by Meg Allison
The pen moved over the page, his arm jerking in grand, sweeping gestures across the desk and back. The heavy smell of ink burned his nostrils and pain began to throb between his eyes. But Nathan let the trance continue. Like a marionette obeying the puppet master’s command. He had to let it play out—had to endure whatever came.
Finally, the movements grew smaller, as they would if detail were added. He let the sensation carry on. Short, chopped strokes…delicate lines here and there…shading with flat, light strokes of the pen. Over and over his hand moved—a touch here, a fleck there. They were familiar movements made foreign beneath the control of an unseen force.
Then the tension ebbed. His hand went limp, the pen rolled free of his cramped fingers. Nathan blinked at the wall of windows. It was dark now when the sun had only begun to set at the start of his drawing session. How long had he been spellbound? Half an hour? Longer? Time lost all meaning within the dream-like trance.
With a deep breath, he looked down at the page before him. Bile rose up his throat. He swallowed it back. He blinked and tried to refocus, sure the image could not be real. It had to be a trick of his imagination and his over-tired brain. But still, the lines remained exactly as he had drawn them. It wasn’t an error in perception, a hallucination.
This could not be happening—he wouldn’t let it. Hands shaking, he reached for the phone on his desk. He dialed and listened to the discordant ring as it echoed back at him. No answer. He dropped the receiver and pushed back from the drawing table. His legs trembled beneath his weight. Then he bolted to his bedroom, pulled on a t-shirt and slipped into a pair of shoes. All the while, his hands quaked like those of a drunk going through detox. But he couldn’t think about his physical condition. Not now.
He snatched his car keys from a hook by the front door and ran down five flights of stairs, too edgy to wait for the elevator. A moment later, he drove through town, mind racing. He focused on the road ahead as the image he’d drawn seemed to float over his vision, taunting, mocking. He pressed the gas pedal harder, but slammed the brakes when he narrowly missed another car. Horns blared, and he grimaced at the obscene gesture thrown his way. Hell, he deserved it. It was his fault—all of it.
Soon he parked and looked at the tall iron fence. It was sturdy, ornate and black as coal. Useless barriers to a dangerous world. They wouldn’t keep her safe.
He scrambled from the car and strode toward the gate. It swung open easily with only the smallest of creaks. The shadows surrounding the house seemed darker, menacing. Nathan shook the thoughts away as he all but ran up the walk and pounded on the door with both fists.
“Samantha?” he yelled. “Sam! Let me in, damn-it!”
The light above him flicked on and the door swung open a crack, then wider.
“Nathan? What are you doing here?”
Relief swept through him hard and fast—a tidal wave that smashed the built-up tension into unbidden tears. She stood there, squinting against the porch light, her hair tousled by sleep. Her cheeks softly pink, the black silk of her nightgown clung to her skin. He stared and let the tears stream down his cheeks. Such a childish reaction, but he didn’t care.
Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t last another moment without her in his arms. With one step, he backed her into the dark hall and slammed the door behind them. Then he jerked her into his arms and held her close, without a word of explanation. Part of his fogged brain wondered if she would knee him hard, the other didn’t give a damn, sure his balls would heal. He couldn’t take another breath without touching her.
“What…?”
The question died on her lips as he took possession. He covered her mouth with his own, knowing the urgency screamed in his actions and demeanor but not caring. A small whimper and her body melted into his. He moved his hands over her, reveling in the warmth of her form, the softness of her flesh beneath the thin material. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he lost what small piece of logical thought was left.
Then he broke from their kiss, his gaze riveted on her large eyes, and lifted her so her feet dangled above the floor.
“I’m too heavy.”
“Hush,” he commanded and her eyes widened. “The bedroom?”
She bit her lip, long lashes fluttered down to cover those eyes and conceal her thoughts. For a panicked moment, he thought she might turn him away--make him leave. But she didn’t understand. He wasn’t going to leave her. Not now. Maybe never.
“Down the hall,” she finally answered and laid her forehead on his shoulder.
His chest filled with hope, he walked down the dim corridor, searching for the right doorway. There, the last on his right. He entered the dark room, and moved straight to the rumpled bed. He released his hold slightly to let her body slide down his. The sensation sent a jolt straight to his cock, making him hard and ready.
“I want you,” he said.
“Yes.” A small word, yet it opened a very large gateway.
He dove toward the soft skin at her nape. Lips, teeth and tongue explored the smooth slope of her neck. She tasted sweet…her skin warm beneath his. He pressed his mouth to the pulse beneath her ear, simply breathing in her essence. With a sigh, he continued to nip and suck every inch of exposed skin he could reach. Fire leapt through his veins, searing the scent and feel of her body into the deepest corner of his memory.
He slid his hands to her sweet, round bottom and began to tug the silky fabric up. He needed to see her--all of her. He needed to feel her naked flesh beneath his own. Fear of scaring her away made him hesitate only a moment and then he jerked the garment off in one less than graceful move.
“Wait…Nathan, stop…”
God, no…
He lifted his head, eyes unfocused as he swallowed back the anguish. “I need you, honey…Now. Please don’t make me wait. I know what I said, but I can’t—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “I need you, too.”
Then she stepped toward the bed, her bare skin washed in the glow of the moonlight pouring in her window from one side, the faint warmth of the night light from her open bathroom door on the other. She reached and pulled the covers down to the foot of the bed. Then she turned back to him and held out a hand, her mouth turned up at one corner into a seductive, sultry smile.
“I just wanted to help.”
She tugged him close and slid her arms around his neck. He almost shouted for joy as he lifted her off her feet until every part of her pressed into him. Then he set her down and gazed at her. Her smooth, pale skin so soft and warm. She was beautiful. Lush, full breasts…her waist…and then full, round hips. He examined her thoroughly with his hands, his gaze.
“Nathan…” she pleaded softly.
He looked into her eyes and saw the uncertainty there, the raw need, so like his own. Without hesitation, he pulled off his t-shirt, toed off his shoes and slipped the pajama pants down. A careless kick and the last garment sailed across the hard wood floor to the outer edges of the shadowed room. Then he looked at her again. The memory of that drawing hit him hard like a heavyweight’s punch. He grasped her hands in his and urged her closer.
“You’re…amazing,” he whispered. Then he dropped to his knees before her, naked and aroused to the point of pain. He pulled her to him, nuzzling his face against her middle. He breathed in the scent of her, tasted the indent of her bellybutton. She flinched a little, a small, nervous giggle escaped her throat.
He smiled against her belly. “Are you ticklish?”
“Yes…but don’t you dare…”
He chuckled and began to nibble a trail from her navel to the juncture of her thighs. She grasped at his shoulders.
“No, no tickling,” he whispered against her skin. “I have other things planned. But I’ll keep it in mind for later.”
He eased her legs apart so he could taste her where she was wet. She gasped, and he felt her sway a little as her nails dug hard into his shoulders. It didn’t register as pain. He smiled to hims
elf. This would be a night neither of them would ever forget.
He continued to relish the taste of her and the small sounds of pleasure she made. Desire raw and hot blinded him to everything else. His only focus remained steady on the feel and taste of the woman in his arms. His woman. He wanted to make her scream. He wanted to feel her fly apart beneath his touch. No force on earth or in hell would keep him away from her now.
She cried his name when her release came hard and fast against his mouth. He lifted his face to look up at her as she began to slump against him. Then he wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding her steady so she wouldn’t fall. She was beautiful, wild and untamed with her hair loose and her eyes unfocused.
“Bed,” she croaked. Nathan grinned.
“Yes, my lady.” He stood and pressed his body to hers. He kissed her lips. She moved against him with restless aggression. He chuckled. “My wildcat,” he whispered and fell with her to the soft mattress. “Let me love you.”
She tugged at his shoulders as she rolled to her back, bringing him with her. He claimed her mouth, tongues dueling at a feverish pace. His need for her frantic, he spent little time with foreplay and caresses. They moved apart only for the time it took to dump her nightstand drawer on the floor as she searched for the small package of protection in the depths. Twin sighs of relief filled the air when she fished the prize out of her tangled treasures.
His rueful grin made her laugh. “It should still be good, right?” she asked shyly. “I mean, it’s been in there a while. I wouldn’t care really, but I’m not on the pill and …”
He leaned toward her and silenced her nervous rambling with another kiss. “It should be just fine.”
Then he was over her again, kneeling between her legs as she gazed up at him. Her breathing had slowed a bit. Their passion abated for the short delay. Then she moved and he found himself in her arms, her long legs wrapped around his hips. He entered her, slow and easy, then began to move as she urged him with her pleas for release.
“Don’t stop,” she begged softly.
Thought and sound blurred with the friction of skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. She smelled of sleep and lavender and he wanted to drown inside her, the scent of her lingering on his skin. She arched her back beneath him and he clenched his jaw to keep his climax at bay. Pressure built with each thrust, each labored gasp for air. Her fingers dug into his back and she moaned aloud. He followed in swift succession, less than an exhale apart.
He collapsed on top of her. His limbs were weak. He couldn’t get enough air. If this was what it was like to die, then he’d gladly meet his maker. But he eased to his side a bit, suddenly worried he might be crushing her beneath his weight. He had no doubt she could be hell on wheels if necessary, but at the moment she seemed fragile. Delicate. He wanted nothing more than to protect her, even from himself.
Once he could draw an even breath, he brushed the hair from her face. Her eyes were closed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Her eyes fluttered open and her full, swollen lips slid into a sexy smile. “Okay? Hell, no. I think I died. That was glorious.”
Nathan laughed, his heart buoyed by her acceptance. “Then I think we both died a little,” he said as he drew her to his chest. “You are incredible.”
She laughed. “I’m afraid I can’t take much credit for that one. I was just along for the ride.”
“The ride of a lifetime,” he mused, as exhaustion pulled him under.
As his mind drifted toward oblivion, the faces came. The women who had died stared at him, accusation in their eyes. He turned to run, to flee their blame, but he stumbled and fell. He looked down and found he had fallen over another woman. Another red-head with her neck broken. He reached out, heart pounding, and lifted the hair from her face. Samantha’s vacant eyes stared back.
He almost jumped out of bed as he woke.
“Nathan?” She sounded scared. He couldn’t tell her she had every right to be.
“Sorry, bad dream.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again. The need was still there. Somehow, he still had enough in him for another round.
“Wait, I don’t have any more protection,” she cautioned. “Do you have something?”
“No, not with me.”
She frowned at that—no doubt puzzled that he would make this late booty call without being prepared.
“Never mind,” he whispered. “Let me hold you for a while. We can make up for lost time tomorrow.”
* * ‡ * *
He spooned against her back, his leg draped over hers and one arm around her middle. It felt as if she were being cradled. Protected. But from what?
“Do you want to tell me what this was all about?” she asked softly as she traced the length of his long, lean fingers splayed on her belly.
“What do you mean?”
“This…” she waved a hand at them in the bed, “I thought we decided to wait. That it was still too soon.”
She felt him shrug. “I changed my mind.”
“Nathan…” She tried to turn to look at him, but he held her fast.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “I couldn’t stop it, Samantha. I didn’t want to wait another minute. Sometimes…” he cleared his throat, “Sometimes you need to go with the impulse or you might regret it for the rest of your life.”
She frowned into the darkness. There was something going on here—something beyond a simple case of midnight lust. But she could feel his reticence…his fear. He didn’t want to talk about it for some reason. Maybe it was for the best. The way she felt now, lying here in his arms, she dreaded the thought of anything that might spoil the moment.
It had been so much better than any dream possible.
She wiggled deeper into his embrace and sighed. Whatever it was, it could keep until morning. She refused to ruin this wonderful moment with doubts and interrogation. A sense of peace washed over her, pulling her into that dark gray place where she hovered between wakefulness and sleep. She felt his lips at her neck and smiled.
“Come away with me,” he whispered near her ear. Her eyes fluttered open but she couldn’t keep them from closing again.
“What?”
“In the morning,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere together. Just the two of us.”
That brought her more awake. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
She tried to turn but his hold tightened. “Nathan, we can’t just take off on the spur of the moment and in the middle of the week.”
“Why not? We’re consenting adults. We both deserve a vacation.”
“We have jobs. We have responsibilities. I have clients who need me. You do, too.”
“It would only be a few days,” he coaxed. “We can call it a long weekend. When was the last time you took a nice, long weekend off? Spur of the moment? Spontaneous?”
“Never,” she admitted. It didn’t feel right. He wasn’t telling her something and it was beginning to scare her a little. “Tell me what’s going on. Why do you want to leave?”
“Besides murderers running loose and not being able to get the dead girls out of my head? Nothing…” he sighed, “I just want to be alone with you. I want to get away from Savannah and from these damn drawings for a few days. Maybe some geographical distance will help me clear my head. My parents still have the house on Tybee. We used to go there to get out of the city. We could go there for a few days, alone. We could really get to know each other.”
“It’s tempting,” she admitted. “But I have to say no. I can’t just take off for a romantic interlude even if it is only a twenty-minute drive. Not without making plans anyway, and it’s too short of notice for that.”
She felt his hold loosen, but he didn’t back away completely. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m not being fair. But will you at least think about it? Maybe we can leave in a couple of days for a long weekend? Give you time enough to tie up loose ends beforehand?”
“
We’ll see…” she murmured. Silence filled the room. “Are you staying until morning?”
“If you’ll let me.”
She nestled back into him, a contented warmth filling her from head to toe. “Of course,” sleep tugged at her senses, relentless, insistent. “I’d like that.”
Despite her exhaustion, she laid awake in his arms for a long time after, her sleep-deprived brain awhirl with thoughts and memories of the past few days. She wondered if he would continue to try to talk her into his long weekend idea, but soon his even, slow breathing told her he’d fallen asleep. His long, solid body relaxed against her so that his arm across her middle felt like an iron weight. But somehow, it didn’t bother her. Instead of feeling trapped, she felt safe.
She’d never let any man take her to bed so quickly—not even Johnny, who she had once claimed to love and had once planned to marry. But then, no man had ever made her feel the way Nathan did. She’d never experienced such passion, such need from anyone before. She’d never felt such urgency as she had tonight when he’d shown up at her door and demanded to know where she’d been. And when he’d taken her into his arms then and there, tears streaming down his face.
Yes, something had happened. Something he didn’t want her to know about. But she’d get the truth out of him, eventually. When he’d first kissed her, she had known it was too late for either of them to turn back. Whatever happened from here on out, they would go through it together. The reality of Nathan Quinn had now far surpassed the dream.
* * ‡ * *
Samantha blinked at the daylight streaming through her bedroom windows. For a small moment, something felt different. Odd. Then a soft snoring at her back brought the memories flooding into the sunshine. She smiled and glanced at the bed beside her.
He laid there on his side, one arm still slung around her waist, the other bent beneath his head. His spiked hair looked like ash spilled across the white pillowcase. His features were relaxed and serene. Innocent. A child dreaming of castles and candy-filled streets.
She stared, unable to keep the smile from tugging at her lips. What had he been like as a child? A hell-raiser with a mischievous grin that melted hearts? Or a shy, gentle boy who the others teased? Had he been a good student or a rebel? Somewhere in-between? While part of her longed to have known him as a child, she was very glad to have met him now—even under the circumstances.
