by Pat Warren
He picked her up into his arms and hurried to where he’d left the van.
The room he’d taken at the Best Western was perhaps fifteen by twelve with a king-size bed, oak veneer furniture, blue tweed carpeting a bit worn in places, and a cheerless dark drape hanging crookedly on the single window. The presidential suite couldn’t have looked better to Terry as she entered and removed the leather jacket Luke had draped over her shoulders.
Despite the van’s heater, she’d shivered during the entire ride over, more from nerves than cold. Luke hadn’t spoken much on the drive, hadn’t even questioned her about the last several days, but rather he’d concentrated on the rush hour traffic in a downpour. She watched him lock the door behind them as she slipped out of her soaked shoes, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if the kisses they’d shared, the words they’d said, had had as much impact on him as on her.
He stepped closer and pulled her snug against himself. The ride over had been torture. He bent his head, nuzzling her throat, nipping her earlobe. He was rock-hard and hurting, unable to recall a time when he’d wanted a woman more. This woman.
She felt him pressing into her, aware of his arousal, aware of her own. “I really need a shower,” she said, as a shiver raced along her damp spine.
He let her go, but his hungry eyes stayed on her face. “I could use one myself.”
They stood in the wide tub enclosed by the white plastic curtain dotted with silver and blue fish while steaming water spilled over them. She’d been reluctant to reveal her body with its faint scars in the harsh overhead light, but when Luke had bent his head to kiss each one, she’d felt her heart turn over. Beneath the spray, he washed and shampooed her short hair, then his hands went exploring. There was no reluctance on his part, no hesitation, as he worked up a soapy lather and smeared it along her back, over her shoulders and onto the pale slope of her breasts.
Terry was helpless to do anything but feel, absorb, immerse herself in the sensations buffeting her. His hands were rough, callused, yet gentle on her sensitive skin. His mouth was on hers, stealing her breath, her very will. His fingers slid down her rib cage and around to linger on her breasts, causing them to swell, to ache. She braced herself on his strong shoulders as her knees threatened to buckle. Then he slipped the bar of soap lower, between her legs, caressing silkily until she moaned out his name.
Turning off the faucets, Luke stepped out, ignoring the water dripping from him. Too impatient to dry off, he picked her up and carried her to the waiting bed. He yanked back the spread and blanket, then, in the dim light of the bedside lamp, he followed her down onto pale pink sheets. He paused, his eyes roaming her body in a way they hadn’t been able to in the shower.
Terry felt the flush begin, the knowledge of her imperfections coloring her skin. There was nowhere to hide. This thorough inspection was what she’d been dreading. She wanted desperately to look her best for him and knew she didn’t. Frizz for hair, a scarred face, her body too thin and marked by barely healed cuts. She raised one knee in a protective gesture and brought her arm up to shield her breasts as her eyes dropped to his chest. “I know I’m not much to look at… ”
His gaze had traveled down her but seconds, yet it had been long enough for all her insecurities to return. “Are you fishing?”
“No, it’s just that I…”
Needing to silence her, his hands framed her face before his mouth devoured hers in a stunning kiss, his tongue dominating hers. When he drew back, he saw the haze of passion tinting her skin, replacing the heat of embarrassment. The accident and her injuries had robbed her of her feminine confidence. He wanted to do his best to give it back to her. “How many times do I have to tell you how terrific I think you look, how beautiful you are? Inside. Outside. Everywhere.”
Her eyes wide and wanting to believe, she watched him.
He took her hand and guided it to his erection, and heard her gasp. “Can you tell how much I want you? Can you feel how much I need you? Is this enough proof?”
Beneath her quivering fingers, he throbbed with life. An almost-painful need rose deep within her as her lower body leaned toward his heat. “Oh, Luke,” she whispered, touching her forehead to his chest as her hand caressed him.
She hadn’t consciously planned nor hardly allowed herself to imagine how he’d feel, how she’d feel touching him. But she’d wanted him almost from the start. She needed his strength, the safety net of his arms. And she desperately needed to know she wasn’t longing alone. The proof that she wasn’t was in her trembling hand.
All the warnings he’d been given, all the cautions he’d lived by echoed in the back of Luke’s mind. It was too late. He wouldn’t listen to them, unable to turn from her. Responding to his need alone would have been wrong, but the hunger, the invitation in her touch was his undoing.
Tenderness. This fragile woman who’d endured so much deserved tenderness. He would have to curb the need to ravage, to plunge, to take her quickly, though that was exactly what he wanted to do. This kiss was longer as he took her deeper, letting the giddy sensations swamp his already foggy brain.
He took his hands down her sides and back up again, feeling her skin jump and quiver.
“Luke, I… ” She shifted restlessly, her fingers reaching but missing the mark as he deftly evaded her. Frustration had her hands bunching the sheets. His mouth trailed along her jawline, her throat, pausing at the pulse that pounded in double time. She drew in a quivery breath that ended on a moan. His hands were on her breasts, and then he bent to take a nipple into his mouth. She arched spontaneously as he brought first one then the other to life. Again he returned to kiss her hungrily while he skimmed his hair-covered chest along her swollen breasts, the tingling sensation causing her to shiver.
His breathing ragged, Luke buried his face in her neck, murmuring hungry, hot, exciting things in her ear. Her eyes were half-closed as she lay back, absorbing each new sensation, as with lips and teeth and tongue, he pleasured her.
No longer content to be a languid recipient, Terry shifted and they rolled together on the tangled sheets, panting now. She raised herself and touched her mouth to his, her tongue taking possession, her hands diving into his hair, her face buried in the softness of his beard. She drew in the dark male flavors, glorying in her freedom to touch as she had only in her restive dreams.
She moved lower, her lips trailing kisses along the solid planes of his chest, shoving aside the silver pendant and chain. The rain slammed against the window, the sound almost drowning out a groan he couldn’t suppress. Her hands learned him, as curious as his had been to know her, to know everything.
Luke knew he was close to losing control. Again, he shifted positions, kissing her eyes closed, the small scars she fretted over, and always returning to her mouth that drew him like a magnet. While his tongue dueled with hers, his fingers found her, warm and wet and welcoming. Unable to resist watching her, he lifted his head and began to stroke her.
Terry knew it couldn’t be so, yet his hands felt as if they knew her body better than she, knew what she needed and when. Her own hands fluttered, then gripped the sheet as she closed her eyes. She felt a whimper build as her body demanded the release not yet within reach. Unashamed, oddly uninhibited, she gave herself up to the increasing rhythm. When the first hard wave hit her, she cried out, stunned at the intensity that swamped her.
Head reeling, breath coming in spurts, she opened her eyes and saw more than his passion. In the warm gray of his gaze she saw a compassion he would probably deny. It was precisely then she knew she was in love with Luke Tanner. And knew that it was probably a mistake.
Luke watched her slowly return to herself, reining in his own raging need with iron control. In the back of his mind was the nagging thought that he’d never before been so concerned with a woman’s pleasure. To admit that would be to admit that she’d become more of a part of him than he was comfortable acknowledging.
He smoothed back her soft, damp hair. “Was t
hat, as they say, good for you?” he asked, his voice husky with just a touch of amusement.
Terry smiled, then licked her dry lips, aware that her tongue tasted him on her bruised mouth. “Oh,” she began, sounding breathy, “it was all right, I guess.” She watched a slow smile form. “But I want more. I want you.”
A frown skittered over his features. She was so small and he knew how much heavier he was, how easily he could injure her delicate form. “I don’t want to hurt you. Maybe you should come on top.”
She knew what concerned him. She’d been recovering from the accident ever since they’d met. “Luke, I’m not fragile. I won’t break. Nothing hurts anymore and I need you so much.” Again, her hand caressed him intimately and she felt him jerk in response. “I want you inside me, now.”
He hadn’t been waiting for permission as much as assurance that she could handle his weight. Removing her hand, he braced himself above her. Then he was on her, slipping inside as easily as an old lover might. He shifted her hips, delving in deeper, starting out slowly.
His gaze fastened on her face, he picked up the tempo. Her eyes were huge and a little glazed, her cheeks damp with perspiration. His own skin was slick, his concentration total, his breathing more raspy with each rapid plunge. He gritted his teeth, exerting every ounce of control he could muster as he watched her climb back up, his own body screaming for release.
Terry had never felt so much a part of someone as she watched him holding off, his thrusts steady and deep, patiently taking her where he knew she wanted to go. She gave herself up to him entirely, letting him set the pace, emptying her mind of everyone and everything except Luke.
Luke, who was joined with her more completely than any man ever had been. Luke, who wouldn’t leave her wanting while he sailed off the edge alone. Luke, who was the hardest man she’d ever known, and the most tender. She tried to speak, to tell him, but didn’t have the breath to utter a word. And then she felt herself spinning away.
He saw it coming, saw the wild, pounding wind tunnel take her and whirl her away. The strength of her orgasm had her muscles tightening around him, sending him flying and finally shattering. His braced arms folded and he collapsed onto her while the waves continued to ripple through him.
“I found her.” Seated on the bed, Luke shifted the phone to his other ear as he glanced over his shoulder. Terry was asleep, lying on her stomach, her short blond hair tucked into the pillow. She was exhausted from her days on the run alone, a story he’d gotten out of her as she’d lain in his arms afterward. In sleep, her face was untroubled and as innocent as a young girl’s. But she hadn’t made love like a girl.
“Is she all right?” Bob Jones asked, his voice tinged with both relief and concern.
“Tired but otherwise fine.”
“Where did she go?”
He repeated Terry’s story about the first night spent in the movie theater, the bus trip to San Jose, taking a bed at Safe Harbor Women’s Shelter, and her job at the Metropolitan Café. “This afternoon, a customer came in resembling Ozzie Swain, complete with pockmarked face. He reached into his pocket and she freaked out, dropping a tray of drinks. The guy had been reaching for his cigarettes. She was afraid to trust her memory of what he looked like, so she bolted out the back door. That’s when I saw her running down the street and recognized her.”
“Lucky you happened along,” Bob stated, listening hard, trying to read between the lines.
“Luck, hell. I’d been walking those streets night and day, stopping in every hotel, motel, coffee shop, fast-food joint. I must’ve talked to two hundred people.”
“And did she say why she took off?”
“Just like I’d told you, she can’t face more surgery right now.” He and Terry had talked about that again and he’d renewed his promise to take her side against Bob on that issue. She’d fallen asleep then, trusting him. He felt the weight of that trust sit heavily on him now.
“Damn it,” Jones said softly. He wasn’t a man to raise his voice, his anger more the quiet, deadly kind. “I’d hoped you could change her mind. As long as she has that face, she’s in danger. We can’t change her height or her body shape. But… ’
“Forget it, Bob. We’ll take our chances.”
Jones heard the finality in Luke’s voice. He also heard more. We. Our. Two against one, against the world. When had his best agent begun to side with the witness instead of the chief? Something had happened to shift things, and Jones thought he knew exactly what had transpired. “You’ve fallen for her,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Hell, no.” Swearing more inventively under his breath, Luke got up, dragging the phone wire across the room as he walked over to the window. “You know better than that. I don’t buy into that crap.”
Everyone buys into that crap when the right person comes along, Bob thought. He, too, had been a loner all his life until Laura had come along and made him want more. Now, married six years, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d suspected that one day the same thing would happen to Luke. Ordinarily, Bob would be pleased for his friend, despite the denial he was professing right now. But caring for a witness he was assigned to protect could make an agent careless. As the chief, he couldn’t afford to lose a good agent or the only witness in an important case.
There was only one thing to do. He’d have to pay a visit to Luke and his charge as soon as they were resettled and see for himself. If, in his judgment, the case was in jeopardy and lives at risk, he’d replace Luke. There’d be hell to pay, for Tanner wasn’t an easy man to confront, but Bob would have to pull rank.
There were days, more than a few, when he hated his job.
“Are you still there, or did you fall asleep?” Luke asked, knowing full well that Bob had lapsed into silence only because he was trying to assess the situation.
Jones ignored the prod. “Are you sure the man she saw at the cafe wasn’t Ozzie?”
“Yes. I had her go over everything that happened. If that had been Ozzie, he’d have had ample opportunity to take her out. No one else was following her when I ran after her. A case of mistaken identity brought on by nerves.”
“All right. The cabin outside Truckee is all set, electricity on. When can you leave?”
Luke moved the drape aside. It was evening and a steady rain was still coming down, apt to last all night. Terry needed a good night’s sleep. And he needed to hold her. “In the morning.”
“That’ll give me time to fax to your motel a map of how to find this place. It’s way up there, almost to the Donner Pass, off Highway 80. Weather report says the rain you’re getting down there may well turn into snow up that way soon. Elevation’s about eight thousand feet. You might want to get chains for the van and pick up some supplies. You could get snowed in.”
The way he felt right now, that would be the best thing that could happen to them, Luke thought. Car tracks and footsteps could be spotted more easily in snow. He’d visited that area west of Reno before and knew that many of the roads could be difficult to navigate in winter. That could only help them if someone got wind of their whereabouts and tried to reach them. “Sounds good to me.”
“How’s the money holding up?”
“I got a cash advance on the card just yesterday. We’ll be all right.”
There was that we again. “There’s a secure phone line in the place. Call when you get there.”
“Will do.” Luke hung up and listened to his stomach growling. He turned around and saw that Terry was awake, the sheet tucked in around her body. He wondered how much she’d heard.
She smiled at him lazily. “Hey, officer. There’s a naked man in my room.” And what a naked man. Tall, weathered, strong. Imperfections, sure. More scars than she had along that long, lean torso. But unabashedly male as he strolled back to replace the phone. She drank in the sight of him as warmth spread through her.
Luke lay down on top of the covers and rolled to face her. “Shall I have him thrown out, miss?”
She trailed her fingers along his chest, loving the feel of the soft hair, the smooth skin, the hard muscles beneath. “Mmm, I think I have something else in mind for him.” Leaning over, she touched her mouth to his.
No going back, Terry thought as he took over the kiss. Once a man and woman crossed the line in their relationship, there was no going back. Not that she wanted to. But what, she wondered, did Luke want?
Easing back, he saw that the short nap had done some good. She looked a little less tired, less strained. Her lips were still a little puffy from his kisses and her eyes still contained the remnants of sleep. She looked lazy and contented and very beautiful. He felt the stirring of fresh desire. “Do you feel better?”
Stretching languidly, she all but purred. “I don’t know how I could feel any better than I do right now.” Perhaps if this whole thing with the Russo brothers was behind them, if she could come out of hiding, put them away with her testimony and get on with her life, maybe then she’d feel permanently better. But maybe then, she’d lose the only good that had come out of the whole tragic mess: Luke.
She distracted herself from that thought by picking up the medal he always wore and studying the disk. Silver-and-black flames were superimposed over a Celtic cross. “This must hold special meaning for you.”
Luke nodded. “It does. My grandmother gave it to me to keep me safe. She considered the piece a good luck charm. It’s a St. George’s talisman, named after a channel linking the Irish Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. I don’t know anything about its origin.”
Sitting up, he removed the chain from around his neck. “I want you to wear it so it’ll keep you safe.”
She wouldn’t have guessed he’d believe in such things. “I can’t take your lucky piece.”
“Yes, you can. I want you to have it.” He tugged her upright and slipped the chain over her head. The medal fell to hang between her breasts. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
“Thank you.” She kissed him, then fell back onto the pillows.
Slowly, he trailed the backs of his fingers along her stomach, watching the muscles quiver at the contact. “Maybe if we put some hot food in there…”
