Last Night

by Meryl Sawyer

  Rob tried to shrug, but winced at the effort. "The FBI trained me to develop psychological profiles of criminals, remember? I didn't get a chance to use what the Feebies taught me while I was on the force, but it's helped me with my reporting. And I've been watching you."

  The heartrending tenderness in his gaze astonished her. Tonight he'd proved that he cared enough to risk his life to protect her. Now he'd revealed that his interest in her wasn't new. It went back months or maybe even years.

  "I've studied you closely these last few days. I rethought your story about the guy falling on the knife, then I put it all together."

  She didn't bother to deny it. What good would it do to lie now? "I've never talked about being raped, not even to Vanessa."

  "Sometimes talking helps."

  "Sometimes," she admitted, "but sometimes it only brings back the pain. I've concentrated on the future, not the past, and that's been my salvation."

  He gazed at her a moment, seemed set to argue, but said, "Okay. You'll tell me about it when you're ready."

  He tenderly gathered her in his arms even though it must have hurt him. They cuddled, reclining on the chaise and watching the moonlight shimmering down on Koko Head. The trades had died down as they did most nights, leaving only a flicker of wind to rustle the palm trees.

  "I wish you'd let me take you to a doctor."

  "Know what would make me feel a lot better?" Slowly and seductively his gaze slid downward, taking in the filmy black nightgown, which had ridden up to reveal most of her thighs.

  "You couldn't possibly. Not in your condition."

  He chuckled, a masculine, sensuous sound that seemed to vibrate deep within her own chest. "You're right. I can barely move, but it would feel great to have you touch me the way you did the other night."

  "What night?" Then she remembered. "I thought you were asleep. I—I—I—" How could she explain caressing him in such an intimate way?

  "Couldn't resist me, could you?" His smile was so adorable that she couldn't help smiling back.

  "I don't know what got into me," she said. "I honestly don't."

  "I loved every second, but you left me with a stick of dynamite in my pants."

  "Well, we certainly don't want to cause you any problems tonight."

  "Why not? Everything else hurts."

  She kissed his cheek, tenderly brushing her lips against the bristle of emerging whiskers. She meant to stop, she really did, but a few seconds later she found her lips on the curve of his neck. A trace of his after-shave mingled with his male scent and the smell of night-blooming jasmine that hung heavily in the soft night air. Beneath her lips, his pulse throbbed. She gently caressed his well-toned shoulders, savoring his strength and the slightly salty taste of his skin.

  "I feel better already, darlin'." The slight inflection surprised her, once again reminding her that he'd grown up in Texas. His drawl seemed to appear most often when he was being amorous.

  Suddenly it seemed ridiculous that they were joking, considering what they'd just been through. He'd saved her, and that couldn't be taken lightly. "How can I thank you for what you did tonight?"

  "By remembering that we're a team. It took both of us."

  She closed her eyes and nestled her head against the crook of his neck. Was he reading her mind? Earlier she'd thought much the same thing. Partners. She wasn't facing her problems alone anymore.

  It was the most comforting thought she'd had in years, and with it came a slow-dawning realization. She needed to love someone. All this time she'd thought in terms of someone to love her, not accepting that love was a two-way street. If she were honest she'd admit that she'd been afraid to love a man.

  She let her hand drift down the solid plane of Rob's chest. He'd taken off his bloodied shirt, and the heat from his skin and the rasp of his hair reminded her that she was willingly, happily snuggling with a big, powerful man. A man who had just proven she could trust him with her life.

  If you couldn't trust, you couldn't love. Take it easy, she reminded herself. Don't make any commitments yet—even a mental one. Just ride with the tide and go with the flow; see where this takes you.

  She couldn't resist stroking him gently, being careful in case she was touching a bruised area. The muscular length of his torso intrigued her. He had a rugged, thoroughly masculine chest that she couldn't help kissing. She flicked her tongue over his skin. Once. Twice. How long had she wanted to taste him? Forever, it seemed.

  In slow motion she ran her tongue over the surface until she found a nipple concealed by a whisk of hair. She blew a jet of cool air across it. Rob groaned, a low sound from deep in his throat that made her pulse skyrocket.

  "Admit it," he demanded, his voice a shade shy of a whisper. "I'm the one—the only one for you. You want me. Don't be afraid of how you feel."

  "I'm not." Now she had an entirely different fear. She was experiencing such an uncontrolled rush of longing that it frightened her more than she could ever have imagined. Yet it excited her too.

  "Don't stop now." Rob stroked the back of her head, twining his fingers through her hair. "Touch every inch of my body."

  With a sigh of anticipation, she lowered her head and kissed him again. She traced the solid contours of his torso with the liquid tip of her tongue. Tasting and kissing as she went.

  "Ouch," groaned Rob, smiling.

  Dana drew back. "Sorry. I have no business kissing you when you're in pain."

  "You're better than any painkiller. Cuter too," he said, a teasing note in his voice, humor flirting in his eyes. "Besides, you don't want to stop, do you?"

  She lowered her head and whispered, "No," against the warmth of his skin. She hadn't a clue why she was behaving so wantonly, but she craved him. From her flushed nipples to the sweet throbbing between her thighs—she wanted him. Only him.

  The urge to touch him and kiss him bordered on the primitive. She didn't fight the feeling, didn't even try to. Instead, she explored him, lightly caressing him with her hands and kissing him. Occasionally she stopped to taste, or put her cheek to the wall of his chest and listen to the ever accelerating thump of his heart.

  "Aw, hell," he muttered, his voice stripped to a husky growl by desire.

  His breath was hot against the top of her head, and it sent a jolt of arousal through her. She sensuously stroked his hair-roughened chest, lightly teasing the skin by drawing the tips of her fingernails over it with tantalizing slowness.

  His hands rested lightly on her hips, warm and solid. He flicked the sheer fabric aside and touched her bare skin with his hands. A depth charge of excitement exploded deep inside her. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hands coasted upward. Over the flare of her hips. To the curve of her waist. Up to the tender underside of her breasts.

  There he stopped to cradle their fullness in the broad palms of his hands. His thumbs rested on her nipples, idly moving back and forth, coaxing the soft peaks into rigid proof of the effect he had on her.

  "Take off the nightgown."

  "Me?" she said, stalling.

  "No, the man in the moon. Take it off. I want to see you."

  She couldn't deny this man anything. Lifting her arms, she pulled the gown over the top of her head, then sent it swishing through the air. She remained on her knees and let the moonlight wash over her full breasts. Dusky pink areolas circled her pouting nipples, revealing how aroused she was, but she didn't care. She wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue and tasted Rob's after-shave.

  "God… you're beautiful." His heavy-lidded eyes slowly drifted from her parted lips to the peaks of her breasts and lingered there.

  She flinched under his intense gaze and her breasts swayed slightly, languidly moving like orchids in the island breeze. Rob's approving smile banished what little modesty remained, and she became keenly aware of an ache deep inside. The feeling increased, becoming a shudder of anticipation, as his gaze swept lower.

  As surely as if he were actually touching her, she felt him scorching a
path down the gentle swell of her hips and focusing on the juncture of her thighs, where pale blonde curls concealed her femininity. Heat shafted through her, arrowing to her most intimate place, her breath quickening. But she didn't look away.

  Here she was, wearing nothing but a smile. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

  "Stop kidding yourself, Dana. You have a wild streak. You've been dying to get into my pants."

  She smiled, not bothering to deny it. Going back to the first night she'd met him years ago, she'd felt a certain thrill. Now she recognized that thrill was desire.

  "Here I am"—Rob gave an overly dramatic sigh—"helpless. Have your way with me."

  "I intend to."

  She crouched over Rob, her legs straddling his hips. A soft moan caught in her throat. She'd never dreamed of taking charge like this, but then no one had ever told her that she'd want a man so much. It was a raw, primitive, physical pleasure, staggering in its intensity.

  She longed to feel his mouth against hers, but his lower lip was split. She satisfied herself with the curve of his neck and the sensitive area behind his ear. Her bare breasts were so close to his chest that her nipples responded to the heat of his body by tightening even more. The hair on his chest tickled, adding to the excitement.

  Driven by some forbidden impulse, she lowered her chest a fraction of an inch and let her breasts sink into the thatch of chest hair. Oh, my. She never dreamed a man could feel quite this good. Slowly, gently, she waltzed her taut nipples through the crinkly hair.

  "See what you've done to me." He shoved her hand down to his crotch. Beneath his jeans he was rigid and throbbing slightly, his maleness a promise and a threat.

  His hand slipped between her thighs, touching her intimately. Her breath stalled in her throat and for a second she indulged herself, closing her eyes and letting his talented fingers gently caress her with expert precision.

  "Look at me, darlin'," he drawled, and she realized that he'd taken over.

  She gripped his wrist and pulled his hand away "You're in no condition to be giving orders."

  "You wanna take charge? Great. You're just my type."

  "Anything in a bra is your type."

  "Right… Your Honor."

  She ignored his teasing and reached for his belt buckle with trembling fingers. After fumbling with it for a second she managed to unhook it and yank down his zipper. The white fabric of his Joe Boxers and its familiar message, "Just Say Yo" stood out in the moonlight. She pressed her lips to his burgeoning erection, which was battling to be freed, and blew a hot current of breath through the fabric. "Yo." She smiled to herself. "Yo."

  Rob moaned, but she ignored him, slipping her hand under the waistband of his shorts and homing in on his shaft. Thick and hot and amazingly hard, it still felt unexpectedly soft. She squeezed tight, moving her wrist up and down. Quickly glancing up at Rob, she saw that his face was contorted. He seemed to be in more pain than when the mokes hit him. She stopped, but didn't let go. It simply felt too good to hold him.

  "For Christ's sake, don't stop now," Rob said, the words coming from deep in his chest.

  That was all she needed to hear. She moved her lips over him, still amazed at the silkiness of the surface that belied the pulsing strength within. With her tongue she explored every inch. Somehow she peeled his clothes to his knees, driven by the insistent call of her own body. The moist heat between her thighs demanded release in a way that she'd never experienced before.

  She held him in one hand, nuzzling the sensitive spot between her thighs with the rounded head of his erection. Slowly she eased over him, sheathing him a half inch at a time, opening herself to accept him.

  Rob groaned loudly. "What is this? Cruel and unusual punishment?"

  "You're too big," she said, teasing him.

  "No way." His hands covered her hips, bringing her down on the iron heat of his sex.

  He arched upward, thrusting deep inside her, then burrowed even farther. A shaft of exquisite pain shot right through her, and she paused for a moment to savor the bittersweet sensation. Instinctively she rocked slightly as she rode him, her head falling forward so she could watch him. Suddenly they were one, moving like dancers hearing a silent tango.

  His eyes were squeezed shut and his teeth clamped down on his lower lip—despite the cut— while his powerful chest pumped up and down. That she could do this to him amazed her. And filled her with an overwhelming sense of power.

  Within seconds her body contracted in a convulsion of pleasure so profound that she arched backward as an uncontrollable shudder racked her body. She gasped for air and flung her head from side to side. Above, the glittering stars in the swath of black sky seemed to be winking at her.

  Rob tightened his grip on her hips and she felt him release. She gently lowered herself downward, careful not to collapse on top of him and hurt him.

  She eased him onto his side, not letting their bodies part yet.

  His intense eyes, now dilated until the blue was a mere shimmer around the ebony pupils, gazed at her with awe.

  "You were absolutely right," she whispered. "I'm the one. The only woman for you."

  21

  The morning sunshine splashed through the windows, making the kitchen cheery. Usually this perked her up, but not today. Dana was so worried about Rob that nothing could make her feel better. After they'd made love she'd coaxed him into bed. They'd fallen asleep just as the first rays of sunshine backlit Koko Head. She'd awakened a short time later, but Rob was still in a deep sleep.

  What if he had internal injuries? she asked herself. How selfishly she'd behaved, forcing herself on him. She should have channeled that energy into convincing him to see a doctor. "Great," she muttered. She barely had enough Kona beans for half a pot of coffee. Well, she'd have just half a cup and , save the rest for Rob.

  "Mornin."

  His unexpected appearance startled her, but not t as much as the way he looked. His lip was swollen and a livid bruise covered his jaw. "How do you feel?"

  He gingerly moved to the table and pulled out a chair. "Like I've been run over by a Mack truck. Twice."

  "Coffee will make you feel better." Inane conversation, but she had no idea what else to say. She'd behaved so wantonly last night, so irresponsibly considering Rob's physical condition, that she was racked by spasms of guilt.

  What had gotten into her?

  She handed him the mug of coffee and tried to ignore the fact that he was wearing only Joe Boxers, which enhanced his masculinity and reminded her of last night. He was sitting now and grinning, totally relaxed, looking for all the world as if he'd spent countless nights with her.

  "I'd better shower." Rob sipped his coffee, then added, "I want to be ready for Big Daddy. You don't happen to have a shirt around here that I could wear, do you? Mine's ruined."

  "A friend left some clothes behind." She doubted if they would fit Rob, but it was worth a try. "Let's take a look."

  They went into the guest room and opened the closet. She found the things an old boyfriend had left. Rob grabbed a shirt and waved it in front of her.

  "Jesus H. Christ, I ask you, is it possible to wear too wild a shirt in Hawaii? I didn't think so. Well, I was wrong. This one needs a battery pack."

  Dana didn't comment on the backhanded attack, secretly pleased at his ill-concealed jealousy. Of course, the shirt didn't come close to fitting Rob.

  "Try the T-shirt," she said.

  In the frigid depths of his eyes she recognized anger. What could she say? There had been other men in her life. Had. That was the important word. After last night she couldn't imagine being with any other man.

  Rob jerked the T-shirt out of her hand. The back was plastered with vibrant Day-Glo flowers and the front had hot-orange letters that read the big kahuna. Grimacing in pain, Rob shrugged into it. The T-shirt stretched taut across his powerful torso, conforming to the muscular contours of his chest.

  "It's better than nothing," Dana said.

&nbs
p; "I look like fifty pounds of shit stuffed into a ten-pound sack," Rob said, arms belligerently crossed over his chest. "You and this guy are pretty cozy, huh?"

  He fired the question at her with an attempt at a teasing tone, but she was getting to know him. When Rob was threatened, he resorted to sarcasm and became annoyingly domineering. Not knowing how to defuse the situation, she shrugged.

  "Get rid of him."

  "I was planning to date both of you," she tried to joke.

  "No, you weren't. Sleeping with one man is hard enough for you. Two would be impossible. Besides, last night we made a commitment."

  "Really?" There was a hint of arrogance to his tone that sparked her temper. "Did I miss something?"

  "I didn't see you pulling out a condom before you jumped on my bones."

  "I don't know what got into me. I've never—"

  He slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle hug. "I'll bet you practice safe sex like a religion, but last night you got carried away."

  Boy, had she! Why had she been so stupid? This was the nineties. Safe sex should be a religion. "I won't let it happen again."

  "Yes, you will. I have no intention of using a condom. It's like taking a shower with your raincoat on. I love the way you feel—hot and wet." He grinned. "And real tight."

  She squeezed her eyes shut, not believing they were talking about this. She'd never discussed sex with a man. She slowly opened her eyes and looked into his. "It's not safe."

  "Don't worry. I've been careful. I don't intend to make love to anyone else but you, and I know you're not going to bed with another man." His look was so intense it sent a tremor through her. "We've made a commitment, haven't we?"

  She nodded slowly, taken aback by his practical approach. Somehow she'd always associated commitments with roses and champagne, not frank discussions of safe sex in a brightly lit room. Perhaps this was better, a more direct, honest approach. Dealing with Rob Tagett would be a challenge. No doubt about it. He wasn't like any man that she knew.

  I'm the one. The only one.