Shadow Keeper

by Christine Feehan

  "Can't you find information like that on the Internet?"

  He nodded, rinsing her off, using the wand to spray between her legs, letting the water linger and pulse against her clit. Only when she reached for the shampoo did he stop so he could take it out of her hands. He wanted to wash her hair himself.

  "Yes, you definitely can find all kinds of information on how to do anything, but he was fast and efficient. He might have built it elsewhere and carried it with him when he tailed us--and by the way, he was good enough not to be spotted."

  "No, he wasn't, you knew he was there."

  Giovanni waited a heartbeat before answering her. She was his. Sooner or later she had to know about him. It was dangerous if she knew, dangerous in ways to both of them--him more so than her. He was definitely taking the bigger risk, but she was worth it. He had to make his try with her. There wouldn't be another for him.

  "I felt him. Every time we crossed shadows. Didn't you?" He took the shampoo and rubbed it into her hair so he wouldn't have to look into her eyes. He was giving more and more of himself to her, but he wasn't certain she recognized that yet. She was intelligent, and she reasoned things out fast, guessing, of course, but she always hit the mark or close to it.

  "We were in a car."

  "But the streets were shadowed. The streetlights throw huge shadows. His car kept crossing the shadow of ours." It was one thing to be able to feel their own shadows touching, but very difficult and specific to have car shadows touching and glean information.

  "What did he feel like?" She hadn't called him crazy, and her voice held sincerity as if she believed him and wanted to know more.

  He rinsed her hair carefully before answering. "Malignant. He's definitely angry. I didn't get much of a sense of him other than that, but it was him. They were only glimpses, but I recognized that same feeling from the alley. When I first got there, I knew he was on the roof."

  She pressed one hand to her stomach briefly. "Maybe I did feel him. For me, it was dread. That's what I felt in the alley." She took the gel in both hands and began to soap his body.

  It didn't take much for his cock to come to attention. She just had to give him a smoldering look and there it was. "He left behind the bomb, which means we've got men tracking down where everything was purchased and how."

  "You still aren't going to the police."

  He gave her a look. "It's a family matter." He waited for a protest.

  "What time did you come to bed? I thought you'd wake me."

  Her voice slipped over him like a caress. Like her fingers. He'd wanted to wake her. He'd even been perverted enough to pull back the covers and look at her. She slept naked. He couldn't blame her, she didn't have much in the way of clothes. She probably didn't want to take the chance that he might rip off something sexy--which he would have done this morning.

  He'd wanted her to get some rest. She'd had a rough few days, and he still had to convince her to accept him. He wanted to put a ring on her finger. He'd told them at the Hendrick Center that he was her fiance because he had to be family in order for them to tell him anything or deal with him in any way. It didn't matter, he felt like her fiance. He knew he was going to marry her.

  Her hands were on his cock now, sliding over his shaft, squeezing and pumping until he was full and hard again. She rinsed him off and had him turn around. He put one hand on the wall and let her take care of cleaning him. She soaped him, then rinsed him off. Her lips wandered over his back, exploring like her hands had done.

  "I love your mouth," he said. "I dream about your mouth and what you do to me with it. You shouldn't have put that in my head."

  "I like doing things to you with my mouth," she admitted and promptly bit him in the butt. "Especially when you're asleep. You wake up so beautifully."

  He laughed and swung around, turning off the water so he could step out and hand her a towel. She wrapped her hair in it and took another one from his hands.

  Beads of water rolling off both of them, he caught her up, slung her over his shoulder and ran barefoot back to the bedroom. Dumping her on the bed, he yanked her legs apart, pulling her right to the very edge so her bottom was hanging off and held in his hands. He knelt there and put his mouth to her. He felt like he'd been waiting forever to have her like this. At his mercy, unable to move unless he allowed it. He didn't plan to allow it for a very long time.

  The moment his mouth touched her body, she cried out, squirming, pushing into him, not away. He smiled because he couldn't help it. There was so much joy in her. So much life. It didn't seem to matter what waited for her when she was alone, she lived every single second. She was in the precise moment.

  He took his time, refusing to allow her to hurry him. He used his tongue first, licking and then sucking, savoring her flavor. He'd known she'd be perfection. "I could exist on this alone. Feed on you three times a day and be satisfied."

  She bucked against his mouth, and he swatted her bottom. "This is for me. You had your fun this morning and I owe you payment."

  "If you owe me payment, you dolt, you're supposed to pay me the way I want it paid."

  "You didn't negotiate that," he pointed out and went back to his slow enjoyment. He wanted to build the burn slowly. He wanted her heat smoldering. He was ruthless with her, licking, stabbing with his tongue, circling her clit, flicking it hard and then ignoring that taut little bud altogether. He fucked her with his tongue and then his fingers, never letting her get off. He brought her to the brink repeatedly only to back her off, his teeth nipping the insides of her thighs.

  She was sobbing his name, her fists clenched in his hair when he lifted his head. "What is it, baby? Can't you see I'm busy?"

  "Take me over," Sasha said.

  "Mmm. That's not what I want to hear." He went back to that hot little meal that was all his. He devoured her, made growling noises, driving her even higher, getting her right to the edge and then he pulled back.

  "What do you want to hear, you maniac? Giovanni. You're torturing me."

  "Pleasure, baby, it's called pleasure. I'm loving this. You taste so good." He wiped his face on her thighs. "You want a taste?" Deliberately, he half rose to lean over her, licking his way up her belly to the underside of her breasts. All the while he pressed his body tightly against hers so she rubbed her clit on him, desperate to get off. He kept moving up her body, allowed himself to be distracted by her breasts and spent some time there, enjoying the way she squirmed and mewled.

  Giovanni pushed her a little more, making certain she enjoyed the things he was doing to her body. His teeth teased her nipple, biting down, while one hand squeezed her breast, clamping tighter, tugging, pulling, while she arched and cried out. Her hips bucked against him, and he kissed her throat and then took her mouth, giving her a taste of cinnamon candy apple.

  His hand went to her sex, pressing on her clit, pinching until she nearly came, but he pulled away. "Do you like the way you taste?"

  She nodded and slid a hand down her body toward the junction of her legs. He pulled back, flipped her onto her stomach, dragged her once more until she was bending over the bed and spanked her--three smacks on each cheek. He kicked her legs apart. "You want something, baby? It's mine to give, not yours to take."

  She cried out, her body bucking, hot liquid spilling out of her.

  "What the fuck, woman? Don't you have any control? I thought I just said this is my orgasm, not yours."

  "That's not my fault. You're deliberately making it impossible to stop." There was excitement in her breathless voice.

  "I guess I could spank you until you have an orgasm, but it isn't what I have in mind."

  "Do something. Anything. Eat me. Spank me. Fuck me. Anything at all. Just do something." There was desperation in her voice.

  "It's in your hands, baby. You know what you have to do."

  "Just remember this when I've got your cock in my mouth," she warned, her voice muffled by the sheets. "Giovanni, you bastard, will you please fuck me ha
rd until I come? I need it very, very badly. Please?"

  "Aren't you going to ask my permission to come?" He used his finger, pushing into her, retreating, pushed in two. He flicked her clit hard and felt her body tighten around his fingers. He couldn't help smiling when he swore she ground her teeth. Playing. Teasing. He'd never had those experiences and he loved that she was willing to play with him. "I'm not asking you to call me master, that might come later."

  She growled, but turned her head toward him. "Giovanni. Dear. Honeypot." She batted her eyelashes at him. "Please allow me to come? If not, I might have to hurt you."

  He caught her hips, jerked them back to him and slammed into her. She shrieked and instantly her body clamped down on his like a vise. The walls of her sheath contracted, strangling his cock. He plunged into her over and over, right through her orgasm, letting the friction and heat drive them both straight into another realm. He held on to his control through two more wildly long quakes that rippled through her entire body, and then when he built the last one higher than the previous ones, he let her take him with her.

  Her sheath was so tight he could barely breathe. It was either hell or paradise. He only knew he never wanted to leave. His release, as he emptied himself into her, flung him back to that place where her mouth had taken him, somewhere he'd never been. He floated while his body went up in flames, and he felt reborn.

  She lay limp on the bed, facedown, her narrow channel still gripping his with aftershocks while he kissed the nape of her neck and rubbed her body gently. Soothingly. She turned her head to one side to look at him. "We might not make it out of this relationship alive."

  He grinned at her, flopped on the bed and pulled her up and over him like a blanket. "I'll go out happy." His stomach tightened. "What about you? If we killed each other with sex, would you go out happy, too?"

  She lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest. "How could I not? I didn't know sex could be like this. It's so good sometimes I never want you to stop."

  He could breathe again. He pushed at the wet hair tumbling around her face. They'd lost the towel somewhere. It didn't matter. His heart hurt just from looking at her. Ached. She did that to him. "Dio, baby, I'm falling in love with you. Really falling."

  Her lashes fluttered. They were long, a dark gold, and very thick. He held his breath, knowing his declaration was probably too soon for her. She was embattled on too many fronts and having him just come out and tell her he loved her ...

  "Strange, Giovanni, and I can't believe I'm saying this because we haven't spent that much time together, but I'm feeling exactly the same way."

  He heard the honesty in her voice. That ring of truth. Part of him rejoiced. The other part knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. She didn't know his life, and he had to tell her soon. The more ties they had between them, the more their shadows tangled together. Theirs had knitted together very quickly. Once the shadows were woven together, there was only one way to get them apart. She wouldn't remember him, and he would no longer be able to ride the shadows. That was the very worst thing that could happen to a rider. It was who they were more than what they were.

  "I never expected to really find you." He hadn't. Somewhere in the back of his mind, even when he was actively looking, he hadn't believed he would find her. "Going around the world and looking for you, and here you walk right into my club. Shocked the holy hell out of me." He lifted his head to brush a kiss in the fall of wet curls. "And you had to see me at my worst."

  She laughed and rolled over, sitting up on the edge of the bed. "I doubt that's you at your worst. Your worst is going to be when you try taking over my life."

  He sat up as well. "Why would you think I would take over your life?"

  She looked around the room for her clothes. "I said 'try,' and where are my clothes? I folded them neatly and left them on top of the dresser."

  "They're in the laundry."

  "I'm not going naked to breakfast. You can give me your clothes."

  "In the drawers. I put a change of clothes there for you last night when I came in. The others are already at the house."

  Sasha gave him a look that told him they'd be having a discussion about her going to his house. That look made him want to smile. He loved that she thought he wasn't going to get his way in everything.

  She went to the bureau and took out underwear. He couldn't help watching her dress. He knew that was always going to be one of his favorite things. He'd never get tired of it. Instead of dressing as well, he remained quiet, never taking his eyes from her.

  Sasha started laughing again. "Quit staring."

  "You might disappear on me if I let you out of my sight or just blink." He knew she would laugh again and that sound did something to his heart. Made it lighter somehow. All the bitterness over the wasted months of pulling playboy duty after getting shot disappeared, suddenly worth every moment because he had her.

  "I'm going to find Francesca and breakfast," she announced.

  "Not without kissing me first."

  "Kissing you is dangerous. It leads to other things and we're never going to get out of this room if we keep it up."

  "Kiss me, baby." She was right, his cock stirred at the thought of her touching him. That mouth. Her body.

  She shook her head, blew him a kiss and ran out of the room laughing.

  Giovanni listened until the sound faded away. He pressed a hand over his heart where his chest ached. Very slowly he dressed and wandered down the hall and through his brother's penthouse. Francesca had made the very cold apartment a warm, welcoming home. Sasha would do that to his home. He could tell already, just being in her little residence.

  Stefano sat at the table alone. A cup of coffee was near one hand, a tabloid, of all things, was in the other, and he was frowning. He glanced up at Giovanni and then back toward the kitchen where their two women were talking together.

  Immediately Giovanni knew something was wrong and it involved either Sasha--or him. He held out his hand. "What is it?"

  Stefano sighed. "You aren't going to like it." He glanced toward the kitchen again where his wife was laughing with Sasha over something she'd said and then he put the paper in his brother's outstretched hand. "Someone got a picture of Sasha that night at the club. They took a couple of them and obviously sold them to a tabloid. I called, of course, but they're already running them in the magazines as well. It's all over the news. A woman employed at the Hendrick Clinic gave an interview to the newspapers and let it slip that you're engaged to Sasha. With that news out, of course whoever took the pictures was going to sell them to the tabloids. He must have made a mint."

  Giovanni looked down and his heart dropped. Sasha was on Darby's lap, both breasts exposed. Not only exposed, but the camisole, lace gaping open, pushed her breasts up and out, emphasizing them. In the photograph, it was impossible to see that the laces were torn. From the angle the photo had been taken, it appeared as if Giovanni was reaching for her breasts.

  He swore. "Whoever took this was on the same tier we were, Stefano," he said. "They were too close and had too good of a view. Someone at Aaron's table took this."

  "We don't know that."

  "Look at it. Damn it, I haven't locked her down yet. You know why? Our lifestyle. Too much money, too much jet-setting. This is going to shake her up. This is exactly the kind of thing that she can't stand. We're in the tabloids nearly every week. Sometimes more. Every story we've inserted, every picture we've orchestrated, is coming back to bite me in the ass."

  He threw himself into a seat across from his brother and pressed the tatty little gossip rag that just might very well lose him Sasha to his forehead. "I hate this."

  "I know you do. We're going to have to do damage control, and you're going to have to show this to her. You don't want her getting broadsided."

  The elevator buzzed just before the doors opened, and the brothers exchanged a long look. Both looked up as Eloisa burst into the room, her expression furious, her gaze snaking around
the room, seeking a target.

  Francesca and Sasha turned toward her, and Eloisa gasped and, ignoring her sons, stomped toward the women, purpose and fury in every step.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Giovanni nearly knocked over the table in his haste to stand up. "Eloisa." Dio, Dio, he didn't need this now. Nothing good ever came of Eloisa's confrontations, and it was clear she was determined to have it out with someone.

  Eloisa held up her hand to stop him, not that it was going to do any good. He was already in position, standing between his mother and Sasha. Stefano had risen much more elegantly, but also glided between Eloisa and the women.

  "I had no idea you planned to visit this morning, Eloisa," Stefano greeted. "Come sit down." He indicated the table. "Would you care for coffee?"

  "No, I wouldn't care for coffee. What I care for is an explanation of how my son ended up engaged to a complete bimbo." Both hands went to her hips and she glared at Giovanni.

  Stefano glanced at Francesca. One look, that was all, and she immediately caught Sasha's hand and whispered to her, hoping to get her out of the room. They'd taken two steps when Eloisa cut them off.

  "Don't you dare leave this room. Do you think I haven't seen all the pictures? Exposing your breasts in public? Declaring to the world that you're engaged? You are not trapping my son into marriage."

  "That's enough," Giovanni snapped. He knew his face darkened with temper--he had one, and it was rising fast. "You don't know the first thing about what you're talking about."

  "Wait." Sasha's soft voice had him spinning around. She looked puzzled. "Is she accusing me? What does she mean, pictures? Exposing my breasts in public? I thought you got all those pictures. You told me you did." She put her hands behind her, feeling for the counter.

  Giovanni nearly groaned aloud. The action only served to emphasize her generous breasts, and he knew that would drive his mother into further tantrum. Sasha hadn't denied her breasts had been exposed; in fact, from her statement, the circumstances would only sound worse to Eloisa. She would be certain Sasha had been partying.