by Leon, Judith
“I’m not going to quit. I decided this morning.”
“You told me you wanted out.”
“I thought I did. When I said it, I did want out. But I’ve changed my mind.”
He let go of her hand, frowning, and crossed his arms. “How can you change your mind that fast?”
“It wasn’t fast. Well, maybe it was. But it’s the right decision.”
“It isn’t the right decision. This business is crazy. It’s dangerous. You’re right to want out.”
He was getting worked up remarkably quickly. She smiled, trying to lighten things up. “Ah, yes, but it’s also exciting work. And it’s rewarding.”
“Man, I was so damn excited about this evening. About dinner. About this whole mess being over without either of us being dead. And now you blitz me with this?” He turned around and stomped into the bedroom.
She followed him inside. “Look, you’re not quitting, are you?”
“This is my profession. With you, well, there’s plenty else you can do.”
“But I’m not a quitter either. I just wrote a young girl telling her that a person should never quit when they’re doing something important.”
“Important!” He grabbed up her discarded bathrobe from the bed. “How many times have you met some other man in a hotel room wearing one of these?” He threw the robe onto the floor, glaring at her.
“Is that what you’re so angry about?”
“Is that why you do it?”
She felt herself stiffen, as if he’d flicked a deep, psychological switch. Only moments ago, she’d been reaching out, aching with gratitude for being alive, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible. Her tongue for a moment seemed glued to the inside of her mouth. Joe knew that she’d killed her stepfather. And he knew why. What in the name of everything holy was he thinking about her?
“Get out!” she finally managed to say softly. Then stronger. “Get out!”
He opened the door then said, “You are one damned stubborn woman.”
“Get out of my room.”
He slammed the door.
She took several steps backward, put her hands to her temples. I can’t believe he thinks that. God, I thought he knew me.
A knock startled her. “Nova, I’m sorry. Let me back in.”
She didn’t move. He tried the door, but of course it had locked automatically.
“Let me in, please. I want to apologize. Right now. But not through the damn door.”
“Go away.”
“Look, there are people out here. I feel ridiculous.”
She wasn’t going to hash over ancient history, but the truth was that for years after her stepfather’s abuse, the act of sex had meant absolutely nothing to her. She’d completely deadened herself to it. Then slowly in Germany with Jean Paul, she’d begun to recover her trust in men, enough to be open to the possibility of love. And so many times with Joe she’d had this exciting feeling that, were she to let herself be with him, it wouldn’t be just a meaningless act anymore. It would feel good. Maybe even joyous. It would be an act of love.
“Nova!”
Another thought struck her. He is jealous.
Jealous meant he cared. And maybe it was true he worried about her when things got serious. She just needed to make him see that working for the Company was just as dangerous for him, just as hard on her.
She took her hands away from her head and listened for another knock. It did not come.
Maybe she should go to his room, knock, and ask him to let her in so she could apologize.
No way. Who had started this whole damn thing?
She turned toward a large decorative mirror and stared at a woman all dressed up to please the man who pleased her…heart.
She heard a sound from the balcony, turned, and there he stood in her balcony doorway.
“I’m not going to let you run away from me this time,” he said. He strode across the room, grabbed her hand, pulled her into his arms. Then, tenderly, he kissed her.
Warm. Dizzy. She felt his hand pressing her close and savored the taste of his lips. The kiss she would make last forever. A kiss that made her whole, sweet and whole. So sweet.
She caught her breath, and his tongue parted her lips and slipped inside her mouth. He was hungry for this, too. A warmth spread in the pit of her stomach and blended with a sudden throbbing between her legs.
He said softly, “I want you, Nova Blair. I want you like I’ve never wanted another woman or ever will.”
He kissed her again, and this time she let her tongue explore his lips, urge them aside, and enter his mouth.
His hands moved over the camisole down to the hollow of her back. She pulled out his shirt and let her fingers linger over his smooth skin. Beneath it were muscles like chiseled marble. God, how she loved the smell of his hair and skin—all of him.
“Make love to me, Joe,” she whispered.
His hand found her breast. “No bra,” he said softly, his breath warm on her neck.
She let one hand glide over the firm abs.
He shivered and then slid his hand up under the camisole. She felt her nipple go hard to his touch.
“Oh, God,” she murmured, shivering as well.
“I want you so badly. Don’t know how long I can wait.”
She took his hand and led him to the bed. He took off and cast aside the see-through top and the camisole, and then his shirt.
He kissed her again, his erection hard against her belly. Her whole body ached to have him inside her, hard like that. Hard and strong and determined. And so sweet.
He took his time, slowly pulling her panties down, kneeling in front of her. He sat her on the edge of the bed and slowly spread her legs. When his mouth touched her, she moaned. She was losing control.
“I’m going to come,” she said.
He stopped at once. “Not yet,” he said. “Not yet. Not so fast.”
He stood, scooted her fully onto the bed and climbed over her. His lips found her lips. His tongue flicked, then savored her nipples. Her belly button. His hand worked a magic unlike anything she’d ever experienced—because she cared. She loved. Soon she heard herself moaning again. “Please,” she said.
She was hot, her skin felt slick, and so did Joe’s. “Yes, now,” he said, before putting on a condom.
Their bodies joined, moved as one.
“Nova!” he urged, his voice husky, a whisper like an incantation.
Fantasy became reality. Oh, yes. And then…an explosion…a wave of heat, flying, loosed from all bonds.
Oh, my God.
He groaned and then collapsed beside her. They lay quiet a moment. He rose on his elbow and kissed her eyelids, her forehead, her lips. Then, crossing his arm over her chest, a heavy, relaxed weight, he drifted away from her to his own place of bliss.
She touched his hair, inhaled the scent of it. This man is worth any risk.
Later, they wakened and showered together—a long hot shower with no words and lots of kisses—then they climbed back into the bed. She lay in his arms in a contentment and peace that surprised—no, astounded—her.
He said, “I am sorry, Nova. Really. I will never do that again, never accuse you. We’re not children. Your life is yours. I just want you, if you can, to let me be a part of it.”
Was he saying he wanted her forever? For a year? More? Less? How soon would he be drawn away to a younger woman? Could he really accept it if she continued to work for the Company? If she allowed herself to fall in love with Joe, could she bear it when he was off on some dangerous assignment? Or when he was flirting with another woman for the job?
“I’m a big risk-taker,” she said. “You are, too. What will be will be. No one is ever guaranteed anything but now.”
And this now was glorious.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5121-6
IRON DOVE
Copyright © 2005 by Judith Hand
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