Crazy in Chicago (22 page)

He took her hand and rubbed the open palm across his stubbled cheek. Then he kissed her palm. He looked up at her, his eyes dark, beckoning pools. “So we have a truce?”

“Oh, no,” she said, her heart in her throat.

He froze. “No?”

She smiled. “Oh, no. I think I'd call it a rout.”

Gladness flooded his face. Playfully he nipped her hand. “You're a piece of work, you know.”

She grinned. “I try.”

His eyes smoldered. “I'm glad.”

He laced his fingers through both her hands and faced her. “You know I want you. More than I've ever wanted anyone.”

She nodded.

“And you want me.” It was a statement, not a question, a statement echoed in his dark eyes, and in the pounding of her heart.

“Yes.”

His eyes searched hers for one long, lingering moment. Their hands still linked, he leaned forward and kissed her, gently and slowly. Moment by moment, the kiss deepened, in strength and intensity. Excitement whispered through her, gathering in speed and might until her head started to swoon and her body trembled with yearning.

The kiss ended. Glassy eyed, Roberta stared at his wet full lips.”

“You're trembling.”

“Yes.”

“Is that good?”

“Maybe.”

With one finger he tilted her chin upwards. “I told you before I wouldn't hurt you. I meant it. And I don't see any reason why what we start today won't go on for a long, long time. Do you?”

Roberta heard the truth in his voice and saw the sincerity in his eyes, emotions she had refused to see until now. She leant forward to kiss him but he evaded her. “Did any one ever tell you you talk too much?” she demanded.

He grinned. “Not for long. Not when there are so many better things to be doing.”

With one swift motion, he captured her lips, this time in a searing kiss that left no doubt concerning his intentions. He dropped her hands and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close in an embrace that fired her already heated soul. They fell back onto the couch in a tangle of arms and legs.

Hard, lean planes pressed against soft curves while mouth pleasured mouth. His warm breath, his lips, alternately demanding and giving, his heady scent surrounding her and intoxicating her, filled her with the joy of a heartfelt homecoming. Her fingers tangled in his thick, rich hair, bringing his mouth back to hers again and again.

The buttons of her dress seemed to undo of their own accord, until she was naked beneath him but for a thin lace bra and panties. Suddenly his mouth left hers. Bereft, she whimpered, only to gasp again as his lips connected to her breast, sucking and biting at the rosy tip through the thin material. The rough warm texture of his hands cradled her waist, caressing and heating her naked skin to the boiling point, tantalizing her with suggestions of what was to come.

She pulled greedily at his T-shirt, pushing it aside so she could run her fingers through the springy hair of his chest. She couldn't get enough of him, hadn't figured out how she'd stayed away this long, or why she'd ever wanted to resist.

Her lips drank in the salty skin of his neck as he slipped a questing hand between her legs. She shut her eyes, breathing in his warm scent as he discovered and explored her. Again and again he caressed her, building her excitement to fever pitch, until she began to move against him.

With a yank he pulled her dress out from under her. Quickly he divested himself of his shorts and T-shirt. Through heavy-lidded eyes, she surveyed him. He was magnificent, tall and strong and brown and ready to give her the gift of his love. She loved him back with a desperation that filled her with wonder and need.

He held out his hands. She took them and let him pull her to her feet, though she wasn't sure her boneless limbs, weakened with want, would support her. It didn't matter. He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tightly she could feel the searing velvet of his erection pressing against her belly.
 

He took her mouth once more, in an assault that dizzied her senses beyond anything possible. Love and yearning combined with raw, naked hunger to blot out everything but each other and their aching, pressing need. Over and over he possessed her with his hands and his mouth, branding her as his in every way possible. Her bra joined her dress on the floor, followed by her skimpy briefs. Even then, naked body pressed to naked body, she was driven for more, and still more.

Still kissing her, Cody lowered her to the couch. He rained hot kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, then to her breasts and taut nipples, following the path burned by his hands, tormenting her with love and attention until she writhed under him, her breath ragged. His wandering lips trailed kisses along her navel and down her belly. His warm breath whispered over her, then his lips tasted the honey of her most private parts.

She gasped and reached for him. His hands on her hips, his mouth on her thigh, he gazed up at her. “I won't hurt you.”

“But—”

His dark eyes silenced her. Ever so delicately, he returned to his task, teasing and tantalizing her with his lips, tongue and teeth. She twisted and turned under his ministrations.

“Please,” she finally whimpered. “I can't—stop.”

Swiftly he rose, his mouth claiming hers once more. At the same moment he thrust inside her. She gasped once more, then raked his back with her fingers. With each thrust she rose to meet him, riding wave after wave of ecstasy, each one higher than the one before. Finally she hit the crest, followed seconds later by Cody.

 
In the wonderul afterglow of love, she hugged him to her. He felt good and solid in her arms, as good and solid as the love and trust in him that had finally lodged in her heart.

Through a haze of happiness, she heard and felt his heartbeat, as steady and reassuring against her chest as the burning love she had seen in his eyes.

She murmured contentedly, and hugged him closer still.

She didn't plan to ever let him go.

* * *

Roberta drifted from sleep, aware of a pleasant warmth building in her nether regions. Murmuring, she snuggled deeper into the soft leather cushions, then arched her back.

Her eyes fluttered open as she felt the warm, hard hand firmly cupping her, then pressing against her in slow, circular motions. She opened her eyes wide.

Cody gazed down at her, a smile of such fondness playing around his mouth that her heart leapt into her throat. The muscles of his naked upper body glistened in the moonlight streaming through the sliding doors as he caressed her in the most intimate of ways. His raven eyes fondled her even more intimately, burning through the dim light into her soul, speaking of all they had shared and all they would share.

Thrilled by the promise she read in his eyes, Roberta smiled. “I thought you'd be asleep by now.”

“Asleep?” Slowly Cody parted her lower lips and found the tiny bud that had given her so much pleasure earlier. She gasped; he smiled. “Why would I want to sleep when I could be making love to you?”

“I . . . uh,” she gasped again, unable to shut out the waves of pleasure overwhelming her. “You're tired. You need to sleep.”

His fingers slipped inside her. “Not as much as I need you. Now. All night long. I want you to know, without a doubt, that you've been loved. By me.”

He leaned forward and covered her mouth with his, while his hand teased and provoked her until she writhed and tried to escape.

When he lowered his head to her breast, she raked her fingers through his dark damp hair. “But you need to work tomorrow,” she persisted.

He rested his chin between her breasts and smiled at her. “It's not midnight yet. I haven't managed to get to sleep before two a.m. for weeks now. Unless you need sleep.”

Roberta shut her eyes. “Noooo.”

Suddenly she felt a cool liquid between her breasts, dribbling down her abdomen and pooling in her navel.

Her eyes shot open. “What are you doing?”

Cody grinned, a half-full shot glass suspended in his hand. “Having a drink.”

He set down the glass and lowered his head to her breasts again. He cupped each rose-tipped breast, then began to lap the golden liquid up between her breasts. The pressure of his fingers on her breasts, the rough texture of his tongue on her sensitive skin, sent her body temperature zooming. He lapped his way down to her navel, taking his time, finding every drop.

Then he kissed his way back to her parted lips. She pulled him close, digging her fingers into his firm buttocks, wanting to give him everything he'd given her, and more. She moved her hips beneath him, positioning herself to take him deep inside her.

“Don't I get some?” she whispered against his ear after he entered her. He filled her to bursting, just as his love filled her heart to swelling.

“Some what?” He lifted his head and looked down at her.

“Some Scotch?”

“I thought you didn't like Scotch.”

“I'm sure it tastes great on you.”

His answering smile filled her with joy. “There's plenty of time for that.”

He moved within her, his eyes sparkling with love and laughter at her sharp intake of breath.

“Pleny of time for that, and more. Much, much more.”

His lips captured hers once more and she relinquished herself to the rhythms of love.

* * *

 
. . . .he lay on that cold metal table. Blue light blinded him, words he didn't understand filled his ears. No one touched him, nothing restrained him, but he couldn't move. He tried but . . . Cody bolted upright, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with terror. He flung back the sheets and swung his feet to the floor, ready to flee.

Contact with the cold floor halted his flight. He blinked and looked around. Even in the darkness, he recognized the familiar surroundings, the sliding doors to the patio, the dark bulk of his dresser and night tables.

He exhaled long and slow, his fear escaping with the expelled breath. He reached up to push his hair back and was surprised to find it damp, his forehead cold and sweaty. But it had only been a dream, only a dream, he assured himself.

He swung his feet back up and turned over. His breathing cut out and his heart thumped in his chest. Who or what was that beside him? For a split second his mind supplied a hundred terrifying possibilities.

Then the memories came flooding back and he relaxed. It was Roberta. Lying in bed beside him, where he'd wanted her all along. Where he'd imagined her over and over. Where it had taken him so long to get her. And where he hoped to keep her for a long, long time.

The thought took him by surprise. A wave of possessiveness swept over him. Was this what it was like when you truly cared about someone? He didn't know. What he did know was that he'd never felt like this before.

He looked at Roberta again. The dim light from the doors glinted off her blonde curls, and the curve of her bare shoulder. In repose in the shadows, she looked like an angel. His angel.

The tenderness swelling his heart suddenly fled, driven out by a terrifying thought. What exactly was he, Cody, giving her? She came into his arms with her love, her trust, her sweet yet feisty nature, her exquisite body. He came to the bed a tormented soul. Unable to sleep, tormented by nausea and visions of eerie blue lights, all spawned by a disappearance which he couldn't solve but which continued to haunt him.

And the voices. Don't forget the voices. Making love to Roberta, he'd almost managed to blot out the memory of the voice in his head. But not quite.

Now this nightmare, more disturbing than anything he'd dreamt before. For the last three weeks he'd lurched through endless days of weariness, sickness and visions, all punctuated by an uneasiness he could not throw off. Now the torment had invaded even the precious few hours of sleep he'd managed to steal from his waking ordeal.

With a cry of frustration, Cody rolled away from Roberta. He sat up again and dropped his head into his hands. Oh God, am I going nuts? After all this time, am I descending into some pit of relentless mental illness, a pit from which there is no relief? Worse, am I turning into my father?

Cody groaned and rubbed his temples. He turned and looked at Roberta. She looked peaceful and untroubled in sleep. What did someone like her need with someone like him? What if he hurt her, the way his father had hurt him and his mother, and then abandoned them? Even if he didn't revert to his former womanizing behavior, even if he didn't attack her work and her ideas, he was still no prize. Sick, tormented, seeing things awake and asleep, he couldn't offer her what she deserved. A whole man—not some sick shell with a bad reputation.

He didn't want to hurt her. He'd never have drawn her into his arms if he'd thought he'd have to push her away, even for her own good. But if he stayed, if he didn't push her away now, before it was too late, he'd hurt her far more.

He rubbed his cheek. The bittersweet memory of kisses there, and everywhere else, swept through him. He glanced at the digital display on his alarm clock. Four a.m. Too early to wake Roberta up and tell her what needed to be said.