by Jan Springer
“What else?” he asked.
“Candlelight dinners every night.”
“Who’s cooking?”
“We’ll take turns.”
“I’m a lousy cook.”
“Who said anything about you cooking dinner?”
He chuckled as he got her meaning. His laugh was an awesome sound. Light and true and straight from his heart.
Sensually moving her hips, she leaned over him, bringing her mouth to his left nipple. Taking the rock-hard bead of heat into her mouth, she bit his flesh gently and heard him moan. Licking him with her tongue, she soothed the hurt and took him again. Sucking his nipple into her mouth.
He shuddered.
“Jesus, woman.”
She took her time tending to his nipples. First one and then the other. She bit and tongued him and sucked until he was panting. Until his hands came up and seized each side of her waist like two searing brands of power. He held her steady and she found him pushing his hips upward, trying to get a harder pressure from her gyrations. His movements increased the delightful friction on her clit. Pleasure mounted and the erotic sensations made her suddenly impatient to have his hard length inside her again.
“Oh damn. I’ll tell you the rest later.”
“Thought you’d see it my way,” he muttered thickly.
Letting go of her waist, he allowed her to lift herself off him. She ditched her pants and in an instant she climbed back into position. This time no clothes prevented their flesh from touching and his cock scorched her, making her pussy clench with eager anticipation of having him. Rubbing her clit over his fat cock head, she felt the moist heat gush down her vagina and she moaned at the killing pleasure lashing through her like a storm.
She was losing control fast. Could feel the tension building in her. Rubbing herself harder against his cock head, she yearned to bring herself higher. She was quickly becoming lost in the pleasure. Panting and moaning and—
From somewhere far away she heard him groan and call out her name. Suddenly she remembered Steve. Remembered his needs too. With one quick movement she sheathed herself on him. They both moaned as his cock slid into her like velvet-encased steel.
His hands curled around her shoulders, pulling her down on top of him. Her breasts flattened against his solid chest and her mouth fastened over his. His lips were moist and firm and demanding. Just the way she liked him.
She felt his hands find hers and their fingers intertwined. They held tight to each other and he kissed her with a hunger that made her blood boil. Opening her mouth, she felt her senses spiral as their tongues touched and mated.
She rode him with erotic thrusts of her hips. Kissing him with hot, desperate kisses that sent her spiraling out of control. Her climax exploded.
Convulsing, she cried into the wet, heated kisses and quickly went to the place where pleasure and love sparkled stars and beauty. Beneath her his body tightened and jackknifed. His muscles taut as he neared climax.
And then they were rolling on the bed and she was on her back and he was on top. The new position made her body and emotions splinter as he thrust into her. Deep and fast and utterly uncontrollable. The wildness broke down all barriers and they became one. Mind, body and soul.
Welcome home, Steve, she whispered in her mind.
Welcome home.
* * * * *
“Come on, tell me the password. I promise I won’t go into the laptop without your permission,” Emily said, smoothing a hot palm against his chest as she snuggled against him.
Ever since their last bout of sex, Steve held her cradled her in his arms, not wanting to ever let her go. She smelled so good. Of sex and her own sultry, sweet female scent. The damn good combo made him want to inhale her all the way into his lungs and live inside her smell and just ignore the fact that he’d eventually have to come back to reality.
Even from their perch in the bed he sensed the storm was a little less extreme. The howling winds didn’t shriek as much against the windowpanes and the angry gray skies had lightened just a bit. When the weather returned to normal, he’d have to return to being a practical man. That it would be too dangerous here on the island for them.
But he didn’t want to give in to it. He wanted to stay here in bed. Wanted to give in to this awesome peace of being home. Feel her soft body next to his, her fingers intertwined with his as they lay together after an afternoon of loving.
“Steve?”
He inhaled deeply at the curiosity in her voice. He knew Emily wouldn’t stop bugging him until he caved.
“Okay, you promise not to even look at the computer or the disc without my being there?”
“I promise. I promise.”
He grinned at the excitement in her voice.
“Okay. There is more than one password.”
She blinked at him in puzzlement and he chuckled.
“I encrypted one password on top of another.”
“You mean I type in one password hit enter and then type in the second one and hit enter?”
“If there were only two passwords.”
“There’s more than two?”
He shrugged, chuckled again and held her closer. She looked so cute when she was curious.
“Why make it easy when you can make it hard?”
“I can see that. How many? What are the words?”
He lifted his hand to the Saint Christopher necklace he now wore around his neck. Turning the medallion over, he held it up so she could see the engraved inscription.
“No way! My inscription is the password? But how? I gave you this medallion the morning you left?”
“I saw the medallion a few days before you gave it to me. You shouldn’t have left it in the drawer with our socks.”
“And you call me a snoop.” She slapped his arm playfully.
“I learned from the best.”
She lifted the medallion from his fingers and read the back.
“To Steve. Your endearment always. Love, Emily.”
She turned her attention back to him and he smiled at the surprise flash in her eyes.
“Seven words? Seven passwords?”
“Actually three passwords. Each one is a sentence. You happy now?”
She shook her head and snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. It felt good having her warm breath splash against his flesh. It made him secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t dreaming. That he truly was here in bed with his wife.
Cripes, he hoped this feeling of disbelief that shot out of the blue every once in a while that he was actually dreaming he was here instead of being here with Emily would eventually stay away.
“No. I won’t be happy until you tell me what you found on the disc.”
“Emily, you promised,” he groaned.
“I promised I wouldn’t break into the computer. I didn’t promise anything about not annoying you to tell me what’s inside.”
“Hmm. That’s true.”
“And I’ll keep bugging you until I get what I want,” she whispered. To his surprise he felt the tip of her hot, moist tongue melt against his earlobe. Erotic sensations zipped through him straight down to the tips of his toes. Suddenly he understood what she wanted and it had nothing to do with talking about the laptop and passwords.
“I like this kind of bugging,” he admitted, loving her scent. Loving the sweet way she sucked his earlobe into her hot mouth.
“Thought you might.”
He moved closer to her, his hand reaching beneath the blankets. He found her legs already spread. Found her pussy. She was wet. Soaked with her warm cream. Dipping into her vagina, he collected some moisture and then found her clit. Rubbing her firmly, it wasn’t long before she began rocking her hips against him. His cock reacted, thickening into a hard rod of steel it literally ached.
“I love you so much, Steve,” she whispered against his neck.
“I love you too, Emmie.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing,” she breathed, and she p
ushed the blankets off them. He kept up his firm rhythm as she climbed on top of him, impaling herself upon his shaft. Her lashes closed as he sank inside her. Then she started gyrating her hips, moaning softly as she brought herself to climax. Reaching up, he cupped her breasts. Brushing his thumb over her erect nipples, he watched her pretty lips part as she began to pant. His body tightened as she gyrated harder. Her pussy was tight and hot and so wet and creamy.
God, he needed her so much. Needed her love, her companionship, her understanding. Her pussy convulsed around him, her satiny muscles hugging him so tightly he felt a groan rumble through his chest at the shards of arousal shifting through him.
She was keening now. Her pussy tightening more and he greedily took the pleasure wrapping around him. She shuddered and came on a cry, her hips bucking so wildly that the combinations of her rough gyrations and sweet convulsing pussy tore a fantastic explosion through him.
He bucked against her movements, grabbing more pleasure. He felt his release, strong and long, spilling into her and pooling out of her.
Afterward, she lay on top of him, his cock buried deep inside, he found himself hoping against all hope he would make her pregnant. Tonight. Now. Before they could have a chance to think of what the consequences would mean of having a baby. Before they were forced to face reality. That the side effects from the anti-rejection drugs gave him a low sperm count or possibly made him sterile.
Before they would face reality though, they would have to get off this island alive.
Chapter Nineteen
“Oh my God, Steve.” Emily raised her surprised gaze from the computer screen and stared up at him.
Her full mouth turned down into a severe frown and his gut clenched at the sight. He wished he’d followed his instincts and thrown the disc into the ocean that day he’d found it on their front door step. Wished he had never given the disc to Skip. Wished he’d never agreed to go undercover and interview that son-of-a-bitch transplant surgeon for the government’s Cops’ Angels Network.
Most of all he yearned that Emily wasn’t so curious about the contents on his laptop. After making love to her, she’d started in again on him. Insisted on seeing what had kept him imprisoned for so many years. He could certainly understand why she’d want to know, so against his better judgment, he caved like an avalanche.
“You’ve got doctors, prison systems, police precincts, homeless shelters, foster care homes, lawyers and even charities. All linked to the underground transplant system in the States and Canada. Where did you get this information?”
“Like I said, a little birdie dropped it on the doorstep.”
She exhaled sharply and shook her head in apparent anger.
“This isn’t funny. We’re sitting on a powder keg. Why didn’t you turn it over to the police or those people you were working undercover for?”
Translation, if he had turned it over to the cops like a good little boy when it had arrived on his doorstep, then none of this would have happened.
“Because I don’t want it exploding in our faces.”
“What do you mean?”
God, was she so damn innocent? Or just blind.
“This information will slip me right back into the justice system.”
“You’ll be on the right side this time.”
“Will I? Once the police figure out who I am, I’ll be back behind bars so fast our heads will still be spinning twenty years from now when I’m still on the inside. I still have those drugs hanging over my head. The ones they planted years ago on the boat. More than the few bags we found this time around. Enough to hold me for questioning again. And I sure as hell am not looking forward to seeing the other side of a jail cell again.”
“It’s all circumstantial evidence. No one saw you bring the drugs onboard. No one saw you buy it. No one saw anything. Besides, the boat was registered in my name. I’m the one they should have questioned and arrested. Not you.”
“There’s no way in hell I will let you take the rap for this. No way are you going for questioning. I don’t give a fucking shit who the boat is registered to. You will not get involved in this.”
“We can’t do anything with this information. We have to give it to someone who can blow the lid open and get some action going. Someone we can trust.”
Fuck! She still was an innocent journalist, he thought and fought against the raw, poisonous anger threatening to overwhelm him. Talk like hers could get her into serious shit. He took a few calming breaths before answering.
“I trusted Skip and look were that got us. Besides, the information has been doing nothing for the last eight years. Why be in a hurry now?”
A pretty, puzzled little wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows.
“What’s happened to you? Where’s your spirit? Your drive to help others?”
He frowned. “Died. Like your husband.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re right.” She shook her head in apparent disgust and returned her attention to the screen.
The disappointment in her voice and face left him reeling. She thought he was a spineless coward. Dammit, he wanted her safe. Wanted all this shit gone. If she thought he was a coward, then so be it.
Suddenly he noticed Emily lift her hand and she pointed to a familiar name on the screen.
“Oh my God. How can this be?”
His throat knotted up as he read the person’s name. He hadn’t realized she’d already gone this far into the files. He’d wanted to tell her about what he’d found but hadn’t had the heart to do it. He placed his hand on top of her fingers and squeezed gently.
“I know, Emily. I know.”
* * * * *
The next morning the hurricane had vanished, leaving Steve and Emily on edge. While she kept herself busy in the kitchen preparing an early lunch, he resumed lookout in the lamp room of the lighthouse tower. He squinted at the November sunrays as he kept a sharp eye out for any movement while his thoughts whirled around him. Thoughts about how easily she had accepted him back into his life. How much he loved her and about the danger they were in…
He stiffened as he detected movement in the water just off the point. A boat! It was zeroing in on Shipwreck Island. Heading straight for the lighthouse.
Grabbing his gun off the lamp room windowsill where he’d placed it earlier he slipped it inside the waistband of his jeans. The gun’s cold metal hugged the small of his back, giving him little reassurance that he could handle trouble.
When he returned his attention to the ocean, his mouth fell open in surprise. The boat bouncing along the large swells around twenty feet from the wharf was none other than Sweet Lies.
* * * * *
When Steve barreled into the kitchen, Emily almost dropped the pot of spaghetti she’d removed from the stove. By the tense expression on his face she knew someone was coming. Her heart picked up a panicked thump and suddenly she couldn’t think straight as the adrenaline zipped through her system.
“Who is it?”
“Didn’t hang around to find out.”
Shit.
Ripping the pot from her grasp, he stuffed it back onto the stove, grabbed her by the hand and led her into the living room just as a light noise came from the other side of the kitchen door.
Someone was already here?
“Behind the couch,” he ordered.
A wave of lightheadedness swooped over her as he pushed her into the tight confines behind the couch. He shoved the can of mace into her hand and a knife. Then he pressed her head down.
“Keep out of sight. No matter what.”
With a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her tummy, she watched Steve as he raced to the other end of the room and hugged the living room wall beside the kitchen door.
Holding her breath, she listened to the click of the kitchen door opening. Obviously whoever was here wasn’t a friend or they would have knocked. Dread draped over her like an icy blanket. From her vantage point behind the couch, she shivered at the quie
tly paced footsteps sounded in her kitchen. When the steps stopped, another jolt of adrenaline squirted into her veins, bringing another wave of lightheadedness.
Who could it be? How many of them were there?
She watched Steve as he kept his eyes glued to the open doorway. She prayed he would glance her way and throw her a reassuring smile just so she would feel a bit better.
He didn’t.
Tenseness held him still like a statue. He raised his gun and she found herself wondering if he’d released the safety catch on that thing. Sure, he had. God, she hoped he had.
Suddenly she could understand why he carried a gun. Wished she had one too.
The footsteps moved again. Slowly.
She could picture the intruder moving in front of the stove, staring down at the pot of spaghetti. Noticing the steam wafting into the air. Dead giveaway they were still here.
A tiny click from the kitchen area sent a volley of shivers screaming up her spine. It almost sounded like the person had shut off the stove. Then again, it also sounded like someone had released the safety catch of their gun.
Oh God.
* * * * *
A gun poked its head through the living room doorway and Steve didn’t hesitate. With icy smoothness he kissed his weapon against the intruder’s temple.
Skip Cole froze.
“I could pull the trigger right now, Cole. Might save me a lot of trouble,” Steve said, feeling the familiar acrid hatred seething through his veins.
“Shit, good buddy. I can see you still aren’t an early morning person.”
Red-hot rage made him want to shoot Skip. That he’d immediately recognized him as Steve and not questioned him as to his identity, just confirmed that he was behind this nightmare. But something in Skip’s soft brown eyes stopped him from pulling the trigger. He’d expected to see fear in those brown depths. Fear that he would get killed, but Steve saw only the familiar mischievous twinkle. It gave him the uneasy feeling he might be misreading this whole situation.
“Easy, buddy. I got your message from the boy. You wanted to see me,” Skip said.
“I want to kill you,” he ground out, hoping by saying it, he would do it. He couldn’t. At least not yet.
