He swung an arm under her legs and picked her up, carrying her over to the remains of the lean-to. But as he knelt to settle her on the leafy bed, she clung to him tightly, forcing him to reach behind his neck in order to disengage her hands. “Honor?”
Her hands clenched into fists, and he was struck by the torment in her beautiful gray eyes. “You want this, don’t you?” he asked.
“Y-yes,” she said, “it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Johnny’s gut twisted with understanding. There was anguish in getting what you’ve always dreamed of yet never thought you’d have. He felt it too. He was so hard for her now, so urgently in need of her soft depths, it was dangerous even to touch her. He looked down at her, taking in her pale beauty, hardly able to believe what he was about to do to her, the woman he couldn’t even touch all those years ago.
Honor tried to unclench her hands and couldn’t. Her stomach muscles went rigid with anticipation as he began to undress her, gently peeling away the damp clothing. His hands were shaking against her flesh, and he dragged in a hard, shuddering breath when she was finally naked.
His gaze prowled her exposed body so intimately, it made her ache and swell with desire. Deep inside she felt as though she were being crowded and squeezed, like a ruffle of heavy satin being drawn unbearably tight. She could almost feel him touching her as he ran his hungry gaze over her breasts, caressing her nipples and bringing them to tingling points of pleasure.
She arched uncontrollably, waiting for his hands, but he seemed determined to hold himself back. Even his breathing slowed, becoming heated and sensual as he visually stroked her belly and feathered her inner thighs. The sensations he elicited were unbearable. They demanded release, relief! But all she could do was lie there, letting him ravish her with his eyes.
Johnny was aroused by every facet of her nakedness, the swollen softness of her breasts, the quiver of her taut stomach muscles. It still enraged him to think that Geoff Dias had seen her this way, that any man ever had or ever might see her this way. A terrible need to possess her burned through his muscles, but he fought it into submission, forcing himself to be gentle as he flattened his hand on her naked belly.
“Johnny?” she asked thickly. “What is it?” Her gray eyes were smoky with desire, misted with concern.
He captured her gaze and held it, willing her not to look away from him. “The thought of another man seeing you like this drives me wild,” he said, splaying his fingers wide as though to lay claim to her being. Gentle, he told himself. Don’t hurt her, you bastard.
“Johnny, please,” she said. “I thought he was you. I wanted him to be you, only you!”
“I can’t help it.” He slid his hand up to her breast and cupped her possessively. “I can’t stand the thought of any other man doing this to you, touching you this way.”
A whimper caught in her throat, and the sweet sound of it drove him crazy with desire. His fingers contracted on her breast, and all the gentleness went out of him. “This is mine,” he said, his voice breaking. “This part of you, every part of you, inside and out, mine.”
Honor lost control under the rough beauty of his hands. Tears broke, scalding tears. Her response to his passion was utter, shuddering helplessness. A cry of need flared from somewhere inside her.
He bent to kiss her, and she arched against his hand, astonished by the sexual longing that shot through her. His mouth was hot and urgent. His touch was possessive, yet incredibly tender. Every slow flex of his fingers seemed to feed into the nerves that ran straight to the core of her.
He slid an arm beneath her shoulder and lifted her, nuzzling her hair, murmuring his need for her and all the things he wanted to do to her. He melted her with his husky, sensual whispered secrets in her ear. He promised the forbidden. And then his long fingers began to stroke those places where his gaze had been, her belly, her thighs, and she dissolved into a hot jet stream of wanting him.
She gasped softly, bewildered as he released her and rolled to a sitting position, stripping off his breechcloth and moccasins. But a moment later he was looming over her again, and the power of his body was enthralling. His shoulders rippled with muscle as he braced himself above her. His eyes flashed with a pantherlike gleam.
“I want what’s mine,” he said, stroking her lips with his fingers. “I belong inside your golden body, deep inside.”
“Yes . . . ” The sweet and urgent lassitude that had overtaken Honor was now flowing through her limbs, draining her of strength and will and reason. She clutched at his arms, startled when he caught hold of her hand and brought it to his mouth.
He kissed her fingertips, one by one, and then he breathed warm air into the hollow of her palm. “Touch me,” he said, drawing her hand down his body to the heat of his loins. “Take me in your hand.”
She did as he asked, caressing the hardness that sprang from his thighs. A sound of disbelief welled inside her. He was virile, quivering with life. Gingerly she stroked him, curling the tips of her fingers around the core of his male power, knowing that power would soon be entering her body.
“Honor,” Johnny breathed huskily, “what are you doing to me?” He recoiled from her siren’s touch. It was either that or lose control of himself in her hand.
“Why can’t I touch you?” she asked, stroking his thigh.
Her fingers sent a shock wave of desire through him. He caught hold of her wrists and locked her hands above her head, forcing her flat to the ground. Stretched out beneath him like a captive maiden, she was irresistibly seductive. He lowered himself onto her gradually, loving the feel of his naked skin on hers, reveling in it. Her breasts spilled softly against his rib cage. Her loins melted under the heat of his weight. He could feel every wild beat of her pulse, every painful quiver of excitement.
“Because it’s my turn,” he said.
“Your turn for what?”
“To make you throb.”
Holding her startled gaze, he ground his hips gently into hers and pressed the heat of his hardened shaft into her belly. She moaned at the pressure and tried to draw up her legs, but he kept her locked to the ground, pinned beneath him.
Merciless, he caught a tiny creamy piece of her throat between his teeth and nipped hard enough to make her shiver. A moment later he was biting her chin and watching her head arch back and her mouth come open. He’d never thought of himself as a voyeur, but he loved watching her respond when he did sensual things to her. He loved the helpless quiver of desire in her breathing.
“More,” she whispered, shuddering.
“More what, Honor?”
She shook her head, refusing to say it.
“We’ve got a bargain, remember?” He held her wrists and slowly rotated against her, watching her gray eyes ignite with desire. He’d never felt anything more agonizingly sweet than the way her belly cradled his hardness. “Say it if you want it.”
Her answer was lost in a throaty groan. She spread her legs beneath him, opening herself. Her hips lifted, wanton with the rhythms of love as she rubbed herself against him. He’d been wrong about it being his turn to make her throb. She had him coming out of his skin!
He moved alongside her and opened her thighs, caressing her with long, deep strokes. He wanted to arouse her in more intimate ways, to slide his fingers inside her, to taste her with his mouth. He wanted to be tender with her, slow and tender. More than anything he wanted that, but he was too hot, too hard. And she was too desirable.
He came up against her moist, tight opening. Pressing into her, he felt the velvet muscles begin to give way, yielding to him a little at a time. I’m home, he thought, his groin tightening.
“Yes, that,” she moaned. “I want that.”
He went still inside her, refusing to go any deeper. Searching her eyes, he saw how urgently she wanted him, but it wasn’t enough. “No, you don’t need that, Honor. You need me, inside you. Say it.”
She dragged in a breath, struggling with the words. “I need you . . .
inside me.”
“No, say my name.”
“Johnny!” she sobbed. “I need you, Johnny.”
Her nails cut into his arm, and the pain enraged him, but it was more than a physical sensation. It was the tender rage of a man in need, in love. He could hardly bring himself to believe that she was lying beneath him, crying out his name as he entered her. He jerked with power of it, driving deeper inside her. The involuntary movement took control of his will, and he let go of all restraint, thrusting deeply, uncontrollably, with no thought but to take possession of every inch of her.
He breathed out her name as he came up against a fragile barrier and swept through it. His hardened shaft pressed into her with a will of its own, delving so deeply he could imagine coming up against her womb. The tight velvet resistance of her feminine walls seemed to stroke him, driving him on. It was the most wildly satisfying feeling he could ever remember having.
“Take what’s yours,” she whispered, the words torn from her throat.
He began to rock into her, pounding out a rhythm that was as ancient as it was beautiful. She drew her legs up, absorbing him, whimpering with every new and deeper penetration. She clutched at his flanks when he slowed, as though she didn’t want him to stop, but he had to. He needed to look at the woman in his arms, the golden girl he’d never stopped loving or hating.
Her eyes were bright with desire, dizzy with helpless pleasure. Her lips were swollen and languidly parted, crying out to be penetrated. He wanted her mouth, wanted it badly, but he didn’t take it. There was something deep in her eyes that mesmerized him, something that made his heart contract. Did she feel the same way he did? Had she ever loved him the way he had her?
“Say my name,” he rasped. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Johnny.”
“Again! Never stop saying it.”
But Honor couldn’t. She couldn’t say anything more. He had begun to move deeply inside her again, and all she could do was moan tightly and clamp her thighs to his powerful hips as he brought her more pleasure than she’d ever known in her life. She murmured his name, and he swept her into his arms, shaking her body with near-violent thrusts. This was why she was alive, she realized, to be with Johnny, to make love with him and be loved by him, no matter how savagely.
“No!” she cried as he slowed once more.
He buried his hands in her hair, gentling her with his kisses. “I have to see this,” he said. “I have to see us.” When she’d quieted enough, he pushed up, supporting his weight with his arms. As he glanced down at the place where their bodies were joined, Honor realized what he was going to do, and it sent a forbidden thrill spiraling through her. He wanted to see himself making love to her.
He began to move, watching himself surge in and out of her body, and Honor began to climax.
“Hold me!” she cried.
He drove deeply, gathering her into his arms as waves of ecstasy washed over her. She clung to him, flew with him, pinwheeled through showers of feeling that left her breathless and stunned.
“Mine,” he breathed with his last shuddering thrust into her woman’s soul.
Ten
JOHNNY WAS ABSENTLY aware of the birds chattering in the trees above them as he contemplated the beautiful, thoroughly ravished woman in his arms. “Can you handle a personal question?” he asked.
She laughed softly. “Anything but my weight or my age.”
“How about your virginity?”
The smile vanished from her lips, and Johnny propped himself up on an elbow, studying her startled expression. “Honor, what we just did? You have done it before, haven’t you?”
“Why do you ask?”
He was surprised at how defensive she seemed. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her. “You seemed . . . tight, that’s all.”
She flushed and ducked her head, glancing up at him with the uncertain charm of that shy teenage girl he remembered. “Is that bad?” she asked. “To be ti—”
“No, it’s not bad at all,” he said, laughing. “It’s wonderful, but I noticed some resistance, and I thought . . . I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“You didn’t,” she said. “And I haven’t.”
“You haven’t? Never?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t,” she said. “I just couldn’t. Not with anyone else.”
He stared at her for a beat, trying to assimilate what she’d said. She’d never been with anyone else? Could that be true? Her expression was so open and guileless, he knew it must be. He gathered her up in his arms, his heart surging, his eyes squeezed shut. God, but this woman knew how to destroy him. He wanted to ask why she’d never been involved, but he could guess the answer. It had to be the same reason that all his sexual encounters had been virtually meaningless.
He drew back to look at her, astonished at the things he wanted to say to her and shaken by the force of his feelings. He felt as if something had given way inside him, as if some emotional safehold had broken open. He was filled with such beautiful, shattering needs. They scared the hell out of him, those needs.
“Johnny? Are you all right?”
He nodded slowly. “I should be asking you that.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“Are you sure? Didn’t you get . . .” —he searched for a word—“frustrated?”
“Well, yes,” she admitted. “But I think now that it must have been some kind of self-imposed punishment. Like my hair. I never wore it down after you left. I wrapped it up in that tight little coil, and maybe I wrapped my other needs up with it.”
Combing his hands into her tresses, Johnny brought the silky blondness forward and let it spill around her face. Her softness flowed all over his hands, as tender and surprising as the feelings flowing inside him. What had happened to the rage? he wondered. The need to inflict pain? He could hardly believe that all those years of cold hatred had been wiped out in one white-hot burst of passion. Was he really free of the demons? Clean?
He shook off the doubts, recapturing the magic of her golden hair, lacing his fingers through the fine strands. All he seemed to want now was to be gentle with her. And to be buried deep inside her again. God, yes, he wanted that.
“The lady’s first time,” he said huskily. “If I were a gentleman, I wouldn’t even suggest what’s on my evil mind.”
“Thank goodness you’re not a gentleman.”
He laughed and caressed her face with the silk entwined in his fingers. “I was thinking about how amazing it was. I was thinking about doing it to you again.”
“Umm . . . yes,” she breathed, her voice throaty. She reached up and began stroking her fingertips over his lips, thrilling him. “Do it to me again.”
Johnny felt himself hardening like the granite peaks around them, though it seemed impossible he could get aroused again so quickly. He wanted to take it slower this time, to concentrate on her pleasure, but her fingers had a way of setting fire to whatever they touched. Their feathery lightness could ignite the most insatiable hunger.
“Godistso,” he said, his voice going rough as he cupped her breast. “Love magic. You’ve put a spell on me, haven’t you?”
He bent and took her mouth first, slowly, an animal growl in his throat. Leaving her lips wet and wanton, he moved to the breasts he’d claimed and began to suckle, pulling irresistibly on her tingling flesh. “I’m obsessed with a beautiful white witch,” he said, glancing up at her with his hungry panther eyes. “Enslaved.”
Honor dragged in a breath as his tongue flicked her nipple and brought it to quick, quivering tautness. “You?” she rasped, arching against his mouth. Each tug of his lips brought a sweet coiling tension to the pit of her stomach. She felt herself growing unbearably taut, as if the heavy satin ruffle she’d once imagined was being squeezed tighter and tighter. “I’m the one who’s enslaved! What have you done to me?”
She caressed the darkness between his thighs, and he groaned out his need. He was hardened and quivering, ready fo
r anything. She opened herself to him eagerly as he moved above her. Some terrible craving had taken over her will. He was big and thick and hot, and she needed him urgently. Her body was crying out to be filled, to be driven to the heights of ecstasy.
His eyes caught the light, flashing like a mercury as he entered her. He opened her up with a slow, deep stroke that made her plead for more. She moaned helplessly, imploring him to take her hard and fast. But he wouldn’t give her the quick release she sought. He held himself in check, flexing inside her so slowly that she was nearly driven mad.
She raked her fingernails down his arm, opening the tender wound she’d made. “I’m sorry!” she cried, but it was too late.
“Witch,” he breathed, thrusting into her deeply, shuddering as the rage overtook him. He was a man possessed. He drove into her with passionate force, again and again, bringing her the most incredible rapture imaginable. He shook her to her core, but it wasn’t enough. The rage was in him, demanding satisfaction.
He rolled her over on her stomach and pulled her up on all fours, thrusting into that tender, aching part of her body, violating her with his beautiful darkness. Honor moaned and cried, paralyzed with pleasure as his thrusts shook through her, thrilling her. Even in her dazed state, she understood what had happened. The panther had taken possession of her. She had unleashed the dark feral animal, and he would either devour her with his passion or drive her to the heights of ecstasy.
The arrow struck its target with a piercing sound. The wounded hawk unfurled its wings, creating a magnificent cape of white, then transforming before his eyes into a hauntingly beautiful woman. The cape fell away, and her long golden hair flew around her, exposing her nakedness. A look of anguish clouded her exquisite eyes. She was bleeding. The arrow had pierced her heart, and the life force was ebbing from her in a bright crimson ribbon. She was dying. . . .
Johnny woke up drenched in sweat. Honor was slumped against him, and he pulled her closer, certain that she’d been mortally wounded. She moaned softly and nuzzled into the warmth of his shoulder, sound asleep but very much alive.
Night of the Panther Page 14
