Night Talk

by Rebecca Daniels

It was as if suddenly he'd been transported out into the elements again with the wind roaring in his ears and the fury surrounding him. Her body was soft against his, and despite the cold, dank climate and the sodden clothing, it seared into his like a hot iron, branding him for life. She tasted sweeter than the rain, sweeter than anything he'd ever known and he couldn't seem to get enough.

  "I can't lose you," he growled against her mouth. "I can't."

  But he gave her no time to answer, no time to respond. He couldn't. This woman who had started out in his life as a voice on the radio had suddenly become his whole world. She had cracked open the door to his soul and he wanted nothing more than to kick it down completely. He'd been existing in a world where the ground rules had been dictated by the sins of the past, by mistake and regret and remorse. But in her arms there was no sin. This was a whole new world—a brave new world with only one purpose, one intent, one woman.

  Kristin.

  His hands moved over her, finding the zipper to her jacket and yanking it free. Nothing was going to keep him from her—not convention, not the elements and certainly not modesty. He pulled the jacket from her, tossing it to a heap on the floor beside them.

  Her neck was warm and felt like velvet against his lips. He could hear the sounds of her breath catching in her throat, tasted the wind and the rain on her skin. It was all he could do to keep himself from tearing at the buttons on her blouse. He had a sense of her pulling at his shirt, but he couldn't concentrate on anything other than the taste and the feel and the sound of her. Only when his skin finally came into contact with hers did things come into focus again.

  Kristin felt the fabric falling from her body, felt the rush of cool air on her bare skin, but she was far from cold. Jake's hands left a trail of fire everywhere they touched, burning into her veins, into her blood and turning it into a flame. Desire became a firestorm, something she'd never known and yet instinctively recognized. She wanted him—all of him. It was as if she needed him to breathe. There would be no ghosts from the past holding her back, no protection, no obstacles of any kind. Fate had stepped in and taken control and she was unwilling and unable to do anything but accept whatever it held in store for her.

  Jake breathed in the scent of her, reveled in the feel of her and felt desire coil tight in his belly. Clarity came in a burst of insight. He felt new to the world, like a babe reaching out for the very first time. His hands were wild and restless, wanting to touch and possess every part of her. He caressed the round curves of her hips before moving up to her waist, which was narrow and small. When he touched her breasts, his life changed forever. His existence was no longer dependent on simple oxygen in order to survive. What he needed was her—the feel, the touch and the taste of her. Her breasts were full, firm and softer than anything he could imagine and his fingers stroked and caressed until they were both trembling.

  The need in him was almost blinding. It was as if he'd been wanting her all of his life, before he'd known her name, before he'd even known she existed. He had found what he'd been searching for, what he'd meant to have, and like a man teetering on the brink of glory, he trembled with the knowledge of what lay ahead.

  She pressed her body into his. He was hard with need and that realization moved like molten lava through her veins. He wanted her—not because of who she was or what she did but because he was a man and she was a woman and destiny had set them on a collision course that nothing could stop.

  Gathering her up into his arms, he carried her through the kitchen and down the hall. He couldn't seem to move fast enough, couldn't seem to touch or feel enough of her. He wanted her in his bedroom, in his bed. She was in his head, in his blood, moving through his system like a drug and he couldn't seem to get enough. This was beyond wanting, beyond needing. The fire coursing through his veins bordered on obsession. This was beyond a dream come true, outside the realm of possibility and far and away more than he'd ever hoped for. She had become so much more than a voice, so much more than a personality. Her lips, her neck, her breasts had become his world.

  "Jake," she whispered as he lowered her onto the bed. "Maybe we shouldn't—"

  "Shouldn't what?" he interrupted, pulling her jeans off her. "Shouldn't be happy? Shouldn't take a chance?" He pulled off the last of his clothes and stood beside the bed looking down at her. "Shouldn't do what I've been wanting to since the moment I saw you?"

  "Oh, Jake," she sighed, reaching up and pulling him to her.

  His body sank into her in one long, smooth, continuous motion. Kristin didn't turn away, didn't pretend a shyness she didn't feel. She, too, had wanted and if she'd been honest with herself, she would have seen it long before now.

  "Jake," she groaned.

  She felt his name escape her lips, recognized the sound of her own voice, but it wasn't because she had been calling out to him. It had been a declaration, an affirmation, a proclamation. Jake. He had become the beginning and the end of her journey, had been her motive and her objective. People had come in and out of her life, she had known joy and sadness, peace and chaos, but she'd experienced nothing like him. He had walked into her life and captured the middle and both ends of her consciousness and no one had ever done that—not even a stalker hell-bent on terrorizing her. She had thought she had known what she wanted but now all she wanted was him.

  "Jake," she groaned again, pressing her lips against his.

  Propelling herself forward, she effectively reversed their positions on the bed. Her body caressed the length of his, arms and legs entwined. Her lips seized his, hungry and brash. She had never felt so bold, so focused, so sure of what she wanted. She had spent the last eight-and-a-half months being hunted by a madman but now she was the hunter, now she was the one in pursuit.

  She straightened up, her legs straddling his lean form in an intimate embrace, and gazed down at him. Desire stamped his features as he looked up at her and she felt the need in her intensify and grow desperate. She felt strong and empowered—invincible.

  "So beautiful," he murmured, his hands sliding up her body. "So beautiful."

  And she felt beautiful. Her body moved along his with a poise and assurance she had never known. With each stroke she blazoned a path, with each caress she broke new ground. She was a woman on a mission who knew exactly where she was going and what she had to do to get there. It didn't matter what dangers lay ahead. A fearless explorer, she was a woman pleasing her man and pleasing herself.

  He watched the woman above him. She looked like a goddess rising from the elements—ethereal and elemental and far too beautiful to be real. His hands moved up and over her body—her stomach, her hips, her breasts. They did more than touch and caress, they worshiped. To him she was perfect, idyllic, like the heroine from an ancient myth, from an ancient time. She was Helen of Troy, Aphrodite, Cleopatra—a woman a man would fight to protect and lay down his life to possess.

  Only, with every motion of her body, every stroke of man to woman, Kristin to Jake, it was he who had become the possessed. She owned him completely—heart and mind, body and soul. He was on fire and the inferno raging in his belly was like a volcano coming to life. His world was spinning out of control. He held sanity by a thread and that thread was dangerously close to snapping.

  Pulling her to him, he spun them around, pushing her beneath him. He had moved beyond reason, beyond intellect, and become a primal being again. He could hear her soft groans in his ears, tasted the hunger on her lips and felt her body grow frantic with need. Like a match to a fuse, it ignited the powder keg building within him. His world had narrowed to this woman, his life to this moment.

  Kristin couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, but it seemed she no longer needed either in order to survive. He had become her breath, her heart and the only sustenance she required. She had forgotten all about precautions and protection. She had forgotten Dear Jane and the terror of a stalker. There was nothing else for her but the moment and the man. The coil of desire had grown tight in her belly. Everywhere
he touched, every move he made propelled her closer and more precariously to the edge.

  And then suddenly she was there. In a vortex of light and sound she was hurled into that glorious chasm, caught up in a storm of hurricane strength and catapulted into the dominion of the gods. She had never known such feelings were possible, that desire could be so sharp and rapture such sweet torture.

  Jake heard her cry out, felt her body explode beneath him, and it was the end of him. The thread had snapped and with it his tenuous hold on sanity. His body surged into hers and he followed her over the edge as they descended into the sweet agony of madness.

  It was a long time before either of them moved—minutes, hours, days—it was impossible to tell. They no longer existed in the world of time and reality. They rested on a higher plain, a loftier kingdom where mundane things such as time and space were of no consequence.

  Kristin felt his breath on her neck, felt the pounding of his heart against her, and a peacefulness settled around her like a cloud. This was what it was like—to cherish another, and to be falling in love. She had tried to deny it, had tried to ignore it and pretend it wasn't there, but it hadn't worked. How foolish she had been to think she could remain immune to such things, that she wasn't susceptible. Her heart felt what her heart felt and she was helpless to do anything but acknowledge and accept. There would be time later to think about reasons and ramifications. For the moment it was enough to lie in his arms and feel love.

  Jake drifted down slowly, inch by inch, but awareness was slow in coming. He could almost believe their bodies had fused into one—heart, lungs, arms, legs. But even as reality divided them into two separate beings again, she had become a part of him. He had experienced nothing like this before, had never lost himself so completely, so willingly. He felt weak and exhausted, almost unable to move and yet the feel of her, the sound and the scent of her sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through him.

  He hadn't consciously started kissing her, hadn't consciously begun touching and caressing, but it had already become as natural to him as breathing. The slow, easy kisses, the brushes of skin to skin, had his body coming to life.

  Feeling him grow hard against her, she opened her eyes. "Jake."

  "More," he murmured, against her lips. "I want more."

  Chapter 11

  Kristin rolled over, forcing her eyelids open a crack and peering through thick lashes. She had no idea how long she'd been asleep. She just knew she felt warm and rested and wonderful.

  She turned around and snuggled into the warmth of Jake's arms. Sometime during the long hours they lay together, they had managed to crawl under the covers and drift off to sleep. Outside, the wind howled and she could hear the sound of tree limbs scratching against the bedroom window. The storm had hit in full force and raged furiously outside, a stark contrast to the peaceful serenity she felt in Jake's arms.

  She thought of the fury of their lovemaking and felt heat fill her cheeks. She had no idea what had taken possession of her. In her whole life she had never behaved that way before—so bold and so wanton—and had never felt so frantic. What had come over her? What had happened to make everything change? How could they have been standing there screaming at each other one minute and grabbing for each other the next? How had she gone from being so angry to being so desperate?

  She closed her eyes, then immediately popped them open again. She didn't want to fall asleep, didn't want to risk the chance of waking up to find this had all just been a dream—a warm, wonderful dream full of life and color. She was in no hurry to return to that cold, barren life she existed in, that life where fear forced her to reach out and hold the world at arm's length.

  She turned and looked at Jake as he slept beside her and felt a shiver of excitement. This was no dream, no fantasy she had concocted in her head. This was real—he was real and she was exactly where she wanted to be. She could touch him, hear him breathe, feel the pounding of his heart in unison with her own.

  Comforted, she closed her eyes and snuggled close again. There would be time later to think about exactly what had happened, to ponder the whys and wherefores, the regrets and repercussions. For now, it was enough just to lie with him—in his arms and in his bed—and savor the moment. She wanted to memorize everything, every touch, every taste, every texture, and imprint it all on her soul so she could bring them out again and again and remember for the rest of her life.

  "What time is it?"

  She jumped at the sound of his voice and looked up at him. "I thought you were asleep."

  He gathered her close, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I was." His lips moved over her jaw and down the slender line of her neck. "But I'm wide awake now."

  She felt him against her, hard and ready, and felt her breath catch in her throat. She would have thought she was devoid of energy, that it would have been impossible to summon even a fragment of reaction, but she'd been wrong. Desire started in an ember but burst to full flame within a moment and she found herself surrendering. It seemed she couldn't get enough of him, nor he of her, and it wasn't long before they were both breathless and desperate with need.

  It was a long time before either of them moved after that. They remained in a tangled embrace, arms and legs entwined, the fury of passion having ebbed—for the moment. They were both content just to lie there and listen while the storm raged outside.

  "Did we ever figure out what time it was?" he asked after a moment. "It feels late."

  "I remember you asked," Kristin pointed out dryly. "But I seem to have gotten distracted before I had a chance to answer."

  He turned to her, leering playfully. "I like you when you're distracted, but then…" He pecked her nose with a kiss as he raised up on one elbow. "I just like you." But when he peered over her shoulder to the clock on the nightstand, his entire body reacted. "Oh jeez, no, that can't be right."

  "What?" The alarm in his voice, coupled with his violent reaction had broken the playful spell and frightened her. "What is it?"

  "Look, the clock, it says ten-thirty," he said, sitting up and reaching for his boxers. "That's got to be wrong."

  She turned to the clock beside the bed, its bright red numbers glowing in the darkness. "Ten-thirty? Isn't that right?"

  He leaped out of bed, stepping into his shorts. "No, no, no. That can't be right. Maybe the generator isn't working right." He flipped on the lamp beside the clock, squinting against the light to read the time on his wrist-watch. "Damn!" he muttered. "Ten-thirty. I can't believe it."

  "What's the matter?" she demanded, feeling confused and a little flustered. Only a moment ago he was holding her, peaceful and content, and now he was running around like a madman. "Do you have to go somewhere? What happens at ten-thirty?"

  He stopped as he reached for his jeans and turned to her. "It's not what happens at ten-thirty," he said in a deliberate voice. "It's what happens thirty minutes after that."

  She gave him a puzzled look and gave her head a small shake. As far as she was concerned, he was acting like a crazy man. She wasn't sure what she'd expected from him after…well, after what had just happened between them, but watching him leap around and obsess about the time wasn't it.

  "Eleven o'clock?" He paused for a moment, letting it sink in. "You have a radio program to do?"

  It hit her like a ton of bricks then. "Lost Loves!" The show was due to go live on the air at eleven and it usually took them the better part of an hour to test and get set up to go live. How could she have forgotten?

  "Oh my God," she gasped, tossing the blankets aside and jumping out of bed. "We must have slept for hours. Dale has probably been trying to radio us for the past half hour. He must think something's happened."

  There was no time for modesty as they both ran back and forth, picking up articles of clothing and handing the appropriate ones to each other.

  "Something did happen," Jake reminded her, catching her by the arm and pulling her close for a quick kiss.

  Kristin felt herself
growing warm all over and blushing. "Do you?"

  He crinkled his forehead and gave her a curious look. "Do I what?"

  "Like me?"

  There was nothing confused or playful in his expression when he pulled her close again and his kiss was long and fraught with emotion. "What do you think?"

  It had probably been foolish to look for something more, to seek some sort of assurance or understanding from him. After all, she had gone into this thing with her eyes open and didn't expect any promises or commitments. She understood the dangers of overanalyzing and examining things too closely. She had advised her callers countless times to live in the moment and not look too far down the road when it came to relationships, and she was determined to take her own advice. Still, the words had been out before she could stop them and she couldn't deny a certain pleasure with his response.

  She looked up at him, her brain feeling swimmy from the effects of his kiss. "I think we'd better get this radio show out of the way so we can get back to bed."

  He laughed, purposefully setting her away from him and pointing her to the door. "I also like the way you think."

  * * *

  She was still asleep, her breathing slow and steady, and Jake savored the quiet moment. During the night the storm had managed to wear itself out and daylight was slowly beginning to brighten the sky.

  He gathered her close, settling back against the pillows, and stared up at the rustic beamed ceiling. Twenty-four hours ago he had lain in the very same spot and gazed up at the same rough, uneven timber rafters, but they had looked entirely different to him then. Actually, the whole world appeared different to him this morning. Kristin Carey was in his life and that had changed how he viewed everything.

  An old song played in his head—"What a Difference a Day Makes." He didn't know who the singer was or who had written the lyrics but it wasn't the first time he realized just how true the words could be. One day really could make a difference. He knew all too well how the course of a life could turn on a dime, how something could happen and change everything. The first time it had happened to him, Ricky ended up dead, and that had changed forever the way he felt about his life, his wife and his work as a cop.