Sanctuary (41 page)

He eased back, straddling her. The last rays of the sun streaked through the west window and set the air on fire. Her hair haloed around her face, the deep, smoky red of autumn leaves. Her eyes were high-summer blue, her skin the delicate rose of spring.

He lifted her hand, kissing the fingers one by one.

“What are you doing?”

“Savoring you. Your hand's trembling, and your eyes are full of nerves. I like that.” He scraped his teeth over her knuckle. “It's exciting.”

“I'm not afraid.”

“No, you're confused.” He lowered her hand, unfastened the first button of her blouse. “That's even better. You don't know what I'm going to make you feel next.”

When her blouse was undone, he parted it, then slowly let his gaze slip down. Underneath she wore a bra of electric blue, the sheen of satin dipping low over the milk-pale swell of her breasts.

“Well, well.” Though his stomach tightened with the need to devour her, he lifted his gaze back to hers. “Who would have thought it?”

“It's not mine.” She cursed herself when he smiled. “I mean, I only bought it and wore it out of the store to stop Lexy from hounding me.”

“God bless Lexy.” Gently, watching her face, he skimmed his thumbs just above the edge of the satin. Her lashes fluttered, lowered. “You're holding back on me.” He skimmed his thumbs a fraction lower. “I won't let you. I want to hear you sigh, Jo Ellen. I want to hear you moan. Then I want to hear you scream.”

She opened her eyes, but her breath caught when he scraped his thumb over her nipple. “Oh, God.”

“You hide too much, and not just this remarkable body. You hide too much of Jo Ellen. I'm going to see it all, and I'm going to have it all before we're finished.”

He flicked the front hook of the bra, watched her breasts spill free. Then lowering his head, devoured them.

She did moan, then the sounds she made were quick, wild whimpers. The ache was unbearable, unreasonable. She moved restlessly beneath him to soothe it and only deepened the throb.

She dragged at his shirt, yanking it over his head and tossing it violently aside so she could feel hot flesh. The storm crashed inside her, tossing her closer and closer to that high, sharp peak, then dragging her back, just inches back, before she could ride it.

His mouth, his hands streaked over her now, daring her to keep pace, making it impossible for her to do anything but stumble blindly. She writhed, tried to roll free. Anywhere there was air, was an anchor to hold her.

But he held her trapped, imprisoned in that terrifying pleasure. And gave her no choice but to endure the violent war of sensation battling sensation. He pulled her slacks over her hips, revealing the blue swatch of satin. His mouth was on her belly, riding low, his labored breathing thickening the air with hers.

She didn't hear herself begging, but he did.

He had only to slide a finger under that satin, had only to touch her to have her explode.

Her body convulsed under his, rocked by wave after molten wave of pleasure. He pressed his face to her belly as it quivered, as his own body shuddered in response.

Thank God, thank God, was all she could think when the tension flooded out of her. Her muscles went lax, and she took one grateful gulp of air. Only to expel it again on a muffled scream as those clever, unmerciful fingers drove her up again.

Did she think that was all? The blood throbbed painfully in his head, his heart, his loins as he tore away the thin barrier. Did she think he would let either of them settle for less than madness now? He yanked her hips high and used his tongue to destroy her.

And she did scream.

Her arms flew back, her fingers bouncing off the glossy painted iron posts of the headboard, then gripping desperately as if to keep her body from being swept away. Behind her closed lids lights pulsed violent red, beneath her skin her blood swam dangerously fast. She shattered again, a thousand pieces of her flying free.

Then his hands gripped hers over the bedposts. He plunged into her, filled her, took her ruthlessly to peak again with long, slow, deliberate strokes. Even as her vision wavered, she could see his eyes, the sharp intensity of them, the pure gray edging toward black.

Helpless, she matched his pace, her breath hitching and tearing when he quickened the tempo. Her hips pumping when he began to thrust inside her, hard and fast.

When his mouth came down on hers, she could do nothing but surrender to it. When her body spun finally and completely out of control, she could do nothing but let herself go.

And he could do nothing but let himself follow.

 

 

SHE didn't know if she'd slept. She almost wondered if she'd simply slid into a coma. But it was full dark when she opened her eyes. That, Jo thought hazily, or she'd been struck blind.

He lay over her, his head resting between her breasts. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, hear the quiet sigh of the wind fluttering through the window screens.

He felt her shift, just slightly. “I'll stop crushing you in just a second.”

“It's all right. I can almost breathe.”

His lips curved as he brushed them over the side of her breast, but he rolled over. Before she could move, he'd wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him. “Flan, my ass.”

She opened her mouth, certain that some pithy comment would come. But there was only laughter. “Maybe I've just been off desserts for a while.”

“Then you'll just have to have seconds.”

She snuggled up against him without thinking. “If we try for seconds, we'll kill each other.”

“No, we won't. We'll get to those steaks first, and I'll get you a little drunk. Which was my original plan, by the way. Then we'll have seconds.”

“You planned to get me drunk?”

“That was one of my ideas. Then there was the one about climbing up the trellis to your balcony. Sort of the swashbuckle scenario.”

“You'd have broken your neck.”

“Nah, Brian and I used to monkey up and down that thing all the time.”

“Sure, when you were ten.” She rose onto her elbow, shook her hair back. “You're about a hundred pounds heavier now, and I doubt you're as agile.”

“This is no time to call my agility into question.”

She smiled, lowered her brow to his. “You're absolutely right. Maybe you'll surprise me one night.”

“Maybe I will. But now ...” He gave her hair a tug before he sat up. “I'm going to cook you dinner.”

“Nathan.” She smoothed a hand over the wrinkled spread while he searched for his jeans. “Why are you going to so much trouble for me?”

He didn't speak for a moment. He couldn't be sure of his moves, or his words. After tugging on his jeans he studied her silhouette in the dark. “It only took seeing you again, Jo Ellen. That's all it took. It knocked the wind out of me, and I still don't have my breath back.”

“I'm a mess, Nathan.” She swallowed hard and was grateful for the dark so he couldn't see her face. The longing that had geysered inside of her had to show. “I don't know what I think or feel about anything. Anyone. You'd be better off shaking loose.”

“I've taken the easy way a few times. It usually ends up being dull. So far you've been anything but dull.”

“Nathan—”

“You're really wasting your time arguing with me while you're sitting naked on my bed.”

She dragged a hand through her hair. “Good point. We'll argue later.”

“Fine. I'll just go dump more charcoal on the grill.” And since he planned to have her naked and on his bed again before the evening was over, he didn't think they'd have much time to argue.

“
S
TAY.” Nathan wrapped his arms around Jo's waist, nuzzled the back of her neck. Her hair was still damp from the shower they'd shared. Smelling his soap on her skin aroused him yet again. “I'll fix you breakfast in the morning.”

She hooked her arm around his neck. It amazed her how easy it was to be this close. “You don't have anything to fix.”

“Bread. I have bread.” He spun her around so he could feast on that wonderful curve of neck and shoulder. “I'm terrific at toast. I'm famous for my toast.”

“As incredibly appetizing as that sounds ... Nathan.” With a sound caught between a laugh and a moan, she tried to wiggle away from his roving hands. “We really will kill each other, and I have to get back.”

“It's barely midnight.”

“It's after one.”

“Well, then, it's practically morning, you might as well stay.”

She wanted to. As his mouth found hers, persuasively, she badly wanted to. “I have things to straighten out at home. And I have to make it up to Brian for leaving him in such a mess tonight.”

She put her hands to his face, liking the way it felt under her fingers. Cheekbones, jaw, the scrape of beard. Had she ever explored a man's face this way? Or wanted to?

“And I have to think.” Firmly, she drew away. “I'm a thinker, Nathan. A planner. This is new territory for me.”

He rubbed a thumb over the line that formed between her brows. “You'll just compel me to keep changing directions on you.”

Fresh nerves skidded over her skin. “Then I'll have to stay a step ahead. But now, I have to go home.”

He could see her mind was made up, and so he forced himself to readjust the pleasant image of waking beside her in the morning. “I'll drive you.”

“You don't have to—”

“Jo.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and his voice was quiet and final. “You're not going out alone in the dark.”

“I'm not afraid. I'm not going to be afraid anymore.”

“Good for you. I'm still driving you. Or we can argue about it, I can maneuver you back into the bedroom, and drive you home in the morning. Does your father have a gun?”

She laughed, pushed at her bangs. “It's very unlikely he'd shoot you for sleeping with me.”

“If he does, I'm counting on you to nurse me back to health.” He took his keys from the counter.

“I'm a southern woman,” she said as they started out the door. “I'll even find a petticoat to tear into bandages.”

“It would almost be worth getting shot for that.”

As she climbed into his Jeep, she asked, “Ever been shot?”

“No.” He slid in beside her and started the engine. “But I had my tonsils out. How much worse could it be?”

“Considerably, I'd imagine.”

She stretched out her legs, leaned back, and shut her eyes. She was tired, but deliciously so. Her muscles were loose, her mind pleasantly fogged. The air felt silky on her skin.

“The nights are best on the island,” she murmured, “when the quiet just rings in your ears and no one else is awake. You can smell the trees and the water. The sea's a whisper in the background, like a pulse beating.”

“You can be alone and not be lonely.”

“Mmm. When I was a little girl I used to imagine what it would be like if I were all alone, had the island all to myself just for a few days. It would all be mine, everywhere I walked, everywhere I looked. I thought I would like that. But then I dreamed it, and I was afraid. In the dream I kept running and running, through the house, out into the forest, over the beach. I wanted to find someone, anyone, to be there with me. But I was all alone. And I woke up crying for Daddy.”

“Now you take pictures of being alone.”

“I suppose I do.” She let out a sigh and opened her eyes. And there, through the dark, she saw the glimmer of light. “Kate left a light on for me.”

It was comforting, that flicker of home. She watched it dance through the trees, outdo the shadows. Once she'd run away from that light, and once she'd run toward it. She hoped the time would come when she could walk either way without fear.

As they neared the end of the drive, she saw the figure rise from the porch swing. Her stomach did an ungainly roll before Nathan covered her hand with his.

“Stay here. Lock the doors.”

“No, I—” She let out a trembling breath. “It's Brian,” she said, feeling foolish at the wave of relief that swamped her.

Nathan nodded, also recognizing the figure as Brian stepped into the light. “Okay, let's go.”

“No.” She gave the hand that covered hers a quick squeeze. “Let's not complicate it. If he needs to yell at me some more, I deserve it, and I don't want the two of you eyeing each other and trying to figure out how to handle the fact that you're friends and you're sleeping with his sister.”

“He doesn't appear to be armed.”

It made her laugh, as intended. “Go home.” She shifted, finding it simple to just lean over and touch her lips to his. “Let Brian and me deal with our family baggage. We're too polite to do a good job of it in front of you.”

“I want to see you tomorrow.”

She opened the door. “Come for breakfast—unless you're set on having your world-famous toast.”

“I'll be here.”

She started toward the porch, waiting until she heard his Jeep reverse before she mounted the stairs. “Evening,” she said coolly to Brian. “Nice night for porch sitting.”

He stared at her a moment, then moved so quickly she nearly shrieked. His arms strapped tight around her. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Stunned speechless, she started to pat his back, then yelped as he jerked her away and shook her.

“It's your own goddamn fault. So typical, so goddamn Jo Ellen.”