Their lips met in a kiss that began gently but escalated until finally Patrick wrenched his mouth away and bent quickly to the tub. “They might not be thrilled if this tub overflowed,” he grunted, turning off the taps. “Crawling laundry’s one thing. A flood’s something else.” Straightening, he turned to Jordanna. Eyes holding hers, he lowered his briefs and kicked them off.
Jordanna knew that her breathlessness was not from the tickling he’d given her moments before. Swallowing hard, she let her gaze fall. If what she’d felt, if what had given her such pleasure the night before had been magnificent, the virile display before her was no less.
“Oh, Pat,” she whispered with what little breath she could find, “you’re beautiful too.” Inching closer, she put a hand on his chest, then slowly lowered it until what she’d seen was at her command. The dignity with which Patrick had endured her scrutiny began to disintegrate with his flagrant response to her touch. His arms gently circled her back, muscles quivering in restraint.
“You won’t think so in another minute,” he growled. “This tile floor’s even harder than the wood one out there.”
Eyes closed, Jordanna turned in to his chest, kissing him slowly, savoring his textured skin beneath her lips. When her tongue darted out to taste his hard nipple, he jerked.
Taking her face in both of his hands, he forced it up. “The bath?” he suggested.
“Hmm?” She was in a daze of pleasure that had blotted out even the gritty feel of her own body.
“The bath, Jordanna,” he repeated, more gently this time as he kissed first one eye, then the other. “I want to be clean for you too, angel. Clean and fresh and smelling of something other than a creature of the wild.”
“Creatures of the wild are intoxicating,” she said.
“They can be pretty rank.”
Her eyes opened. “Were you worried? Last night, I mean?”
“Not then. Well, maybe a little. But when you’re out there and you get used to feeling, uh, earthy, things take on their own perspective. Here in this place, it’s another ball game.”
She smiled. “I do believe you’re blushing.”
To compensate, he manufactured a scowl. “Would you like a bath, or am I going to take it by myself?”
“I want one. I want one.” Turning, she dunked a toe, then a whole foot. “Ahh, hot water.” Then she was stepping into the tub and sinking down, moaning at the only other pleasure that might have had a chance against Patrick’s masculine allure. “This is heaven!”
“How quickly she changes gear,” he teased, staking claim on the opposite end of the tub by folding his large body therein.
Much as he might have been ribbing her, he changed gear with alacrity himself. There was nothing seductive about the way they scrubbed themselves, bandying the soap back and forth as though it was the only thing that mattered. When the water was sufficiently dirty, they stood while it drained. Meeting the physical challenge, they bent to the tap, twisting and contorting, laughing in turn, until both scalps were squeaky clean. Then, rationalizing that they had a right to one bath each, they filled the tub again. This time Patrick stretched out and settled Jordanna between his legs. Her head fell back on his shoulder. His arms lightly circled her stomach. For the moment sexual needs were forgotten.
“Nice?” he murmured against her ear.
“Oh, yes,” she replied. Clean and warm, her skin tingled. A delicious languor suffused her limbs. “Peaceful. Very peaceful.” It was true. She felt wonderfully at home in Patrick’s arms. Closing her eyes, she sighed.
“I agree.”
“Peaceful?”
“Your sigh. Relaxed. Lazy. Unable to bear the thought of moving an inch.”
And so they lay there, steam from the tub wafting over them. Time passed, but they were oblivious. Eyes closed, nestled together, they prized long moments of pleasure. Only when the water began to cool did Jordanna look down to see tiny goose bumps prickling her breasts.
“I’m thinking the same thing,” Patrick mused. “It’s about that time.”
Setting Jordanna forward, he put a hand on either side of the tub and hoisted himself up, stepped out and reached for the thick terry towels that awaited on the nearby rack. Slinging one over his shoulder, he held the other open for Jordanna.
Suddenly the peace of moments before seemed to evaporate, replaced by the sexual tension they’d encountered before in the bedroom. The bath had been a strange buffer, a thing of necessity. But it was done now. And what was to come?
Jordanna knew. She also knew, with a flash of conviction, that it too was a necessity. She needed another dose of Patrick as badly as she’d needed that bath.
Eyes holding his, she rose from the tub and stepped out onto the mat to be enfolded in the towel he held. He patted her face dry with its ends, his eyes flowing from one to another of her features, worshiping each in turn. When he released the towel to reach for his own, Jordanna continued the work herself. The terry was an abrasive stimulant to her awakening flesh; her pulse quickened with each stroke. As she watched Patrick dry himself, she mirrored his movements. It was as though he, rather than the towel, were touching her. In a sense he was; his gaze followed her actions as hers followed his.
Not a word was spoken, but the air hummed with sensual awareness. In a bid to diffuse its frightening force, Jordanna abruptly raised the towel to her head and, bending from the waist, began to scrub at her hair. Most of the moisture had left it as she’d lain against Patrick in the tub. By the time she was finished with the towel, her short auburn crop was barely damp. Wrapping the towel around her waist, she turned to the mirror and began to finger-comb the thick strands. Within seconds Patrick materialized behind her. His hair was in a like state of semi-dryness, falling loosely in place, looking daringly rakish.
Catching her raised elbows, he slid his hands down until his fingers touched the side swells of her breasts. Jordanna held her breath and watched in the mirror as he cupped, then gently kneaded them. Her nipples grew taut. Grasping them between thumbs and forefingers, he tugged them until her head fell back and she whimpered in desire. He drew her back then, pressing her snugly against him. His own desire was blatant, his breath came unevenly by her ear. When she would have turned in search of greater satisfaction, though, he stepped back to drop his towel on the sink.
Silently he took her hand and led her into the bedroom where the four-poster bed waited. He tugged back the heavy quilt until the sheets lay invitingly, then turned to her.
Heart pounding so hard she felt he had to be able to see it, she tipped her head up at the guidance of his hands. He seemed about to speak. She held her breath, wondering what words could possibly express the unbridled desire in his gaze. When he simply lowered his head and took her lips, she knew there were none. No words to say how much he wanted her. No words to say she wanted him as much. He knew. They both knew. Given the many doubts they’d left outside, the commitment was there. And potent.
His lips opened hers with ease, tasting the sweetness of her breath, sampling the delicate texture of her mouth. Not for an instant was he still, yet there was nothing frenetic in his kiss. Rather it was a slow, steady exploration of her every nuance, and it made a statement as to his sensual intent. In that moment Jordanna knew that he planned to do everything he’d once said – to touch her, to look at her, to make love to every single inch of her. Even as she feared the depth of the claim she sensed he’d make, it excited her beyond belief.
He raised his head then, lips moist from hers, and spoke again with his eyes in the deep, sultry voice of silence. Jordanna’s limbs quivered at his message. When his gaze dropped to the towel that ringed her hips, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. It amazed her that his kiss, his look could do such erotic things, and while she knew she should have expected it by now, she also knew she never would. It was new and different, this heartwrenching attraction to another human being. With Peter, part of the attraction she’d felt had been inspired by the glamour of
his position. She saw that now, and for the first time admitted that, despite her disclaimer to Pat, perhaps what she’d seen in Peter had indeed been his particular status in life.
Patrick allowed none of that. He’d made it clear from the start. His appeal was solely in the man that he was – tall, dark, compelling, dignified and reaching for her towel with an attitude of such intense need that she felt she was the only woman on earth who could possibly satisfy him. It was a heady thought. And Jordanna did have ego needs of her own, very special needs that had never quite been met until Patrick had entered her world.
The towel slid soundlessly to the floor and he was lifting her high in his arms, placing her gently on the cool, clean sheets, coming down on one knee by her side. The setting sun spiked golden arrows over her body, pointing to the concave plain of her stomach, the rounded curves of her breasts, the hollow of her throat, which pulsated with each quick breath she took. Warm and firm, his fingers traced each arrow, inspiring sensations within her that spiraled and converged deep down low in her belly. It was all she could do not to reach for him, so great was her mounting heat, but she opened her palms against the sheet instead and, fingers spread, pressed them flat.
Patrick’s touch was devastating. His hands covered every inch of her, shaping each curve, exploring each hollow. Then he bent and began to kiss her, starting at her lips before gliding downward. With each sweet inch, the fire within her burned hotter. When she could bear no more of his delicious torture, she grabbed his arms and urged him upward.
He looked at her for a minute then, and she saw what she herself felt. It was the moment. There could be no more waiting. His knees nudged hers apart, he braced himself on his hands. Then, gaze still locked with hers, he thrust forward.
Jordanna’s eyes widened, then closed. His brand was hot and firm, searing her insides with a pleasure beyond words or thoughts or dreams. She sighed softly at the satisfaction of it, then met his movements, stroking his powerful body as the heat rose until, at last, fingers clutching his shoulders, she reached the pinnacle of their joining. All the more heady was the knowledge that Patrick was right there with her. He too closed his eyes against the force of the pounding sensation. His great body stiffened, he sucked in his breath, then let it out in short, ragged gasps. Only in time, when the gasps began to lengthen, did he release his hold on himself and sink down onto her slender form. Head buried near hers on the pillow, he lay still as the last aftershocks of his pleasure shook him. Then he turned his face to hers and placed a slightly breathless kiss on her ear.
“That was… .”
Jordanna gave a smug, cat-satisfied smile at the way his words trailed off in suggestion that he too was at a loss. “Wasn’t it?”
“Umm.” Slipping to her side, he left his arm in firm possession of her waist. “You’re something.”
She felt like something. It was a delightful feeling. “So are you.” She layered her arms over his.
They rested that way for a time, the silence offering a peaceful aftermath to the passionate storm of moments before. All that remained of the sun’s light was a pale amber glow reminiscent of the lantern in the woods. Rather than hard ground at their backs, though, there was a welcome mattress. And rather than a sleeping bag and tent to keep their secret, there was new freedom. The knowledge that it was temporary did nothing to curb Jordanna’s enjoyment of it. She felt warm and sated and very much enthralled by the dark-haired man whose body seemed so right entwined with hers.
“Angel?”
“Mmm?” She smiled at her automatic response to his nickname. It too was new. To Peter she’d been either baby or honey or sweetie or increasingly, as their marriage became strained, just Jordanna.
“Are you sleeping?”
“Uh-huh.”
He gave her a playful squeeze. “That’s what I thought.” With a burst of energy that startled her, he sat up, stretched over her to switch on the lamp, then grabbed the phone.
“What are you doing?” She laughed, loving the solid feel of his body slanting across hers.
He held her off with an upraised finger and spoke into the receiver. “Yes. This is room 206. We’d like to order dinner. A couple of steaks, medium rare, some baked potatoes, salads, whatever fresh vegetables you’ve got and a quart of milk.” He shot a mischievous glance at Jordanna. “The Black Forest cake will be fine. And some coffee. I think that should do it. Twenty minutes. Right.” Then he hung up the phone and slowly slid back to his side of the bed.
Jordanna didn’t miss the way his body teased hers in retreat. Her feline smile reflected that appreciation. “Sounds like some meal.”
He settled her into the crook of his arm. “We deserve it.” He drew the sheet up to cover them.
She nestled against his chest. “I am pretty hungry, come to think of it. I don’t want to look at anything freeze-dried for a while.”
“What’s the matter? Not an outdoors girl after all?”
“Now, did I say that? Seems to me you were the first one to think of steak, medium rare.”
“Is that okay?” There was a moment’s uncertainty in his voice, but she was quick to set him at ease.
“Perfect.”
He kissed her brow. “Mmm. So are you.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I have my moments.”
“At work?”
“Sometimes.”
“Tell me about it – your work. How did you get started?”
It surprised her that she didn’t hesitate. On one level she hadn’t wanted to bring the real world into the fantasy she and Patrick lived. But it seemed so right to want to tell him about her life that the words flowed.
“After I left Peter I went into a kind of blue funk. I wasn’t sure where to turn. I knew I wanted to do something. I had to do something–”
“Wasn’t he giving you support money?”
“Oh, yes. Begrudgingly. And I accepted it… begrudgingly. Which was why I was in a rush to find some means of self-support. There was pride involved. And a desperate need to do something with my time.”
“Did you have Willow Enterprises in mind from the start?”
“Only indirectly. During my time with Peter, I’d met people who suggested that I should start something.”
“I can understand it. Classy lady. Influential name. Great visibility. Beautiful to boot.”
She raised her head for a minute to scowl. “I didn’t see it that way.” He returned her head to his chest and left his hand to smooth her hair behind her ear. The gentle intimacy was enough to encourage her to go on. “I looked into lots of things. Had interviews and all. But it seemed I was always at someone else’s command. And that was what I’d been trying to escape. So I began to think more and more of starting my own business. When I called the people who’d mentioned it, they were as enthusiastic as ever. Unfortunately, each time I hung up the phone all the negatives crowded back in on me.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that I’d dropped out of college after my freshman year. Like the fact that I knew nothing about business. Like the fact that starting a business required an investment the likes of which I just didn’t have.”
“Peter had it.”
“Sure he did. And I didn’t want a cent. We were getting a divorce, remember?” She took a breath against Patrick’s skin and stretched an arm across his waist. His nearness was the reminder she needed that life with Peter Kirkland was indeed behind her. “Anyway, I was hooked. The more I looked for other work, the more I liked the idea of starting something myself. So I began to read. Anything and everything I could find about small businesses. I came to believe that if I could gather the right people around me, they would provide the know-how I lacked. What with my ideas and the contacts I’d made through Peter, we had a fighting chance.”
“So you fought.”
“Uh-huh. I did. I got a lump-sum settlement from Peter that was enough to start the ball rolling. I rented a small place and hired five women, each of whom had spi
rit and the right credentials. They became my vice-presidents – sales, marketing, research and so on. We planned everything on paper, then fought dearly for money enough to set the thing up the way we wanted.”
“Which was?”
“Solid. And substantial. No cottage industry here. We knew we wanted a class image. From the start we envisioned selling nationwide through the best of the department stores.” Pausing, she tipped her head back to meet Patrick’s gaze. “Sound arrogant?”
“Not arrogant. Just smart. If you’ve got the right product and it’s marketed the right way, you’d be foolish not to aim high. There’s something about a class act that attracts classy people. Basic psychology.”
She grinned. “Psychology, baloney! It was common sense. And it worked.”
“Sounds like it did. You’ve done well.”
“Well enough to repay the original loans we took. Well enough to go public and expand all the more.” Her voice softened in tone but lost none of its pride. “Well enough for me to take out the money Peter gave me and invest it in something in no way connected to the business.”
Patrick chuckled. “Good girl. He must’ve croaked at that.”
“I don’t know if he even knows, and personally, I don’t care. It’s what I know that counts. It’s inside me, Pat. I feel good about myself, about what I’ve done. I’m a person now, rather than an appendage. It’s a very satisfying feeling.”
More serious, he studied her urgent expression. “I can see that, angel. I’m happy for you.”
She smiled suddenly and pressed her face to his chest to hide her blush. “I get carried away when I talk of the business.”
“That’s natural. It’s your life.”
“But I’m usually so busy that I don’t think about it this way. It’s odd being away from it all and thinking back on it.”
“That’s what vacations are for. To put things into perspective.”
She propped her chin up, humor in her eyes. “Is that so? Funny, I was beginning to wonder if they weren’t to pick up strange men and have affairs in the woods.”
“We’re not in the woods now.”
Forever Instinct, The Page 12