mean, being married to me will—will mean extra responsibilities for you. I can do a lot of things but I still need help with shopping and I can’t drive and—”

  “Shhh.” He silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips. “We’ll work out the details later. I just want to know I have you for keeps.”

  She was still overwhelmed by the proposal, but she nodded against his hand.

  “When did�
�did you decide that?” she whispered, needing more confirmation that she wasn’t dreaming, that he’d offered her what she wanted most in the world.

  “When I saw you soaking wet, climbing up the hill from the reservoir,” he answered thickly. “I knew then what it would mean to lose you.” He sealed the assertion with a long, deep kiss.

  “I can’t keep my hands off you,” he growled as he began to touch her again in ways that made her tremble.

  A few minutes later, he demanded, “So was I the only one lying awake at night? Did you maybe entertain some secret fantasies about marrying me?”

  “Yes,” she admitted in a whisper.

  “Good. And did you have fantasies about this?” He took her hardened nipples between his thumbs and fingers, squeezing gently until she moaned with pleasure.

  “I didn’t know how much I’d like that.”

  “Well, we’ll have to find out what you like best, won’t we?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

  He devoted himself to that project until she was incandescent with desire.

  When he told her it was time to get the package of condoms on the bedside table, she grabbed his hand. “Don’t.”

  “You don’t want—?”

  She sucked in a shaky breath and let it out in a rush. “Don’t use one.” She felt him go absolutely still. “Something I did fantasize about was having your baby. If we’re getting married, then it should be okay.”

  He swore under his breath.

  She struggled to hold back her disappointment. “But if that’s going too fast for you…”

  “No.” He turned his hand and knit his fingers tightly with hers. “It was part of my fantasy, too. The whole enchilada. Married to you. Making babies. Us having a family.”

  Moisture gathered in her eyes. He brushed away the tear that began to slide down her cheek. His kiss was tender, then passionate as he eased back beside her on the bed and began again to teach her how much pleasure a man and woman could give each other. Only this time it was different—better, more intense—because she knew he loved her.