by Ruth Owen
Obeying, she pulled the sweater over his head, but when she tried to discard it she found he’d looped the material around the back of her neck and was pulling her to him. “You get me crazier than any woman on earth,” he said as he placed slow, tantalizing kisses at the edges of her mouth. “Why is that?”
Because I love you. But she wasn’t brave enough to say it, not yet. “We’ve spent a lot of time in the simulator. Maybe it’s the fantasy you fell for, not me.”
“Lord, is that what you think?” He dropped the sweater and folded her in his arms, hugging her fiercely. “Do you know why I’m so at home in cyberspace? It’s because I’ve spent my whole life in virtual realities. I grew up in that god-awful castle with a grandfather who was so busy living up to the expectations of the dead that he had no time for the living. I married a woman who wanted me to play the high-profile, jet-setting aristocrat, who left when it became apparent that I wasn’t going to give up my scientific studies for her caviar dreams.
“And now I’m Dr. Doom,” he chuckled, though there was no humor in his tone. “I’m the forbidding, steel-skinned scientist with a calculator for a heart.”
“You’re not steel-skinned,” she offered huskily, her response muffled against his naked chest.
“Only to you,” he murmured, placing a reverent kiss against her temple. “You have a way about you—of drawing the best out of people whether they want you to or not.” He lifted his head, looking at the mishmash of ecology memorabilia on her living room walls. “I suppose it’s because you care so damn much about this world and all the creatures in it. And for some unfathomable, blessed reason, you’ve chosen to care about me.”
“I don’t think choice had much to do with it,” she confessed shakily. Her passion for him consumed her on every level—emotional, spiritual, physical … very, very physical. His hands stroked fire along her skin, kneading the sensitive flesh of her breasts and buttocks, making her hot and tight in places she didn’t even know she had. Moaning, she buried her face in the softness of his chest, wild for the smell and taste of him, wild for much more. He was driving her full tilt toward the edge of passion, but she couldn’t allow herself to fall into it, not just yet. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“I’m all ears,” he murmured, though his next X-rated move proved that parts of him were definitely not ears.
“Ian, stop … Ian!” she cried, torn between delight and frustration. Summoning the last vestige of her willpower, she pushed herself away from the honeyed fire of his hands, holding herself at arm’s length. “I need to tell you something. Something important.”
“Something quick, I hope,” he commented, staring shamelessly at her breasts.
Incorrigible, that’s what he was. And she loved him all the more for it. “Ian, there’s no way to say this except right out. I … I don’t have a father.”
“All right, you don’t have a father. Let’s get back to—”
“Ian, you’re not listening!” She turned away and went to the window, looking out over the ocean as she confessed the damning truth. “My mother wasn’t married to my father. Hell, she didn’t even know who he was. She told me once that the best she could do was narrow it down to three people … unless it was this bouncer in Omaha who gave her a ride on his motorcycle. Anyway, you get the picture. Mom wasn’t exactly discriminating when it came to men, and she made a lot of mistakes. I’m the mistake she had to live with.”
Ian said nothing. How could he? There was nothing to say. He was a baron, and she was the result of a moment’s indiscretion. “It makes a difference, doesn’t it?” she said, her voice heavy with misery.
In two strides he reached her and turned her around, grasping her by the shoulders, giving her a slight but distinct shake of frustration. “Listen, I’m not sure what you expected this bit of information would mean to me, but I must tell you that I couldn’t care less about your background or your parents.”
“It doesn’t matter to you?” she said softly.
“You matter to me,” he stated passionately. “And if I hadn’t been such a blockhead, I’d have told you this afternoon, when that Nazi bastard pointed his gun at your heart. I’d have taken my bloody machine apart bolt by bolt if anything had happened to—”
He got no further. She threw her arms around his neck and stopped his mouth with a soul-demolishing kiss. It was the kind of passion he’d thought existed only in stories, dreams, and the fantasy world of the simulator. But the woman in his arms was real. The lush mouth laving hot, hungry caresses on his was real. The words of love and promise she whispered in his ear were real.
“Tell me I’m not in the simulator,” he breathed as he buried his face in the fragrant silk of her hair.
“You’re not in the simulator,” she assured him, trailing sweet kisses down the side of his neck.
He ran his hands down the long, bare length of her back, groaning with pleasure. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
“You’re not dreaming,” she said as she began to attack his belt. “Any more questions, Doctor?”
“Just one,” he replied with a devilish grin. “Where’s your purse?”
The adventure that followed put every one of the simulator’s alternate realities to shame. Beneath Ian’s sober surface lurked an unexpected vein of pure mischief, and soon Jill found herself almost as breathless from laughter as she was from his searing caresses. The search for her purse quickly morphed into a contest to see which of them could remove the other’s clothing in the most original manner. Initially Jill had more opportunity, since Ian was wearing more clothes than she was, but when Ian removed her panties with his teeth, even she had to declare him the winner.
Naked, their games became more serious and their laughter more rough-edged. The mutual passion they’d spent months denying came out in white-hot fury. They started up the stairs to Jill’s bedroom, but made it only as far as the landing. Ian buried his fingers in her hair and plundered her mouth again and again, feeding on her like a starving man at a feast. Then he moved to claim other areas of her anatomy—an ear, her throat, and finally her breasts. He gorged himself on her, sucking her sweet ripeness until she cried aloud with pleasure. Then he covered her mouth with his again, and claimed the sound of her passion too.
Jill writhed against him, glorying in the carnal magic of his kiss. Blazing light and heat seared into the lost places deep inside her soul. She wallowed in the pleasure of smelling and tasting his skin, of discovering the rough, salty, sensual textures of the man she loved. He was beyond fantasy. With love-blurred vision she lifted her head and gazed past his shoulder at the half-dozen steps that separated the landing from the upstairs hallway. “Doctor,” she confessed hoarsely, “I don’t think we’re going to make it to my bedroom.”
He laughed deeply, and pressed a smoldering kiss into the shadowed valley between her breasts. “Ms. Polanski, I can guarantee we won’t.”
The games were over. They dropped to their knees on the landing, wrapped in each other’s arms and passion. They roamed kisses over each other’s face and shoulders, as if they still couldn’t believe that this was real. Ian’s hand found her swollen breast and roughly kneaded her into a frenzy, his iron control finally succumbing to the holocaust force of his desire. Leaning back, he grasped her waist and pulled her up to straddle his lap. His hardness jabbed into the soft skin of her inner thigh, making her go absolutely still. For a moment they stared at each other, silent except for the tortured sound of their breathing. “Jillie,” he rasped, “you’re so small. I don’t want to hurt—”
His words ended in a ragged gasp as she moved over him and impaled herself on his erection.
“Bloody hell!” he cursed as she fell against his chest, shuddering. “Jill, I don’t want—”
“I want,” she breathed softly. “Don’t make me wait, Ian. Let me love you …”
Then her inner contractions took over, seducing him deeper into her body, loving him in ways that blasted every fant
asy he’d ever had into oblivion. Leaving her was no longer an option. He moved within her, setting up the rhythm he’d started on their first trip into the simulator, when he’d saved her from the orc. Illusion became reality as she locked her slim legs around his hips and joined him in the ancient dance of love. Love. He slid his hand between their bodies, stroking her soft curls as he increased the strength of his thrusts. She clung to him, crying his name as he brought her to a swift, sweet climax. He wanted to savor her pleasure, but his own desire seized him in a fiery grip. Driving into her, he at last took his own release, destroyed and remade in the furnace of their love.
Spent beyond measure, he leaned back against the wall, knowing that she’d given him back a part of himself he’d thought lost forever—his belief. “I thought dreams couldn’t come true,” he said with a short, gasping laugh. “I was wrong.”
She lay against his chest, her face hidden from view. But between her soft, rapid breaths he felt her lips pull into a smile. “There’s always a first time, Doctor. Care to try for a second?”
Ian hooked his thumb in his jeans’ waistband and eyed the interior of Jill’s refrigerator with a frown of dismay. “Don’t you have any real food?”
Jill’s eyes and nose appeared over the top of the refrigerator door. “What do you mean? There’s lots of food in there.”
“Yes, if I were a rabbit.” He picked up a container of bean sprouts and gave its contents a suspicious sniff. “Good Lord, even your bloody cat gets a hearty breakfast,” he said, glancing over to where Merlin was industriously devouring a can of cat food. “Don’t you have any eggs, or bacon?”
“Cholesterol and nitrates? I don’t think so.” She came around the door and ducked under his arm. Pulling her oversize Save the Manatee T-shirt close against the sudden cold, she bent down and examined the health-food-stuffed shelves. “However, if you’ve really got your heart set on something seminutritious, I think I’ve got some—hey!”
Ian’s arms shot out and circled her middle, pulling her against his bare chest, still damp from his recent shower. “I think I’ve found what I want for breakfast,” he growled as he nuzzled her ear.
“Ian, stop it!” she cried, trying to sound affronted. It was an impossible task. Her heart was too full of the love they’d shared the night before, the glorious hours they’d spent finding joy and acceptance in each other’s arms.
After their first frantic encounter on the stairs, they’d donned their clothes and driven to an all-night drugstore, where Ian had purchased a new box of condoms. They’d made it back to the garage before they’d made love again—this time indulging in raw, hot sex in the backseat of her car. Afterward they’d lain in each other’s arms, savoring the golden afterglow of their love.
At three they finally made it to her bedroom. Ian fell asleep almost immediately, but Jill lay awake for almost an hour, simply listening to the sound of his deep, measured breathing. She savored every minute of their passionate lovemaking, but lying next to him in the dark filled her with a peace she’d never known.
All her life she’d felt ashamed of her birth—the unwanted, embarrassing result of a purely physical coupling. But Ian’s pragmatic acceptance of her past made her see it in a whole new light. A respectable heritage wasn’t any guarantee of happiness. His privileged, pedigreed background had brought him nothing but a lonely childhood and a social-climbing wife. Because of Ian she realized it wasn’t so much how a person started out in this life that mattered, it was where they ended up. And she thanked She took a stiff gulp of her drink, but even its fire couldn’t cut the funeral chill building inside her. God she was lucky enough to end up in Ian’s arms.
However, there was a time and place for everything.
“Ian,” she said, trying again, “much as I’d like to be your ‘breakfast,’ we don’t have the time. We’ve got to get to the simulator lab and set up the cyberspace environment so we can find Einstein.”
“Not this time. Jill, I’ve decided to go in alone.”
“But you need a cyberpartner,” she said, stunned. “It’s the rule.”
“Yes, but I make the rules. Einstein is in danger, and anyone who goes after him will be in danger too. I’ve decided the risk is too great to jeopardize more than one life. I’m going in alone.”
“Like hell you are. I’m coming with you whether you like it or—”
Her sentence ended in a startled gasp as Ian’s hands delved between her thighs and began caressing her through the soft cotton of her T-shirt. His bold, possessive strokes took her apart in a matter of seconds, and she arched back against him, giving a whimper of pleasure. “You’re trying to distract me,” she accused him.
His warm chuckle teased her ear. “Is it working?”
She nodded weakly. Moaning, she reached up and circled the corded muscles at the back of his neck, and guided his mouth down to hers for a deep, wanton kiss. When he finally lifted his head, he was just as breathless as she was. Smiling triumphantly, she added, “It’s working, but I’m still not letting you go into the simulator alone.”
“Hell, Jillie.” Ian untangled their bodies and plowed his hand through his hair, riveting her with a stare cold enough to freeze water. “I forbid it.”
Jill crossed her arms and shot him back a look every bit as cool as his. “I don’t care.”
“Argh!” he cried, throwing up his hands. He stalked out of the kitchen and into the living room, heading for the plate-glass window that looked out over the ocean. The sun had just crested the horizon, streaming a pure and sacred light over the face of the waters. Through the half-open door he smelled the fresh salt of the sea breeze, and heard the hushed and peaceful sound of the breaking waves. But there was no peace in his heart.
Damn the woman! Couldn’t she see he was just trying to protect her? His mind wandered back to the tales he’d read of his medieval ancestors who’d ridden off to the Crusades with King Richard. Several of them had locked their wives up in towers during their absence. Ian rubbed his chin, thinking that what had once seemed like a cruelty now sounded like a very sensible precaution.
He wasn’t used to being disagreed with. But then, he also wasn’t used to waking up with Jillie’s soft body spooned against his, or having her kiss him awake with a dozen butterfly caresses. For the first time in longer than he could remember he was looking forward to the day ahead, instead of merely enduring it. Perhaps a disagreement or two could be forgiven.
“Ian.”
She came up behind him and circled his chest with her arms, pressing herself against his bare back. He closed his eyes, savoring the intoxicating feel of her, blessing and cursing the love he felt for this sweet, irresistible, and frustratingly independent woman.
“Ian, do you know why I left your company?”
“No,” he said truthfully. “I assumed Sheffield made you a better offer.”
“That wasn’t it. The money was the same, but I would have gone even if meant taking a pay cut. I couldn’t stay in your company. I couldn’t stand watching you go into the simulator, knowing that you might never come out again.”
“Jill—”
“No, let me finish,” she said, hugging him tighter. “You don’t know what it was like. I felt as if someone were squeezing my heart every time you stepped into the egg. I couldn’t take it.”
He covered her hands with his. “I thought you couldn’t stand me.”
“I couldn’t stand the way you made me feel. And I was mad as hell at you for never letting anyone else get close to you, and taking the risks you did.” She paused, breathing a deep, ragged sigh. “I guess I still am.”
He lifted one of her hands and placed a lingering kiss in the center of her open palm. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“But if it did …” She loosened her hold and came around to stand in front of him, looking up at him with her huge, impossibly lovely eyes. “Don’t you see?” she said in a hushed, tight voice. “If something were to happen to you, I’d want it t
o happen to me too.”
“Jillie.” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her hard, wishing he didn’t know exactly how she felt. He couldn’t imagine living without her either. “Right, then,” he said with his trademark harrumph. “This afternoon we’ll go into the simulator together. But at the first sign of trouble, I’m sending you out, no matter what you … Ms. Polanski, what do you think are you doing?”
“Distracting you,” she said sweetly, using much the same method that he had. “Is it working?”
“You bloody well know it is,” he answered. The lady was dynamite. Without warning he swung her into his arms and tumbled her onto the couch. “And I still haven’t had my breakfast.”
“Ian, we can’t,” she said, caught between laughter and alarm. “It’s broad daylight, and the windows are wide open. The neighbors will think I’m marrying a sex maniac.”
He stilled in her arms. “What did you say?”
“I said sex maniac, my love. Not that I mind, but—Ian, what’s wrong?”
He pulled away and sat heavily on the cushion beside her. “Jill, I thought you understood. What we have is wonderful, but there are no guarantees that it will last. Just being together for now should be enough.”
THIRTEEN
Nothing had changed. The sunlight streaming through the sliding glass door was just as brilliant as it had been a moment before. The clock on the mantel still ticked out its measured minutes. Nothing had changed—and yet, everything had changed. Suddenly Jill felt as if she were in the simulator, transported into a digital copy of her living room, a sham of reality. The rules were different here. Two and two made five in this world. Two hearts added up to zero. And the man whose love had seemed as reliable as the force of gravity had become a stranger wearing Ian’s face.
Loving and being loved by Ian had completed her in ways she couldn’t begin to fathom, filling up the empty places inside her with laughter and love. But apparently that love had been only an illusion, like a magician’s carnival trick. Ian was still the titled lord of the manor. She was still the unforeseen result of a brief and meaningless affair. “I see.”