Forever My Love(135)

Mira, who had been elbowed, kicked, and tossed for hours as a result of his bad night, lifted her head and regarded him exasperatedly. "You'll be cooler if you try to keep still," she said.

"I'll be cooler if you'll stop pulling the damned sheet up!" he snapped.

"A nightmare about Holt?" she asked, ignoring his bad temper, and he sighed heavily, dropping back against the pillows.

"Partly."

Since he had no desire to talk about the dream, she repositioned herself on her side of the bed and drifted back to sleep. Several minutes later, she was again awakened by his restless tossing. Yawning and grum­bling to herself, she crawled over to him. At the sight of the small indentation of worry that had worked itself between his brows, her irritation fled. She brushed his tousled black hair away from his forehead in a soothing motion, waking him up with a whisper.His spiky lashes lifted. "What?" he murmured.

"You were moving around again."

"I'm sorry," he said wearily, closing his eyes again. The apology was her undoing.

"Here, move to the middle of the bed. The sheets are cooler."

"There's nothing you can do to—"

"And let me rearrange the pillows. Better?"

"A little," he admitted ungraciously, the aggravated male in him placated by her soothing. She smiled as he settled his back more deeply into the mattress.

"You should try to stop thinking about it for a little while," she said softly, and he made a sarcastic sound, turning his face into the pillow.

"It's not that easy."

Leaning over him, Mira touched his lips lightly with her own. Her mouth was cool and sweet, and the tender, patient feel of it robbed him of his former annoyance. She brushed each corner of his lips with the tip of her tongue, then, delved further inside his mouth to savor the warm, intoxicating taste of him. Alec's head shifted on the pillow, his mouth turning up to hers with growing interest. Her hands trailed across his chest, then traveled down to his flat midriff, and her fingertips drew across the muscle-strapped flesh. "It's very easy," she whispered, kissing the strong clean-cut line of his jaw, breathing in the fresh sandal-wood scent of his skin. "Just turn all of your thoughts to me…" As she moved closer to him, the soft peak of her breast grazed his side, and Alec caught his breath sharply. Grasping her elbows, he hauled her halfway across his chest and pulled her head down to his. She gave him a deep kiss, and every sane thought, every question and problem that had been plaguing Alec the entire night disappeared in a single moment. The locks of her hair trailed like flossy fire over his body as her small, sensitive hands swept over him. Though he urged and murmured to her impatiently,she took her time. The cool touch of her fingers drifted to his manhood, encircling leisurely, and Alec bit his lip as she aroused him to forceful readiness. Mira's lashes lowered as she felt the driving power of him under her palm. She wanted nothing more than to have him inside her, but somehow she managed to resist his efforts to pull her on top of him. Like a butterfly playing with a swiping cat, Mira eluded his grip and continued to torment him with light caresses. The stillness of the night was broken by their harsh gasps, and the pleasure was prolonged until finally Mira made no demur as his hands grasped her hips and urged them over his loins. Her head fell back weakly as she felt the thick, hot sliding of him in her body, as he drove into her with heavy, grinding strokes. She was soaring too high to breathe, paralyzed in a hurtling flight, her mind going black in those few seconds of rapture.

Gradually her limbs unclenched, and she recovered her thoughts slowly, moving off him and collapsing against his side with an exhausted sigh. Alec did not stir. Peering at his face in the dimness, she saw that he was already asleep, deeply asleep in a state that ri­valed unconsciousness. One arm was outflung, the fingers slightly curled in complete relaxation. There would be no more tossing and turning tonight. She smiled slightly and snuggled against his still form.

"And yet another den of iniquity—is this our forty-second or forty-third?" Carr grumbled, his green eyes sullen as the hackney ambled along the small dilapi­dated streets. "Damn, but I'm getting tired of this. For the past few days we've been in nearly every flash s house in London, consorting with every type of scum imaginable. I've been buying drinks for murderers andj cutthroats, gambling with professional cheats adj thieves, been mauled by the most ragged whores I've| ever seen—none of whom would be harmed by a goodwashing, I might add—and no sign of Tilter. No one seems to have even heard of the bastard. Do you realize how many of these places we've been to? I've been inside so much that I've forgotten what the sun looks like, and I've inhaled more smoke and foul air than clean—"