Donovans - Pearl Cove Part 18

She frowned, not understanding.

He lifted his hand, wanting to smooth the lines between her s.h.i.+ny brown eyebrows. Yet he didn't trust himself to touch her in even so casual a way.

And he touched her anyway, tracing the frown lines with a fingertip that was callused and gentle. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull back.

"I was raised," he said quietly, "in a big family with love and shouting matches and laughing and hugs, grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, parents and brothers and sisters, dogs and cats and car pools. Len was raised by an unloving woman who began life as a calculating piece of a.s.s and ended up as a bitter, alcoholic wh.o.r.e."

Hannah listened with complete attention. She had often wondered about Len's childhood. She had learned not to ask. She had learned so many things.

And Archer was teaching her other things now, with the gentleness of his touch despite the blunt woman-hunger that had tightened his whole body.

"When I found Len and told him who I was, he just stared at me," Archer said. He brought up both hands, barely touching Hannah's cheeks, tracing her sleek eyebrows with his thumbs. Her sudden breath brushed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest. He went still for an instant, then resumed the soft not-quite-caress of her eyebrows. "I told him that he was welcome in the Donovan household, that Dad had spent years looking for him."

"What did Len say?"

"Too late, kid. Time only goes one way." She winced. "That sounds like Len."

"I tried to convince him to come home," Archer said, looking at Hannah's eyebrows, her dark chocolate eyelashes, the pink curve of her mouth. "He said he was already there."

"Where was he?"

"In a h.e.l.lhole in Kowloon."

Her mouth thinned. The fever that had killed her pregnancy had begun in Kowloon. It had ended in another country.

And now it all seemed very far away, the world shrinking to one room, one man, the gritty depth of his voice and his eyes watching her as though he had just discovered life.

"I didn't give up," he said. "I'd been looking for Len too long. I couldn't just let him go. He was a blond Viking like Kyle and Justin, with the Donovan smile, his way of looking over his shoulder, even his laugh. I couldn't believe that Len wasn't like the rest of my family."

"Believe it," Hannah said huskily. "He wasn't. At least, for your sake, I hope he wasn't."

"Though he looked like us, Len was different. I know that now. Too late to help you." Archer's fingers trembled on Hannah's face. "Way too late to change the pain. There was something bent or broken or missing or stunted in Len. Part of it was the way he was raised. Part of it was the sum total of all the choices he made when he was old enough to know better. The whys don't matter anymore. What I learned too late does matter."

Hannah watched Archer's eyes change, felt him retreat from her even though he didn't move an inch physically. The emotion beneath his neutral voice made her heart twist. She knew what it was like to bleed silently beneath the careful mask she showed the world.

"Too late," he said, "I learned that Len resented me as much as he liked me. Instead of seeing us as a team, he saw us as locked in some kind of destructive compet.i.tion. He was always playing all the angles to come out on top."

"He wanted to prove that he was the best man around," she said.

For an instant Archer's eyes shut, veiling the shaft of guilt and pain. "Is that what he said?"

"Not in so many words. But he used to taunt me for choosing the wrong man in Rio. If there was a wrong man in Rio, there must have been a right one. You."

Wearily Archer swore beneath his breath and started to step back. The bathroom was too small for him to move. Hannah was too close, her hands over his, holding his palms against her cheeks. Holding him close. He felt as though he was absorbing her through his palms pressed against her skin. Her warmth and softness and strength went through him like a double shot of whiskey, making his blood ignite and his heart speed.

"That was another thing I learned too late," Archer admitted huskily. "Len knew how much I wanted you before I admitted it to myself. You were so young, so vivid, so "

"Stupid," she cut in.

His smile flickered and vanished. He lifted her right hand and kissed the cool center of her palm. "You were innocent.

That's why I couldn't admit I wanted you. So I had a h.e.l.l of a shouting match with Len. I was going to send you to the Donovans. They would have taken care of you."

The feel of Archer's lips against her palm made Hannah lightheaded. "I was nineteen. An adult."

"You were raised with a Stone Age tribe. You weren't ready for the tenth century, much less the twenty-first."

"It wasn't that bad."

"It was worse." Tenderly he bit the pad of flesh at the base of her thumb. The swift breaking of her breath went through him in a shock wave of desire. He hadn't expected her to respond so quickly, so openly. Not after living with Len. "You'd never seen a flush toilet, never seen a sink, never seen a computer, never watched television, never flown in an airplane, never driven a car, never "

"I remember better than you," Hannah interrupted, hearing the huskiness of her own voice, knowing its sultry source, not caring. If she didn't use her newly discovered freedom, it would become just another kind of cage, one filled with regrets and might-have-beens. "Anyway, my parents had a radio phone."

He laughed softly and bit her again with great care. "For emergencies, right?"

She watched his teeth close on her flesh for a third time. Warmth flashed through her with an intensity that made her bones loosen. "Yes," she whispered, though she had forgotten the question. Somehow she was so close to Archer now that she could feel his body heat, breathe in the salt and mystery of his scent, feel the stark reality and lure of his erection brus.h.i.+ng against her with each deep breath.

"Ever use the radio phone?" he asked.

She shook her head, watching his eyes the whole time. If fog could burn, it would look like that, a hot silver glitter. "Technologically," she said, "I was innocent. But in other ways, I wasn't innocent at all. I knew more about life, death, and sheer human endurance than most technological types ever have to learn. I also knew about the other world, the civilized one out there beyond the rain forest, because Mother and Father kept telling me how evil it was, how decadent, how G.o.dless, how driven by greed and malice."

Archer turned Hannah's hand and began to taste each one of her fingers in turn. "Didn't it scare you?"

"The outside world?" she managed, despite the vise of desire squeezing her throat. The velvet rasp and gentle suction of his tongue were a sensual revelation. The contrast between his neutral conversation and elemental s.e.xuality made her dizzy. His control was utterly unexpected. Len would have had her on her back by now, driving toward his own satisfaction.

"Scare me?" Hannah repeated, her voice as raspy-sweet as Archer's tongue. "No. The world beyond the rain forest fascinated me. A place where you could go thousands of miles in a few hours instead of a few miles in days. A place where every book ever written could be conjured up on a screen and read. A place where people looked like me, yearned like me, needed like me."

He tasted her little finger, decided that he liked it best, and tasted it again, deeply, before slowly letting it slide free of his mouth. "What did you need?" he asked finally, looking at her, focusing only on her.

"I..." Her breathing frayed as a s.h.i.+ver trembled through her body. She had never been looked at like that, as if she was the very center of life. "I don't know. But I knew I wouldn't find it in the rain forest."

"Did you find it beyond the rain forest?" She closed her eyes. "I grew up."

"That's not the same thing."

"It has the same result."

"Which is?"

"You stop looking."

When Archer would have asked another question, Hannah put her fingers against his mouth. He kissed them and waited. "Turn around," she said in a low voice. "One of those bruises looked deep enough to need attention."

Slowly he turned his back to her. Again he felt her cool, light fingers smoothing over his skin, probing gently, testing the bruises. He tried not to think how good it would feel to have her hands all over him. Not soothing him. Measuring him. Teasing and arousing, enjoying and demanding.

A decade of remembering her voice, her laughter, and her grace had been bad enough, but this was the most exquisite kind of torture he could imagine. Standing nearly naked, breathing in her cinnamon-and-sun scent, feeling her delicate touch on his skin, thinking what it would be like to pull her arms around him and kiss her until neither one of them could stand up...

He could barely breathe, barely think, only drown in a combination of l.u.s.t and tenderness that was like nothing he had ever felt for a woman. Eyelids half lowered, aching and oddly at peace, he steeped himself in the moment. When her breath washed warmly down his spine, he couldn't prevent a s.h.i.+ver of pure sensual pleasure. She was a dream he had never allowed himself to have, a warmth he had always needed and never known, the essence of everything he yearned for that had no name.

"Does that hurt?" she asked when he s.h.i.+vered again.

"Yes."

Without stopping to think, she bent and brushed her lips over the bruised skin. "I'm sorry. When I asked you to come here and help me, I didn't think you would be hurt. I thought you were too hard to ever be hurt."

Slowly Archer turned around. "Don't be sorry." He eased his ringers into her wet, dark hair and tilted her face up. "It's the best hurt I've ever felt."

Hannah started to ask a question, but the words never formed. His mouth was brus.h.i.+ng hers, his tongue was tracing her lips, and all she could think of was getting closer to him. Whispering his name, she stood on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her mouth in his.

With a thick sound of pleasure, Archer pulled Hannah hard against him and returned the kiss as deeply as she gave it. His teeth nipped at her tongue before his own tangled with it, teasing and tasting her until she had no thought but to get more of him, get it deeper, get it now. What she needed, a kiss couldn't provide, no matter how hot and greedy the mating of mouths. Whimpering, demanding, she moved against him in a haze of hunger.

The bathing suits that seemed so minimal were suddenly intolerable. He stripped her bikini top off, caressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and tugged at the nipples. Helplessly she arched, pinning her hips against him, moving hungrily until the scent of her arousal infused the air. He breathed it in even as he pushed his hand beneath the bikini cloth that barely covered her soft, moist center. When his finger penetrated her, she cried out and silky heat spilled into his hand.

Hannah's reckless response made Archer fight for breath and the self-control that he usually took for granted, the same control that was sliding away even as he reached for it, like her bikini bottom falling to the floor. She was so close, nearly his, caressing him with every glide and clench of her response to him. Unable to stop himself, he probed more deeply, pus.h.i.+ng into the tight, slick satin of her body. Hidden muscles gripped, begged, demanded.

She was more than ready for him. He could take her now, right now, filling her, ending the agony of always wanting what he couldn't have. Yet he knew that she was off balance, frightened despite her courage, emotionally exhausted beneath her s.e.xual hunger. Vulnerable.

And he had come to Australia to protect her.

With the last of his control, Archer pulled his mouth away from Hannah's until there was just enough s.p.a.ce to speak. "If you don't want to finish this, tell me now."

It took a moment for the words to get past her sensual daze.

"I want you."

"You've got me. But I don't run around with a pocket full of condoms, because I'm too old to look at s.e.x as a game. Unless you're protected, we're real close to making a baby right now."

The thought of his own child teething and drooling on his knuckles aroused Archer as much as Hannah's sultry feminine core rubbing against him. His hands contracted on her hips, lifting her against the erection that had outgrown his swimsuit. He fought against the climax pulsing at the base of his spine. He wanted to be inside her when he came. Naked. All the way naked. Naked as his tongue. He had never been like that with a woman in his entire life. He could only guess at how good it would feel.

"I'd like a baby, Hannah, but only if it's what you want, too," Her eyes widened. The thought of having a baby had knocked her breath away, leaving her gasping. "I I'm not I haven't seven years "

Archer wasn't surprised that she had no handy means of birth control. Everything Kyle had discovered suggested that she hadn't taken lovers. That was why she felt so tight when he pushed his finger into her sweet, hot center. So soft and yet so strong, so supple. She could take all of him and they both would know only a blinding pleasure. "Your call," he said huskily.

But he couldn't help probing between her legs once more, tempting her with what she didn't yet have. The hot, helpless rush of her response spilled over his hand. He gritted his teeth against a groan of need. Her hidden flesh clenched rhythmically around his finger. The sultry rain of her pleasure licked over him again, this time kissing the broad, bare head of his erection.

He stopped breathing.

"Hannah?" he said thickly.

"Don't worry " pleasure arced through her, making her rigid, shattering her voice " about a baby. I don't expect Oh, G.o.d, take me."

His thumb moved, two fingers probed deeply, and the tension coiled inside her burst. Shaking, making broken sounds that could have been his name, she clung to him while waves of violent pleasure convulsed her.

Watching her through narrowed eyes, Archer smiled despite the s.e.xual heat that sent sweat sliding down his spine. He wasn't inside her, but he was so close that her climax kissed his p.e.n.i.s with hot, teasing pulses. All that kept him from pus.h.i.+ng her against the wall and taking her was a need he had just discovered. He wanted to see her eyes while he buried himself inside her, to watch them widen and then go hazy with pleasure when she discovered just how good it felt when they were completely locked together.

"Put your legs around my waist."

Hannah hardly recognized the rough voice as Archer's, but she tightened her arms around his neck and drew herself up his body. She couldn't have done it without the strength of his arms supporting her, his big hands lifting and spreading her legs until she could cross her ankles behind his waist. The hard, smooth head of his erection nuzzled against her undefended core. She was entirely open to him, entirely vulnerable....

And she smiled. She had been helpless in his arms before, and he had given her pleasure. Pure, blazing fire.

She wanted more.

Archer was heading for the bedroom until Hannah s.h.i.+fted herself against him, s.h.i.+vered, and hitched herself over him, all the while watching him like a cat that had just discovered cream. The sensation of her slick heat on his aroused flesh made his heart stop.

"That's it," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

"What?"

Her voice was as husky as his. He sank to the floor, never releasing her, never letting the blunt head of his erection move from its lush nest. "I was going to give you a bed."

Cool tile met her sweaty back. "I don't want it."

"Your back "

"Your front," she cut in.

He blinked. "What about it?"

"Mine," she said. Her hands went to his hips and her fingers pushed beneath his swimsuit, fully freeing him. He jerked against her, groaning. In fiery silence she measured him, wondering if it had been so long since Len was capable that she had forgotten what an aroused man was like, or if Archer was simply big. She could hardly wait to feel herself stretching around him, discovering all the other things she had forgotten about s.e.x... and discovering other things she had never known. Like this slow, teasing sensuality. It was completely new to her, completely delicious. "Definitely. Mine."

He gave a crack of laughter even as he shuddered with the pleasure of her hands stroking him, savoring him with frank female approval. "Yours, huh? I don't know how to break this to you, sweetheart, but I come with it."

She fought against a delicious bubble of laughter. "You sure?"

"d.a.m.n sure."

One fingertip circled him like a lazy tongue, spreading the few drops he couldn't hold back. "Then I guess we'll just have o share."

Sweat gathered and ran over Archer's clenched body. He was so close to the edge, closer than he had ever been without giving in. With each heartbeat, the head of his p.e.n.i.s nudged against her sultry core. Each heartbeat told him what he already knew. She was hot, wet, ready.

And the climax was pulsing up the base of his spine.

"Hannah, look at me."

Her half-closed eyes opened wide as he thrust into her, hot and deep and hard. She felt even better than he had expected, so tight he knew he should be afraid of hurting her. But it was much too late for fear. He could no more pull back from her than he could strip off his own skin.

He hooked his arms beneath her legs, lifting them, opening her even more, stretching her around him. Her eyes went dark, then blind with pleasure. Hot ripples licked up from her core, sensual contractions that drew him deeper. The feel of her trembling and tugging at him made him wild. His eyes and mind went blank and he felt nothing but the slow mating of their bodies.

Then he was buried deep within her, fully sheathed. The first pulse of release ripped through him. He tried to hold back, wanting to stop time so that he would always be as he was right now, feeling her climax radiate in delicate convulsions, feeling his own power pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, pleasure consuming him, overpowering him, devouring him.

And then it freed him in a world gone red and black and blind.

Smiling even as she fought for breath, for sanity, Hannah kissed Archer's eyelids, his nose, his lips, his neck beneath the sleek black beard. Her fingers combed over his hair and down his back, then up again, and with every stroke she nuzzled against his beard, licking and nibbling. When he began to get up, she made an unhappy sound and tried to hold him right where he was.

"Even with my weight on my elbows, I'm flattening you," Archer said.

Hannah shook her head. She didn't want him to get up, didn't want the closeness to end and the cold to begin. She had learned with Len that it might be weeks before he came to her again. "You feel wonderful."