by Diana Palmer
She smiled into his collar. “Thanks, pal,” she whispered.
“Oh, I think maybe we’re a little more than pals, aren’t we?” he asked at her ear. “After last night?”
“What about last night?” she asked contentedly.
“You tried to give me this delicious body,” he replied, smoothing down her breasts and waist and hips with his big hands. “And I said no.”
“You said it had to be for the right reasons,” she corrected, gasping as he found the tips of her breasts and cupped them in his warm palms through the thin shirt.
“I said a lot of stupid things,” he replied. He lifted his head and looked at her with black, reckless eyes. He didn’t say another word, but his hands became insistent, and he watched her face color, her eyes dilate. He let his gaze fall to the T-shirt, and slowly his hands bunched it, lifting the hem with devastating slowness until her taut breasts slowly became visible.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he said softly. “You wanted me to do this this morning.”
“What are you doing?” she whispered shakenly as he eased it over her head and moved his hands to the waist of her borrowed jeans.
“You know what I’m doing,” he said in a voice as seductive as perfume. His breath came quickly, but still he smiled. His hands tugged at the zipper and eased the jeans off, tossing them roughly to one side so that she was lying in his arms without a stitch of clothing on her body.
“Oh, yes,” he said in a rough, gravelly tone, smiling triumphantly as his gaze and his hands smoothed down her body and felt the silken warmth under his rough fingers. “That’s much better. Here.”
He lifted her hands to his tie and helped her fumble it off, along with his shirt. Her fingers hesitated at his belt, but he coaxed her into unfastening it, into helping him get the rest of the fabric from between them. Then he lifted her, so that she was facing him, and pulled her against the aroused contours of his body and stared into her eyes as his hands smoothed her breasts and flat stomach against his warm, hair-roughened skin.
“That’s right, you don’t have to be in a bed or on a sandy beach,” he whispered. He brushed his mouth over hers, feeling its soft trembling as his hands touched her with sudden, devastating intimacy. She shuddered and gasped.
“Marc—” her voice broke on his name, her nails scratched lightly, helplessly, against his broad shoulders as his hands dragged her body slowly, roughly, against his.
“You and I are going to do it sitting up, Gaby,” he breathed, holding her eyes with his. “Right here. Right now. And I am going to watch you every step of the way, and you’re going to watch me.”
“But...we...can’t,” she managed. His hands touched her again, and she lifted right up, moaning in exquisite pleasure.
“Shh,” he breathed. He kissed her eyelids while his hands touched her where no other man’s ever had. He smiled at her sobbing gasps, loved the way her nails bit into his chest as she arched and shuddered when he found the most sensitive areas.
“Please, please.” She was whispering it, her teeth nipping helplessly at his mouth as it hovered over hers, his hands tormenting so sweetly that she had to have him, had to have more than this delicious teasing. “Please, please, Marc, please, darling....”
His nose rubbed against hers. His own breath was rustling now, his chest pulsating like the rest of his taut body. “Now?” he whispered. “Are you ready for me so soon?”
“Yes!” Her hips moved involuntarily against his, rotating slowly, pleading, like her soft voice.
His big hands took her hips and lifted them, positioned her. “Open your eyes and let me watch,” he whispered as he moved her, watched her green eyes dilate as he searched for and found the softness, the warmth. “Yes, now, like this, be one with me. Take me softly, Gaby.”
She enveloped him easily enough. He felt her body opening, like a stream absorbing a stone, so that there was no wild struggle, no trauma.
She gasped. Her eyes came back up to his, wide and uncertain and still a little frightened.
“Listen,” he whispered urgently. “Gaby, listen. Show me where. Show me where and how. Here.” He took one of her hands and moved it to his hip.
She didn’t understand at first, until he told her with feverish whispers what he meant, and she went beet red.
“No,” he chided through the building pleasure. “Don’t be ashamed to show me. Let me give you pleasure. Let me make it happen for you this time, the first time. I can if you’ll show me! Only hurry. Hurry, Gaby, hurry!”
His face was contorting, and her hand hesitated only a minute before it moved, before her body shifted, and she cried out when his hips lifted.
They were both sweating. His skin was slick and wet against her lips as she buried her mouth against his shoulder. Under her she felt the power and strength of his body like a wall; she felt her body joined so closely to his, felt him as part of her, and cried out in sheer joy at the exquisite intimacy of the union. Two becoming one. Bodies locking. Surging together like whitecaps. Crashing now, frantic, slamming and grinding and pushing toward something not even tangible. She heard his gasping breaths through the thunder of her own heartbeat, felt the pressure building until it was deliciously unbearable, a tension that strung her out like a thin thread. She arched backward, crying, her hands on his hips now, holding him there, her body pleading for release, for an end to the tension that was tearing it apart.
Her voice broke into a thousand shrill pieces as the end came unexpectedly with shocking pleasure, an ecstasy that all her wild dreaming hadn’t prepared her for. She felt the shudders racking her, and her mind seemed to be somewhere else, watching the body it inhabited writhing and convulsing, the face contorted as if in unbearable pain.
And it passed so quickly. So quickly that she felt the life drain from her. She was aware of shudders in the body under hers, of a voice crying out roughly, hoarsely, of hands making bruises on her thighs as they clung to the pleasured heat of her own. And more slowly than she, he began to relax, the powerful body trembling helplessly, his mouth pressed into her wet throat, against her sweat-drenched hair, his arms enfolding her, comforting her, as they came down from the ceiling.
“I don’t ever want to let you go,” he whispered in a voice drained of passion, deep like velvet now as his mouth touched her throat, her ear. “I want to sit here like this and hold you to me and never move.”
She sighed with delicious fatigue. “People would stare.”
“What people? We’ll never leave the apartment again.”
“I’d like that,” she whispered. She nuzzled closer, feeling him shudder again at the movement.
“Want to do it again?” he whispered. His hands moved her insinuatingly against his still taut body. “I can if you can.”
“Not sated yet?” she taunted softly.
“Not at all, honey. Just momentarily satisfied. I want you again. Now.”
Her mouth brushed his. “Then take me.”
“You aren’t uncomfortable?” he asked, lifting his dark head to stare intently into her lazy, passion-filled eyes.
“No.”
He smiled. “No regrets?”
She sighed slowly. “No. Not even one.” She looked into his eyes with adoration. “I used to dream about doing that with you,” she whispered. “And I’d wake up crying, because it never happened.”
“And now?” he asked softly. He brushed the tangled hair from her face.
“If it all ended today,” she whispered softly, “I wouldn’t have a single regret. I wanted more than anything in life to belong to you, even if it was only one time.”
His eyes closed, and he buried his face in her throat. “You make me feel humble. I wasn’t even going to do this. I wasn’t going to let it happen. Things were so complicated already. But I wanted what we just had together. So m
uch, Gaby. So much! You weren’t the only one who dreamed.”
She smoothed his thick black hair, nuzzling his cheek. “I’m still not taking anything.”
He lifted his eyes to hers. “I know.” He touched her cheek. “I’d like to have a child with you,” he said, as if the thought dazed him. “I’d like to live with you, Gaby.”
Her heart leaped, and she started to speak, but he covered her mouth with his. “I love you,” he breathed into it. “I always have.”
His voice splintered as he began to move against her again. He was slower this time, more thorough, and long before it happened, she was moaning softly at the unbearable pleasure he was making in her untried body. At the last second she opened her eyes and looked straight into his. And as long as she lived she knew she’d never forget what happened then or how it felt to see the love in his eyes as well as feel it in his powerful, hard-muscled body.
They collapsed together in the chair when the trembling finally stopped, and she curled up nude in his arms and slept. It was a long time before he awoke and carried her into the bathroom, climbing into the whirlpool tub with her to ease their aching muscles. Then, lazily, they dressed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“WHY?” GABY ASKED later when they were sipping coffee on the big sofa in the living room, sitting as close as Siamese twins.
“Why, what?” he asked with a warm smile, and bent to brush a kiss over her still swollen lips.
“You wouldn’t touch me in the Hamptons,” she reminded him. Her eyes searched his quietly. “Especially when you knew I wasn’t taking precautions.”
“The situation isn’t the same now,” he said softly. “We’ve changed. Everything has, including my priorities. I’ve decided that I’m tired of playing it safe. I never grew up putting my feet carefully one in front of the other, and I’ll be damned if I’ll do it now.” He kissed her eyelids closed. “Listen, honey, I’m a hungry man, and you’re the sweetest taste I’ve ever known. Tomorrow can take care of itself. From now on we’re going to be together, no matter what.”
Odd how much that sounded like a proposal, but she was afraid to ask him if he meant it that way. The relationship between them was so new, so fragile, that she didn’t want to risk tearing it in any way.
She stared up at him quietly, loving the strength of his face, the darkness of his eyes, the firmness of the mouth hers had clung to so hungrily.
“What a look.” He laughed, the sound a little unsteady. “You always did have the most seductive eyes. You could look at me and make me go hot all over.”
“Really?” She grinned.
“Really.” He pulled her closer with a long sigh. “Gaby,” he breathed, burying his face in her hair, “what we did together was so profound, so beautiful. There was a reverence to it that made it much more than sex. It may sound trite, but I’ve never known that with a woman,” he confessed quietly. “What you give me is exquisite, Gaby. Loving you makes me feel whole.”
Her body trembled a little at his words. She moved closer to him, absorbing the warm strength of his big, husky body. Her hand pressed close against his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat. He was her world. A child would be heaven. But did she have the right to help create a life that might only be sacrificed if the contract man made his hit?
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’ll take care of you. Uncle Michael is on his way over.”
She lifted her head. “You called him too?”
“Yes. When I finished with the sergeant. He said it would be a couple of hours. Thank God it was.” He laughed softly, watching her blush as the memories came flooding back and heated her skin. “In a chair. It was good, wasn’t it, Gaby? I heard you cry out, and I hoped it wasn’t because I was hurting you, but I was half-crazy with passion. I could barely breathe.”
“You never hurt me.”
“A little,” he said, correcting her and smiling as she flushed. “You tried to get away, but I wouldn’t let you. It passed quickly, though, yes?”
“Yes.”
His mouth brushed hers warmly, then her nose, her eyes. “We’ll do it again tonight, Gaby. In the bed this time, so we have room to move around together.”
Her face had to be beet red, but he didn’t laugh at her this time. He cupped her face in his big hand and looked at her as if he’d die trying to see her enough.
“You could have stopped me,” he said softly. “You knew that? That I wouldn’t force you?”
“Yes, I knew,” she replied. She adored him now, more than ever, with the hope of some kind of future with him, but at the same time she felt shy with him, even after what had happened between them. “Marc, after we broke up, did you ever wonder about me?”
“All the time,” he said without hesitation. “All the time. I used to burn all over, thinking about how it had been. You made an indelible impression, little one. The light went out of me when I let you go.”
How odd, that phrasing. He hadn’t let her go, he had thrown her out. She felt chilled as the anguish of it penetrated and the old fears came back.
He sensed that and tilted her face up to his. “I’ll never let you get away again,” he said huskily. “Even if it means making you pregnant and keeping you pregnant, you’ll never be free of me as long as you live.”
“Marc...”
“Hush. Kiss me,” he whispered, and bent to her warm, parted lips. She soon forgot every question she wanted to ask as the aching pleasure of it made her go limp and cling to him.
“If Uncle Michael wasn’t due,” he breathed, “we could have each other again. I don’t know how I’m going to live until tonight.”
“But it was twice,” she said innocently, searching his face, wide-eyed.
“I’m hungry for you,” he whispered. “Insatiable. I look at you and get aroused. It’s always been like that, since the very first time I saw you. It’s never dulled or dimmed, that passion. It grows as I grow.”
She realized that and was puzzled by it. Passion died eventually, they said, but his had lasted well over nine years. Like hers. And hers was prompted by love. Was there a chance, even a small one, that his emotions were truly involved as much as hers?
He looked down into her eyes and made a rough sound. His arms arched her up to his mouth just as the doorbell pealed loudly, making her jump with its unexpectedness.
She laughed. “I guess I’m nervous.”
“Sure,” he said knowingly. He caught her lower lip in his teeth and tugged on it gently. “Later you and I are going to set my bed on fire.”
Her body trembled at the deep, husky suggestion. Her eyes searched his. “Are we?”
His head nodded slowly. “For a long time too. I want to teach you how to satisfy me.” He smiled at her curious expression. “No, you haven’t yet, not completely. I’ll show you how. Think about that while we get through this day.”
And he got up to let Uncle Michael inside the apartment. Michael was smoking like a furnace, his big black cigar sticking out one side of his mouth, his face stormy.
“Well, I’ve used up contacts I hardly remember having,” he grumbled, pausing to greet Gaby with a faint smile. “And I can’t find out a thing. I’m hoping somebody will remember something. If they don’t—” He broke off. “Have you got anything to drink in this joint? I’m burning up!”
“How about a beer?” Marc asked.
“Sure. Anything.” He dropped down into an armchair and stared at Gaby. “You okay?” he asked, nodding toward her bandaged shoulder.
She touched it lightly. “I’ll live. It was the experience of a lifetime,” she said with faint humor.
“I’ve been shot at and hit a few times myself,” he confessed. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. She sat down on the sofa and studied the husky man in the blue pin-striped suit.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “He told me everything.”
The look on his face wasn’t comforting. Marc came back and handed him a bottle of beer. He took a swig of it before he lit a cigar, then sat smoking it quietly while Marc sat down with Gaby.
“You haven’t heard anything?” Marc asked him.
Michael shook his head. “I must be getting old, boy. I can’t seem to pry information out of people like I used to. All that’s out on the streets is that this guy is an import, not local talent. And that makes him a hell of a lot harder to finger.”
“Can’t we trap him?” Gaby asked. She got up, folding her arms across her breasts in the T-shirt. Both men gaped at her. “Well, I’m not crazy,” she said. “I’m just desperate. Why sit and wait for him to come to me? We could set a trap, pick a spot for him to take another shot at me....”
“You watch too much television,” Uncle Michael said with gentle humor. “People get killed like that.”
“It looks like I may get killed, anyway,” she replied matter-of-factly. “So why can’t I choose the way I want to go?”
“Because it’s stupid!” Michael said harshly.
“And foolhardy,” Marc added in the same biting tone.
She glared at both of them. “Well, look who’s got cold feet,” she said, chiding. “And what would you do if he was after you?” she asked Michael belligerently.
He shifted restlessly. “I’d bait a trap and lure him into it,” he replied honestly.
“Turncoat!” Marc yelled at him.
Michael threw up his hands. “What do you want me to do, lie?”
“Yes!”
Gaby laughed in spite of herself. They were so much alike, so volatile.
“I hate to say it, but she’s right,” Michael replied in a calmer tone. “Can you think of a better way to get him out in the open?”