by Ann Jacobs
"Quick! Close the door and lock it." His voice was breathless and hoarse.
Heart pounding, she did as he ordered, feeling his weight against her. "Declan, what…?" She was still trying to come to grips with the reality of him being here. Free from prison.
He slumped to the floor.
"Declan!"
On her knees, Laura reached up to switch on a lamp. She saw the blood as she turned back to him, and her heart jumped. It had drenched his shirt and jacket from the shoulder down to his sleeve.
"Oh, God! Declan, what happened?"
He grimaced, his face pale and his breathing shallow. "It is not too bad, I think. But I'm losing a lot of blood. You must call a doctor."
Laura scrambled for the phone. "There's one who lives just up the street."
"No!" With surprising strength, his hand clamped onto her arm. "Call this number and ask for Bridget. Then give your address and say the name Raleigh. Nothing else. It's 857231. Do exactly as I told you."
She was trembling as she made the call. A feminine Irish voice answered the phone. Laura did as Declan had instructed, giving only the address and the name Raleigh. No explanation. There was a soft click as Bridget hung up. Turning back to Declan, she managed to get him to his feet and into her small bedroom. He collapsed upon the bed, beads of perspiration rolling down his gaunt face. As she covered him with a blanket, he grabbed her hand and pulled her closer.
"Thank Christ you were here. I don't know where I would have gone…"
Laura brushed his black hair away from his pale face. "What happened, Declan? Who shot you?"
"The prison screws." He gave a slight smile, but it was more of a grimace. "They don't take kindly to prisoners escaping."
* * * * *
The doctor had come and gone. He'd determined that the bullet had torn cleanly through Declan's shoulder leaving no permanent damage. After cleansing and bandaging the wound, he'd given Laura pain killers to administer whenever Declan felt the need for them, and had immediately left the flat, having asked no questions as to the cause of the bullet wound or without demanding payment. What kind of doctor was he? Laura wondered. But it was no use asking Declan. He was sleeping uneasily, his face almost boyish in the soft light of the bedroom. Laura felt a rush of tenderness wash over her.
There was only the one bed. She hadn't bothered to furnish the small living room with more than her computer table, a lamp and a chair. She looked at her wristwatch, her eyes bleary from lack of sleep. Almost four. Her gaze moved to the empty side of the bed and then to Declan's sleeping face. The drug had done its job. He would be sure to be out for hours.
Carefully, Laura slipped into bed next to him and switched off the bedside light. In the quiet, she could hear his rhythmical breathing. He slept easier now that the drug had kicked in. Laura lay stiffly, wondering if she'd ever get back to sleep.
Her awareness of Declan lying next to her was almost too much to bear. She found herself wanting to reach out to him, to touch his lean, bristled jaw. How silky and cool his glossy hair had been under her fingertips earlier. The doctor had cut off his bloodstained shirt, and now he was wearing only boxer shorts. She could feel the warmth of his hair-matted chest just inches away from her skin. Could feel his steady breathing. It was crazy, but she wanted to touch his sex. See if it would harden and swell, even while he was deep in sleep. She bit her lip and turned over on her side away from him. She had to stop having these crazy thoughts. The man was wounded, and she was thinking about having sex with him.
Through the sheer curtains at the window, she saw the morning's first light. Dublin would soon be awakening. She must've fallen asleep. His groan brought her awake. But before she could turn to him, his arm fastened about her and suddenly, he cupped his body up against hers. She could feel the rough mat of his chest hair against her back, and the soft, even thud of his heart. Heat coursed through her body from the contact of his naked skin against hers. His lips brushed the back of her neck, sending a delicious shiver down her back.
"Just let me hold you, love," he whispered. "Sure, I need you badly."
Laura remained silent, her heart rioting in her chest. He slowly arched his groin against hers, pressing the heat and pulse of his erection against her buttocks. She caught her breath, and waited. If he wanted her now…oh, God…how could she refuse. She was already wet and ready for him. But he didn't speak again. His breathing became regular and once again, he was asleep. But he didn't loosen his grip on her, and his cock stayed hard for several agonizing minutes. Laura finally fell back to sleep, and dreamed of having slow, sensual sex with Declan.
* * * * *
Declan recovered quickly. In two days, he managed to get up and gingerly move around. Dressing himself turned out to be his biggest problem. Because of the pain, his left arm was virtually out of action. After disposing of his bloodstained prison uniform, Laura had bought some clothing for him at a second-hand store. Despite her initial squeamishness, she'd become adept at changing the dressing on his wound every other day. The bullet had entered at a point just above his bicep, just missing a tattoo of an armed gunman with the Irish words Na Fianna.
"What does this mean?" she asked him the first time she changed his dressing.
Declan gazed at her with somber blue eyes. "It's the Junior IRA. I joined it when I was a wee lad of fourteen." He shook his head, his lip curling with self-contempt. "Christ! Look what I've gone and done now. Got a lovely lass like you involved in this mess. Can you ever forgive me, Laura girl?"
She pressed the last bit of tape on the dressing and looked up at him. "I'm glad you came to me. I care what happens to you, you know."
He grabbed her hand. "You're a treasure, you are. And so you don't mind if I stay around a wee bit? If you'd rather, I can find a safe house to go to."
Her heart leapt at the thought of his leaving. "Oh, no! I want you to stay."
His eyes scanned her face, lingering upon her lips. She felt the heat rise upon her cheekbones.
"I know it is an inconvenience," he said, his voice husky. "You surely cannot be sleeping well on that mat."
On the morning after his arrival, she'd gone next door and borrowed a sleeping mat from her neighbor, Mrs. O'Neill, inventing a story about a visiting Irish cousin from Galway. Although her body cried out for Declan's, she thought it best if they slept separately. He needed time to heal.
Declan never mentioned that morning when he'd cradled her in his arms, the heat of his erection pressing against the small of her back. Laura was certain he didn't remember it at all. But she couldn't get it out of her mind. The touch of his warm body against hers, his hand tucked under her breasts, clutching her to him. It scared and thrilled her at the same time. Once he was well, they could finish what they'd started at the prison. The thought of the naughty things they'd do to each other turned her blood to lava.
The day before her next scheduled visit to Portlaoise Prison, Declan instructed her to make the trip as usual and ask for him. Laura did so, pretending to be horrified when she was told he'd escaped. The authorities warned her that he might try to contact her. He was dangerous, they said. Undoubtedly armed, as well. She listened to their warnings and said she'd be in touch if she heard from him. Then she returned to Dublin as usual.
A week went by. It was a rainy April morning. Outside her bedroom window, an occasional car passed, wheels hissing on the wet pavement. A gloomy darkness permeated the flat, forcing Laura to turn on the bedside lamp to change Declan's dressing.
She detected a difference in him this morning. He seemed stronger, more resilient. More male. At the intense gaze of his blue eyes, her fingers grew clumsy. She dropped the bandage three times before finally pressing it against his wound. Then the tape stuck together and she had to cut another strip of it. She had most of the bandage secured when she reached for the roll of tape and promptly dropped it. It rolled off the bed and across the floor. She lurched after it, but Declan grabbed her arm.
"Let it go," he said
, his Irish voice husky.
With a strength that surprised her, he pulled her against him so that her breasts were pressed against his firm chest. His hand cupped the back of her head, forcing her mouth down to his in a grinding kiss.
An immediate flame swept through her as his tongue plundered the interior of her mouth. Beneath the thin blanket, she could feel his erection thrusting against her stomach. Quickly, he rolled her over onto her back, his hand pressing against the swell of her breast under her thin T-shirt.
"Christ, I want you, Laura." His lips planted shivery kisses over her forehead, eyelids and chin. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a woman?"
She stiffened beneath him. With a strangled cry, she violently pushed him away as his words washed over her. It was like a splash of cold water on her face. All this time, she'd convinced herself that he was attracted to her, to Laura Danville, the introverted American novelist. But now, she knew the truth. She was just another anonymous female to him. Face it. Any vagina would do.
She scrambled up from the bed, her face hot with humiliation. "What you need is a prostitute. Not me."
He stared up at her, his black hair rumpled, his face wearing the expression of a disappointed little boy. His bare chest rose and fell with his accelerated breathing, his mat of black hair in stark contrast to the bandage wrapped around his arm.
"Ah, love…I didn't mean it like that. Don't you know what you do to me? You. No other woman in the world will do."
She stood at the side of the bed, her body quivering with tension. He threw back the covers and swung his hair-roughened legs over the side. She blushed and turned away from him. Nude, except for the boxer shorts, his erection thrust against the cotton crotch, large and clearly defined.
He pressed up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, and pulling her against him. She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly, imprisoning her. His erection pressed a scoring line into the small of her back, branding her, and inflaming the blood in her veins. His lips tickled her earlobe.
"The nights after your visits were the worst," he whispered. "I'd toss and turn on my cot, thinking about you. I'd imagine touching you…like this."
She gasped as his hands cupped her breasts. His lips brushed against her ear, his tongue tracing its outline, darting seductively into its crevices.
"I couldn't imagine more than that." His voice vibrated in her ear, sending shivers of desire cascading through her body. "Because by the time I'd fantasized about touching your bare breasts…" His hands slipped beneath her T-shirt and released the front closure of her bra. Finally, there was nothing between his palms and her skin. Laura's heart bumped painfully as his fingers caressed her sensitive nipples. "…By that time, it was too late. Just thinking about touching your breasts made me explode, Laura. Even then, I couldn't get any peace. I would dream about you at night. Christ! Those dreams were unbelievable. I'd wake up in the morning aching for you. Do you know what it's like to ache for someone, Laura?"
Yes, she wanted to say. Oh, yes, I do. But she couldn't speak. She could only close her eyes and feel the sensations his hands were sending through her trembling body.
"And now, you're here, love. The real thing. I can finally do more than…this." He kissed a spot behind her ear. A soft groan escaped her lips. He pressed against her, his hands slipping down her stomach to the top button of her jeans. Swiftly, he unzipped her and slipped one hand under the elastic of her panties, his fingers delving into her wet heat. She moaned, thrusting against his touch. After a moment of exquisite torture, he withdrew his hand, leaving her aching, and turned her in his arms. Their eyes met. She reached up to entwine her arms around his neck, sifting her fingers through his silky hair. A blue light blazed in his eyes as he recognized her surrender.
She leaned against him, pressing her lips to a mole she'd just noticed on his shoulder. Her tongue flicked over it, and he stiffened, a soft moan issuing from his lips. She began moving her lips over his shoulders, using her tongue to lick his skin as a cat laps up his milk. His hands roved over her back in a leisurely movement. He seemed content to let her control the lovemaking. For the moment. She reached his neck and licked it in long, wet strokes up toward his ear, her hands flattened against the heat of his hair-roughened chest.
A soft sigh broke from his lips. She didn't hesitate, but took his ear lobe into her mouth, tugging and sucking gently. Her tongue dipped into his ear, swirled around briefly, then continued on its tasting journey along his jaw-line. Her hands slid over the springy hairs of his chest. She could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat under her palms.
Her mouth traveled back to his ear and down again and now moved along his bristled jaw. Suddenly, he turned his face toward her, his hand fastening on the back of her head. His mouth ground savagely against hers and for an exultant moment, their tongues mingled in a deep passionate kiss that sent Laura's blood boiling. She moaned softly, as his palm molded against her naked breast under her T-shirt.
With a soft growl, he tore his mouth away, and tugged at her T-shirt, drawing it up and over her head. He tossed it to the floor and slipped her bra straps off her shoulders. It, too, fell to the floor. He cupped her breasts in his hands and buried his face in her cleavage, kissing and licking as if she were sweet nectar, and he was dying of thirst. Gasping for air, Laura threw back her head, her hands grasping his hair, holding him to her.
Declan pulled away from her, his eyes blazing a blue fire as he gazed at her, his chest heaving. Slowly, he slipped his boxer shorts over his lean hips, and Laura gasped in admiration at his erect cock. She couldn't wait to feel it inside her. His gaze traveled over her, resting on her unzipped jeans and the glimpse of white bikini panties.
"Take them off, love," he whispered. "Let me see your sweet body."
Hands trembling, Laura pushed down her jeans and panties in the same motion, and then, there she was, standing naked in front of him. She shivered at the look of passion in his eyes. He smiled.
"Come here, girl." He held out a hand, and she took a step closer, her face hot with embarrassment. Oh, God! What did he see when he looked at her? A Plain Jane who was desperately in love with him? Or a beautiful, desirable woman?
When she approached close enough, he enfolded her in his arms, trailing a hand down the slope of her back, and cupping a warm buttock. "Christ, you're so beautiful, Laura-girl," he whispered into her ear. Every inch of her from shoulder to knee touched his bare skin, and it felt as natural as a nut nestles in its shell. She trembled as his hard shaft pressed against her belly. It moved against her, like a wild animal, and her womanly core responded, opening like the petals of a flower. He gently tipped her head back, and his mouth settled onto hers, his tongue searching and coaxing.
Finally, breaking the kiss, he guided her onto the bed, and dropped down next to her, sliding one warm hand between her thighs, delving into her hot, wet center. His eyes watched her face as he stroked her, bringing her closer and closer to climax.
"No!" she cried out, gasping. "Please! I don't…want…"
"Why not?" he whispered. "I'll make you come again. And again…and again." She squeezed her eyes shut, gasping in delight. Leaning over her, his mouth took hers again, shutting off her cries of tormented delirium.
She wanted him so badly-needed him inside her. She dragged her mouth away from his. "Now!" she cried out. "Oh, please, Declan! I want to feel you inside me!"
Staring deeply into her eyes, Declan moved on top of her. Then slowly, he plunged into her, inch by excruciating inch, filling her so deeply and completely that she felt she would surely explode immediately. But sensing this, he didn't move. She arched her body, wrapping her legs around the small of his back, cradling him. For a long moment, he gazed at her. He felt huge inside her, and more wonderful than she ever could've imagined. His skin was flushed, his eyes glittering with excitement. He bent his head and kissed her, suckling her bottom lip, taking his time.
"I hope I won't disappoint you," he said so
ftly. "It's been so long for me. I don't think I will last long."
Laura thrust her pelvis upward, and a zinging lick of pleasure throbbed through her. "Oh, please…" she murmured mindlessly, rolling her head back and forth. "I don't care. Just…please…please…please!"
His lips quirked. "If you're sure…"
She thrust upward again, her nails digging into his buttocks in frustration. "I'm sure, Declan! Please don't make me wait any longer!"
Declan began to move…oh, so slowly and exquisitely, thrusting his length in, and withdrawing almost all the way. Laura stared into his tumultuous eyes. He was going to drive her mad. She was so close, so…so very close. His tempo quickened imperceptibly, and his blue eyes darkened into deep violet pools. And then, suddenly, without warning, all restraint left him, and he rocked into her in mindless rhythm. Laura moaned as she went over the edge, her heels pummeling him, and Declan's cries joined her as he finally exploded, too. Laura gripped his haunches, shuddering in an earthquake of pleasure.
For a long, long moment, they stayed in that position, his head lolling against her damp shoulder, her legs wrapped around his waist. Laura felt his heart pounding in time with hers as their shallow breathing slowly steadied.
Her brain was spinning in delirium, but one thought rang through loud and clear. She could never, ever, let this man go. Because already, she was addicted to him.
Chapter Three
In the afterglow of lovemaking, Laura lay spent in Declan's arms, her palm flattened against the mat of hair on his chest. She breathed in his scent of heather mixed with the perfume of sex, and it made her want him all over again. But they were both exhausted. He turned his head toward her and brushed his lips over her sweat-dampened brow.
"Ah, Laura," he whispered. "You don't know what you do to me. You're a treasure, you are."
She moved her hand over his chest in a slow circle. "Have you ever been in love, Declan?" She felt his body tense, and her hand stopped moving.