Safe Harbor (10 page)

Jonas tried to regain some semblance of control, but her body gripped his like a tight velvet fist, hot enough to scorch. He braced himself with a hand on either side of her shoulders, his body blanketing hers, and bent his head. His mouth took hers as he began a driving rhythm through the inner muscles so tight and reluctant, seizing him as he plunged deeper and deeper. She gasped, her hips bucking to meet each thrust. The powerful strokes drove her higher, closer to the release he wanted to give her, yet he kept her from getting there, forcing her to go all the way with him.

He tore his mouth from hers, breathing deeply, pistoning harder, feeling her muscles heating, melting into living silk, pulsing with life around him. She thrashed harder under him, somewhere between fighting him and yanking him closer. She murmured something, a small cry of alarm, her nails biting deep.

Hannah was unprepared for the painful pleasure racking her body, the pressure building and building until she fought for breath. Each hard thrust sent her reeling and the edges of her vision blurred. Above her, Jonas looked the epitome of carnal sin, his hair damp, his face etched in lines of passion, his breath ragged as his body rode hers harder and deeper, so deep and hot she wanted—no, needed—to come apart.

He dragged her legs over his arms, his hips thrust even deeper so that her muscles pulsed around him, clasping him tightly, squeezing down until he uttered a hoarse cry and the world around her went black and then filled with colors. The explosion ripped through her body, a storm of such intensity she couldn't even cry out anymore. Multiple orgasms tore through her, one right after the other, swelling in strength, her body spasming around his.

Jonas couldn't hold on with her body rippling and pulsing around him like a hot, silken fist. His release came harsh and violent, unrelenting pleasure roaring up from his toes and pouring down from his head to center in his groin. Pulse after hot pulse jetting deep inside her, filling her, adding to the waves of her climax so that she clamped down hard on him, sending another shaft of lightning whipping through him. He collapsed over the top of her, his breathing ragged, his lungs burning and his body shaking. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to calm the pounding of his heart. Nothing had ever been that good.

Jonas reluctantly withdrew and rolled off her, tugging the blanket around her. Hannah lay limply beside him, her eyes dazed, her slender body slack, but his hand on her abdomen confirmed the aftershocks still rippling through her. "Are you all right, baby?"

"I don't know." Her fingers found his. "Am I?"

He grinned. "Oh, yeah, baby. You're so fine they need to find a new word to describe you."

"That was a little scary." He'd taken her over. There was no going back. She'd think about him, his mouth, his hands, his body, every time she lay on her bed. Her body sang for him, came apart for him. "I wasn't aware I'd been missing anything so spectacular."

Jonas frowned and rolled over, his arm settling around her waist. "Just remember who you belong to, Hannah. I wouldn't want to have to shoot anyone—or strangle you."

She leaned over to kiss his shoulder. "Why am I the one to be strangled?"

"It's a much more personal death."

"You've been a cop too long." She dragged the blanket up higher to cover her breasts. "I can't move."

"You don't have to move. Just go to sleep. When we wake up, I'll show you some other very intriguing things we can do."

"There's more? There can't be more." She yawned and snuggled closer to him. "I have to catch a plane in the morning, Jonas. You know it's a four-hour drive to the airport."

"Take a later one."

"Mmm. Maybe." She could barely speak, let alone move, and the thought of a four-hour drive and an additional plane ride to the East Coast was daunting. And she needed a hot bath to soothe her sore body. "I think you beat me up."

Instantly he shifted, his arm going around her hips, his hand pushing the blanket from her body to inspect her. "I got a little carried away, Hannah. I should have been much more gentle your first time. Hang on, baby, I'll
run you a bath." There were marks on her thighs, on her breasts and even on her belly. "And I'd better shave. You have whisker burn on your face."

And on the inside of her thighs, but she wasn't mentioning that.

"I'm not certain I can actually take a bath right now," she admitted. "Let's just lie here and count the stars." She waved her hand and the candles flickered out. A second wave had the French doors opening to let the night in.

At once a breeze cooled her body and Jonas tugged her closer to keep her warm. It was amazing to feel at peace. For his body to be at rest. She belonged to him. She'd given herself to him and Hannah didn't ever do things by half-measure. She'd been frightened, but his loss of control hadn't driven her away. She'd accepted his physical needs the way she accepted his temper and arrogance.

He slipped his hand beneath the blanket and let his palm, fingers splayed wide, drift possessively over her body.
His
. He tasted her in his mouth, breathed her in his lungs, had spent time inside her hot silken sheath. If there were miracles, he was living one. She didn't protest his touch, but turned her head toward him, her gaze locking with his. He held her with his eyes, not wanting her to look away while he explored every square inch of incredible skin. Warm and soft like nothing else he'd ever experienced.

"I love that you're mine," he whispered and nuzzled the blanket from her breasts so he could enjoy the sight.

Deliberately he allowed his hand to move lower. He felt her stomach muscles clench as his fingers skimmed over her. She tensed when he cupped her mound so he rested his hand there, letting her get used to the feel of his possession. He wanted to touch her like this whenever he wanted. He wanted her open to him, loving him, giving herself to him, and more than anything, he wanted her to feel the same way back.

There was no "if" they were together. They were. He'd made that clear before making love to her, and he wanted her to realize he was a physical man. There would be touching—lots of it. Her curves, her body, belonged to him and his to her. It wasn't about groping her—it was about loving her. He needed her to feel the difference.

Her nipples had peaked in the cool night air and he bent his head to run his tongue over one of them. He felt the instant answering flood of warm liquid against his palm and he slid one finger inside her. She was as tight as ever, her muscles clenching, the hot silk ready for him. He rubbed his head against her soft skin, blinking back emotion that threatened to spill over.

Hannah was completely, utterly, relaxed under his hand and she never made a single move to reject his advances. She might be a little nervous, but she was open to whatever he chose to do. He chose to kiss her. He loved her mouth. He reveled in the taste of her, the response he drew from her.

When he lifted his head, she wrapped her arms around him and drew him back down beside her. "Go to sleep, Jonas. Right here, with me."

He rolled over, pulling her on top of him so that her warm body was sprawled across his. He wrapped her up with one arm and drew the blanket over both of them. "Like this, Hannah. Close, like this." His arm circled her waist and she snuggled into him, fitting her body over his, breasts pressed tightly against his skin, her head on his pillow.

Jonas fell asleep with his hand cupping her butt. Hannah lay on top of him, listening to his breathing, hyperaware of his hand. Her body still tingled, still sang. For a short time, when he was inside her, she had known exactly where she wanted to be. She loved his touch. He scared the hell out of her by forcing her to go far beyond where she ever thought she could, but she trusted Jonas with her body and had given him everything he'd demanded.

That was so Jonas. She stroked his hair with small caresses. He was demanding. He always would be. But sometimes, he was so vulnerable and she realized she had power in the relationship as well. She hadn't expected that. He was as vulnerable to her as she was to him. He just acted arrogant and bossy, but deep down, where it counted, he didn't want to lose her either.

She had to go to New York, the contract had been signed a year ago, but then she'd tell Jonas the truth. She had already informed her agent she was getting out of the business. She hadn't taken any new jobs in months and was simply going to fulfill the contracts she'd signed and then she'd live in Sea Haven and hopefully be with Jonas and start a whole new life.

JONAS paced across the length of the living room in the Drake family home, all the while glaring at the television. "She's been gone a week and hasn't even bothered to call home, Sarah."

"She called, Jonas," Sarah reminded him with an exaggerated sigh. "You yelled at her and she hasn't called since."

"I wasn't yelling."

" 'Get the hell home' isn't yelling?"

"I don't think it's necessary for her to be there all week. And why does she have to attend the parties every night?"

"It's part of her job."

"Is that what she tells you? Look at those men. They're staring at her." He jabbed his finger at the screen, brows coming together in a fierce scowl.

Sarah curled her legs under her, settling back into the plush chair. "This is the grand finale of the biggest fashion show held in New York every year. Hannah is a model. Of course they're looking at her; she's wearing a gown worth thousands of dollars. The whole idea is to show off the gown. She walks the runway, makes a few turns, people ooh and aah, and the designer is in for the season."

"They aren't looking at the gown," he denied. "They're looking at Hannah."

"No, Jonas," Sarah corrected gently, "
you're
looking at Hannah. They're there to see the latest designs."

Jonas made a sound of disgust as he stopped in the middle of the spacious room, his gaze glued to the television screen. Hannah, tall, thin and utterly gorgeous, walked with complete confidence down the runway, paused, one hand on her hip, a look of haughty disdain on her beautiful face, turned so that the lights picked up the shimmering colors in her gown before moving on to the pounding beat of the music.

"Why does she have to wear such outrageous makeup? Hell, Sarah, that gown is slashed to her navel and they've painted glitter or something all over her front so every man in the place is definitely not going to be looking at the dress. I can't even describe the dress and I'm looking right at her."

"Please don't tell me you're gawking at my sister's breasts." Sarah massaged her throbbing temples.

"
Everyone
is looking at her breasts."

"Go home," Sarah said. "You're making me nervous pacing back and forth. And if you hit the counter one more time in the kitchen, it's going to break and I'm going to ban you from the house for a week."

He paused to glare at her. "You can't. I'm recovering from a gunshot wound and they won't let me work. I have nowhere else to go."

The large rambling house sat on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Earlier, Sarah had opened the blinds so that all the windows displayed the incredible view of the sea. She could hear the soothing waves and sit and sip tea while she watched the blue water shimmer, white caps teasing the surface. The anxiety she'd awakened with had eased until Jonas had arrived to watch the fashion show with her. He'd turned her into a bundle of nerves and her head was pounding. It was going to be a long evening if she didn't get rid of him.