Red Midnight (30 page)

Erin frowned as he left the doorway and sauntered into the room, casually pulling his sweater over his head. Every nerve within her seemed to jump with both fear and anticipation. A clamp seemed to have formed over her throat as she struggled to speak.

“What are you doing?” she demanded a little breathlessly.

He arched a brow high and then dropped it; he loosened first the buttons on his cuffs and then started on his shirt. “Undressing,” he stated dryly, sitting at the foot of the bed to doff his boots and socks. A mercurial chill of lightning and fever raced along Erin’s spine in dancing rivulets as she held the eyes that refused to release her. He lifted his brow once more. “You did invite me back in here.”

She kept staring at him blankly, her dismay growing. All he had to do was step into a room and her blood ran hot and cold. She was inhaling his special scent, clean and yet masculine; she should be used to it, and she was, but at this moment it was sending her senses reeling.

“Yes,” she murmured, “but—”

Her voice trailed away with his sardonic smile. “But?” he inquired. “Ah, yes, I’m two nights early. There is no one here tonight to witness a show. Sorry, Erin, but it doesn’t work that way.” He reached out to run the rough texture of his knuckles lightly over her chin. “I’ll do my best to compromise, Mrs. Steele, but not at your beck and call.”

Again, she was finding it difficult to speak, difficult to breathe with his searching eyes so close.

“You’ve been drinking,” she accused him suddenly.

He seemed surprised. “No, not really. I had two scotches with Sergei and Joe, but not enough to influence my actions. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but it was your idea to share a room again.” At her silence he laughed and continued. “Oh, Erin, you must have overestimated my finer qualities. Were you assuming I would come in here with you and curl on the floor at your feet like a perfect gentleman? Un-unh, honey. Nor will I continue to have my own door shut against me so that you can carry on a mental love affair with the illustrious Mr. Sayer. This is my room, and you’re my wife, and if there are any affairs going on here, be they platonic or physical, I intend to be the partner.”

Erin was too stunned to protest. Gil? It was incredulous. He was good-looking, yes, but he was like a flat sepia-tone picture compared to the contrasting brilliant and three-dimensional hues that were Jarod.

Suddenly his arms swept around her, bringing her down to the cushion of the pillow as he hovered over her, balanced by his hold on the small of her back and a knee pressed against the mattress. He continued to search her face with grim features from this closer range, as if he sought the answer to a deep and mysterious enigma. “The strangest thing,” he murmured curiously, “is that I never understood why. I held you, I felt you tremble and quiver, I felt the pounding of your heart, I heard you whisper and moan and call my name….”

Abruptly he rolled beside her, continuing his strange vigil as he propped himself up on an elbow, leaving a hand free to touch upon her shoulder with the gossamer lightness of silk. “Why, Erin?”

She could only stare at it. Because I’m in love with you, idiot! she thought, but she couldn’t say so, nor did she think she could have spoken at all. She felt as if a spell had been cast upon her, and all she could do was listen to the drowning beguilement of his voice and fight the sensations sweeping over her in great lapping waves.

His fingers moved up her shoulder to stroke her throat and splay across and cradle the soft line of her jaw. Suddenly anger erupted through the mesmerizing spell; he was here because like a typical male he was feeling territorial. She was his property; in his mind, possession had been threatened.

Erin leaped from the bed and stared at him with her eyes blazing a shimmering silver. “Why? Why? Because I’m not a possession! Because you brought me home like a piece of furniture to be kept for your convenience. You read me the riot act, reminding me that I’m your wife while you set other standards for yourself!”

“What?”

He tensed with his explosion, changing position again so that it looked truly as if he possessed animal agility and could pounce within a second. He still wore his jeans, but his chest was bare, and its dark, coarsely haired breadth reminded her of the sinewed muscles lurking beneath the toned trimness, visibly rippling across the span of his shoulders.

Erin backed off a step but lifted her chin. She had begun something, and now she was committed. “You heard me. My movements are watched and censored. I’m supposed to dance to your tune, while you roam about at will. You leave when you want and return when you want. You spend half your time with this Catherine”—she hissed out the name—“and you have the nerve to resent my phone calls.”

“Catherine?”

“Yes, Catherine,” Erin spat out heedlessly. “You won’t be demanding fidelity from me while you’re out prowling—”

He pounced. Standing beside the bed with his hands on his hips, he began to laugh. “Catherine, huh? Well, may I remind you, you locked me out of this bedroom.”

He began a lazy saunter toward her, which was terribly unnerving. Erin began to inch slowly backwards.

“Catherine,” he repeated, shaking his head as if the name itself were incredibly amusing. “My love,” he murmured dryly, “if it is monogamy you desire, it is yours. You little fool. Do you really think I would go elsewhere if you were here … waiting …”

Erin came to a forced standstill. She had backed into the wall and there was nowhere else to go. But he continued to stalk her relentlessly, bracing his hands against the wall on either side of her head as he leaned close. If she had imagined him the slightest bit. inebriated she had been badly deceived. His eyes were sharp and alert and staggering with magnetism as they came ever closer.

His lips touched her forehead, and though they but brushed her flesh, they were like a brand that burned. They continued a butterfly trail over her face, circling her lips, but never touching them. He stood back again, cupping her chin and cheekbones between both hands as he pressed his body against her. Her body automatically adjusted to his, molding sensuously against him.

Then his touch, smooth but rough-edged, wedged a space between them. No longer light, but firm and questing, his hands began a downward exploration, pausing to curve over her breasts and massage them until the nipples responded, shielded by the satin of her gown but hard and taut against his fingers. He followed the line of her ribs, then began a slow and sensual circular caress over her hips and abdomen.

“You little fool,” he whispered to her, his voice a stimulating taunt against her ear. “Dear God, don’t you know what you do to me? No one feels like you, Erin. No woman has hips and thighs that can meet a man like yours. Move closer to me, honey,” he murmured urgently.

I’m going to fall, Erin thought. The gentle grind of his hips against hers was so hungrily suggestive that sensations swamped over her with devastating depth. She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, delighting in his tense heat. He smiled at her and untangled himself momentarily to slip his fingers beneath the satin on her shoulder blades and send the gown sailing sleekly to her feet. Then he crushed against her again, the hair on his chest mercilessly teasing her swollen and sensitive breasts. His mouth found hers and hungrily sought to part her lips; they capitulated completely, her tongue moving urgently to tease with a driving need along with his. And while they clung together with their lips his hands slid urgently over her body again, his fingers slipping beneath the elastic of her lace panties, running along the circumference, taunting and taunting until he pulled his lips from hers to slide between the valley of her breasts and he knelt to slowly ease the last remaining lace from her body.

Her legs were hot and trembling, and they couldn’t hold her up any longer. She gasped and caught at his shoulders as he ran his fingers along her inner thighs, teasing in the aftermath of his long fingers with tiny, burning touches of his tongue. Her fingers clawed unwittingly into his muscles; they moved and tugged upon his hair desperately.

He slowly came back up to face her, holding her securely with the power of his arms. He kissed her long and deeply, then nibbled against the soft flesh of her neck and shoulder blades. “I need you, Erin,” he murmured tensely. She nodded. She wasn’t really aware of anything—her desire had grown too ardent. She clung to him while she fulfilled her need to touch him, run her fingers with fascination across his shoulders, feeling the suppleness of his muscles. She touched his male nipples with her fingertips and leaned to touch one with her tongue, grazing it with her teeth as she allowed her hands to explore lower. His belly was like a drum. She wanted more. She began to run her fingers beneath the band of his jeans and when he inhaled sharply she became bolder, searching out the buckle of his belt and loosening it, sliding the zipper down with her trembling fingers. He groaned deeply as she slid her hands inside the material below his hips, forcing both jeans and briefs to give and slide down over the shapely columns of his legs. Like him she followed the material until it hit the floor, and spurred by the resonant and labored breathing that came from him, rising and falling in his sinewed chest, she taunted him in return, feathering her nails over his thighs, rendering tiny, nipping kisses all along them. She felt even their strength quiver. She knew fully what she did to him, and that power was a beautiful, soaring triumph. She knew, too, how he did need her, desire her; the throbbing evidence was hers, as was the guttural assurance he gave her in a throaty, deep rough velvet, as his fingers twined through the gold strands of her hair. A maelstrom swirled within her, a soaring of passion and need so deep it was all-consuming. Wantonly she continued to taunt him to a fury, boldly taking him, reveling in the feel of him, touching, feathering, teasing….

“Damn, woman, you’re driving me wild,” he suddenly exclaimed, catching her wrists and pulling her to her feet to sweep her into his powerful arms and carry her back to the bed. He had given her dominance; now he was taking it back. He pinioned her arms above her head as he came down over her, holding her as she writhed beneath him in protest. He held her firm. She had flinched only slightly as he gripped her wrists, but he firmly persisted. Even with him, her emotional scars would take time to heal. His gentle, firm persistence was rewarded. Although she struggled against him, it was not with panic, but with the desire to touch him in return.

“Tease me to insanity, would you?” he queried her, blue fire clashing with pure shimmering silver as he caught her eyes. And then he proceeded to inflict a series of alternately light and demanding kisses over her breasts with mouth and teeth and tongue all moving sensuously until she shrieked out a plea.

Jarod wedged a knee between her thighs and rubbed his body against hers, savoring the undulation of her burning flesh. “Oh, Lord, what you do to me,” he breathed, fitting his hand beneath her to raise her buttocks and hold her firm against him as he gave way to the rampant fever that riddled him and entered her with an explosion of burning hunger. They groaned out together with the deliciousness of that intimate contact, and he held still for a minute, cradling her against him, tenderly cherishing her hair as he buried his head against her neck. They both needed that split second to savor the instant of filling, and being filled.

And then the passion began to mount wildly, the maelstrom swirled full force. The world was dark and misty all at once, ethereal and primitively real. Spirit and the basic needs of flesh and blood made beautiful by the deepest hunger, the deepest giving.

Their passion mounted, tender and savage, slow, and then in tempestuous rhythm that seemed to soar above and defy even the stars that stretched across the heavens. The explosion was blinding white sunlight, so agonizingly good that it left Erin breathless, motionless, powerless, not sure if she were conscious or unconscious or even still alive. Time was at a standstill as she waited to drift back to reality.

She didn’t mind drifting back to reality because he was still beside her. She was held in the strong security of his arms. She would sleep beside him, able to wake and marvel at the length and breadth of his hands, explore the coarse dark curls that thrived over his chest and created new fields far below his waist.

His hand rested now just below her breast, his muscled thigh and knee cast haphazardly over hers.

She was still dizzy with the delight of having made love with him. As she drifted into a satiated and comfortable sleep, her head rested against his chest, her cheek touched by the pound of his heart and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, she didn’t care that her life was a shambles.

He stirred slightly and brushed a kiss against her temple. “You’ve bewitched me, my golden angel,” he murmured. “I am a man beguiled and bewitched.”

And I, Erin thought, am afraid that I am yours … purely your possession.

H
E WHISTLED SOFTLY AS
he walked down the long white hall. When he sat and gained admission to the computer, his fingers flew across the keys.

GOOD MORNING, CATHERINE. IT IS A BEAUTIFUL FIFTY DEGREES OUTSIDE. IT LOOKS AS IF THE SNOW IS ACTUALLY MELTING, AND THE SUN IS BLAZING ACROSS THE SKY LIKE A BANNER OF GOLD.

The computer whizzed for a moment, as if confused. Computers, Jarod assured himself, couldn’t be confused. But, he was about to discover, they could be wise-asses.

HAD A NICE NIGHT, HUH, JAROD STEELE?

“Pity that the guy who programmed you is in New York,” Jarod muttered aloud. “I’d like to throttle him.”

YES, I HAD A NICE NIGHT. BUT IT’S REAL SPRING NOW, CATHERINE, IT’S FINALLY BECOMING SPRING. YOU SHOULD SEE NEW YORK IN THE SPRING. THE HARBOR … CENTRAL PARK … GRASS JUST TURNING GREEN AND FLOWERS COMING OUT IN BRILLIANT COLORS.

“What the hell am I doing?” he groaned aloud. “Telling a damned computer about spring.” Catherine whirred and printed a line across the screen.