Not Even for Love(47)
Finally his patience was rewarded and they fell free of the gossamer fetter. Only then did he unclasp the garment and remove it completely.
Jordan had remained motionless, watching his face and the tender expressions so apparent on it. It gave her a heady, victorious feeling to know that she could evoke such emotion from him. Had he asked her to, she would have torn the bra from her body. But she knew, as did he, that this way was better.
Just as a connoisseur glories in the properties of the wine, studies its color, its bouquet, twirls it in his glass, before taking the first sip, so had Reeves treasured her before availing himself of her body.
His eyes wandered over her, taking in the creamy texture of her skin, the delicate color of the crests, the gentle curves that flagrantly declared her femininity. Then his hands joined his eyes in that most pleasant expedition.
“You’re beautifully made,” he said gruffly. The dark russet hair tickled her skin as he dipped his head and kissed her breasts, each in turn, lingeringly, slowly.
They had all night.
In silent agreement they backed away from each other. He rid himself of the rest of his clothes. She shyly stepped out of her jeans, but left on the wispy protection of sheer panties.
When they were lying on one half of the blanket, covered by the other half, he pulled her to him. His heavy leg rested on hers, moving hypnotically.
She caught the sides of his head in eager hands and drew him down to her lips. His tongue plunged deep into her mouth. She grew dizzy under its avid searching and clasped his shoulders to keep from falling into the sublime abyss that lured her so seductively.
“I’ve got to have you, Jordan.” His words were barely audible as his mouth left hers to plant kisses across her chest. Her breasts were gently ravaged. Twin buds of desire rose up to meet the wet heat of his mouth. He gave as much as he took. His tongue and lips blessed her with the honey of his mouth.
“Don’t stop,” she begged when he moved his lips away from her tingling breasts. But the request went unheeded as his mouth trailed over her stomach and past her navel. “Reeves…!” she gasped when she felt that urgent sweetness tugging on her skin in places that had never known a kiss before.
Her panties were dragged down her hips and legs until she was free of them. Still kissing her, his hand slipped between the slender columns of her thighs and touched her where she most longed to know him.
His fingers commenced a gentle exploration that began as a mere fluttering but became a stroking search that knew no bounds.
“Sweet… you feel… Look at me, Jordan, please… look at me while I touch you… Precious…”
She obeyed every command and heedlessly raced toward the culmination his hands and mouth promised.
“Say you want me,” he pleaded. His fingers bespoke an entreaty all their own.
“I do,” she moaned.
“Say it, Jordan. Tell me.”
He covered her with his own body and she felt the hard, throbbing evidence of his desire against the insides of her thighs. “I want you, Reeves.” She shuddered at his tentative probing. “Please.”
Then he was inside her, strong and massive, filling her completely, eliminating a void, giving her all of himself.
He buried his face in the fragrant cloud of her black hair and whispered endearments, accolades. Her hands locked behind his back.
His head, lying next to hers, turned until he was looking at her and he said, “Don’t move for a while. Just surround me….You can’t know how good it feels.”
“Explain it to me.”
And he did, in a language that their bodies understood long before their minds could grasp its import.
CHAPTER 9
What do you want to be when you grow up?”
She laughed and snuggled closer to him, if that were possible, and settled her lips at the base of his throat. “Don’t you think I’m grown up already?” she purred as she nibbled at his neck.
“You’ve grown up in all the right places.” His hands admired those places.
Temporarily their passion had been slaked. They were cuddled together under the single blanket. The floor was hard underneath them, but neither noticed. Jordan’s backpack, emptied of its contents and wrapped in Reeves’s sweater, served as their pillow. The logs in the stove, well seasoned, crackled and hissed cheerfully. The golden reflection of the flames danced on the dark walls.
His fingers traced her spine. “Do you intend to stay in that newsstand for the rest of your life?”
“I can’t. I was fired.”
The fingers stilled. “Fired? When? Why?”
She laughed softly. “Yes, to the first question. This morning to the second. Because my boss saw the story about my engagement to Helmut and assumed that I wouldn’t be needing my job anymore to the third. The boss’s daughter inherited my position before my corpse was cold,” she said lightly.