Donovans - Pearl Cove Part 44

She simply wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, she would say that she wanted him. Then he would take her down to the floor and show her again the difference between making love and having s.e.x. She didn't know if she was strong enough to survive another lesson.

Yet she needed him until she shook with it.

He stood, went into the bedroom, and came back with a towel as big as a sofa. "You're cold. Dry off and crawl into bed. Your body is still on Aussie time. You can't tell whether you're coming or going."

She tried to unwrap her arms and let go of herself, but it was too difficult. She simply shook her head instead.

"Hannah."

The word was whispered against her temple. The heat of Archer's breath made her tremble.

"You're shaking." He pulled the towel around her and rubbed briskly. "You need a hot shower, warm clothes, and a long-"

"You," she interrupted. "I need you."

His hands paused. He looked at her eyes. They were wild and wary, hesitant and hungry, so beautiful his heart turned over. "s.e.x, Hannah?"

She closed her eyes. "If that's what you have, I'll take it."

"What if I have more?"

Tears slid from beneath her thick lashes. She wanted more. And she was terrified of it.

"Never mind," he whispered. "Never mind. It's all right. Just s.e.x."

Even with her eyes closed, she knew Archer was bending down to her mouth. She could feel the shift of his body, the heat of his breath, the sliding pressure of his lips over hers as she opened for him. The taste of him was sweet lightning. The need of him was thunder shaking her.

She grabbed him and pulled him closer still. Her fingers raked down his jacket, only to be caught by holes in the cloth. She went still, remembering, reliving it all again.

"Change your mind?" Archer asked, lifting his mouth from hers.

"Holes," she said raggedly. "There are holes in your jacket. From the bullets."

He saw the stark memories in her eyes, felt fear turning her pliant flesh to stone. With a few swift movements he peeled off his jacket and tossed it aside. He was more careful removing the gun and holster, but no less quick. When he reached for his dark flannel shirt, her hands were already there, tearing away cloth that also carried neat, horrifying holes. Her strength surprised him. Her need stopped his breath.

The Kevlar defeated her. It had no b.u.t.tons, no zippers, no surface to tear.

"Like this." Archer took her hand, showed her, watched her rip Velcro fastenings apart until he wore nothing but briefs.

Then he wore nothing at all.

The humming sound of approval she made as she cupped him stripped away his control as certainly as she had stripped away his clothing. He no longer tried to control the adrenaline, the need, the desperation for her. With swift, casual power he knelt and peeled her jeans down to her ankles. That was when he discovered that he had been right. She hadn't taken time to put on underwear.

He pulled her hard against his mouth, then made a deep sound in his throat. She tasted as hot and reckless as he felt. The twisting motions she made trying to kick out of her jeans opened her to him even more. He took it all, demanded more. Heedless, helpless, she gave it to him, too shocked by the searing demands of his mouth to do more than wonder that she had lived so long and never known this way to love.

Before her feet were free of her jeans, he drove her ruthlessly to the first climax. When her knees buckled he didn't release her. He followed her down to the floor, opening her even more while cries rippled and she writhed and he took, he gave, he demanded, he worshiped; and she came until she couldn't even draw breath to scream.

It wasn't enough.

Fighting to breathe, she reached for him, trying to draw him up her body, needing what he hadn't yet given to her.

He pinned her where she was, on her back, her legs over his shoulders. Her eyes opened wild and blind as he fitted himself to her and went in deep, hard. With quick, powerful motions he measured himself and her until his name came from her lips with each ragged breath and she convulsed around him, a slick satin fist demanding that he give everything he had to her. Body rigid, shaking, he bared his teeth and gave himself to the endless, pulsing violence of his own release.

Archer's sudden, slack weight on Hannah sent another shimmering wave of pleasure through her. With a hunger that she didn't understand, she stroked his back and shoulders and hips, memorizing the feel of him in her arms. When his breathing finally settled into a normal rhythm, he started to shift his weight off her. She wrapped herself around him and hung on.

"More?" he asked.

She shook her head and didn't loosen her grip at all.

"Not ready to be alone yet?" he guessed.

She nodded.

"I promised myself a nice long shower," he said. "Best thing for bruises. How about you?"

"Now that you mention it..." She winced. "I landed under you in that ruddy cafe."

"I put you there." He rolled over slowly, taking her with him. "It was the only way I could protect you."

Her breath stopped, then resumed with a husky sound. He was still buried deeply in her, filling her. "I don't want you to do that anymore."

"This?" he asked, deliberately stroking himself deep.

"No. Putting yourself in danger to protect me."

"Does that mean you're going to stop protecting me?" Archer asked.

"It's not the same thing."

"Wrong answer."

"It's the only one you're going to get."

"Same here."

"What does that mean?" she asked. Then she shivered when he lifted his hips against her with a slow, rolling motion. "You're trying to distract me."

"Is it working?"

She bit her lip against admitting it, but the kick of her heart against his mouth gave her away. He smiled, then groaned when she slipped through his arms and stood up.

"Let me take care of you, Archer," she said, holding out her hand. "Just this once. Let me."

Without a word he followed her into the shower. When the water was beating down hot enough to cook, he sighed and relaxed, letting the water take the worst of the aches from his body. Then her hands flowed over him, bringing a different kind of ache; not pain but something deeper, a pleasure whose piercing sweetness was like silver lightning st.i.tching through his soul. She did no more than soap him, rinse him, sleek her hands down him to take off the excess water and he felt as though he had walked into a bare electrical wire.

She turned away, shutting off the water. When she faced him again, he couldn't conceal the vital hardening of his body, the blunt physical need that made her eyes widen. Hunger poured through her like a firestorm. She took his hand and led him toward the bed. The coolness of the room after the steamy shower made her shiver. She didn't even notice it. At that moment, nothing existed for her but Archer.

"I didn't know if you still would " she began, but her breath backed up before she could finish.

The smokiness of her voice and her eyes made him feel like he had been stroked from head to heels. "If I would what?"

"Want. Like me."

His smile was a razor acceptance of the pain that would come when she no longer wanted him. "When it's you, Hannah, I'll want until I can't. And then I'll still want."

"Then let me," she whispered.

"What?"

"Nothing. This. Everything."

She tasted his chin, his shoulders, his nipples, the median line of his body where water had gathered and slid down past his waist. And like water, she flowed down him. Her mouth was open, a heat that healed even as it burned. He gave an involuntary shudder when her tongue traced his erection.

"I'm told men like this. Do you?" Hannah asked.

"Yes. But it's not necessary unless you " his breath ripped and his head spun as she sucked lightly on him " like it, too," he finished hoa.r.s.ely.

"I don't know." Her tongue swirled around him. "I've never done this before, just as I'd never had a man love me the way you did." She dipped her head again. Found him again. Murmured even as she circled him. "I think..." She closed her mouth fully over him, lingered, learned, memorized the heat and pulse of life in him, took him deeply and lost herself, tasted the salt of creation. Slowly, slowly, she released him. "Yes, I like it. A lot."

The pleasure on Hannah's face as she bent to caress him again made Archer fight for the control that she stripped from him so effortlessly. He lay on his back, fingers digging into the bedcovers. As the sultry tugging of her mouth consumed him, he wondered if she had any idea of what she was doing to him.

"You keep that up and you're going to make me come," he said finally, raggedly.

She looked up and his breath fragmented in a groan; her eyes were heavy lidded, as sensual as her mouth caressing him, and her nipples were drawn into hard, hungry peaks. Clearly she liked arousing him, pleasuring him.

"I'd rather be inside you," he said thickly. "But it's your call, sweetheart."

"Would you mind?"

"Whatever you want," he said simply, closing his eyes, giving himself to her. "However you want it."

He felt her weight shift on the bed until she was astride him. She guided him home, taking him inside her with a slow, slow motion of her hips that made the world go a radiant kind of black all around him. Hot black. Deep and sweet and dangerous. Without knowing it, he groaned.

She heard. Need p.r.i.c.ked her with exquisite claws. Shivering, she gave him what she couldn't hold back, took from him what she needed to survive. With every breath, every heartbeat, she kissed him, her mouth open and lazy. Forehead, eyelids, lips, neck, shoulders, everything she could reach without losing the slow, complete rhythm of giving and taking and needing and sharing.

And then she felt him change, sensed the rigid tension and the hot surge deep within her body, his strength given to her without hesitation, her name broken on his lips, and the elemental pulses that were both his and her own. She trembled with him, around him, in a long, shivering consummation that was all the more shattering for its tenderness. Boneless, spent, she sprawled the length of his body and waited to find out if she was still alive.

As the sweat cooled on their bodies, Archer shifted.

"No," Hannah whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "Don't leave me."

"Don't worry."

Leaving her was the last thing on his mind. That would come later, and with it would come the kind of pain he didn't want to think about. He grabbed the down comforter, wrapped them up in it like a sleeping bag, and drew her so close he couldn't take a breath without tasting her. It was the same for her, breathing him in, tasting him, holding him. With a long sigh, she slid into sleep.

She didn't fear her dreams now.

Twenty-six.

The ringing phone dragged Archer out of deep sleep. After a moment of fumbling, he realized that he and Hannah were coc.o.o.ned in a down comforter. He wriggled until he could free an arm and reach blindly for the phone. Hannah murmured and followed the heat of his body until she was covering him like a second blanket. As he lifted the receiver, he decided that he really liked the feel of her snuggled against him from his chin to his heels. The only thing that would have been better was being inside her at the same time.

"Yeah?" Archer said into the receiver.

"Slick, we need to talk."

Archer didn't need to ask who was calling. Only one person called him slick in just that impatient tone of voice: April Joy. His mind cleared instantly. "When and where?"

"What would you say to green tea at the Dragon Moon?"

"No, thanks."

"No s.h.i.t." She laughed curtly. "My office. Now."

"My office," Archer corrected. "Thirty minutes."

"Your office. Fifteen minutes. Bring Hannah McGarry."

April hung up. Hard.

Archer put the receiver back in its cradle without disturbing Hannah, who was still lying on top of him like a cat on the hood of a warm car. And, catlike, she was watching him with big, curious eyes.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"The person who supplied us with pa.s.sports and clothes in Australia."

Hannah blinked. "And now?"

"It's payback time." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Much as I'd like to be ravished again, I'm afraid I'll have to go."

She smiled slowly, remembering just how much fun it had been to have him at her mercy. "I'm going with you."

"I want to keep you as far away from Ms. Joy as possible."

"You know what Len used to say?"

"No."

"Put your wishes in one hand and p.i.s.s in the other and see which fills up first."

Archer smiled thinly. "Vintage Len. All right, Hannah. Get dressed. April Joy mentioned bringing you. She'll be in a better mood if I look like I'm cooperating."