The Forever Dream (8 page)

A troubled frown creased her brow. He was doing it again. "Ryker," she said, a note of impatience in her slurred voice. "You're Ryker." She hoped that would satisfy him, for she was suddenly tired of dream images who talked and explained things she couldn't be bothered to think about. Her body was burning up, her hips shifting restlessly on the counterpane. He had promised to help her. Why wasn't he doing it? "Help me, Ryker," she whispered.

"I will, Tania," he murmured. "I will, love." His lips closed on hers with a gentleness that caused her to give a little whimper of pleasure. So sweet, so warm. His tongue was warm, too, as it pushed past her lips to explore the moist darkness of her mouth. He took his time, exploring every cranny and nook, running his tongue over her teeth and the warm smooth wall of her mouth before enticing her tongue to play the most erotic of games with his own.

When he lifted his head, she could feel his warm breath caressing her lips as he murmured, "You taste honey-sweet. I want more of you." His lips dipped down once again, this time catching her tongue in his mouth and using gentle suction and delicately nibbling with his teeth in a kiss so erotically intimate that she groaned. Her hands slid over the steel smoothness of his shoulders in a feverish search before curving about his neck and burying themselves in the thick crispness of the hair at the nape of his neck. His mouth still on hers, he reached out with careful gentleness and slowly slid the satin sheet down to her waist.

She caught her breath as the silky material caressed her nipples, which were already peaked and distended. His lips released her tongue, and he drew a deep, ragged breath. His gaze traveled slowly down her throat and shoulders to the fullness of her breasts, with their flowering pink crests. "Poor baby, they're very sensitive now, aren't they?" he asked hoarsely. "I'll be careful not to hurt you."

His head bent, and his tongue suddenly darted out to stroke a puckered nipple. She gasped, her hands clutching at his hair as a hot shudder shook her. Then his tongue was gently licking the entire surface of her breast in light, teasing strokes. She was breathing in broken little gasps as the swirls of sensation rushed over her. His teeth nibbled gently at the other nipple. He raised his head. "You liked that? God, so did I! That first night at the theater when you were taking your bows, your breasts were moving in the same little gasps beneath that scarlet chiffon. There was a bead of moisture in this pretty little hollow. It nearly killed me not to bend down and lick it away."

His tongue buried itself between her breasts while his hands tenderly cupped their fullness. Then he began a slow rhythmic contraction and release, his long, strong hands dark and virile against the pale skin of her breasts. It was a sensation so incredibly voluptuous that she felt an explosive knot gathering in intensity in the apex of her thighs. Then his lips and teeth were toying with her nipple while the erotic massage accelerated in lightning, quantum leaps.

"Ryker." She could barely breathe, her head moving back and forth on the pillow with feverish restlessness. "Ryker, I nee—"

"I know," he murmured. "I know, Tania. Let it come, just let it come, pretty Piper."

And it did come. It exploded within her like a heat-guided missile, her body convulsing against him in the force of that release. She was vaguely conscious of his hands leaving her breasts to curve around her and draw her securely into his arms. His fingers moved in soothing circles on her naked back as he held her in an embrace as warmly comforting as a fire in the winter. "Better?" His lips brushed the pulse in her temple softly. She could feel the tension drain out of her as she collapsed against him, her breathing as shallow as if she'd just run a marathon.

One palm was cupping the back of her head, while he rocked her like a beloved child. "You'll feel fine for a few minutes now," he said thickly. "Then it will start to build again." His lips brushed the lobe of her ear. "Don't worry, love, we'll take it step by step."

Why should she worry? she wondered. She had never felt so full and safe and secure in her entire life as she did in the arms of this stranger. No, that wasn't right. Fantasy figures couldn't be strangers when they were created from your own imagination, could they? Ryker could be anything she wanted him to be, do anything she wanted him to do. But at the moment the dream sequence was proceeding with such complete satisfaction that she was content to drift along in its wake.

"Sit up, love. I want to look at you." He was pushing her away, and then the satin sheet was flipped aside and he was pulling her to her knees on the bed. She felt a wave of sudden dizziness, and she sank back on her heels. Then it was gone. She looked up to see the quick concern on Ryker's face. "Okay?"

She smiled and nodded, blissfully content. Somehow that instant of protective concern had caused a heart-catching swell of emotion deep inside her, and his smoldering gaze as it ran lingeringly over each curve and shadow of her body brought that feeling to a radiant maturity.

"Beautiful," he said huskily, his hand running over the curve of her hip with utmost care, as if she were infinitely fragile and would shatter at the slightest pressure. "So tiny and delicate, yet I can feel the supple strength of you under my hands. I knew you'd look like this." His hand moved across the softness of her belly to rub gently against the springy dark down. "Such a lovely soft nest. Do you know how often I've thought about how it would feel against me?" His eyes were hooded, a flush mantling the golden darkness of his face. "Come here."

She edged closer to him on the bed and suddenly he was parting her legs and lifting her into his lap so that she was facing him. She gave a little shocked gasp when she felt the aroused length of him pressing against the intimate heart of her womanhood, and it was echoed by Ryker's guttural groan as he crushed her to him with a force that robbed her of breath. "Sit very still, love," he

gasped, and she could feel his heart pounding as if it were about to break through the wall of his chest. "Don't even breathe. I think, in this case, realization of this particular fantasy wasn't such a good idea." Then, as if unable to resist the temptation, his hips moved in an indulating movement against her. "But Lord, it's fantastic."

Fantastic? That was an understatement, she thought feverishly. She felt as if a hot liquid was rushing through every part of her, and her lungs were laboring so hard that it came close to actual pain. She felt him stiffen against her and the muscles of his thighs and buttocks lock with the effort he was making at control. His breath was coming in rough gasps, and she could feel the dew of perspiration beneath her hands, on his shoulders.

"No!" The word was almost an explosion. Then he was lifting her off his lap and onto the bed. He backed away from her hurriedly. "Not now. Not this time." He was sucking air into his lungs as if he were starved for it. "Though so help me God, I may be elevated to sainthood if I make it through this."

She was staring at him in bewilderment. Why had he pushed her away just when she was coming so close to the rapture he'd shown her before? She didn't like Ryker's expression: The tenderness and vulnerability were now completely gone—and she wanted them back.

"Don't look at me like that, damn it," he bit out tersely. His eyes were harried as he ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. "You don't even know what's happening. Hell, you probably don't even know who I am.

The man seemed to be obsessed with that idea, she thought crossly. She knew very well who he was. In fact, at this moment she felt as if she knew him better than she'd ever known anyone before in her life. "I do know you," she said indignandy. "I told you." Her fingers

touched his lips. "You're Jared Ryker." Her fingers wandered down to test the pounding of his heart. It leaped with a very satisfying response. She chuckled. Then, feeling extraordinarily mischievous, she let her hand swoop down to curve around his tumescence. An expression of shock accompanied the little jerk he gave in her small hand, and her dark eyes danced. "Ryker," she said triumphantly.

"I think the sedation must be wearing off a little," he said, making a wry face. "Which may present an entirely new batch of problems." He gently pried her hand away. "God, how I love to hear you laugh." Two fingers traced the smile that still lingered on her lips. "I'm happy as hell that part of you is back with me, at least."

What was he talking about? He was speaking as if she were in never-never land, when she felt more alive now than she ever had in her life. Perhaps too alive, she thought dizzily as a wave of molten heat assaulted her senses. Her throat felt suddenly dry, and she shook her head as if to clear it. "I fee—"

He drew her into his arms. "I know," he said, his tone gentle despite the thread of desperation running through it. "God, I hope you can go to sleep after this. I'm not used to this particular kind of torture, love." He bent her backward, so that she was once more reclining against the pillows. His voice was a velvet growl. "Come along, little Piper. Let's see you dance to the music of my flute."

He was beside her on the satin sheet, his lips covering hers with a passionate urgency that caused her instantly to open to him. At first with yearning submission and then more active aggression, her tongue was suddenly exploring his mouth and finding it as exciting as he had found hers. Moist warmth, the clean smoothness of his teeth, and that lovely skilled tongue that promptly

engaged the invader in a sensual minuet caused her to arch against him with a little breathless moan.

He lifted his head, and a teasing smile lit his face. "Oh, no," he said huskily. "Much as I'd like to linger awhile, I have other gardens to explore. I want to know all of you, Tania Orlinov."

Then his lips were moving over her taut midriff and down to the softness of her belly. The breath seemed to rush out of her body as she felt the warm moistness of his tongue stroke delicately at her navel while his hands moved in a rhythmic massage over the silky skin just below. He gently spread her thighs, one leg coming between her own. The fine hairs that coated his hard, muscular leg felt deliciously abrasive against the softness of her inner thighs, but the position was so submissive, so vulnerable, that she instinctively tried to close them against him.

His eyes were half shut, their glitter almost molten, as he lifted his head to gaze down at her. "Don't close me out, love." His fingers started a rhythmic stroking that sent a soaring response to every nerve in her body. Her hands reached out blindly to close on his shoulders.

She could hear his harsh, labored breath above her, but she was so lost in the haze of desire he was weaving about her that she was scarcely conscious of anything but the feeling within her. "Lord, it's almost worth it just to watch you and know that I can make you respond like this." His fingers suddenly rotated with a skill that caused her to jerk against him. His voice was oddly husky. "You're so damn beautiful." Then the broad hard line of his cheek was against the softness of her belly and he was rubbing it back and forth with slow, sensual pleasure. "So soft and sweet." His tongue darted out to stroke lazily. "You taste like all the good things on the face of the earth." His hands slowly curved around to cup her buttocks in the strong warmth of his hands. "Do the flowers in your garden taste as luscious, little Piper?" Then his hands were lifting her and he was discovering for himself.

She couldn't believe it. No sensation could be that intense. His tongue and lips worked with heated skill, until she was clutching at the dark silkiness of his head in an agony of need. Her body was being honed to a feverish pitch of hunger, and her reaction was so extreme that it was inevitable that that hunger would have to reach satiation swiftly. This time when the explosion of feeling came she was expecting it, but it didn't alter the fantastic delight she experienced in its aftermath.

She was vaguely conscious of Ryker moving, shifting to lie beside her on the bed. When he pulled her in his arms and settled her head in the hollow of his shoulder, it seemed so perfectly right and natural that she cuddled as contentedly close as if she had done it every night of her life. She was suddenly so weary that every muscle of her body felt leaden, and she was conscious of a lassitude that was blurring her senses and causing her mind to reject all thought.

She was in a state of languor so profound that it came as a little shock to realize the man holding her was far from being so relaxed. She gradually became aware that the arms holding her were coiled with tension and his heart was pounding beneath her ear. Her head moved uneasily on his shoulder, her dark braid splaying over his hair-roughened chest like a caressing hand. His breath constricted in his lungs, and she felt his heart give a little jerk. Even through the veil of exhaustion that was rapidly enveloping her, the knowledge that the man who now seemed an intimate extension of herself was not equally content filled her with a nagging sense of unhappiness. Then her lips curved in a relieved smile as she realized just how ridiculous she was being. None of this was real. Soon she would wake up and shake her head ruefully at the vividness of her fantasy.

"I'm glad one of us is happy," he muttered. His lips traced the winged darkness of her brow in a fairylike caress. "Go to sleep, pixie. I don't think I can take much more without going crazy." He reached for her hand and pressed it against his breast so that she could feel the leaping cadence of his heart. "Do you feel that? It's for you, love." He carried her hand to the muscles of his belly, which were painfully knotted. "And that's for you too." His voice was a soft velvet murmur in her ear.

He lifted the hand to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss on the delicate veins at her wrist. "When you wake up in a fury and start hating my guts, remember that, little Piper. I was the one who was used, not you. I took nothing from you but the knowledge of that lovely body and gave you comfort and pleasure in return." He released a long, shaky breath. "God, I hope you remember that."

But memory as well as consciousness vanished as her eyes closed and she fell peacefully asleep.