Something inside him twisted and turned. She was everything he’d ever dreamed, kneeling there in a pair of dusty white jeans and an oversized blue shirt. Her hair was a wild tangle. Her feet were bare. And she was hurting.
“Sabrina?”
Her head came up fast, a look of alarm on her face as she peered into the dark. He went forward—two steps, then a third. He stopped. Her eyes had widened. She was staring, just staring, and for a minute fear pounded through him so strongly that he couldn’t move. But only for a minute, because he had a need to hold her that wouldn’t be denied.
When he started forward again, he saw her blink, then saw her eyes fill with fresh tears. He hastened his step when she rose from the floor, and by the time he had reached the small circle of light she was throwing herself into his arms. He caught her to him, swinging her off her feet and around.
She couldn’t talk at first. Her throat was filled with soft, slow sobs that shook her entire body. Derek held her tighter, his long arms crisscrossing her body while he brushed his face back and forth in the wild waves of her hair.
“I thought—” she cried in a high tremolo that spoke of something akin to panic. “I thought you weren’t coming!”
He moaned and crushed her even closer.
The tremolo came again. “I thought you’d changed your mind—that you didn’t—want me now that you’re free!”
Letting her feet touch the floor, he took her face in his hands and tipped it to his. “I could never change my mind,” he said raggedly. “I love you too much.”
Before she had a chance to respond, his mouth took hers in a kiss that was wild and hungry. They were both breathing harder by the time he was done, and then, between those rapid breaths, he pressed moist kisses to her nose, her eyes, her forehead. He returned to her mouth with one that was deep enough to touch her soul, and when he raised his head, his gray eyes were smouldering. “I need you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I need you badly.”
The need was electric. It was the culmination of months of desire, of foreplay that had been enacted in their minds, where no guards could stop it. It was spontaneous and inevitable and hot.
As he bent his head to her again, she met him halfway, her lips as anxious as his. Their hands moved over each other, trying to touch everything, to know everything at once. But it was impossible, and the touching they did wasn’t enough.
“I need you,” he whispered again, this time easing his tongue into her mouth while his impatient fingers worked on the buttons of her blouse. In no time the blouse was opened and he was touching her bare flesh.
Clenching handfuls of his hair, Sabrina let her head fall back. She was panting softly, tying to release the heat that was building too quickly. But the more he touched her—and he was a master with his palms, the heels of his hands, his fingertips—the hotter she grew. When he ducked his head and sucked her breast into his mouth, she began to shake.
“Derek … ahhh … please…” She slid her hands over his waist, then his belly, and touched him where he was hard with desire. Singed, he jerked back, but in the next shallow breath he was straining forward, needing more, then more still.
But it was still not enough. He needed to be embedded inside her. Tugging at the snap of her jeans, he lowered the zipper and pushed the fabric down. His own shirt got in his way; since it had no buttons, Sabrina had pushed it up and was trying to work it over his head. He paused long enough to whip it off, while she pulled at the drawstring that held up his pants. He took care of that, too, shoving the pants and his briefs down and off while his heated eyes held hers. Then he reached for her again with the urgency of one too long denied.
Leaving her shirt as it was, he lowered her to the floor of the barn, rushed off her jeans and panties, and in that single ray of November sun, took his place between her thighs and surged forward.
His possession was full and deep and brought him a pleasure so agonizing that he barely heard Sabrina’s own cry. Even when he realized what the sound was, he couldn’t possibly have stopped. His face was a mask of sweet torment, his body glistened with sweat, and the need that pulsed through him was a relentless force centered in his loins.
Sabrina did not stay him. She wound her legs around his waist and lifted herself to meet his thrusts. He wanted to take his time and savor the fine nuances of her sheathing, but the urgency of his body wouldn’t allow for that. Nor would hers. She was tightening around him, milking him with love. He stroked her forcefully. With each incursion, he felt himself going deeper into that love, until he thought he would lose himself entirely to it. He loved her more with each thrust.
Long arms trembling, he fastened his mouth to hers and drank in her impassioned cries until he felt her arch up, catch in her breath, then burst into flames. The ripple of those spasms inside her sent him reeling, back arching, muscles quivering, sweat beading. With a mighty moan, he followed her into a prolonged and powerful climax.
For a time, the sounds of panting were the only ones in the barn. Then, incredibly, Sabrina began to cry again. Still buried in her warmth, Derek rolled to his side and gathered her in.
“I hurt you,” he cried, calling himself a million names for having taken her like an animal. He should have known. He should have given himself more time, perhaps slaked his sexual needs on other women before coming to her. He’d been caged too long.
His hand shook as he stroked her hair, “God, I’m sorry, Sabrina. I just needed you like I’ve never needed anyone or anything before. I kept thinking that if I didn’t hurry something was going to happen to stop it, and I had to be inside you—”
Her arms were tight around him. Her face was buried against his throat. She continued to cry, but very, very softly.
Derek died a little with each sob. “Don’t baby, please don’t.”
“I’m h-happy.”
His hand stilled on her hair. “You don’t sound happy.”
“But I am.”
“Do you always cry when you’re happy?”
“I don’t know. I h-haven’t been happy very much lately.”
He gave a low moan, closed his eyes and rolled to bring her on top of him. Then he lifted her face with his hands. “We’ll have to work on that.” He took his time examining each of her features. His thumbs followed his eyes, tenderly wiping tears from her cheeks. Then he smiled and whispered, “I love you.”
Watery-eyed, she smiled back and whispered, “Me too.” She repeated the words in a kiss.
By the time it was over, his smile was gone. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“You cried out when I—”
“It was so strong. I was frightened.”
“Are you now?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “What just happened—I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“Never climaxed?”
“Never like that.”
“Like what?” he asked, needing to know. Where Sabrina was concerned, he had a barrelful of insecurities.
Her eyes held his. “Deeply. Endlessly. Almost … violently.”
“Not violently. I didn’t want violently.”
“But it was so good.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I can still feel it.”
He sucked in a loud breath, said, “I know,” and rolled over again. This time, as soon as she was beneath him, he slid his hands under her and scooped her up, then reared back to sit on his heels. She was straddling his lap. He was still inside her.
“I love you,” she whispered, winding her arms around his neck. She kissed him lightly once, then again, and hugged him tightly.
A familiar knot rose in his throat. He hugged her back, unable to get enough of her softness. When he could speak again, he said, “I worried about that. The closer my release got, the more I worried.”
“I love you.”
Tipping her face up, he took his turn kissing her once, then again. Neither kiss was as light as hers had been, but if the purring in the back of her throat was
any indication, she didn’t mind. Then he combed her hair back from her face. “Comfortable?”
She nodded. “A little sandy.” They’d done enough rolling around that not even the shirt she still wore had been able to protect her from the wood dust.
“Me too. Nice table, though.”
“It will be.” She touched his cheek, the tiny mole at his temple, the faded scar by his eye. She wove her fingertips into his hair. “You had it cut,” she observed. It looked perfect, even mussed from their loving. “I like it.”
He nuzzled the shell curve of her ear. “I like your barn.”
“Musty.”
“Nice musty.”
“I like your clothes, too.” She knew that she would never, never forget that moment when she’d looked up and seen him. She’d been thinking about Nicky, thinking about Derek, feeling very low and very alone, and then he’d called her name. “I wasn’t sure it was you, at first. I’ve been picturing you in blue denim.”
“Never again. I cleaned out my closet and gave every pair of blue jeans I owned to the Salvation Army.” He kissed her right eye and said in a deeper voice, “I like your body.”
She blushed.
“Your breasts are perfect.”
She lowered her forehead to his chest. “They’re too small.”
“They are not.” He ran his hands over her hips and down her legs. “Do you know that I’ve never seen you in anything but a skirt?”
“Mmm.”
“I like your legs.” His hands were making the return trip, palms creating a sensual friction upward from her thighs and over her hips. She sighed when they came to rest under her arms, thumbs lightly rubbing the outer swell of her breasts.
Sabrina felt herself tingling inside. She wondered if it was a lingering after-effect of their lovemaking, but when she shifted her hips ever so slightly, the feeling grew. Something else grew, too. She raised questioning eyes to Derek’s.
“It was only a matter of time,” he answered with a mischievous grin that created a slash in his cheek that stirred her even more. Cupping her bottom with both hands, he urged her more snugly over his heat. “Once would never do it.” He captured her mouth and gave her a long, thorough kiss. By the time he was done, the tingling inside her had become a slow burn.
Arms around his neck, she strained closer to his body. But Derek wanted to touch her, wanted to touch her breasts and her belly and that place between her legs that was so moist and hot against him. So he held her back a little and gave his hands the freedom they craved.
Sabrina didn’t protest. He brought her too much pleasure. Too soon, though, she was flaming, and when she tried to tell him to slow down, he smothered the words with his mouth, and then it was too late for them both, because, again, her climax sparked his.
When it was over this time, Derek lay on the floor of the barn and tucked her to his side. He wanted to shut his eyes and rest, but he was afraid that if he did, she’d disappear. So he settled for looking at the comfortable way she’d draped her body against his. And after a bit, when she tipped her head to look at him, he said, “I couldn’t come here before, Sabrina. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I felt too dirty.”
“You were never—”
He put a finger to her lips. “I felt it. I took three showers a day.” His finger came to rest on her chin. “But it wasn’t only physical. I felt that I had to air out my mind, as if it reeked of hatred and resentment and violence. Prison is a poison. It gets in your system. I wanted to get it out.”
“Did you?” she asked, but she knew the answer. She saw the shadow on his face.
“Some of it, I guess.” He lay his head back and looked up at the rafters. After a time he said, “It was just as well I went to New York. There were things I had to do.”
“Like…?”
“Sleep. I hadn’t done it in a while.”
“It must have felt good.”
“The first two nights were a little rocky, but after that it was okay.”
“Bad dreams?”
“Yeah. I kept dreaming I was back inside. I’d wake up disoriented and shaking.”
“Oh, Derek.”
“It’s okay. Once I started sleeping, I made up for lost time.”
Her lips curved against his chest. “So you slept most of the week away?”
“I should’ve. The rest of what I did wasn’t worth much.”
“Like…?”
“Lunch with my agent.”
Sabrina knew that would have to do with work. “Was he any help?” she asked, not sure whether she wanted him to work or not. She liked the idea of Derek’s staying with her, which she doubted he’d be able to do once he found work. Vermont wasn’t exactly in the mainstream for investigative reporters.
“Oh yeah,” Derek said. “Cliff was a help. He was sure every talk show in the country would jump at the chance to have me on. He envisioned a national tour—until I set him straight.”
“You won’t do talk shows?”
“Not as a guest. I want to be the one asking questions, not the other way around.”
“But if it was good publicity—if the producer of a program could see you and realize that you were back in circulation and say to himself, ‘Hey, that guy’s the one I need,’ wouldn’t it be worth it?”
Derek’s voice was chilly. “I don’t need a job that bad. In fact, I don’t need a job at all. I never had time to spend the money I earned before, so I invested it all. The interest alone can keep me in style.”
“But you want to work.”
“And I will. Somehow or other, I will.”
Sabrina had other questions on the subject but was reluctant to ask them. She could feel Derek’s tension and wanted it gone. To that end, she slid her open hand over his chest, soothing him with a gentle massage. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of her hand moving over his skin. Her touch was the balm he needed. His muscles gradually relaxed. “So am I,” he said and stroked her hip. Then he raised his head. “Cold?”
“No.”
“You have goose bumps.”
“I’m okay.”
He hadn’t noticed until then that the spray of sunlight on the floor of the barn had shifted. “I think we’d better get up.”
But when he made to rise, she held him tighter and protested, “No. Stay.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said very gently.
“Don’t move. I don’t want anything to change.”
He eyed her in amusement. “We can’t stay here forever.”
“I know, but just a little longer?”
“You’re getting chilled.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m getting sore.”
“Oh.”
“And besides,” he said, bringing her up with him this time, “I want a tour of the place.” Standing, he grasped the lapels of her shirt and drew her body flush to his. “And maybe something to eat.”
Her eyes widened. “I have to get food. I don’t have any food. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and since I don’t eat all that much myself, I—”
He silenced her with a kiss, then said, “Is there a market nearby?”
“In the village.”
“We’ll go together.”
“Will you stay?”
“For a meal?”
“For more than one?”
“Am I being invited?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll stay.”
“Good.”
That settled, they grinned at each other. She put a finger to his dimple. “I like this.”
“And I like this,” he countered, running both thumbs very lightly under her eyes.
“What?”
“No smudges. The smudges are gone.” So was the tic. “You’re getting lots of rest.”
“There’s plenty of time for that up here. Want a bath?”
“Real men don’t take baths.”
“It’s a Jacuzzi.�
�
“It is?”
“But it just went in. I haven’t tried it out yet.”
“You haven’t?”
She shook her head.
“Sabrina,” he chided, “how can you have a Jacuzzi and not try it out?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“And if I hadn’t come?”
“I guess the Jacuzzi would have gone to waste.”
“It’s a big one?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“The master suite.”
“Suite? I have to see this.”
At that moment, with her arms looped loosely around Derek’s neck, her naked body pressed to his and her gaze held by one that was warm as toast, Sabrina felt happier than she’d felt in years. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Chapter 12
THEY HELPED each other dress—not in any teasing prelude to further lovemaking, but simply because they wanted to touch. They needed the reassurance that the other was there, that the other was free, that the other loved.
Sabrina’s hands brushed Derek’s lean hips as she tied the drawstring of his cotton pants. The backs of his fingers skimmed her soft flesh when he rebuttoned her blouse. She held his shoulders for balance when he helped her into her jeans. And together, with Sabrina warming his side first, they maneuvered his shirt over his head.
“This is all pretty unnecessary,” he said, grinning as he took her hand. She had his deck shoes tucked under an arm. “We’re going right in to take a bath.”
“But we have to cross here to there, and it’s cool out.”
He sent her a doubting glance.
“Then look at it this way,” she returned indulgently. “You can never tell what form of beast is spying from the woods.”
Derek didn’t want to look at it that way. It had occurred to him more than once that if Greer was still after him, the last thing he should have done was come to Sabrina. But he’d been selfish. He’d needed her. He hadn’t been aware of being followed in New York, and he knew he hadn’t been followed when he drove north. As he saw it, he had a choice: he could either spend every waking hour looking over his shoulder, or he could relax and simply keep his eyes and ears open.
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