"Brat, no man is ever too exhausted." He took her hand and slowly lifted it to his lips. "I wouldn't pass up a night with you even if I were bleeding and had my guts spewing onto the floor."
Nicola rolled her eyes. "I'm quite swept away by your poetic words. Have I mentioned that I find you exceptionally romantic?"
He grinned at her sarcasm. "Perhaps my actions will please you more than my words."
He drew her close and proceeded to show her just how much he ached for her. He was determined to give her an unforgettable night. While there was much to be said for fast and frenzied, he wanted their coupling to be a slow, building pleasure. He took his time removing her camisole, his hands exploring and lingering on her body, his fingers caressing her skin and leaving a trail of heat wherever he touched her. She gave a soft, moaning shudder when he slipped the camisole off her shoulders and carried her to bed.
NICOLA WASN'T USED to being naked in John's arms or used to being a temptress. When John's gaze turned hot and smoldering, she buried her head against his shoulder and gave an embarrassed laugh.
He smiled as he set her down on the bed and smoothed her unbound hair off her face. Then his smile faded and he bent to kiss her with a hungry longing that reached deep within her heart. His kiss was magical, its gentle power stirring her senses so that she was aware of his every moment, the heat of his touch, the granite strength of his arms as he took her into his embrace.
He smelled of lavender, for that was the only soap they had been provided for the bath, but on him the scent was manly and rugged as it mixed with the saltiness of his skin.
He kissed her again, hot and exciting, so that every pulse in her body was thrumming and her heart was beating and leaping with rampant abandon.
When he settled his taut, muscled body over her, she practically mauled him with her frantic need. But he was intent on prolonging her pleasurable agony, so she closed her eyes and relaxed her body, allowing herself to take in every sensation that he was purposely arousing in her.
She loved the way he took his time exploring her body with his lips and hands, loved the wicked slide of his tongue along her most sensitive spots, so that by the time he entered her, she was slick and ready for him. Mother in heaven! She was so ready.
His thrusts carried her on a swirling tide of passion, her own hot, pounding need building ever higher, until she felt herself on the precipice. "John … John." She repeated his name with a desperate urgency. "John."
I love you.
He was a big man and strong, his powerful grip and granite arms able to crush anything or anyone who got in his way. And yet, he held her so lovingly that she wanted to cry. This was a man who'd suffered torment for most of his life. That he found peace with her, that he needed her and wanted her, was a gift she'd always cherish.
Perhaps he knew it.
She'd made no secret of loving him.
But with each kiss, with each caress, he was telling her that he'd chosen her, too. That he wanted her.
That he loved her?
He would tell her one day, and she'd accept his words with joy. But she did not need him to confess the words right now. They were both in the throes of passion, both reaching heights of ecstasy they were helpless to deny. They fell off the precipice together, reaching that hot moment of release at the same time, now both of them wild and moaning and clinging to each other as though they never wanted to let go.
After a long moment, John rolled off her and laughingly took her into his embrace. Her auburn curls were a tumbling, riotous mess and fell over her shoulders to rest upon his chest, but he did not seem to mind. "What's so funny?" she asked, smiling at him. "I suppose we did sound like a pair of wild boars just now, grunting and howling."
"Boars grunt. They don't howl." He laughed lightly again. "But you were howling. Squealing. Moaning. Sighing. I'm sure I heard a kittenish purr in there, too."
"Don't make fun of me, you beast."
His gaze turned affectionate. "Wouldn't dream of it, brat."
"Did you enjoy … what we did?"
"Hell, yes. I suppose I shouldn't admit this to you, but you've been in my dreams for quite a while now. Hot, wild dreams."
She rested her chin on his chest and stared at him wide-eyed. "Really? And?"
He cast her a wickedly seductive grin. "This was better than my wildest fantasies."
"Better? I'm glad." She kissed him and shot back an impertinent smile. "But do go on. I want to hear more."
"About how enchanting you are? Very well." He caressed her cheek and suddenly turned serious. "I never believed I could be happy until I had my revenge against the man who killed my parents. I had been living in a soulless abyss of my own making for too many years. But I'm with you now, about to marry you-"
"For the second time, I might add."
He nodded. "For the second time. I'd marry you a hundred times, brat."
Her heart fluttered. "Oh, John. That's a lovely thing to say."
"I mean it. For the first time, I understand why the missions I was assigned were given only to unmarried agents of the Crown. We were loners, cared for no one and were not distracted by the dangers we faced. If a mission turned sour and we were killed, we'd leave behind no widows or fatherless children. No one who cared."
Nicola found it hard to catch her breath. "John, I've always cared. You were never alone. I would have … I think I would have moved heaven and earth to save you."
"I know." He ran his hand lovingly through her tumble of hair. "Sometimes, the thought of you was all that kept me going."
Nicola held her breath, hardly daring to let it out now. John was confiding in her, allowing her into his thoughts and into his heart. Was he saying that he loved her? That he'd been in love with her all this time?
He sighed. "We're not out of danger yet, but I want you to know that you're not just an obligation to me. You're not a duty I owe to my best friend. You're the best thing that's come into my life and I'm so sorry that I almost let you slip away. Deeply sorry. It's my fault we're in this mess with Somersby. I should have said something to you and never did."
This was probably the time for her to say something sweet and soothing, but nothing like that came to mind. "Well, look on the bright side. We have a deranged villain after us because we've found the proof to collapse his evil empire and make England safe again. So there's that. It'll be a wonderful story to tell our grandchildren."
He rolled her under him and kissed her soundly on the lips. "I love you, brat."
Fireworks exploded and Nicola was certain she'd just heard a chorus of angels sing. All these days on the run, unwashed, usually hungry, and always in fear of their lives, suddenly seemed insignificant.
She no longer minded that he called her brat instead of something more affectionate. Sweetheart. My love. Darling. All these years he'd been calling her brat, he'd really been saying I love you.
"I love you too, John."
CHAPTER 16
JOHN DREW NICOLA closer so that they were hot, damp skin to hot, damp skin. Hip to hip. The weight of his chest lightly crushed to her soft bosom. They were still entwined so that he felt the male part of him stir whenever Nicola rubbed her long, silky legs against him there. Lord have mercy! Did he have no control over himself when it came to this luscious girl?
She cast him a devilish smirk as she purposely rubbed her thigh against his throbbing member. "There's life in you yet."
He kissed her impudent mouth. "Lord, you're a demanding brat." She was also a beautifully irresistible mix of innocent and wanton. "Shall I make you howl with pleasure again? I'm sure your moans and breathless cries were heard as far as London." He propped himself on one elbow, feeling quite smug and proud of himself, but also overwhelmed by the intensity of feeling she evoked in him.
The girl of his dreams.
She buried her face in his shoulder. "Don't tell me that! Was I truly that loud?"
He stroked her curls, slowly running his fingers through her thick mane of hair. "I'm teasing you, brat. Although my ears are still ringing from your shouts of ecstasy."
He was jesting, but the rapid knocking at their door quickly stilled his laughter and put his hunter-predator instincts on alert. In the blink of an eye, he was off their bed, knife in hand, and poised at the door, ready to subdue anyone who attempted to enter. "It's Edgeware," a muffled voice called softly from the other side.
John muttered an oath as he eased his stance and lowered his weapon. He glanced at Nicola, who was naked in their bed and staring at him in wide-eyed horror. She'd drawn the coverlet up around her body, but he wasn't about to open the door and casually allow his friend in.