[Magic Sisters 05] - Safe Harbor Page 30

  "I don't know, baby." He pulled her into his arms, holding her as tight as he could, pressing her face into his chest, wanting to smash something, anything, to relieve the fierce frustration and helplessness he felt. "It's going to be all right, Hannah. I'm going to find them."

  "I don't even know how to hate someone that much," she said, her voice muffled.

  He did. Whoever had ordered the hit on her needed to die. Jonas could hate and he had a very long memory. He held her as close as possible, while she clung to him, listening to her cry as though her heart was broken, and deep inside, a monster grew stronger. He finally lifted her and sank back into her chair, rocking gently back and forth, murmuring reassurances, feathering kisses over the blanket and down the side of her face where her skin peeked out of the cover.

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Jonas. I thought I was over this. I don't know why it hit me so hard all over again."

  She was careful to keep her face turned toward the sea, but he felt the wash of tears. Jonas let his breath out slowly to stay in control. She was everything to him, and seeing her so torn up, so frightened and fragile, destroyed him. He rubbed his face over hers, skin to skin, trying to show her what was inside him—that she had him always—always—and he would stand for her.

  "After you left this morning, I asked Elle to get the file from Jackson, the one with all the people who have written threatening me. Joley handed me the scissors to put away and I just flashed on the knife. I couldn't help it. The file was sitting on the dresser and I thought it might give me some answers. But all those people, Jonas…" She drew back and looked at him then, her eyes wide and hurt. "There are so many of them. I had no idea there would be so many."

  He leaned back in the chair, pulling her close again. "Listen to me, Hannah. Those people have nothing to do with you. They're sick—disturbed. Mentally ill. Yes, there are plenty of them fixating on you, but most are just harmless. Jackson should never have given the file to Elle. You didn't need to see those letters."

  "I needed to see them. This is about me, and I needed to see them."

  He let her slip out of his arms and watched as she paced restlessly across the balcony, one hand holding the blanket closed, the other wiping at tears on her face. Finally she picked up the mug of tea he'd set on the railing and took a sip before handing it to him, watching his strong fingers settle around the handle. "I wish I were more like you. I feel so afraid now, and sometimes I look in the mirror and I don't know who I am."

  He made a faint sound of disbelief. "You know exactly who you are, who you've always been. You're not Hannah Drake the model, she's a small part of you, that's not who you are at all. It never was you."

  "You're always so sure of yourself, Jonas."

  He shook his head. "I'm sure of you. I know exactly who Hannah Drake is. That streak of stubborn, the one of wild. The crazy sense of humor. You never wanted to go out looking into the world for other things and other people. You wanted to stay home and just be the barefoot girl running on the beach in her rolled-up jeans."

  Hannah blinked back tears again. "I cry a lot. I think I'm okay and then I fall apart again."

  "You suffered trauma, baby, it's normal. If you didn't cry, that's when you can worry about having a problem."

  "I was so ready to go out with you tonight. I was feeling strong and happy about making my own decisions, and the next thing I knew, I was terrified, angry and weepy, all rolled into one. I'm a mess."

  "You're as normal as a Drake can possibly get." He tugged at the cover. "Now lose the blanket and let me see your hair."

  "What if you don't like it?" She put a hand on top of her head in a defensive gesture. He could still see the faint wounds running up and down her arms and palms. Defensive wounds. The knots in his belly hardened into lethal lumps.

  "Do you like it?"

  She nodded slowly, then with more conviction. "Yes."

  "Then I'll like it, too. Ditch the blanket."

  With a show of reluctance, Hannah lowered the blanket to her shoulders, her gaze suddenly shy. She looked more vulnerable than ever. The spiral curls were as thick as ever, but much shorter, framing her face and nestling along her neck and skimming her shoulders. He had always loved her naturally curly hair; it was thick and rich and uniquely Hannah. As long as it had been, well past her waist when wet, the spirals were so tight, the hair had still pulled up around the middle of her back.

  Without all the extra weight, her new shortened curls were even tighter, but the cut suited her face, emphasizing her delicate bone structure and incredible large eyes. He reached out and tugged at a silky spiral. "Joley's right. It's very sassy and sexy—and it suits you." His voice had gone rough and husky.

  She was wearing her peasant blouse, the one he loved. His mouth went dry at the sight. She wasn't wearing a bra. In the cold her nipples had hardened into two tight peaks. The sight ignited him like a flashfire, burning instantly hot and nearly out of control. He took a deep breath and battled back the urge to slam her against the wall and bury himself deep and hard over and over.

  "It does suit me, doesn't it?" Hannah flashed the smallest of smiles, but the shyness refused to fade from her eyes as she flipped the blanket back over her head.

  "Are you thinking of spending the rest of your life inside that blanket?" He had to be careful, he couldn't lose her. She'd made up her mind to give herself to him—before she panicked—she'd deliberately dressed for him—wanted him.

  She frowned, lips pursing as she contemplated. Finally she nodded. "Actually, yes, I think I like the idea." Because if she didn't cover up, then he'd notice her outfit, and being Jonas, he'd realize exactly why she'd dressed the way she had.

  "We have our getaway planned." He struggled to keep his voice neutral, but it was harsh with need. "Your sisters are bringing in the fog. Jackson is dressed like me and will be taking my car about half an hour after we slip away, so if someone is following me thinking I might lead them to you, Jackson will lead them to the sheriff's office."

  She looked up at him with both longing and tears. "I tried today, Jonas. I really wanted it to be a good day."

  "I know you did." He tugged her to her feet. "Get your coat and let's just go for a drive and see how you feel getting out of here. The crowd's gone—the night got a little too cold and the wind was howling and blowing sea spray all over them."

  "That would be courtesy of either Joley or Elle."

  "I think Joley's retired to her room for the night."

  "Aren't you going to rant about Joley putting herself in danger?"

  "I'm all out of rants tonight." He couldn't think of anything but dragging her into his arms, holding her and kissing her and doing every single one of the things he'd fantasized about for years to her. All night long. He wanted her all night.

  He sounded different, almost harsh. Hannah immediately looked up at his face and noted the shadows there. He looked older, lines etched into his face, and his gaze was locked on her, intense, focused, almost hungry. Her heart lurched. "I think a quiet drive together is just what I need, Jonas." Maybe it was true, she didn't honestly know, but it was true for Jonas. He needed—loving.

  Hannah kept the blanket around her until she disappeared into her closet and pulled out her long coat. There was no chance to grab a bra and panties from her drawer unless she blatantly did it in front of him, and she hadn't worked up the courage to do it. Strangely, as she drew her coat around herself, heat slid into her body. There was something delicious and decadent about wearing her long, flowing skirt, standing innocently beside Jonas, and knowing she was wearing nothing but skin beneath the thin material of her clothes.

  One moment she had been scared and crying, now excitement sizzled in her veins just at the thought of sitting beside Jonas and knowing she was dressed exactly as she had been in his fantasy. Looking at him sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. She took the hand he held out and followed him down the stairs.

  They escaped into the thick mist, moving like
shadows, hand in hand, Elle helping to blur their figures as they ran to the far end of the property, using the grove of trees for cover. As they neared Jackson's truck, the fog was even thicker.

  With every step Jonas took, he ached for her. The heat grew and spread until his cock was near bursting. He needed to touch her. It was no longer wanting. He needed. Knowing she was inexperienced and a little shy, yet she'd dressed for him in the fantasy clothes he'd asked for, was almost more than he could deal with.

  Jonas placed a hand low on her back, guiding her quickly toward the track, but once there, he suddenly turned her, pushing her against the door and trapping her there with his larger body. "I thought I was protecting you all those years and I wasted them. So many damn long years."

  His voice was low, rough and tormented, penetrating right through her skin straight to her heart.

  "I was so stupid, Hannah. I deprived us both for what?"

  "I wasn't ready, Jonas." She ran her fingertips down his face, trying to soothe the frown lines, the desperate longing mixed so clearly with desire.

  "Are you now, baby?" His voice was a harsh rasp of sound. "Are you ready for me now, because all I can think about is burying myself in you, over and over until you're screaming for mercy and I can't move."

  He pushed his heavy erection tightly against her soft mound, even as his hands framed her face, holding her still so he could bend his head and sink his tongue into the dark velvet mystery of her mouth. He groaned, the vibration traveling through his body—her body—so that she wrapped her arms tightly around him and gave herself up to the sinful pleasure of his hot, hungry mouth.

  He was ravenous for her, his need so urgent, his skin too hot, too tight, his groin well past pleasure and into pain. He needed the relief of her silken channel, tight and hot, gripping him like a fist, or the velvet pleasure of her hot, sweet mouth. He groaned again and their tongues tangled and dueled, until he thought his erection might rip right through his jeans. "I need you more than I need to breathe right now, Hannah."

  He licked his way down her neck as her head fell back, teeth grazing and nipping, until he found the swell of her bare breasts beneath the neckline of her peasant blouse. Her hands fisted in his hair and she held him to her, arching her body closer to his.

  He dragged his head back and looked at her, his blue eyes stormy, his breathing ragged. "Are you afraid, Hannah?"

  She nodded, truthful. "Yes. That I might not be able to please you. That I'm too inexperienced for you. That you'll look at me and see what I see."

  "I look at you and see a miracle, Hannah." He kissed his way right past the elastic neckline, his hands catching the hem and tugging slowly. Jonas nearly stopped breathing as the elastic at the neckline stretched and slid over the full curves of her breasts and popped underneath them, leaving him staring at her incredible creamy flesh and tight nipples.

  Her coat framed her figure and she stood there, pressed up against the truck, leaning slightly back so that her breasts were thrust toward him in invitation. She looked so damned sexy he nearly lost control right there. His cock jerked and wept in anticipation. He didn't dare bend down and lick and suck the way he wanted to. He wouldn't have the ability to stop.

  "Get in the truck." He pulled her coat around her body. "Just like that, Hannah. Don't cover up with your blouse." His breath came in a harsh gasp. "I may not survive."

  She wasn't sure she would survive, but for certain, Jonas Harrington made her feel beautiful and sexy and loved. It was an amazing, daring feeling to stand there with her coat brushing her bare breasts and know the ragged breath Jonas drew into his lungs was on her account.

  He jerked open the door and caught her around the waist, tossing her onto the seat and slamming the door closed after. She watched him walk around to the driver's side, and if the bulge in the front of his jeans was anything to go by, he really wanted her.

  She sat demurely while he slid behind the wheel, closed his eyes for a moment and adjusted his jeans to ease the ache between his legs. "Where are we going? Last chance, Hannah. You tell me."

  "Your house." Her voice shook a little, but her answer was immediate.

  Jonas sent her a single burning look, his face lined with sensual intent. Her breath caught in her lungs and her inner thighs pulsed with awareness.

  She ducked down, and as Jonas started Jackson's truck in the heavier fog, back up at the house, Jackson stood on the porch in plain sight with much lighter mist surrounding him, wearing Jonas's familiar coat and hat, talking with Sarah, who called him Jonas loud enough for anyone lurking near the property to hear.

  "We're clear, honey, slide back up here. Are you cold?" He turned the heater up a notch.

  "No. My coat is warm." But she was nervous. She didn't know the first thing about seduction. She might be scared, but if there was one thing she knew for absolute certain, she knew she wanted to belong to him and have him belong to her.

  "We're going to be okay, honey. We can take it slow tonight." It would kill him, but for her, he could do anything.

  Hannah wasn't certain she wanted slow, and if the low growl to his voice meant what she thought it did, neither did he. She could feel waves of lust and love, desire so hot and deep, coming off him in waves. As they drove through the streets, her body tightened in anticipation. Her inner muscles clenched and she shifted, afraid she might have an orgasm just listening to Jonas breathe that ragged, rough way.

  He suddenly reached over, slid his hand inside her coat and stroked her soft breast. He cupped the soft, creamy mound in his hand, thumb sliding back and forth over her exposed nipple. Each caress sent streaks of fire straight to her hot feminine core.

  "Keep your hands on the seat for me, baby," he instructed softly.

  She realized she was clutching his arm, preventing him from full access. Hannah dropped her palms to the seat, fingers bunching the material of her skirt in her fists. His hand stroked and her heart accelerated, and the flames turned into a slow burn that just kept getting hotter. She thought she might have an orgasm right there when all he was doing was touching her breast.

  She moistened her lips. "You are paying attention to the road, aren't you?"

  He flashed a small grin at her, cocky, sexy, and filled with confidence. "You think I'm too distracted to drive?" He glanced down at her skirt. "You aren't wearing a bra. What else aren't you wearing?"

  "Get me to your house and find out," Hannah said bravely.

  His long, warm fingers continued to stroke her breast, and with every touch, nerve endings deep inside her sizzled with reaction. He groaned, a harsh rasping sound that thrilled her.

  "God, baby, you're fucking naked under that skirt, aren't you? And I'm driving. You're killing me here." He took a deep breath. His cock was so swollen he was straining the material of his jeans to the breaking point. "And you're doing it on purpose."

  "I'm not telling you. Just get us to your house. And pay attention to the road."

  He drove the narrow winding highway with one hand on the wheel and the other stroking her breast. All the while he kept casting little glances toward her skirt. Just seeing that she could make him crazy with desire sent heat coursing through her body and made her feel daring and sexy. His gaze was hot, his fingers possessive.

  "Pull it up."

  "No."

  His hand dropped down to her thigh. "I swear, baby, I can feel your heat. Pull it up for me." His voice was hoarse.

  "You'll wreck."

  "No I won't. I'm keeping my eyes on the road."

  "Put both hands on the wheel."

  When he obeyed, she sent him a siren's smile and began to slowly bunch the flowing skirt inch by slow inch up her bare thighs.

  Jonas nearly stopped breathing as her soft white inner thighs came into view. "Higher, baby, a little higher." He could just make out the lips of her sex and tiny blond curls. Moisture glistened invitingly. His hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He'd never wanted a woman more. He was a
lmost insane with desire. "Spread your legs a little more. Just a little, Hannah. You're the sexiest woman I've ever seen in my life."

  She could see the effect she was having on him. His breathing, his voice, the dark lust in his eyes, the bulge in his jeans; all sent waves of need crashing through her system. Feeling powerful, beautiful and sensual was an aphrodisiac she hadn't expected. She widened her legs and gave the smallest of tugs to her skirt, allowing it to ride up just a little more.

  Jonas turned off the road onto his long drive and slowed the truck. He dropped one hand onto the seat between her legs and caressed her hot, wet entrance with his knuckles, over and over, each time putting a little more pressure on her. Hannah's breath came out in a sob. Her body shook, breasts swollen and aching, her stomach bunching in knots. She caught his thick wrist with both hands, afraid of what was going to happen if she let him continue. She'd started it, but her body was already flaring out of her control, too hot too fast, the heat building and building until she was afraid she was going to be burned alive.

  He parked the truck one-handed, refusing to give in to her tugging. "Ssh, baby, easy now. What do you think is going to happen? I'm just going to make you feel good."

  "It's too much. You've barely touched me."

  "Take your hands and put them around my neck."

  Their gazes locked. She swallowed hard.

  "Do it now, Hannah. Put your hands around my neck and hold on." He refused to let her look away from him, keeping his voice low and commanding. "Trust me, honey."

  She did trust him. She just didn't trust herself. She had no idea she was such a sexual person. She'd gone years without too much interest. Even when Joley pointed out hot man after hot man, she didn't get all that excited—unless Jonas walked into the room. She'd secretly lusted after him for years. She dreamt about him, fantasized about him. But in all that time, she'd never realized that one smoldering look, a stroke or caress, would send her careening over the edge. "I don't want you to think I'm…"