It dawned on her that it wasn't his knee that was pressing into her. The happy realization gradually sank in. Luke wasn't incapacitated after all, although by all rights he should have been.
"That sounds wonderful,” she informed him, slithering sexily against him. “I think I'd like you inside me, hard and fast and deep."
He made a low, rough sound deep in his throat and jerked her underneath him. One knee nudged her legs apart and then he was pressing against her, all of him.
"Jordan,” he whispered against her hair. “I need you, Jordan. Don't run away this time."
"I won't. I'm here, Luke.” She rubbed her breasts against his chest in a teasing caress.
She'd never been so ready in all her life. She wanted him with an urgency she'd never experienced. Jordan wrapped her legs around his hips and silently urged him to hurry.
His breathing quickened and his lips closed over hers in a nearly brutal possession as he drove inside and buried himself in her welcoming softness.
She saw stars. She saw fireworks. She saw heaven open up and swallow them both. The universe tilted and the only solid reality left was Luke, hard and deep inside her, where he belonged.
"Luke,” she gasped out. “Luke."
"Oh, Jordan, I can't stop,” he muttered roughly as he took her with driving fury.
"I don't want you to. Not ever,” Jordan vowed and clung to him with all her strength. She shuddered and yielded to him and the desire driving them both as he took her to a violent climax that left her weak and drained, clinging limply to him.
He stayed with her, a welcome weight pinning her to reality, his breathing slowly calming. Then he reached for her face, tracing her features in the dark. “Jordan?"
"Mm,” she responded dreamily from the depths of the warm, golden haze enveloping her.
"I'm sorry."
She heard the regret in his voice and it slowly sank in that he actually meant it. She shook her head at the denseness of the man and burrowed deeper into his embrace. “Shut up and kiss me, Luke."
He didn't move for a minute. Then he slowly leaned down to kiss her, tasting the curve of her lips in a slow exploration before deepening the caress to seek out her tongue with his and twine them sweetly together.
Jordan sighed happily and wound her arms tighter around his neck, glad she still held him deep inside. She arched against him to welcome his weight and tightened her legs to hug his hips, loving the feeling of having all of him against all of herself.
When he raised his head she snuggled into the curve of his neck and fell asleep, feeling alive and incredibly good in every cell of her body.
She didn't realize she'd forgotten to tell him she loved him.
* * * *
Someone had turned up the wattage on the sun. That was the only explanation that occurred to Luke when the blinding light stabbed painfully into his eyes.
He closed them to prevent permanent damage, and then he heard the hammering and raised aching hands to cover his ears.
"Luke?"
He frowned, hearing the voice. It didn't belong there. Nobody should be there. He should be at home, in bed, alone. There must be construction going on in the neighborhood, with all that pounding. He hoped whoever it was had nothing but cost overruns and permit difficulties for their trouble. It was terribly inconsiderate to have that kind of noise going on so early in the morning.
"Luke, I brought you some aspirin,” the voice continued.
He appreciated the phantom's consideration. The voice was thoughtfully lowered. Although he didn't know why an apparition would bring him aspirin.
"Just get rid of the sun,” he muttered around a tongue that seemed to have swollen to twice its normal size.
"Oh!” The phantom gasped in dismay and tiptoed to the window to draw the drapes. “Sorry."
Luke decided that if he had to be haunted, it was a good thing that his private delusion was quiet and apologetic. He must still be hallucinating, he realized. The effects of sleep deprivation. All Jordan's fault, he remembered fuzzily.
Jordan. He remembered the dream, and smiled in spite of the pain in his head. Last night he'd dreamed that she'd come to him. She'd slid into his bed, naked, and he'd brutally ravished her in punishment for all her sweet torment. And for once, she hadn't vanished in the mist. She'd held him and stayed with him through the night.
Too bad the real Jordan wasn't so accommodating.
Thinking of her, he frowned. Last night. Jordan. He thought he remembered a dress that, as usual, there wasn't enough of. He thought he remembered a fight. He thought he remembered her promising to marry him if he'd let her have her way with him and he knew that had to be part of the dream.
It was too much effort to think with his pounding head. He groaned and then winced when the noise increased the pain. He risked opening an eye, in case his hallucination had actually managed to get rid of the sun, and found the room blissfully darkened. Orange juice and aspirin sat conveniently on the bedside table. He eyed them and wondered where they'd come from.
Gradually he remembered that he'd stopped for one drink on the way to Jordan's and had had more than one. Way more than one. The inescapable conclusion hit home. He'd had a lot more than one, and he was paying for it now.
Somebody—Wendy, possibly—had come by and found him sleeping it off and decided to play angel of mercy. A good thing, because he didn't think he could have made his way to the kitchen to get his own aspirin if his life depended on it. Thankful for them, however they'd gotten there, he swallowed the aspirin and groaned as the orange juice stirred a wave of dizziness and settled uneasily in his stomach.
"Oh, good, you took the aspirin.” Soft footsteps approached and set something else beside him. “Here, take this and get into the hot tub when you feel like you can. If you need help, I'll be right back."
By the time he felt it was safe to open his eyes, his angel of mercy had vanished, this time leaving coffee behind. It looked good. Steaming hot. Gingerly he reached for the cup and brought it to his mouth. Strong, very strong. He sipped carefully and slowly, as the room swung and settled into a steady rhythm before leveling out.
Finally the floor actually looked flat enough to walk on. He finished the coffee before attempting it, however. Then he made his cautious way to the bathroom. The hot tub. That did sound good, although he wasn't sure he could get the lid off. His hands didn't seem to be gripping very well. But his benefactress had anticipated his difficulties and opened it for him. Luke climbed in, stiffly and carefully, easing into the hot water by inches.
"Luke?” The soft voice reached into the dimly lit room. “Oh. There you are.” He heard the rustle of fabric and then a liquid sound as she joined him in the hot tub and he realized in horror that it really was Jordan.
"No,” he muttered thickly. “No. Jordan, tell me you aren't real."
If she was real, that meant everything else was real, too—and that was a thought too awful to contemplate. It meant he'd attacked her in a violent, lustful fit. It meant he'd been out of control and too rough. It meant he'd probably hurt her.
But then why was she giggling?
"Sorry. Sorry,” she gasped in a whisper. “I'm trying to be quiet. I know your head hurts. You just looked so funny. So horrified.” She slid up against him in the water and wrapped around him, naked as usual. “I'm afraid I am real. You're just going to have to deal with it.” She kissed his shoulder and rubbed his throbbing temples with gentle hands. “I did promise not to go away. Don't you remember?"
He groaned. “I remember. I remember assaulting you. You hate me, don't you?"
She laughed some more and rubbed against him in delight. “Luke, you are so funny. First you wouldn't let me assault you, then you're upset because you assaulted me. You see? You should have let me assault you, after all. Then you could sit there looking accusing and scowling adorably at me instead of looking like a guilty fugitive from the foreplay police."
He considered that answer. She didn't sound
like she hated him. She sounded like she was enjoying herself, and at his expense. As usual.
"Why are you here?” Luke inquired cautiously.
"Because,” she answered patiently, “I promised I wouldn't leave, remember? You were very insistent. You didn't want me to use you to slake my animal passions and then abandon you the morning after. Besides, after driving you to drink, I thought I owed it to you to nurse you through your hangover."
He absorbed that silently. “Did you agree to marry me last night?"
"Oh, yes,” she answered cheerfully, but in a thoughtfully soft voice. “That was the deal. You told me you weren't that kind of man. That I couldn't have your body without marriage. I had to marry you or there wouldn't be any ravishing, regardless of who was the ravish-er and who was the ravish-ee.” She slithered over him suggestively. “If you want, I can take a turn as the ravisher now and you can decide which you like better.” She made the offer in a generous tone that made Luke smile.
"I don't think I'm ready to be ravished by you yet,” he answered painfully. “Let me recover first."
She sighed in mock dismay and curled closer. “Oh, all right. But let this be a lesson to you the next time I drive you to drink. You might want to stop sooner."
He brushed back her shock of white-blond hair in an affectionate caress. “The next time?” Hope stirred at the thought.
She nodded. “I'm afraid it's all too likely. I can't help being the way I am. What did you call me last night? Let me see. Oh, yes, a professional liar whose word means nothing ... a succubus ... what else? I think you called me an exhibitionist, too, but I'm not sure.” Thoughtfully, she frowned in concentration. “You also threatened to buy me several very large bras."
He hugged her closer and sighed at that. “It wouldn't do any good. You wouldn't wear them. You'd probably take them off in public and throw them at me.” And he had to admit her preferred state of undress appealed to him too much to want to change it.
Although he would have preferred to be the only witness to her state of undress. For once, he could fully appreciate the idea of keeping a woman covered from head to toe and shut away—although shutting away a woman like Jordan would be some kind of crime against nature. He supposed he'd just have to get used to standing over her and scowling.
Resigned, he gently stroked her from hip to shoulder, exploring all of her in slow, thorough care. Jordan shivered in delight and moved to allow him better access. When he found her breasts and teased them into tautness, she moaned in pleasure. Then she abruptly cut off the sound.
"Oh, Luke, I'll try to be quiet, but it's hard when you do that,” she whispered apologetically.
He continued with a generous lack of concern for his ears. “I should have done this last night."
"Last night was wonderful."
"Last night I was an animal. I must have hurt you."
She moved under his hands restlessly, wanting more already. “You were an animal. I loved it."
He paused. “You did?"
"I did. Did I ever. Feel free to ravish me at will. You have my permission in advance, in case you can't stop to ask next time,” she vowed earnestly. “Speaking of which, please don't stop now."
He turned her to face him and tugged her chin up to look her right in the eyes. “Jordan, we have to talk."
"Later. Can't we talk later?” she pleaded huskily. “I want you, Luke."
Her words were like a bucket of cold water in his face. She wanted him. She wanted his body, she meant. What about love?
He swore under his breath. This was an unbelievable situation. Here he was, fighting off the lustful advances of the woman he loved, who'd started out as his phony fiancée but had now agreed to go through with the wedding. “No,” he snarled, holding her away from him before the temptation overcame him. “We'll talk now. And for once, why don't you put some clothes on?"
"Because it's no fun. If I'm not wearing pants, it's so much easier for you to get into them,” she pointed out with practical insight.
"I don't want in them."
"Yes you do.” To prove it, she closed her hands around the evidence and stroked the painfully hard length.
"Stop that,” he hissed, grabbing at her hands.
"No. You don't really want me to; you're just cranky because you have a hangover. But this will make you feel better.” Jordan smiled sweetly at him and continued her pleasant torture. “Isn't that better?” she asked as she fondled and stroked him beyond speech. “Yes, I thought so,” she concluded when he remained silent. Then she slipped onto his lap and lowered herself over him. “Ride ’em, cowboy,” she whispered wickedly, and proceeded to slip his aching need inside her, all the way in, in a velvety rush.
She paused to adjust to the feel of him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Luke,” she whispered, awed at the powerful sensations. “Oh, Luke, hold me.” Words failed her as she clung to his strength and moved against him in restless need. “I need you. I need you, Luke."
She needed to feel the storm of sensation he brought to life and carried her safely through. She needed to feel the sense of oneness, the unity that bound them together. She needed to belong to him in the most basic, primitive way.
"Luke,” she whispered against his throat as he remained still. “Luke, I love you."
A shudder ran through him, and then he took her in a fierce, furious spending that left her trembling and shaken and totally at peace.
He carried her out of the tub and back to bed, where he sprawled over her, possibly to intimidate her or impress her with his superior strength. “You're mine, Jordan,” he sternly informed her.
"Yes,” she agreed quietly.
"Then don't ever lie to me again.” He pushed her into the mattress and gripped her chin in one hard hand. “Do you understand? Not ever again."
"I won't."
He studied her face for endless minutes. Then he nodded, satisfied. “All right."
She curled in his arms, happy and sated, and spread kisses all along the exposed column of his throat, then everywhere else she could reach.
"Luke,” she sighed, loving even the sound of his name. Sad how completely besotted she was. She'd probably even worship the ground he walked on after this.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to say your name. It sounds wonderful, doesn't it?” she answered dreamily.
He stifled a laugh. “Not to your brothers. Lucius. Where did you come up with that?"
She grinned impishly at him, displaying deep dimples. “I have a book of names. It was either that or Lucifer. My choices were severely limited."
He considered that gravely. “Well, then, under the circumstances, I suppose Lucius was the best you could do."
She nodded. “I'm glad you appreciate that.” Then she reached up to brush his cheek. “Is your head feeling better now?"
"Yes, it is. Your hangover remedy is incredible,” Luke answered with a smile.
"Glad you like it.” She grinned and stretched under him.
"Am I too heavy?” he asked in sudden concern.
"No. I like it.” She closed her eyes and lazed with him in complete contentment.
Luke drew the covers over them and settled her into the curve of his body. “I'm still catching up on a sleepless week,” he informed her with a yawn. “Stay right here and maybe I'll be in a better mood the next time we wake up."
Jordan tugged his hands up to pillow them under her head. “Deal,” she agreed readily.
But when Luke opened his eyes again, the bed was empty and Jordan was gone.
Chapter Twelve
He couldn't believe it. She wasn't there.
Luke searched the room to be sure, but her clothes were gone, too. He swung to his feet and peered into the bathroom suite, but that was also empty. She'd put the cover back on the hot tub, he noticed.
He struggled for understanding, and settled for finding a pair of pants before wandering through the rest of the empty house. “Jordan?"
> No answer. Not that he'd really expected one.
He'd thought he'd caught a fairy. He should have known better. She'd flown away without a word and he knew with a sinking certainty that she wouldn't be back.
Well, what had he expected? That she'd fallen in love with him? She hadn't even been able to say it, except at the height of passion, and then only to manipulate him into cooperating with her sensual assault. He'd been angry about that, but he'd settled for getting her promise not to lie anymore.
As if a promise like that could be trusted. As if a woman like her could be trusted. Well, he had only himself to blame. She'd been honest from the beginning, in her own twisted, convoluted way. She'd even admitted that she couldn't change, that she couldn't help what she was.
And heaven help him, he didn't care anymore. He'd give his soul to have her lying lips pressed against his right now. Instead, he'd lost her forever and the looming emptiness that was his future without her staggered him.
"Jordan, come back,” he whispered.
But it was an empty hope and he knew it. She didn't come back. And she wasn't going to.
* * * *
Jordan bounded through her living room, singing “Deck the Halls” at the top of her lungs. She'd never been so happy. So alive. So excited. She'd tried to keep quiet and let Luke sleep, but she couldn't stay still. Every nerve in her body was singing and energy pulsed and beat through her. Afraid she'd disturb him, she'd finally slipped out of his embrace, kissed his sleeping face, and stolen away.
Wow. So this was what it felt like after really truly incredible sex. What a rush! Jordan wondered if some particular chemical reaction was responsible, and if so could it be synthesized and packaged? Somebody would make a fortune.
She'd never felt so good in her life. Making love with Luke was an experience of epic proportions, an event that could only be measured on a cosmic scale. She felt reborn. She was in love with life and everyone living.
Until Norton rang her doorbell.
She groaned and closed her eyes, hoping she'd imagined it. She peeked through the peephole again. No, he was still there. Unbelievable. Well, today she thought she could stomach even him, thanks to Luke's wonderful supply of goodwill.
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