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Authors: Iris Johansen

Last Bridge Home (17 page)

BOOK: Last Bridge Home
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His lips curved in a smile. “Oh, I think you’ll find me adequately satisfying in a ‘tight’ situ ation.”

The color rose to her cheeks. His play on words was abundantly clear and totally unexpected. The change in his tone from persuasive to sensual in the space of seconds caught her off guard. She lowered her gaze to her plate. “I’m sure you will be.”

He went still. “Is that an invitation?”

She didn’t look at him. “I promised you there’d be another time.”

“You’re sure?” he asked hoarsely. “Please be sure, Beth. I can’t take any more rejection.”

“I’m sure.” She could feel his gaze as it moved over her face, her throat, her breasts. She was afraid to look up, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes. The sexual tension had gone
on too long. She was trembling on the brink, anything could tip the balance and send her over the edge. “What does it take to seduce you, for heaven’s sake? I may not be a Sybra but I’ m certainly doing my level best to—Jon!”

Her chair crashed over behind her as he pulled her up into his arms. His lips were hard and hungry on her own, and she could feel the wild pounding of his heart through the clothing that separated them. “You want me? Not Mark, not any other man? Me?”

“You.” The crisp cotton of his shirt was rubbing against her breasts with the harsh rise and fall of his chest, and she could scarcely speak. His hard muscular thighs pressed the silk of her gown against her hips. She could feel the heat his body emitted, and his arousal was as stark and primitive as the glazed expression of hunger on his face. Did she look like that too? His fingers tangled in her hair and he pulled her head back to gaze into her eyes. He searched and found what he was looking for, and his low guttural exclamation aroused her as much as the feeling of his body against her own.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” His lips were moving over her throat as he curved her body into the hollow of his hips. “I’ve been burning for so long I’m surprised there’s anything left of me.”

“I don’t doubt there’s something left,” she said faintly. “You appear to be very … sub stantial.”

“Understatement.” His tongue licked delicately at the pulse in the hollow of her throat. She shivered. His fingers curled in her hair and he tugged gently. “Definitely an understatement. Don’t you think it’s time we got rid of this?” Her robe fell in a shimmering pool of material on the carpet. “And this.”

His fingers slowly pulled the neckline of her gown down from her left shoulder. “You have lovely shoulders.” He uncovered her other shoulder and stepped back to look at her. The peach-colored bodice barely crested the tips of her breasts, and he could see the dark outline of her nipples through the silk. The muscles of his stomach twisted. “I can’t hold out very long.” He pushed the material to her waist, revealing her breasts, their dark pink nipples distended and pointed in the lamplight. “In fact, I can’t hold out at all.” With one quick jerk the gown fell to her feet. “Beth!”

He picked her up and carried her to the bed. The beige taffeta coverlet felt cool beneath her naked back. Lord, she needed to feel coolness. She was hot, tingling, rigid and yet melting. She watched dazedly as he quickly removed his clothes. He never took his gaze from her as he disrobed. He was lithe and lean, his
deeply bronzed body corded with rippling muscles. The triangle of dark hair on his chest was soft and silky. Soft. The thatch was the only part of him that appeared soft. He was made up of hard, driving masculine force.

In an instant, he was beside her on the bed. His hands moved over her yearningly, exploringly. “Do I please you? I want to please you. Let me …” His hands parted her thighs and his fingers stroked her. She gave out a little cry and surged up against him.

“You like that? God, so do I. You’ll like this too.” His head bent and his warm tongue delicately stroked her nipple.

She shuddered.

“So sensitive. Are they sore, love?”

“Only a little.” She was barely conscious of having uttered the words. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was pounding hard, fast, her chest became tighter with every second.

He was over her, nudging against her. His eyes were dark and smoky with need as they met her own. He came into her slowly, so slowly. His head bent to her breast as he moved with excruciating deliberateness within her. His lips parted and she felt his breath feathering her nipple. “Take from me,” he said thickly. “And I will take from you.” His mouth closed on her breast.

At the same time he plunged forward and
she arched helplessly up to take him as he had bade her. She was half moaning, half sobbing, her nails digging into the biceps of his shoulders. Her head thrashed back and forth as the rhythm of their lovemaking escalated, deepened. His mouth shifted to her other breast. The muscles of his thighs hardened with tension as his fingers moved down to tug gently at the soft hair that guarded her womanhood. She obediently opened to take more but there was no more to take. “Jon …”

She was trembling. He was moving hard, fast, filling every part of her. She couldn’t take enough. She had to take more. Her legs curled around his hips and she clenched fiercely.

He cried out softly and raised his head. His cheeks were flushed, his face heavy with sensuality. “Beth, I can’t…” He lifted her hips with his hands and drove deep. She inhaled sharply. He paused and looked down at her. The expression on his face was savagely joyous. “Mine/” He exploded into motion with a power so forceful it stunned her.

Near. It was so near. The tears streamed down her cheeks as she moved against him. Closer. Fire. Passion. Hunger. The feeling so intense she couldn’t bear it. Then she didn’t have to bear it any longer as the tension re leased in a blinding rhapsody of sensation.

Her breath came in little sobs, and she
couldn’t stop trembling. She wasn’t alone. Jon was trembling too. His breathing was labored and his chest gleamed with perspiration in the lamplight. She reached out with her finger and gently outlined the hard muscles of his stomach. He looked down at her and smiled.

It was a beautiful smile and she smiled happily back at him. “You were right,” she said huskily. “We’re definitely sexually compatible. Two in a million you said?”

He nodded. “That’s what the genetic scientists reported.” His eyes twinkled. “And I think we’ve successfully verified their analysis.” He lowered his head and kissed her on the lips with exquisite tenderness. He moved off her and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

She raised herself up on one elbow. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to shower and try to make myself as seductive as possible for my lady as she did for me.” He picked up her wineglass from the table, refilled it and carried it back to the bed. He bowed with graceful panache. “For you, my love. You might try to take a little catnap. It’s going to be a very long night.”

“T
ELL ME ABOUT
G
ARVANIA.” ELIZABETH’S
voice was soft and blurred with contentment. “Is it very beautiful?”

“I think it is, but then it’s my home. I’d like you to see it. I want you to see the rust-colored sands of the Zumara Desert and the tropical jungles of Samaria. We have flowers there that will take your breath away. The colors are …” He shrugged. “There are no words to describe how beautiful a place it is.”

“But no snow.” Elizabeth nestled her cheek closer into the hollow of his shoulder.

“No snow. I’d never seen snow before I came here. It’s certainly a sight I’m glad not to have missed. Everything in Garvania is bolder and brighter.”

She lifted her head to look down at him. “Now you wait just a minute. If you want bold, I’ll have to show you a waterfall called Niagara. And as for bright, our Painted Desert could probably give your Zumara a run for its money.”

He chuckled. “I’d heard that Americans are very competitive. I assure you I meant no disparagement.”

“Well, I hope not. You may be a little ahead of us in mental development, but I imagine we could teach you a few useful things.”

“I don’t doubt it. You’ve already taught me a number of things I didn’t know before.” His finger touched the tip of her uptilted nose. “Love, respect, passion. You’re a wonderful teacher, Beth.”

“Am I?” Her throat was tight with emotion. “I guess you’ve taught me a few lessons too. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I’m glad you’re beginning to appreciate my finer qualities.” The smile faded from his face. “But there’s something you should realize. Competitiveness isn’t only an American trait. I’m exceptionally competitive, probably more competitive than anyone you’ve ever met. It nearly killed me when you were married to Mark. I’d never thought of myself as an obsessive man, but I suddenly found that I had at least one obsession. I studied the video- and
audiotapes the committee brought me, and I fell in love for the first time in my life.” He smiled grimly. “I didn’t want to fall in love, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I told the council I wanted you and was going after you. Then they told me about Mark’s medical condition. How the devil could I mess up a man’s last few months of life? Even I couldn’t go that far, so I decided to wait.” His dark eyes gleamed fiercely in the lamplight. “Do you know what waiting did to me? Knowing he was married to you, touching you, listening to you laugh.” He drew a deep, uneven breath. “I just wanted you to realize how I felt. You’re mine now, and you’re going to stay mine. I’m not going to let anyone take you away from me.”

She felt suddenly uneasy. The obsessiveness he mentioned would have been clear even if he hadn’t put it into words. She wanted to be long to him, but … She shrugged away her qualms. Their relationship was just beginning. They would work things out. She tried to add a light note to the conversation to relieve the intensity of the moment. “I suppose an ordinary person like me should be grateful to be considered worthy by your august committee. Personally, I think someone must have screwed up on their paperwork.”

His face softened. “Do you? I know why they thought you’d be an asset.” Courage, integrity,
and a loving nature. She radiated warmth like a glowing fire. His finger brushed the curve of her cheek caressingly. “Freckles. They’re very rare in Garvania since we have darker complexions. Naturally we wanted such a phenomenon to be reproduced in—ouch!” He extracted his finger from her mouth. “And you have very fine teeth too.”

“Are they also rare in Garvania?”

“No, but your cannibalistic proclivities are.”

“Well, what do you expect? You’ll find Americans are basically a very primitive people. We enjoy the simple things in life. A warm fire, a good meal, a secure place to—” She stopped and the laughter abruptly disappeared from her face as she finished—“come home to.” Her cheek returned to its former place on his shoulder and she curled closer. “Hold me. I want you to hold me.”

“Delighted.” His arms went immediately around her. There was silence in the room. His hand moved up to gently message the tense muscles at the nape of her neck. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, but I guess we’d better. You said you had a plan for Andrew. Your plan doesn’t include Mill Cottage, does it?”

“No.”

She expelled her breath shakily. “I didn’t think so.”

“We’ve decided Andrew would be safer out side the United States.”

“Why? Surely he’d be safer here. We have more freedom than any other country in the world.”

“I’m not disputing that fact, but living in a free country may not be to Andrew’s advantage. Democracy is based on a system of checks and balances, which breeds bureaucracy. Do I have to tell you how slow a bureaucracy moves? I don’t doubt Bardot’s agency will eventually be evaluated and eliminated, but it may take a long time. What if Andrew’s uniqueness is discovered and popular opinion turns against him?”

“Where do you want him to go?”

“Have you heard of a country called Sedi-khan?”

“It’s an oil-rich sheikdom in the Middle East, isn’t it?”

Jon nodded. “Sedikhan is ruled by Alex Ben Raschid, who is very democratic and devoted to his country’s welfare.” He paused. “But an absolute monarchy exists there, which means that once under Raschid’s protection Andrew would be safe.”

“I see.”

“The sheik has agreed to accept the responsibility
of keeping us all out of danger and will send his private plane to a small airport north of Rochester tomorrow evening.”

“Sedikhan. It sounds so … foreign.”

“It’s a wonderful place to live. Andrew will love Sedikhan.”

“How do you know that?” Her tone was suddenly fierce. “How can you be certain he’d be happier there than at Mill Cottage?”

“I can’t tell you he’ll be happier. I can only tell you I believe he’ll be safer,” Jon said quietly.

“The cottage is such a wonderful house for a child to grow up in.” Elizabeth’s voice was husky. “I love it so, Jon.”

“I know you do.” Jon’s arms tightened around her. “I told you it would be your decision. If you decide to stay here, I’ll make it work for us.”

She experienced a jubilant flare of hope. “You will?”

“I will.” He brushed the top of her head with his lips. “I’ve always wanted to live in a house with a paddle wheel.”

BOOK: Last Bridge Home
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