Surrender to Love (30 page)

“Stop me now, Sabine
,” he said, his breath coming in short gasps as his mouth grazed the base of her neck, lowering to the rise and fall of her  breasts where her swollen nipples demanded his attention.  “Stop me if you have a mind to, because I won’t.”

She did not answer, but instead her fingers moved to the front of his shirt, releasing the buttons from their confines until her hands rested on the nakedness of his chest, his muscles shifting under the soft mat of golden hair.

He knelt before her, her breath quickening as the buttons of her chemise gave way, exposing herself to him.

“You’re beautiful.”

The whispered words were not enough, and  his hands gently traced the underside of her breasts, the curving shape of her body,  She was utter perfection in the way God had made her.  The smoothness of her honey-gold skin.  Her flat stomach.  Widening hips.  Jut right to carry children – their children.  The children he wanted to have with her, and her alone.

Self-consciously she took a step from him, covering herself from his view.

“Don’t,” he requested quietly, taking her hands in his.  “Don’t be ashamed, Sabine.  Let me look at you…just for a moment.”

The white cotton slipped past her shoulders to the floor, and he laid her back on the bed, shivers playing along his spine as his hand languidly trailed the length of her arm, between her breasts
, pausing as he reached the triangle of dark hair that hid the secrets of her femininity.

Shedding his trousers, he slid between the sheets, the nakedness of his hardened body pressing against her as he gently brought her to him
, exploring every inch of her curving body with possessive hands.  She drew a sharp breath when his fingers met the softest of her inner thigh and with gentle coaxing, rose in rhythm to his welcoming stroke, releasing the repressed cries of ecstasy that filled her.

When he had finished, he guided her hand to his swollen manhood, closing her fingers around the throbbing heat of his shaft.

“Touch me, Sabine,” he whispered raggedly.  “Make me yours.”

She did, hesitantly at first, more confidently as Michael responded to her tender strokes, grinding his hips into hers as she brought him pleasure.

He pulled her beneath him, his desire demanding the complete satisfaction of her femininity.

“It’ll hurt at first,” he whispered as he parted her thighs, “but just for a second, Sabine, I promise.”

Slowly, carefully, he entered, reassuring her with tender words as he broke through the barrier of her virginity, her innocence; withdrawing as she tensed, the fleeting pain of his penetration tearing through her.

“Let me please you, Sabine.  Let me show you how a woman should feel – how you deserve to feel.”

He slid inside her, sheathing himself to the hilt in her wetness as he fully claimed her as his own, pleasuring her with his long, even strokes.

She moved beneath him, her hips eagerly meeting his as her hands pushed him further into her, filling her need, fueling her desire.  And they mounted closer to the pinnacle of their lovemaking, her breathless voice calling out his name as her fingernails raked the length of his back
, clinging to him while she teetered dangerously on the precipice of her passion, crying out together in triumph as they reached the summit.

Michael held her close against him, his kiss long and lingering, and his hand traced the curve of her body where it joined his, the shudder of her response rousing him to excitement once again as her grew hard against her thigh.

“You’re mine, Sabine,” he stated softly, his fingers seeking out her wetness once again.  “Whatever happens, I don’t want you to forget that.  I couldn’t live knowing another man had touched you the way I have this morning.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else,” she said as she smoothed the perspiration from his shoulders, the softness of her lips met the base of his neck, the tipoff her tongue tasting the saltiness of his skin.  “I love you, Michael Pierson.”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words she so boldly offered, though his heart was bursting from wanting to confess his feelings for her.

“Let me make love to you again, Sabine,” he told her instead.

As his hands reached out to claim her, he couldn’t help thinking that his emotions had run farther and faster than he had ever imagined.  He did love her – more than he did his own life.

And that was the problem.

Now he didn’t want to let her go.

Chapter Twenty

“You are being selfish,” Luís snapped angrily.  “You have kept Sabine here, even though you know those men are asking questions all over Havana.  It is not as though you are a stranger to that city – sooner or later they are going to catch up with you.

“And then what happens?  They will perhaps kill you and take Sabine.  Is that what you want?  To die with the knowledge that some other man’s filthy hands are on her body?  That he is impaling her with his lust?  Raping her
out of spite?  Is that not the very reason you asked me to buy her from Manuel Colón?”

Michael set his jaw and tapped his finger against the rim of his glass irritably, seething with resentment at
Luís’s words.  His eyes darted to Enrique for support, but his friend merely avoided his stern gaze, and leaned uncomfortably against the polished marble of the fireplace as he coolly inspected his manicured fingernails.

“Are you, or are you not,
in love with her,” Luís questioned pointedly as he flipped open the silver case that held his
cigarritos.

The continual questions and accusations grated on Michael’s nerves until he thought he might lash out at his friend in fury.

It was none of Luís’s business, he thought viciously as he slammed his glass on the table next to him.  It wasn’t any of his concern how he felt, what he felt, or even why the hell he felt it.  He was his friend….  He was his employer….  But he certainly wasn’t his damn father.

Michael slouched in his chair, his jaw tight.  So he loved her; what difference was that going to make?  Love wouldn’t mean a thing when his neck was in a noose, and deep in his heart, no matter how much he tried to delude himself
into thinking all would be well, he always knew Sabine couldn’t stay…and she’d only been in danger if she did.

“You
are
in love with her,” Luís said.  “I do not know why you deny it…unless you are ashamed of her.”

“I’m not denying it,” Michael exploded heatedly
and leapt from his chair.  “And don’t you
ever
say I’m ashamed of who she is.  I love her.  I’ve said it.  Are you happy now?”

Luís
turned to the window and inhaled deeply on his ever-present
cigarrito,
a self-satisfied smirk curling the corners of his mouth.

“
We
all know that,” Enrique said quietly, meeting Michael’s gaze squarely.  “But have you ever thought to tell
her?
”

A stifling silence enveloped them, and Michael turned away, muttering a curse under his breath.  No, he hadn’t.  He couldn’t.  There was something so permanent in those three words –
I love you;
that somehow, by saying them, Sabine would expect more from him, ask for the one thing he knew he could never give her.

Security.

He could never give her that.  Not yet…maybe not ever.

“I didn’t think so,”
Luís grumbled in comment.

Releasing a sigh, Michael rose and joined him at the window
, his gaze intent on the wide expanse of lawn.  Indecision ripped through him as he caught a glimpse of Sabine’s flashing smile as she and Marta chatted animatedly under the acacia tree.  Beautiful, sweet Sabine.  The Sabine who tolerated his temper and laughed at his foolishness.

The Sabine he had come to think of as his
– as the woman who would always be at his side.

He never thought anyone could affect him the way she had.  No woman had ever managed to spark such a sense of loyalty and passion within him, drive him to such possessiveness.  He’d have given his right arm to keep her here.

If he wasn’t careful, he might end up giving a whole lot more.

“You must send her home,”
Luís commented, his manner subdued.

“I know,” Michael responded, and slumped resignedly against the window casing.  “But I can’t.  I don’t even know where she’s from.”

“Madre de Díos,”
Luís shouted, and he struck the table beside him with a leaden fist, causing Michael to jump in his skin.  “This is ridiculous.  Your irresponsibility will lead you and her down the road to ruin.”

Michael sank wearily into a chair, looking hopelessly to Enrique, who shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.  He raked an impatient hand through his hair and leaned back, staring idly at the ceiling.

He wanted her to stay.

She had to go.

But now the time had finally come.  He had to let her go.  He had to ask the questions he had decided he never wanted to know the answers to.

“All right,” Michael conceded.  “I have some cash put away.  But they’ve got to know about her,
Luís.  At this point, they could use her, somehow, to get to me.”

Luís
tucked a hand into his pocket and drew out a small square of paper, unfolding it as he passed it to him.

“There is a ship leaving for America on Thursday, and I have booked two passages to New Orleans,” he said decisively.  “
From there we can send her where she belongs.  Marta will accompany her, and she can be safely away until the time is right for her to return to you.”

“I don’t want you involved.  This is my problem.  I’ll take care of it.”

“I insist on doing this,” Luís continued, clasping the lapels of his coat with his thick hands as he clamped his
cigarrito
firmly between his teeth.  “If you will not allow me to do this for you, then let it be for Sabine’s sake.”

“But the ship leaves Thursday,” he protested weakly.  “That’s only two days from now.  Let it go another week – “

“I have had enough of your procrastination in making a commitment to what you know is right,” Luís burst out, his eyes blazing as he stormed out of the library.  “You are worse than a woman,” he spat fiercely, slamming the door behind him.

Swearing inaudibly, Michael rose from his seat and again crossed to the window as he let loose and aggravated sigh.  He gaze locked on Sabine steadily, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

Only two days.  Two more days to listen to her laughter and bright conversation when he returned to her arms each evening.  Two more days to feel her soft body stretched next to his as he awoke in the morning.

It just wasn’t enough time.

“How long has she been sharing your bed?” Enrique asked, breaking the tense stillness.

“Just over two weeks,” he replied flatly, his gaze still fixed on Sabine as she and Marta rose and walked toward the house.  “Why?”

“You will be gentle with her about breaking the news, I hope?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Michael snapped angrily, turning away from the window.  “What do you expect me to do?  Throw her out onto the street?”

Enrique leaned an elbow on the mantelpiece and met Michael’s gaze levelly.

“I do not wish to pass judgment on you.  I am only concerned about the approach you might take with her,” he said, his manner reserved as he smoothed his dark hair back with his hand.  “But it is possible she may now be carrying your child.  Two weeks is enough time for her to do so.  Have you, perchance, given any thought to this matter?”

No, dammit, Michael thought angrily, he hadn’t; and pushing her away was now going to be even harder than ever.

XXX

Michael replaced the frilled edge of the curtain slowly, his heart pounding wildly with apprehension and expectation while waves of fear and anger crashed alternately over him.

They were out there somewhere,  hidden under the cloak of darkness, watching with keen eyes, waiting for the opportunity to seize everything he had
worked for – this home, this life.  A handful of men who had relentlessly tracked him for two years, seeking vengeance for a crime that wasn’t truly a crime, demanding Michael’s life in exchange for the one George Morrison had thrown so carelessly away in the dust of a back alley.

All because of one man’s insistence that a woman’s body was not truly her own.

It could easily have been Sabine in that alley, her frightened eyes pleading with him to come to her aid.  And she
had
done that once in a smoky backroom of a casino in Havana, her beautiful emerald eyes capturing his heart the moment he saw her.

He wouldn’t let it happen again- not the abuse, not the fear.  He had vowed once to make her forget that period in her life – those weeks with
Colón, the pain he had put her through because of his thickheadedness.  No more.  Not for her.  Not for his Sabine.