Speechless (19 page)

Stone smiled. His mother was always taking care of them,
even when she didn’t really know what had happened or why they needed taken
care of and he was grateful to her. He’d been taking care of himself for so
long, he’d forgotten how nice it was to have his mother fretting about him. Or
maybe he was old enough and tired enough now to appreciate it.

When they reached the house, Eva pulled away from him and
followed his mother. “I’ll help you,” she said, entering the kitchen, Stone at
her heels.

“No you won’t,” his mother said. “You just sit right down
and let me make you some tea. The soup is frozen—won’t take but a few minutes
to heat up—and I’ll have a batch of biscuits in the oven before you know it.”

During dinner, no one seemed to want to talk much. Stone had
already given his parents a sketchy description of what had happened, that the
men had come, but so had the authorities. Eva had been knocked on the head in
the scuffle, but no one had been seriously hurt. That was his story, anyway. He
hadn’t mentioned that David had shot someone, that Eva had almost been raped,
that he himself had wanted to rip a man apart in his fury and fear for Eva. But
there was one more thing he had to tell them.

“Eva and I will be leaving in the morning,” he said and the
clink of spoons against bowls, the slurping of hot soup, the munching of
biscuits all stopped and every pair of eyes turned to him.

“Jacob—” his mother began, but he held up a hand to stop her
protest.

“Not forever, Mom. Not like last time. The authorities want
to put me in protective custody until after these men go to trial. My testimony
is a major part of the case against them and they could still try something to
keep me from testifying.”

“What about Eva?” David asked.

Stone looked at her, took in each feature—her chestnut hair,
her hazel eyes, the curve of her throat, the spot just where it met her
shoulder, that elicited soft moans when he kissed it. The fingers that had
looked so out of place wrapped around the grip of his pistol. He could barely
breathe from the tightness in his chest. She met his eyes and pulled her bottom
lip between her teeth.

“They say she’ll be safe, that she can go back to her home
and job.”

All that matters will be killing you,
Eva said.

Yes.

“You’ll come back when it’s all over, boy,” Stone’s father
said.

“I’ll come back. If you’ll have me.”

His father gave a curt nod. “Good.”

Supper ended quickly after that and his mother shooed Stone
and Eva out of the kitchen and up the stairs. “I can tell you’re about to fall
over, Eva. You better go take care of her, Jacob.”

He held her all night long, waking her every few hours with
kisses across her face and down her neck. He tried to resist her, knowing that
after the day she’d had, sex was probably the last thing on her mind. But near
dawn, when he woke her for the last time, she arched beneath him and a soft
sigh touched his mental ears.

Stone…

He pushed up the t-shirt she slept in—his t-shirt—and cupped
her breasts, tasting one and then the other, sucking one hard nipple then the
other, then moved down her body, memorizing the feel of her soft skin beneath
his hands, the taste of her, the way she moved under him, arching to ask for
more and giving a slow, restless shimmy. He took a deep breath, inhaling her
scent, woman and fresh air and peace.

I love how you smell.

I smell like hospital.

You smell like Eva.

Then he touched her labia with his tongue and she gasped.
Her moan in his mind, the sound of her pleasure, made him harder than he’d ever
been in his life and even as he knelt with his mouth on her, his tongue
exploring her sweet pussy, he pushed off his boxers. He could not resist her.
He was addicted to her, to every sound and movement she made when he pleased
her. He found her clit, teased and sucked and laved it until she was on the
brink of orgasm. Then he trailed kisses back up her body, kissed her lips, let
her taste herself on his lips and tongue. Her breath hitched and she licked
herself off his lips, digging her fingers into his ass, bringing him as close
to the brink as she was.

He slid into her with one smooth stroke.

He moved slowly, trying to keep the bed from squeaking,
trying to prolong their lovemaking. This was home, him inside her body, her
inside his mind. He poured his love into her in every way he knew how.

Her climax started small, but Stone kept moving, reached for
her clit and every second it grew stronger, until her scream echoed in his mind
and her inner muscles clamped down on him and his own orgasm hit, shaking him
body and soul.

* * * * *

Four hours later, Stone pulled up outside the terminal at
the small regional airport. Eva sat in the passenger seat, still as a statue
for a moment.

Are we ever going to have normal?
she asked.
Am I
ever going to have you for more than a few days?

I hope so. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.

Eva nodded and opened the car door. Stone retrieved her
duffel bag from the trunk. He held it out to her, but at the last moment
instead of letting her take it, he pulled her into his arms, held her against
him as if he would fall to his death if he let go. And maybe he would.

I love you. Don’t ever doubt that I love you.

I love you, too. Stay safe.

No fears.

No fears.

Stone watched her walk into the building, watched the doors
slide shut behind her, watched for another minute even though he couldn’t see
her anymore, then got back into the car. A man leaning against the wall of the
terminal folded the newspaper he had been reading, detached himself from the
wall and got into the car, claiming the seat Eva had just vacated.

“Rafe,” he said in greeting.

“Gabriel.” Stone put the car in gear and pulled away from
the curb. “Where are we headed?”

“East.”

Eva lay in bed and waited for Stone’s voice in her head. She
had been amazed the first time she’d heard him after he left her at the
airport, months ago now. He’d refused to tell her where he was, but she knew
they weren’t in the same city. Ever since then, they’d “spoken” most evenings
and often during the day, when Eva was doing something more interesting than
teaching or working in her lab. She’d narrated a couple hiking trips to him and
walks through Salem and along the shore. She’d even once gone into the Salem
Witch Museum, an establishment she’d made a point of avoiding since she’d moved
there, and described each overwrought display to him. She was laughing so hard
at his comments on her “guided tour” by the time she left that she was certain
everyone else in the place must have thought her crazy.

The art museum had been a more demure, but more difficult to
share, visit. She’d found it nearly impossible to describe the artworks and
historical artifacts to him. Finally she’d just said,
You’ll just have to
come and see it for yourself, when…

But she hadn’t been able to finish the sentence.

That night he’d made love to her the way he had in that bed
and breakfast in Kentucky, giving her a mental massage she’d been able to feel
all the way to her toes. Other nights he’d described with words all the ways he
would make love to her when they were in the same room together. It couldn’t
compare to the real thing, of course, but Eva bet it blew phone sex out of the
water. He never called her by pet names, no “baby” or “sweetheart” or
“honeybunch,” and she was just as glad. The way he said her given name made her
feel warm all over, he said it with so much love and desire, even in “ordinary”
conversation.

What are you wearing?

Eva smiled. He’d opted for classic tonight.

Do you want truth or fantasy?

They’re the same thing.

The lingerie you picked out for me in New York.

She could feel him smile.
Perfect. I want to blindfold
you, so you won’t know where I’ll touch next, so you’ll concentrate on the
sensations of my skin against yours, my lips on all your most sensitive places.

Wait—I have a scarf in my drawer.
Eva hurried to her
dresser, retrieved the length of black silk and returned to the bed. She tied
it snugly over her eyes after lying down again. She shivered in anticipation.

Can you see anything?

No.

Where should I touch first? Beautiful Eva. You’re too
tempting, lying there waiting for me. Answer my question—where should I touch
you?

His voice melted her so she could hardly think and she could
almost imagine that he was right there in the room with her. She had missed him
so much, missed his touch, his face, the feel of him inside her. Her craving
almost conjured him up, almost brought tears to her eyes.
My breasts.

I don’t think so. It’s too soon for that. Your cheek. I’m
tracing the bottom of the blindfold along the curve of your eye to that curl of
hair at your temple, now down and along your jaw and across your chin and up.
Your skin is so soft, I think I might just worship it for the rest of the
night. The backs of my fingers down your cheek, a finger tracing your lip. It’s
quivering. Are you crying?

Eva sucked in a shaky breath, lifted her chin as if to close
the distance between herself and Stone’s hand—but of course he wasn’t there.
Kiss
me.

The Stone in her mind shook his head.
All in good time.
Now I trace a line down your neck, across the notch of your collarbone and I
pause there. Your nipples are hard, begging me to touch them, pinch them just a
little, cup your beautiful breasts in my hands, but I’m saving that for later.

He was right—her nipples had hardened into almost painful
nubbins.
Please…

I don’t think so.
She could hear the smile in his
voice.
Anticipation increases the pleasure. Instead, my hand flattens
against your chest and slides down, through the valley between your breasts and
down your stomach. I play with the edge of your panties, teasing, hinting at
where I’m going.

And suddenly Eva realized her own hand had been, in reality,
following the path Stone had been describing in fantasy. She could touch her
own breasts if she wanted to. She could stop playing with her panties and put
her hand inside, feel how wet he was making her. She edged deeper, but Stone
must have been more in tune with her than she thought.

Oh no you don’t.

I need it. I need more. Please, Stone. I need you so
much.

You have me. Now and always.

A mouth latched onto her right nipple and Eva screamed. At
the same moment, comfort rushed into her and the words
, It’s me. It’s me,
echoed around her mind. She ripped off the blindfold and there was Stone, his
mouth devouring her, suckling, nipping, soothing. The warm comfort he was
sending her transformed into hot desire and Eva responded, pressing into him,
wrapping her arms around him, then running her hands all over him.

Stone.

She put a hand on either side of his head, pulled his mouth
from her breast and drew him up so she could kiss him. Stone settled between
her legs and took her mouth like a starving man, starting slowly, as if to
remind himself of how their lips fit together, then going deeper, harder, all
the while pumping his erection—no less obvious for being trapped behind his
jeans—against her. He nipped her bottom lip, rolled a nipple between his
fingers and hit just the right angle with his hips. Eva shattered. She longed
for a voice so she could cry out her release. She could feel her inner muscles
clench and release, clench and release against nothing.

She’d never felt so empty. All she could say was,
Stone.
In me. Come in.

He drew away just long enough for him to strip off his jeans
and briefs and for Eva to shimmy out of her panties. Then he filled her with
one swift thrust and finally, finally, Eva felt complete.

* * * * *

They made love and dozed and made love again, until sunlight
showed at the edges of the window shades. Stone could not get enough of Eva,
could not stop touching her, tasting her, inhaling her, even as he lay depleted
after hours of exertion.

He’d already been hard when he entered her room the night
before, just from their conversation, from feeling her desire and need grow in
response to his words. But when Eva had pleaded for more, had told him she
needed him, his cock had almost burst his zipper. Feeling her come beneath him,
before he’d even touched her pussy had almost made him come too from the sheer
pleasure of pleasing her. And when he’d entered her, lodged himself in her snug
warmth, it had been like coming home. The only thing that had kept him sane in
that safe house had been Eva’s voice in his head and his anticipation of this
moment, waking up in bed with her without the shadow of danger hanging over
them.

It had been so long since he’d woken without that darkness
and to do it here, with Eva, just made it that much more satisfying.

She stirred in his arms and turned toward him as she drifted
out of her doze.

Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?

“I didn’t know. The trial ended two days ago and my guards
loaded me into a car yesterday afternoon. The windows were so darkly tinted, I
couldn’t see out—it’s been like that every time they took me anywhere, so even
I didn’t know where I was. They stopped the car, let me out and I was in front
of your house.”

You could have knocked.

Stone shook his head. “I wanted desperately to touch you,
make love to you, fill myself up with you. If I’d knocked, you would have been
dressed and full of questions and you would have offered me food or a drink and
it would have been awkward and strange. This way, we’ve reminded ourselves of
what we’re like together, who we are. No awkwardness.”

Like in the car, after the train station. But it was
still strange.

Stone smiled and kissed her. He couldn’t help himself.

Stone…
He pulled away at the hitch in her voice.
Is
it all over now? All of it?

“It’s all over. With Cronen and Smith dead, their goons
spilled the whole story, gave up every name, date and place and they’re all in
solitary confinement for the rest of their lives. Even if they had a reason to
send someone after me, they wouldn’t be able to. But killing me wouldn’t do
them any good anymore.”

So what next?

“I thought we might see what being together in normal life
is like. It’s going to take me a while to adjust, but if we find we can stand
each other without the threat of death hanging over us—well, I don’t want to
jinx anything by planning.”

Eva smiled and this time she kissed him.