In the Dark (19 page)

The unpleasant thought prompted her to cross to the bay window to peer outside. The Winnebago parked across the street was a reassuring sign. Not only did she have two SEALs safeguarding her, but her own bodyguards, Gal-worth and Stone, two stalwart men whom Westy referred to collectively as "the gallstones," were keeping watch on her front door.

Luther wiped a circle of steam off the bathroom mirror and took a good hard look at himself. Did he know what he was doing? Or was he caving in to his sexual appetite and abandoning his common sense?

It felt right. Once he'd gotten over his unsettling attraction to her, he'd felt amazingly comfortable with Hannah, like he'd known her all his life. So long as she was willing, what was the crime? he asked his reflection.

And she
was
willing. She might have fallen asleep on him a couple of times and treated him as a comrade at arms, but her eyes had betrayed sexual awareness for some time now, as did the pink stain in her cheeks, particularly evident now without the heavy makeup of her disguise.

And despite the fact that she looked a lot younger in. her own clothes, she was a grown woman—twenty-six years old. A woman that age was capable of enjoying sex without investing it with emotional overtones.

That was more his tendency, he admitted with a grimace.

But not if he refused to engage his emotions. Wanting Hannah in any way beyond the physical realm was impractical. She was going back to the CIA when this was over, and not to a safe little desk job either. Her work as a case officer would put her in the company of dangerous and unpredictable people, requiring her to use her tremendous charm to win their trust in order to glean information. He knew she was up to it, but he didn't want to think about what might happen if she, for once, let her guard down.

He couldn't ask her to change her plans for him. On the other hand, he wasn't above enjoying her while he had the chance. So long as he kept things physical.

Sleeping in her bed had cinched it. He'd lain there, surrounded by Hannah's scent, seduced by the intimate atmosphere of her tastefully decorated bedroom: the ornate headboard, the collection of white and purple candles, half melted on a silver tray beside her bed; amethyst crystals dangling in her window to catch the sun. He'd studied the pictures of Hannah with her family, each lovingly placed in an artful frame, and he'd felt close to her.

Then he'd pictured her in bed with him, limbs entwined, and he'd known that the experience would be worth the loss that came later. He needed to be with her that way. He'd regret it if he didn't.

He dried his hair with the towel and fished several condoms from the pocket of his shaving kit. Grabbing the tube of antibiotic Nurse Rex had foisted on him when he left Pax River, he returned to the bedroom, naked. Imagining Hannah's expression when she found him in his birthday suit made him smile.

Ignoring Westy's knowing look, Hannah excused herself to fetch Luther's tray. She arrived at her door with butterflies in her stomach and her palms sweating.

"Come in," Luther called at her light knock.

She found him lounging against a pile of pillows, with the sheet up just over his hips. One arm was crooked over his head in a posture of supreme male confidence. The pose was tempered by the expectant, half-worried look on his face. The bedside lamp illumined the room with a soft golden glow that made his naked chest look airbrushed.

Hannah swallowed hard. "Did you, uh, did you take your bandage off?" she asked, heart thumping wildly.

He flexed his shoulder. "Yes. My back's still tight, but it's not hurting the way it was this morning. I have the ointment that the nurse gave me." He showed her the tube in his hand.

She shut the door, locking
it
surreptitiously. As she approached the bed, she realized he was naked under the sheet. She could see the taut, smooth skin of his hip, and' the vision made her head spin.
This is really happening,
she thought with an urge to pinch herself.

He handed her the tube. "You want to sit?' he asked,
patting the space beside him.

"Sure." She eased onto the small space, her thigh brushing his. He'd helped himself to her magnolia-scented body wash, she realized. Somehow it came off smelling manly on him.

She admired the breadth of his powerful back, all sinew and muscle. Her gaze settled on the puckered wound near his shoulder blade, and she drew a quick breath. "Oh, God!"

"Is it that bad?”

It wasn't, not even with so many stitches bristling out of the pink gash. "It's just... I didn't realize how close to your heart it was. You could have been killed, Luther!" The realization shook her.

"I'm not that easy to kill," he said with a smile in his voice. He put a hand on her thigh, presumably to keep her from slipping off the mattress. His palm felt hot, even through the fabric of her jeans.

With unsteady fingers, Hannah squeezed ointment onto her index finger. She applied it to the inflamed area, careful not to irritate the stitches. "Am I hurting you?" she asked, aware of a certain tenderness creeping over her.

He could have been killed, despite his reassurance to the contrary. Life was like that. It could end in a moment, without warning. What if he'd died that night in Sabena?

She'd have lost faith in righteousness—faith that was already at an all-time low.

Without intending to, Hannah found her arms around him.

He accepted her sudden embrace, locking her arms in place with his. "You okay?" he asked. "Hannah?"

"Yes," she said, straggling to get a grip on herself. "I didn't realize what a close call you had, that's all."

He pulled her closer with his good arm. Hannah was highly aware that the only thing between her and his naked body was the thin cotton sheet. "I'm right here," he said solemnly. "We've both chosen careers that are dangerous. That's just part of making a difference."

Hannah nodded. The fullness in her chest made it too hard to speak. They were one and the same, she and Luther. She felt close to him already. His gaze dropped to her mouth. And with that scant warning, he kissed her.

She knew his lips were soft and warm, but she couldn't have predicted that they were also skillful, mobile, persuasive, and utterly single-minded.

She acquiesced to his unspoken demand and parted her lips with a whimper.

Hannah forgot to breathe. They kissed, on and on, each foray an experience unto itself. She found her fingers in his hair, gliding over his impossibly broad shoulders, the muscles of his upper arms. She felt her senses overloading. There was simply too much of him to take in at once.

"Need to get these clothes off," he muttered. His fingers grasped the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her breasts. He hesitated, blinking down at her plain cotton bra. "What happened?" he asked.

She knew immediately what he meant. "Those bras, itched like crazy. Honestly, I prefer cotton."

Her admission made him burst out laughing. “Now that I believe," he said, reaching for the latch in front.

"Are you disappointed?”

"Are you kidding?" He peeled the cups back one at a time to feast his eyes on her. Lowering his head, he cupped each breast and brought it to his mouth.

Hannah gasped at the lash of his tongue, the hot suction of his lips.

She struggled to unbutton her jeans. Luther aided in the endeavor, tugging them down her legs. As she kicked them off, leaving her in her pink cotton briefs, wishing she'd suffered with the lace panties just one more day.

"You look sexy," he reassured her.

"Yeah, right"

"Honestly," he said, using her earlier word. As if to prove it, he ran a finger along the waistband, tickling the sensitive skin between her pelvic bones. Pleasure mingled with anticipation as he outlined a leg hole all the way to the inside of her leg. Hannah tried not to laugh. 'That tickles!" she gasped.

He flung back the sheet, and she reached for him with two hands, thrilled to be reunited with this part of him, pleased to have proof that he desired her.

"We have a problem," he admitted gruffly.

She froze at the admission. "What?"

"I can't use my right arm. That makes it harder for me to be on top."

She gave him a slow smile. "Oh, that's not a problem," she reassured him. She pushed him gently on his back, coming up on her knees to bend over him.

His hands slid through the waves of her hair as he swore softly, enduring her reverence with a groan.

"Hannah." He pulled her up, ignoring her throaty protest. "You're going to embarrass me," he confessed. "Seriously. It's been a while "

She was glad to hear it, almost as glad as she was to feel his hands sweeping over her, his callused palms skimming over her breasts, her waist, her hips. She swung a leg over and straddled him.

His eyes glowed with desire. "I've dreamed about this."

"Really." She was glad not to be the only one.

Luther pulled her down for a searing kiss. His touch grew more intent, more urgent. Behind her sinking eyelids, Hannah's world tipped off its axis.

She'd never felt anything more blissful, more dreamy than Luther touching her. She grew heated to the point of sweating. He eased a finger inside her, and then another. Hannah bit her lower lip to keep Westy from hearing her cries.

The sound of foil tearing brought her back to reality. She opened her eyes to see that Luther had thought this through. He covered himself quickly, casting her an apologetic glance.

He cupped her jaw with one hand, drawing her down for another kiss. At the same time, he guided himself with excruciating deliberation.

He entered, withdrew, pushed deeper.

Hannah felt herself unraveling. How long had it been? Years now. But Luther's unhurried possession gave her unaccustomed body time to relax, to accept him, until she was finally taking all of him. "Oh, my God," she breathed.

Against her lips, she felt him smile.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"Nothing. You are something else, Hannah Geary."

Was that a good thing?

With a growl, he rolled over, taking her with him. He drove into her, shifting the mood from one of leisurely anticipation to sudden urgency.

"I thought you couldn't be on top," she said, wrapping her legs enthusiastically around him.

"I am feeling no pain," he reassured her.

Neither was she. In her world, where men were her colleagues and competitors, there had been no allowance for intimacy. She'd forgotten how lovely sex could be. She wouldn't regret this, she vowed, opening her eyes to look up at him, to brand this moment in her mind.

As their gazes met, a feeling ambushed her.
This is where I belong.

Her eyes widened at the startling thought. Luther looked stunned, as if struck by the same insight. She tried to shake it off, but it clung to her tenaciously, prompting a response that boiled up like a geyser, from the inside out. As it shot her toward a blinding climax, Luther gave a muffled shout, driving into her one last time. They came together, scalded by the ferocity of their passion.

At last the heat subsided, leaving in its wake a bottomless warmth that she was loath to relinquish.

All too soon, Luther shifted his weight. Avoiding her gaze, he dropped a kiss on her lips and withdrew, rolling off the bed.

She admired his formidable physique as he strode naked to the bathroom. He shut the door partway between them. She heard him flush the toilet Water ran in the sink. A long, long silence ensued.

Hannah waited, savoring the aftershocks of pleasure, refusing to think. At last, he appeared at the doorway to regard her at a distance, his expression for once enigmatic. Neither one of them said a word.

What was there to say? Hannah thought. Panic and belated regret furrowed into her.

"That was nice," said Luther, breaking the awkward silence.

Nice?
Nice wasn't the word that came to her mind. Incredible, maybe. Frightening, perhaps, but not nice.

He jabbed his fingers through his hair. "Do you think we should have talked first?"

"About what?" She tried to play it cool. Maybe he couldn't see the pulse pounding at the base of her throat.

He frowned at her. "Nothing, just... you know, the usual." He approached the bed tentatively, his gaze darkening as it slid over her nakedness. He sat on the bed and tried to kiss her.

Hannah pulled back. "The usual?" she repeated. "Sorry, I don't do this often enough to know what that is." With her feelings in turmoil, she seized upon anger as the emotion to display.

He sighed, clearly regretting that he'd brought up talk in the first place. "I like you a lot, Hannah," he said gently. "You're a terrific friend, an incredible lover, but I don't see how we could be something more than that."

Right, and she hadn't either until just a few minutes ago when she was hit with that completely random thought:
This is where I belong.
Obviously he hadn't suffered the same insight. "Of course not," she muttered.

"I don't see, given your plans with the CIA and my job, how anything permanent could last," he pointed out, with
tension in his face.

"It would be hard," she conceded, finding it difficult speak.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," he added, giving her a searching look.

That was the wrong thing to say. Hurt took precedence over her emotions, putting victorious pressure on her chest. "You haven't," she lied. "Excuse me." She slipped past him to get off the bed.

With a troubled look, he watched her go into the bathroom and shut the door.

Hannah cranked on the water in the shower. That would give him the message that she wasn't coming out for an instant replay. Under the water's hot spray, she could shed a few tears and it wouldn't count as crying.

A part of her wondered at her reaction. She'd thought she was perfectly capable of sleeping with Luther while remaining emotionally aloof. She wasn't the romantic type. She'd had her eyes wide open when she opted for intimacy.

Perhaps she should have kept them shut. Then they wouldn't have shared that look that, for some reason, had made her feel like she was his.