Tempted in the Night (30 page)

Using one arm against the bed to hold his weight, he wrapped the other under her hips to hold her in place as he pumped into her until she came close to shattering.

"Jess?"
His question came out on a ragged breath, but she knew that he needed to hear her reassurance.

"Yes, John. Yes." Awash in sensation, she rode the wave of passion until it grew so huge, there was no place left for it to go and it crashed over her, drowning her in a glorious
fireburst
of emotion. Seconds later, she felt John tense and knew when she heard his guttural cry that he'd found his own release.

As the euphoria slowly faded, John rolled to his side and gathered her into his arms.

"Wow," he said, sounding awed. "That was incredible." He pulled her a little closer.

Already feeling sated and safe in his arms, his words filled her with joy and contentment. She knew that in John, she'd found what she'd been looking for her entire life. "Good night, John," she whispered. "I love you."

The steady rhythm of his breathing was the only response she got.

John came awake suddenly. There was no gradual lifting of the mental fog that accompanies deep sleep. One moment, he was sound asleep, and the next, he was awake with senses alert—and he was alone.

There was no nagging sense of urgency to which he could attribute his waking, so he stretched his senses outward, trying to see if he could locate Jess. He heard her working in her lab downstairs and felt himself relax. She was okay.

Cracking open an eyelid, he had to cover his eyes to protect them from the sunshine streaming in through the windows. He hadn't realized he'd awakened so much earlier than normal. It was still hours from sunset and yet he felt amazingly good. If he'd taken Jess's blood, he would have attributed the surge of energy to that, but since he hadn't, there could only be one explanation—and that one scared the hell out of him.

John rolled out of bed and looked for his jeans, finding them on the floor near the bed. Next he went to where his jacket hung over a chair and dug out his sunglasses and put them on. The relief to his eyes was immediate and he finished dressing.

After going downstairs, he followed the aroma of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen and poured himself a cup. Then he went to find Jess.

The workroom door was open and Jess was standing at a table with her back to him, so John let his gaze travel over her, enjoying the view. She was wearing a pair of his sweats, which were too big and hid her shape, but his body knew what lay beneath.

"Good afternoon," he said softly, not wanting to startle her as he walked up behind her. He set his cup on the counter and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the scent of her skin, which was a blend of soap and woman.

She smiled, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. "What are you doing up so early? Not that I'm complaining."

"I missed you." As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was a lovesick fool.

She set down whatever it was she'd been holding in her hand and turned in his arms so she could face him. Lifting her arms to drape them around his neck, she gazed up at him with such longing that it took his breath away. He lowered his mouth until his lips captured hers.

Holding her, touching
her this
way, was like coming home after a very long and lonely journey. If he'd felt this way with his first wife, he never would have gotten a divorce. The feelings he had for Jess ran deeper than any he'd had before, and he was suddenly unclear about the future.

He broke the kiss, but didn't take his arms from around her.

"I like this," he told her.

"Me, too."

He studied her face and saw that she was telling him the truth and his worries faded. "Since I'm awake, how about you and I go upstairs right now?" He winked and dipped his head to nuzzle her neck.

She laughed and he loved the sound of it. "Later. First I want to show you what I've been working on. I made something for you."

"Really?"

"Yes—come see." She stepped out of his embrace, took his hand, and led him to the worktable where she picked up something small and held it out to him.

"Looks like a bullet."

"Not just any bullet." She pointed to it. "I found extra boxes of bullets in your room and thought I'd take a look. When I saw they had hollow tips, I got an idea. See here at the end, I've filled the cavity with a concentrated toxin and dripped candle wax over the end to seal it."

He glanced from the bullet in his hand to the table where several more boxes of bullets sat open. "What's in the toxin?"

"It's a combination of ingredients, the primary one being a concentrated solution of the
fleur de vivre
herb."

"I thought you didn't have any."

"None in tea form. This stuff is too concentrated to ingest."

He nodded. "And one of these will kill a vampire?" He was already imagining the possibilities.

"In theory."

He'd been staring at the bullet, but now looked at her sharply.
"In theory?"

She cringed and made a face. "I haven't exactly had a chance to test them yet," she admitted.

"Why not?"

She glared at him. "It's rather difficult to secure a gun in
England
, in case you hadn't heard about the ban on purchasing and owning guns. Up until now, this has simply been a theory of mine."

John shook his head. "I'm not going after Brody with bullets that might not even work."

"No, I completely agree," she said, stepping away from him and becoming unusually focused on straightening the counter. "We need to test them, which means we'll need a vampire."

"Exactly.
And where do you propose we get one?"

She refused to look at him as he drew the obvious conclusion.

"Harris?" John stared at her. "Please tell me you're joking."

"No, I realize it's not the ideal solution. He's been helpful and I don't think he's entirely bad, but I'm not entirely sure he's trustworthy either. After all, he did try to kill Mac and
Lanie
."

"He also helped Beth and Dirk escape."

"Only because he was counting on Beth doing research for him."

"What are you talking about?"

"She told me how he wanted her to develop a cure for vampirism. When you think about it, he only let her go because it served his purpose. What's to say he's not using you in the same way?"

John felt himself getting angry, but Jess didn't seem to notice. "You're unbelievable, you know that?
To actually have the audacity to suggest killing him?"

"He kills people in order to survive. That's not exactly heroic," she said, as if she were explaining an obvious concept to a simpleton.

"He kills
criminals
.
People who are human only as a technicality."
His voice grew louder. "But more important, he's a friend of mine."

She threw up her hands. "You're trying to rationalize his murders?"

"I wish all this was more black and white, but it's not. So I have to play by the rules that let me face myself in the mirror each day. In this case, that means letting Harris live because in my book, he's one of the good guys."

A moment of silence followed his statement as she stared at the floor. In a last desperate attempt to save what they had, he reached out to her. "Jess, I'm begging you to understand."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I do understand," she said, leaning forward to kiss him, a gentle touch of her lips against his. It was over before it even started. "I just hope, for your sake, that you're right about him. Now, if you don't mind, I think I need a bit of fresh air—alone."

She started for the door. Though his first instinct was to tell her not to go, he realized he was being unreasonable. It was still daylight outside.

"Do
me
a
favor
and don't wander far from the house, okay? And the moment you see the sun going down, you get back inside. I don't think Brody will come back while we're both here, but I could be wrong. Let's not make it easier for him, all right?"

"Yes.
Fine."

He watched her walk out of the room, and it took all his control not to go after her.

Jess felt like screaming as she paced the length of the porch, giving vent to her anger and frustration. She was an idiot. She'd gotten up early and like a lovesick fool, sat in bed just gazing down at John while he slept beside her. The mere sight of him called forth the memories of their lovemaking and her heart sped up. It had been all she could do not to rouse him then and there to make love.

But they needed to base their relationship on more than great sex, and something like a difference in viewpoints regarding Harris might be enough to create a chasm so large they could never get over it.

A cool breeze blew across the porch, reminding her that she'd left her jacket inside. There was no way she was going inside to get it. Wrapping her arms about herself, she started walking a leisurely lap around the mansion, hoping the exercise would help her think even as it warmed her. She was just rounding the corner to the front when she heard the sound of a vehicle coming down the driveway.

She waited as a floral delivery van pulled up and stopped in front of her.

The driver rolled down his window and smiled.
"Afternoon, ma'am.
I have a special delivery for Miss Jessica Winslow?"

"I'm Jessica Winslow," she said, her anger with John vanishing instantly. The flowers had to be from him. No one else had a reason to send her flowers. She didn't know when he'd ordered them—or why—but his thoughtfulness was touching.

"You'll need to sign for them," the driver said, getting out of the van. He opened the side panel of his truck, reached in and pulled out a clipboard. After checking the list, he held it out to her, indicating which line required her signature. "Right there," he said, holding out a pen.

She took the clipboard and signed her name while he returned to the van for her flowers. When she was finished, she walked the clipboard over and stood waiting.

When he turned to take it from her, he was holding an aerosol can in his hand. Bewildered, Jess could only stare as he depressed the nozzle and a fine mist hit her in the face.

Immediately, her eyes began to sting and tears welled up, blinding her so badly she couldn't see. Everything took on the perception of the surreal, and she couldn't tell if hands were actually grabbing her or she was imagining it.

Then her world tilted off kilter.

A humming noise started in her head, getting increasingly louder, almost blocking out the sound of the van's side panel sliding back. She didn't know if she blacked out, but the next thing she knew, she was lying on the cold hard metal of the van's floor, listening to the faint crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

Then her mind completely fogged over and she sank into icy black oblivion.