that would have to come.
Down to the basics of it.
God, yes, he wanted her.
And she might not want him later.
He rose above her, finding her lips, kissing her, whispering just above them.
“Wanted? Did you say that you
He watched her lips. Watched their fullness, the sensuality, watched the smile that curved them. “Wanted… want,” she promised breathlessly.
“Want?”
“Want.”
Odd, the things a man remembered about a woman. There was laughter, yes. A smile, a look, a touch. Her scent had lived with him. Unique. Both subtle and distinctive. She used a very softly scented soap, and it was a part of the mixture. She smelled of the freshness of a sea breeze. Somehow she was sweet, somehow musky, always evocative. He loved to bury himself against her, against that scent, against her flesh. Taste her, feel her, breathe her. Know her. Touch, stroke, intimately invade. Feel her response, the quickening of her breath, the undulation of her body, beginning within, touching him, rousing him. There were moments in life to hold fast, to savor….
Lips, breasts. The red thatch, as sensual as the woman. What lay within it. Touch, play, feel the warmth, caress. Find each tiny spot of absolute sensitivity. Watch her face. Feel her move. Caress anew with fingers, lips, tongue…feel the fever grow until it was unbearable, until there was nothing left but to sink within her, deeper. Nothing left but to drown within her, to feel the all-encompassing warmth, the agony and the ecstasy, the hunger that escalated, the urgency, the bursting, imploding, exploding, sleek, wet, searing, inhaling, exhaling, the tension, straining…and all the while, her.
The scent, the feel, the touch. The length of her limbs, the silk of her flesh, dampened, glistening with sweat. The sound of her whispers, gasps, moans.
He braced himself as the sudden bursting thrust of his climax seized him, slamming deeply inside of her. Once, again, again. A soft, gentle warmth spilled over him after the violence as the warmth of his own seed filled her.
And Samantha…
He held her against him, realizing that he hadn’t closed his eyes for a full second throughout. He’d watched her face. Watched the dark flame of her hair, fanning out, tangling on the pillow.
He’d watched her eyes as they glazed, narrowed, closed. Watched her mouth, her breathing, her breasts. The sheen upon her body.
He fell to her side at last, staring at the ceiling. Then he pulled her against him, kissing the top of her head, feeling the soft brush of her hair against his chin.
She raised her head, meeting his eyes. “Who are you working for, Adam?” she demanded.
He tensed, trying to keep her from realizing that he had done so.
“Well, hell, I must be losing my touch. Great sex, but no whispers or sighs or even a warm silence. Just a ‘Who are you working for, Adam?”’
“If I recall correctly, once I was naked and vulnerable and drifting in a nice little niche of pleasure, you were quick to ask me if I’d shared my sex life with another man.”
“I was never so blunt.”
“Damned close. So who are you working for?” Sam demanded.
“Always a question from you. You think I should answer you, but you never give me any answers. I don’t recall you ever answering me about your relationship with Hank Jennings. Am I here in his place?”
She smiled wryly. “Whoa. Testy question.”
“What’s the answer?”
“I loved Hank.”
He started to roll away from her.
“Like a brother.”
He paused, his back to her. “What did you say?” he demanded huskily.
“I considered Hank to be one of the finest men I had ever met. He was caring, concerned, intelligent. Loyal, gentle, kind. Who are you working for, Adam?”
“You loved him like a brother. Now, I hope that means you didn’t sleep with him.”
“Who are you working for, Adam?”
“You’re answering a question with another question again, Sam.”
“I know. What did you find in the water the other day?”
“You are annoyingly persistent.”
“It’s my island, remember?”
“Your bedroom,” he said agreeably.
“Adam…”
She suddenly found herself drawn into his arms. His eyes, glittering silver with intensity, searched hers. “I promise I’ll tell you soon.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“But you don’t give me any answers, either.”
“Maybe we don’t trust each other enough yet.”
“I do trust you, I just…Do me a favor.”
“What?” Sam asked cautiously.
“Pretend that the world is perfect. Just for a few more minutes.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, Samantha.”
“What?” she whispered.
“I love you. I know the world isn’t perfect. It’s gone straight to hell around here, and we don’t know what’s going on. I think that secrets may start opening up like a summer shower, and I want to hold on to something very special between us right now. Something unique, something you don’t get many opportunities to touch, to feel, in a lifetime. Years ago I fell in love with a wild red-haired siren with a temper to match. I had too much pride to insist that you listen to me, that you love me back. I broke it off with Becky when I left here and I admit, I kept trying to fall in love with other people after that. Even when I came here, I told myself that I wasn’t going to want you, wasn’t going to touch you. I was determined to keep my dick in my dive suit, my mind on my own business. The concept of not touching you went out the window the minute I saw you. Time and distance can change everything. I shouldn’t even have known you anymore. But I touched you, and I love you. And it seems we’ve still got a long hard road ahead of us, so right now, I’d appreciate it very much if you would love the hell out of me for just a few more minutes.”
For long seconds Sam just stared at him. In a thousand years, she never would have expected such a declaration.
“Sam?”
She didn’t answer him. Instead she pulled his head down and kissed him.
And kissed him.
And forgot all about cocktail hour completely.
It was time to see Sam. No help for it. He had to pay a visit to Sam.
He could take no more chances.
He’d learned a few lessons.
He carried a Smith & Wesson thirty-two calibre thrust in the shoulder holster beneath his dark jacket.
An unfortunate necessity, he thought grimly.
Just as the shadows and the night were necessary.
He waited for darkness to fall, then walked quickly and silently across the island. He stuck to the shadows and the bushes as he approached her cottage, and he kept a determined eye out.
He saw no one.
