Safe Harbor Page 7

  "God, baby, you're beautiful. I couldn't even fantasize this and I've got a good imagination when it comes to you." He pushed her blouse from her shoulders, letting the material float to the ground as he unhooked her bra. Before she could protest, he captured her mouth again, drawing her tongue into the dark recesses of his mouth, his hands shaping her breasts possessively, stroking the nipples with his thumbs.

  "I've got to have you on the bed, where I can look at you and feel you next to me." He didn't want to take a chance on freaking her out when she was so shy about her body. Who would have ever thought that someone as beautiful as Hannah could have such a poor and inaccurate image of her own body?

  He was shaking as he lifted her and carried her to the bed, following her down, watching her hair spill across the pillow, her breasts thrust invitingly toward his mouth. Her skin gleamed a luminous cream in the candlelight. His heart thudded in his chest, and his body reacted with another painful jerking and thickening. She was like a fever in his system, burning so hot he was afraid if he didn't have her, he might spontaneously combust, but if she said no, if she was too frightened, he would stop. He'd spend the next five years in a freaking ice shower, but he'd stop. Love did that to a man.

  He knelt on the bed, hands tracing the satin skin, cupping her breasts, tracing her ribs and finding the low-riding jeans. "Lift up for me, sweetheart."

  Her gaze locked with his; she did what he said and allowed him to slide her jeans and underwear from her too-slender hips, down her long, glorious legs. He tossed the clothing aside and lowered himself over her, blanketing her nude body with his, inch by slow devastating inch, until they were skin to skin. She was hot and so damned soft he thought his body would sink--would melt--right into hers.

  She gave another breathy little moan that shook him right to his toes. Jonas gave in to temptation. She was offering him heaven, and he wanted her, wanted her to belong to him body and soul. She was inexperienced and he was... well... he knew exactly what he was doing.

  He kissed her over and over, drowning in her taste, wondering if she tasted so sweet all over. Her skin held a fragrance that was addicting to him and he took his time, licking and nibbling over her chin and throat, down to her breasts. Her breath hitched when he blew warm air over her nipples. She shuddered when his tongue swirled and teased, flicking the hard peaks before his mouth closed over the inviting temptation.

  Hannah gasped, her body arching, her breasts sensitive, the sensations clearly shocking her as he suckled, his mouth hot, teeth scraping over her skin, tugging on her nipple. Her breathing became labored, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. He lifted his head to look down at the feast, inhaling her scent and noting with satisfaction the marks of his possession. Her skin was sensitive and marked easily, small strawberry bites that only added to the rush of lust building past anything he'd ever known.

  He licked at her nipples, watching her face, the dark flush spreading, her eyes glazing. He let his hand trail lower, feeling her muscles contract in her belly, and then bunch beneath his palm.

  "Jonas," she whispered, in protest maybe, but he lowered his head again, taking her nipple between his teeth and rolling and tugging gently, his tongue rasping over the tip until she gasped and her hips lifted for him. He slid his hand up and between her thighs to the welcoming dampness. His heart lurched in his chest. His cock jerked hard, swelling until he thought he'd burst.

  His eyes met hers. She looked so dazed and stunned and so absolutely sexy lying there with her fingers tangled in his hair, shy trust mingled with shock on her face. He cupped her mound, so hot his palm felt scorched as he licked her other nipple, keeping her gaze locked with his. Her head thrashed on the pillow.

  He slid his finger inside the creamy heat and she cried out his name, her tight sheath clamping down on him as her muscles protested the invasion.

  "It's all right, baby," he soothed her. "I've wanted you for so long I think I'm just going to have to take my time eating you up like candy. You'll like it, honey, I promise." He kissed her belly. "You have to trust me, just relax for me."

  Hannah stared at his face, stamped deep with dark sensuality, his eyes just as dark with hunger and focused intent. Her fingers bit into the muscles bulging in his shoulders as she braced herself for the sensations rocking her body. She was lost in a storm of pleasure washing over her like a tidal wave. She needed him--needed something--the force building inside her like a hurricane. She was trembling and couldn't stop. Small whimpers escaped and she couldn't stop that either.

  His mouth moved over her belly, tongue teasing her navel, teeth nipping, his hair dragging over sensitive skin. She gasped again, nearly coming off the bed when his hands parted her thighs. She watched his head dip lower and lower, below her hips, and she froze, unable to think. Only her body reacted.

  "Jonas?" She couldn't lie still. Her lungs burned, starved for air, and she swore the junction between her legs was on fire.

  "I've waited a lifetime for this, baby, just give me a minute here. I need this." His voice was edgy with dark hunger. "You're mine now, Hannah. And your body is mine." To worship. To play. To use. To love. He was a starving man, addicted before he ever had a taste.

  His hands lifted her hips even as he lowered his head and his tongue took a long, slow swipe of her soft flesh. She moaned and then her breath stilled in her lungs and time ceased to exist as he began to do exactly as he promised--eat her like candy. His tongue pushed deep into her center, sending streaks of lightning zigzagging through her body. Involuntarily her hands fisted in the covers and her head thrashed back and forth wildly. He stroked and nipped, stabbed deep and drew moisture. He feasted and devoured.

  Her body drew tighter and tighter, a fist of sensitive muscles bursting into life as his tongue licked and stroked and sucked. Deep inside, every hidden secret, every intimate reaction, was uncovered. He made her blind with pleasure, made her crazy, the fire raging so hot and so out of control she didn't know who she was. She heard herself, crying, begging, as he pushed her higher and higher.

  "I can't control..." She needed to stop, to catch her breath. The pressure continued relentlessly, building through her body. She felt like she was on the verge of coming apart. His arms felt like bands of steel, holding her down, while his mouth found her clit and suckled. She screamed as her body seemed to fly up and shatter. Just shatter. She twisted and rocked, unable to think, unable to know if she was fighting him, or pleading with him for more.

  The sensations were terrifying, wave after wave, as his mouth pushed her up and into a second orgasm. Even as she screamed again, he rose up and over her, pulling her thighs apart. He looked so sensual--so ravenous.

  "I can't, Jonas. It's too much."

  "Yes, Hannah. It's what you want, what I want. Trust me to take you there and bring you back. Let me take you all the way."

  She wasn't going to survive if there was any more pleasure. She would shatter into a million pieces and there'd be no putting her back together, but he looked sinfully sexy and she wanted whatever he could give, no matter how afraid she got. She swallowed fear, her gaze cringing to his. "I'm afraid of myself, not you, Jonas."

  "I know, baby. You're doing fine. I'm not going to stop and let you catch your breath this time. I'm going to take you right over the edge with me."

  His breathing was harsh, his teeth clenched, and then he moved. She felt the thick head of his erection pressing tightly against her entrance, now hot and slick with cream he'd drawn from her body. Then he was stretching her, the sensation nearly a burn as he pressed deep, driving through tight folds, forcing her muscles to accommodate him. He felt thick, too big, impossible to take inside her, and then he thrust hard and deep, tearing past the thin barrier, mingling pain with pleasure as the bundle of sensitive nerve endings screamed with need. He destroyed her control with that one hard thrust, and then began to take her out of reality and into mindless ecstasy.

  Jonas tried to regain some semblance of control, but her body grippe
d his like a tight velvet fist, hot enough to scorch. He braced himself with a hand on either side of her shoulders, his body blanketing hers, and bent his head. His mouth took hers as he began a driving rhythm through the inner muscles so tight and reluctant, seizing him as he plunged deeper and deeper. She gasped, her hips bucking to meet each thrust. The powerful strokes drove her higher, closer to the release he wanted to give her, yet he kept her from getting there, forcing her to go all the way with him.

  He tore his mouth from hers, breathing deeply, pistoning harder, feeling her muscles heating, melting into living silk, pulsing with life around him. She thrashed harder under him, somewhere between fighting him and yanking him closer. She murmured something, a small cry of alarm, her nails biting deep.

  Hannah was unprepared for the painful pleasure racking her body, the pressure building and building until she fought for breath. Each hard thrust sent her reeling and the edges of her vision blurred. Above her, Jonas looked the epitome of carnal sin, his hair damp, his face etched in lines of passion, his breath ragged as his body rode hers harder and deeper, so deep and hot she wanted--no, needed--to come apart.

  He dragged her legs over his arms, his hips thrust even deeper so that her muscles pulsed around him, clasping him tightly, squeezing down until he uttered a hoarse cry and the world around her went black and then filled with colors. The explosion ripped through her body, a storm of such intensity she couldn't even cry out anymore. Multiple orgasms tore through her, one right after the other, swelling in strength, her body spasming around his.

  Jonas couldn't hold on with her body rippling and pulsing around him like a hot, silken fist. His release came harsh and violent, unrelenting pleasure roaring up from his toes and pouring down from his head to center in his groin. Pulse after hot pulse jetting deep inside her, filling her, adding to the waves of her climax so that she clamped down hard on him, sending another shaft of lightning whipping through him. He collapsed over the top of her, his breathing ragged, his lungs burning and his body shaking. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to calm the pounding of his heart. Nothing had ever been that good.

  Jonas reluctantly withdrew and rolled off her, tugging the blanket around her. Hannah lay limply beside him, her eyes dazed, her slender body slack, but his hand on her abdomen confirmed the aftershocks still rippling through her. "Are you all right, baby?"

  "I don't know." Her fingers found his. "Am I?"

  He grinned. "Oh, yeah, baby. You're so fine they need to find a new word to describe you."

  "That was a little scary." He'd taken her over. There was no going back. She'd think about him, his mouth, his hands, his body, every time she lay on her bed. Her body sang for him, came apart for him. "I wasn't aware I'd been missing anything so spectacular."

  Jonas frowned and rolled over, his arm settling around her waist. "Just remember who you belong to, Hannah. I wouldn't want to have to shoot anyone--or strangle you."

  She leaned over to kiss his shoulder. "Why am I the one to be strangled?"

  "It's a much more personal death."

  "You've been a cop too long." She dragged the blanket up higher to cover her breasts. "I can't move."

  "You don't have to move. Just go to sleep. When we wake up, I'll show you some other very intriguing things we can do."

  "There's more? There can't be more." She yawned and snuggled closer to him. "I have to catch a plane in the morning, Jonas. You know it's a four-hour drive to the airport."

  "Take a later one."

  "Mmm. Maybe." She could barely speak, let alone move, and the thought of a four-hour drive and an additional plane ride to the East Coast was daunting. And she needed a hot bath to soothe her sore body. "I think you beat me up."

  Instantly he shifted, his arm going around her hips, his hand pushing the blanket from her body to inspect her. "I got a little carried away, Hannah. I should have been much more gentle your first time. Hang on, baby, I'll run you a bath." There were marks on her thighs, on her breasts and even on her belly. "And I'd better shave. You have whisker burn on your face."

  And on the inside of her thighs, but she wasn't mentioning that.

  "I'm not certain I can actually take a bath right now," she admitted. "Let's just lie here and count the stars." She waved her hand and the candles flickered out. A second wave had the French doors opening to let the night in.

  At once a breeze cooled her body and Jonas tugged her closer to keep her warm. It was amazing to feel at peace. For his body to be at rest. She belonged to him. She'd given herself to him and Hannah didn't ever do things by half-measure. She'd been frightened, but his loss of control hadn't driven her away. She'd accepted his physical needs the way she accepted his temper and arrogance.

  He slipped his hand beneath the blanket and let his palm, fingers splayed wide, drift possessively over her body. His. He tasted her in his mouth, breathed her in his lungs, had spent time inside her hot silken sheath. If there were miracles, he was living one. She didn't protest his touch, but turned her head toward him, her gaze locking with his. He held her with his eyes, not wanting her to look away while he explored every square inch of incredible skin. Warm and soft like nothing else he'd ever experienced.

  "I love that you're mine," he whispered and nuzzled the blanket from her breasts so he could enjoy the sight.

  Deliberately he allowed his hand to move lower. He felt her stomach muscles clench as his fingers skimmed over her. She tensed when he cupped her mound so he rested his hand there, letting her get used to the feel of his possession. He wanted to touch her like this whenever he wanted. He wanted her open to him, loving him, giving herself to him, and more than anything, he wanted her to feel the same way back.

  There was no "if" they were together. They were. He'd made that clear before making love to her, and he wanted her to realize he was a physical man. There would be touching--lots of it. Her curves, her body, belonged to him and his to her. It wasn't about groping her--it was about loving her. He needed her to feel the difference.

  Her nipples had peaked in the cool night air and he bent his head to run his tongue over one of them. He felt the instant answering flood of warm liquid against his palm and he slid one finger inside her. She was as tight as ever, her muscles clenching, the hot silk ready for him. He rubbed his head against her soft skin, blinking back emotion that threatened to spill over.

  Hannah was completely, utterly, relaxed under his hand and she never made a single move to reject his advances. She might be a little nervous, but she was open to whatever he chose to do. He chose to kiss her. He loved her mouth. He reveled in the taste of her, the response he drew from her.

  When he lifted his head, she wrapped her arms around him and drew him back down beside her. "Go to sleep, Jonas. Right here, with me."

  He rolled over, pulling her on top of him so that her warm body was sprawled across his. He wrapped her up with one arm and drew the blanket over both of them. "Like this, Hannah. Close, like this." His arm circled her waist and she snuggled into him, fitting her body over his, breasts pressed tightly against his skin, her head on his pillow.

  Jonas fell asleep with his hand cupping her butt. Hannah lay on top of him, listening to his breathing, hyperaware of his hand. Her body still tingled, still sang. For a short time, when he was inside her, she had known exactly where she wanted to be. She loved his touch. He scared the hell out of her by forcing her to go far beyond where she ever thought she could, but she trusted Jonas with her body and had given him everything he'd demanded.

  That was so Jonas. She stroked his hair with small caresses. He was demanding. He always would be. But sometimes, he was so vulnerable and she realized she had power in the relationship as well. She hadn't expected that. He was as vulnerable to her as she was to him. He just acted arrogant and bossy, but deep down, where it counted, he didn't want to lose her either.

  She had to go to New York, the contract had been signed a year ago, but then she'd tell Jonas the truth. She had already in
formed her agent she was getting out of the business. She hadn't taken any new jobs in months and was simply going to fulfill the contracts she'd signed and then she'd live in Sea Haven and hopefully be with Jonas and start a whole new life.

  Chapter Five

  JONAS paced across the length of the living room in the Drake family home, all the while glaring at the television. "She's been gone a week and hasn't even bothered to call home, Sarah."

  "She called, Jonas," Sarah reminded him with an exaggerated sigh. "You yelled at her and she hasn't called since."

  "I wasn't yelling."

  " 'Get the hell home' isn't yelling?"

  "I don't think it's necessary for her to be there all week. And why does she have to attend the parties every night?"

  "It's part of her job."

  "Is that what she tells you? Look at those men. They're staring at her." He jabbed his finger at the screen, brows coming together in a fierce scowl.

  Sarah curled her legs under her, settling back into the plush chair. "This is the grand finale of the biggest fashion show held in New York every year. Hannah is a model. Of course they're looking at her; she's wearing a gown worth thousands of dollars. The whole idea is to show off the gown. She walks the runway, makes a few turns, people ooh and aah, and the designer is in for the season."

  "They aren't looking at the gown," he denied. "They're looking at Hannah."

  "No, Jonas," Sarah corrected gently, "you're looking at Hannah. They're there to see the latest designs."

  Jonas made a sound of disgust as he stopped in the middle of the spacious room, his gaze glued to the television screen. Hannah, tall, thin and utterly gorgeous, walked with complete confidence down the runway, paused, one hand on her hip, a look of haughty disdain on her beautiful face, turned so that the lights picked up the shimmering colors in her gown before moving on to the pounding beat of the music.