by Mary Buckham
"Ready?"
She had meant to answer, but he swallowed her words with his mouth even as he positioned himself between her thighs. Then paused.
She'd waited long enough. With a guttural cry, part defiance, part triumph, she arched upwards, taking before he could change his mind and do the noble thing. It didn't take him long to follow her lead. Thrust followed thrust: long slow glides of pleasure that had her delirious with sensation. In—deep, deep, deeply in before he'd pull almost all the way out, then begin again.
An explosion was building within her. There, but almost not. She urged him on with her hands, her hips, her lips to his skin, but he held to his own agenda. In and out, pressure applied then released. Then he'd shift, going deeper, rubbing harder. The pleasure built. Or was it pain?
She wanted to sob. Or swear. But before she could do either, the pressure shattered, splintered into a thousand pinpricks of sensation washing through her system. Her cry echoed through the room, muffled by his lips against hers until his own shout of release joined with hers.
"Wow." It might have been seconds, or hours later when she heard her voice speak her thoughts. Warm, fuzzy thoughts dwelling on the sensation of Lucius's body warm against hers, his hands wrapped around her, his breathing gradually slowing.
"Wow?" She felt his smile against her hair, his hands stroking against her torso. "Is that a fancy librarian term?"
"Anything else might be too much for your ego." She knew she sounded prissy, as prissy as a naked, thoroughly loved woman could sound with a smile on her lips.
"Wow's a good word. Better than 'that was nice' or 'not bad.'"
"I don't believe you've ever heard either one of those phrases in your entire life."
She felt his lips press against her temple.
"Let's just say you inspired me."
For all she knew he might have used the same phrase with a hundred women before, but somehow she didn't think he had. He'd always been straight with her, a little reticent with information, but when he finally did tell her anything, he'd never sugarcoated it. A nice trait in a man, she decided. A very nice trait.
"You've gone quiet on me." His voice whispered through the room, his hands continuing their slow glide across her skin.
"I thought men didn't want to talk after sex."
"This man wants to know what's going on in that head of yours."
She heard nerves beneath his words. Or maybe it was only wishful thinking, either way, she thought it'd be best to keep things light, no matter if she was feeling anything but.
"I'm wondering how I'm going to get that shirt off you."
He paused, as if looking for what she wasn't saying, then shrugged. "You'll have to work to get it off."
Oh, she liked that idea, and its possibilities. Raising herself on one elbow she grinned down at him, catching the answering dare in his gaze.
"You're playing difficult here, Major?"
"Yup."
Her fingers slid beneath the first button. The first remaining button, which was halfway down that wonderful chest.
"You know I'll show no mercy." She snapped the button off with a flying ping.
"I'm counting on it."
Another button went sailing.
"I won't have any cry of foul play later."
She pressed her lips to the skin now exposed. A slow, long, wet kiss that had him sucking in his breath.
Her fingers slipped lower. Not low enough to stroke that body part of his already twitching awake, though it was tempting.
"I will allow you to cry mercy if you need to." She ducked her head to hide her grin at his mortified expression and followed with another kiss to his chest. Then a lick of her tongue. She popped another button and he went still.
Her tongue had moved up to circle the dark bead of his nipple, paying him back for the exquisite sensations he'd inflicted on hers earlier.
"Do they teach torture in librarian school these days?" His chest was rising and falling more quickly, his eyes were slits of heated silver.
"Advanced Torture 101. I aced the course."
She felt the rumble of his laughter beneath her lips. She pressed his shirt aside to taste and touch more.
But leave it up to McConneghy to have his own agenda. Before she could continue her quest of devouring him, inch by leisurely inch he rolled her over, slipped on protection, and slid into her in one quick, hard, deep thrust.
When she caught her breath, and the sweet sigh of pleasure accompanying it, she opened her eyes to glance up.
"I'd say that was a cry of surrender."
"I'll show you a cry of surrender."
His words were a promise, which he proceeded to fulfill. Very ably.
Lucius watched the sun creep over the far horizon outside the French doors, listened to the deep even breathing of the woman snuggled against his chest and wondered if he'd ever felt such contentment. It was an emotion alien to his world, to the choices he'd made. But another choice had been made, and the consequences would have to be dealt with. In spite of his words of warning, and Jane's cheeky response, he knew she wasn't the type of woman who slid easily into a relationship and just as casually walked away from it.
In spite of her enthusiasm and daring foreplay, he sensed the shyness, the innocence still as much a part of her as her kindness to strangers. She might look like a siren in that dress she'd worn earlier, but he had no doubt she was as unsure and vulnerable as he'd always guessed. A man could not make love to a woman the way they had through the night without knowing such things.
The question now was what he was going to do about it. The smart thing was to tell her it'd been nice, break her heart clean and fast, then hope like hell she could get through the next days with him playing good guy/bad guy, a role he had down pat. Or maybe he should string things along, put some physical distance between them, but not bring reality into play until he was sure she was safe on the plane and heading back to South Dakota.
Unfortunately, either scenario ended up with the same result: Jane hurt and him responsible. But then, he knew it'd come down to that point, eventually. It had to.
But there was a third option. One he'd been considering since he'd tasted her sweetness, felt the power of her response to his touch. The third solution held the most risk for the both of them, but also its own rewards. What if he chose to accept what had happened, was happening between them and savor it? Revel in it, if the truth was known. What if he chose to take whatever time was allotted to them and allow it just to be instead of cutting it off?
He found himself smiling, inhaling the scent of her hair with the motion, knowing there really was no choice in the matter. She was his and nothing—not duty, not obligation, not responsibility—was going to make him let her go when he could hold her like this.
There'd be a price to pay. There always was. But for now he had Jane. It'd be enough. It had to.
Chapter 11
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Jane awoke the next morning in her own bed, alone, vaguely remembering Lucius's arms around her, carrying her securely from his room to hers, playing the role of protector once again. This time of her reputation.
The thought made her smile. That thought and others, ones based on the sweet lassitude in her limbs, the quiet ache of muscles thoroughly used. How many times had they turned to each other through the night? How many times and how many ways? She felt herself blushing and hoped she could bring it under control before Ekaterina, rustling around in the bathroom, spied her.
"Ah, mademoiselle, you are awake at last. The excitement of last night, it must have worn you out."
"It did." She felt the heat in her cheeks increasing, knowing they were talking about two different kinds of excitement. "How late is it?"
"It is nearly noon."
"Yikes." She bolted upright, remembering at the last minute to grab the blanket to her. Lucius may have made sure she was found in the right bed but he'd neglected to make sure she was dressed in a decent pair of pajamas. "
Am I late for any appointments? Major McConneghy is going to kill me."
"No, mademoiselle. The major was the one who told me to let you rest, that you'd be exhausted."
As he should well know, she thought, feeling the heat seeping through her body this time.
"He said he canceled your meetings this morning."
Jane didn't know if she wanted to thank him for his thoughtfulness or smack him for his assumption that she was a lightweight. Just because she didn't have a lot of experience making love through the night … all right, she had no experience … didn't mean she couldn't have bumbled through the day somehow.
"I have a nice warm bath ready for you." Ekaterina's voice broke through her musings. And the thought of a soothing, leisurely soak did sound divine. She would deal with McConneghy later. She just hoped she wasn't going to have to battle through one of his noble-thing, this-shouldn't-have-happened responses. But leave it up to the man to make what could be easy into something complicated.
The old Jane might have caved into such a pack of nonsense. The new Jane wasn't going to have anything to do with it and the sooner McConneghy understood that the better. She knew they didn't have a future together. How could they, when she wasn't sure there'd be a future at all, not if some terrorists, or disgruntled revolutionaries with an ax to grind got their way? So she'd have to take what she could, now, while she could.
"Do I have anything in red in that closet, Ekaterina?" She reached for her robe, trying not to wince from thigh muscles protesting movement. It was bad enough she was going to have to explain the state of her clothes from last night, no need to compound the speculation.
"In red, mademoiselle? Yes, there is a suit and several dresses."
"Not the suit, but maybe one of the others." A woman should always dress for battle. "Something sexy, but subtle."
"Yes, mademoiselle." The maid left, humming, as Jane made her way toward the scented bath. McConneghy was never going to know what hit him. It was not the time to slide back into the old Jane's way. No, it was time to go on the offensive.
She caught her image in the bathroom mirror and paused. It wasn't the well-kissed lips, or whisker burns along her cheek that surprised her. It was the gleam of battle in her eyes. Lucius McConneghy didn't stand a chance.
Lucius ignored the pressure band tightening around his skull, telling himself that blowing up at Tarkioff wasn't going to solve anything. Except maybe to lower his blood pressure. The man was insisting that last night's fiasco was a major threat to discredit his regime and to personally humiliate him.
Maybe, maybe not, but spending the whole morning barricaded within the royal library with the king and his brother, instead of leaving him free to follow up what few scant leads and even fewer hunches there were, was not helping the situation. Fortunately his team had been at work since Lucius had met with them right after he'd left Jane sleeping in her own bed.
The image that thought brought created its own pressure, but this time it wasn't settling around his head. Like glimpses of a lost dream, he'd found his thoughts wandering time and again since he'd been cloistered with Tarkioff and Eustace.
It was Eustace's voice that was soothing the king now. "All measures have been taken to find the culprits behind this incident."
"It's not enough." The king's meaty fist slammed upon the desk. "I want results, not empty promises."
"But, Your Highness—"
"Enough, Eustace. It was your guards who failed in their duties last night. I want them replaced. I will not tolerate incompetence.'"
"But, sir—"
"Replaced and punished. Do you hear?"
"Yes, sir." The Head of Security kept his face stoic, his demeanor under control, but Lucius had noticed the quick flash of temper in his dark eyes. Not that he blamed the man, but it didn't bode well for the days leading up to the king's wedding.
A quiet knock on the far door interrupted any further conversation. As Lucius was closest to it, he rose to answer it. If Jane Richards had meant the scrap of flame and fire she wore with a teasing smile to make him drool and remember, she succeeded. He was only thankful his back was to the other men in the room. There were some emotions one could not hide, and raw possessiveness was one of them.
"Am I interrupting anything?" she asked in that honey-over-heat voice that made him want to throw her over his shoulder and continue where they'd left off in the wee hours of the night.
Her look told him she was thinking along the same lines, but before he could suggest she meet him elsewhere, the king's voice boomed across the office.
"Come in. Come in. We have need of beauty since we have no competence."
Lucius watched her flinch at the implied criticism of the other two men in the room, then step around him. He had to give her credit for being brave. Foolish, but brave.
"Thank you, Your Highness." She bowed her head to the security minister. "Monsieur Tarkioff. I really do not wish to interrupt you, as I'm sure you have much to discuss."
"No, mademoiselle. It is our pleasure." Eustace waved her to a nearby chair while Lucius cleared his throat.
"We were reviewing that shameful business last night." The king's voice reflected the stern expression of his face. "I hope it did not frighten you unduly, my dear?"
"That is thoughtful of you to have worried about me." She offered him one of those smiles Lucius knew to be genuine and powerful. "But I can assure you I was in capable hands with Major McConneghy."
Lucius thought he was going to choke. From the way she avoided his gaze and kept her whole attention on the king he knew she was playing some kind of game. He just hoped she knew the stakes.
"Well." Tarkioff cast him a questioning glance. "I am glad Major McConneghy knows his position."
"Oh, yes sir. I agree."
This time it was Eustace who cleared his throat, and hid what Lucius guessed was a grin as the king's expression darkened.
"But have you found the men who set off the explosions?"
Lucius wanted to give her points for neatly deflecting the royal attention. He couldn't have done it better himself.
"We are working on the issue." Viktor Tarkioff slanted both his brother and Lucius looks that said he expected more than that. "But there is nothing for you to worry about. We have increased your security."
Jane glanced his way then, wariness replacing her earlier bravado and for that alone Lucius could wring Tarkioff's neck.
"Then you feel there will be more incidents?"
Before Lucius could respond, Tarkioff replied. "It is the price one pays. A necessary evil in today's world. A burden borne by those who serve."
"You'll be safe." Lucius could not stomach one more banality. "We've only increased security as a precaution, not because we believe the risk to you has increased."
"I see." He watched her swallow, her fingers smooth at her skirt before she rose to her feet. Her voice remained steady though, as she addressed a glowering king. "I will not keep you from your work then. Thank you."
Lucius was at her side before she reached the door, his hand slipping around her elbow in an automatic gesture. He noted that her gaze did not meet his, and that beneath his touch her skin was cold.
"I will escort the mademoiselle to her room." He said it for the benefit of Tarkioff and his brother, but for the look Jane shot him, he might have just announced he was escorting her to prison.
"Good day, mademoiselle." It was Eustace's voice following them from the room.
Lucius waited until they reached a relatively secluded section of the hallway before he tugged her into an empty room, closing the door behind them.
"Are you trying to cause an international incident or just being stupid?" All the emotion he'd been holding back, the frustration with Tarkioff, the need she roused in him simply by being in the same room, the awareness of the tightrope she walked with her two-edged words, all roared through him, coating his words with an anger based on fear. Fear that what he'd only begun to accept might be poss
ible between them would be cut short if he did not protect her. If he could not keep her safe.
He wrapped his hands around her arms, reassuring himself physically that she was there, ignoring the hurt he saw in her gaze. "This is not a game we're playing. The stakes are too high, the risks too great. If Tarkioff or Eustace even suspected there was something going on behind their backs—"
"Something?" The hurt look deepened in her gaze.
"You know what I mean."
"Are we going back to the beginning? To master and peon?"
"We don't have time for this."
"Oh?"
Now he knew he'd taken the wrong track.
"I have an irate king breathing down my neck, an unexplained incident, worried heads back in the States—"
"And me."
He allowed the sigh building in him to escape.
"I didn't mean it that way."
"Don't worry, Major." She tugged her arm but he only tightened his grip. "I may be slow but I'm not stupid. I know what it means to be a liability. I know very well, so you don't have to explain the nuances to me."
He tried to gentle his voice. Not easy when a woman was glaring at you with pain and humiliation in her eyes.
"Jane, I didn't mean it like that. I just don't have time to explain everything right now."
"There's nothing to explain." It sounded so final it scared him. This was not the same woman who had walked into a room moments ago with fire in her gaze. He'd been truthful though, he didn't have a lot of time to clarify everything with her. No time at all. So he communicated in the only way he was sure would get through.
Before she could protest or evade, he pulled her to him. His lips claimed hers as she opened them in a gasp of surprise, and then he devoured. Slowly, surely he reassured her that what they'd started last night was still there, was still alive and vital and as important to him as it was to her.
When he finally came up for air he noted the passion building in her gaze and the raggedness of her breathing. He knew he felt the same himself, and later, he hoped not much later, he'd do something about it.
