Happily Ever After (23 page)

He wanted something he knew he could never have,
but he was willing to take whatever she would give him. She might not be in
love with Penn, but she was still another man’s fiancée. Whatever piece of her
she gifted to him would be gone soon enough. He didn’t feel guilty for taking
his share. Jack wasn’t so honorable a man that he could walk away clean from
the only woman who had ever made his heart beat so hard that it hurt to
breathe... who could make him smile, make him feel like he’d never felt before.

He pulled away to look into her face, wanting to
see her. Her cheeks were flushed with color, her eyes dark golden, dazed with
passion. He could take whatever he wanted of her this moment and she would give
it without protest; he knew that instinctively.

And he desperately wanted to taste her.

He could pleasure her, and satisfy himself ... and
she would remain virtually untouched...

Or he could walk away and wonder for the rest of
his life.

The choice was his, he knew.

He chose to stay.

“Sophia,’ he whispered, and bent to kiss her throat.
Her head lolled to one side, and her scent tempted him beyond reason, aroused
him. His body tightened, hardened. He opened his mouth over her throat and
nipped her gently, and she moaned softly in delirious pleasure. He was filled
with intense satisfaction at the beautiful sound of her passion. “I want you,”
he told her, and meant it fiercely.

A slow burn seeped through him at his baser
thoughts, and he met her gaze, wanting her to see every move he made... while
he was making it. If she wanted him to stop, she would just need to say the
word, and he would.

He kissed her throat once more, biting it softly,
and then kissed her breast over her clothes. When she didn’t stop him, he
closed a palm over one breast and molded his hand to the tantalizing softness,
craving the feel of her bare skin on his lips.

She cried out, soft whimpers.

Sophie closed her eyes and let her head fall back,
helpless, to let him do his will.

Her body wasn’t her own.

He knew where she ached, and knew how to touch
her, and she couldn’t have stopped him even if she’d thought to.

But she didn’t.

She had wanted this all her life and just hadn’t
known it... or him.

He was kissing her so wantonly... biting so
softly... as though she were his coveted feast...

He knelt before her suddenly, clasping her to him,
and she gasped in shock as his lips touched her bosom... then his hands, and
her breath left her in a rush as he dipped a kiss between the valley of her
breasts, letting his tongue slide down where no man had ever kissed her before.

Sophie was deliciously scandalized.

Her skin prickled with pleasure and she lifted her
hand to his head, urging him to give her more. She knew instinctively that he
could... that he would, and she wanted it with every fiber of her being.

His lips skimmed her breasts, kissing and gently
nipping, and Sophie’s heart somersaulted against her ribs. She was vaguely
aware that he lifted the hem of her dress, his fingers lightly caressing her
calf. He continued to lift it... as he kissed her belly... moved down to her
thigh ... His tongue caressed her inner thigh, and Sophie swallowed the
objection that came to her lips.

Her heart hammered fiercely.

His fingers skimmed the curls at the juncture of
her thighs and she gasped in shock that was too laced with bliss to speak out
in protest. Instinctively, clinging to a shred of modesty, she pressed her legs
together, though not entirely to stop him. It only managed to intensify the
feeling ... and trap his hand between her legs.

He wiggled his finger, brushing her most delicate
spot.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed, and felt her eyes cross
with a pleasure so keen it was almost pain. She leaned back on the desk then,
bracing herself with trembling arms, lest she faint. The room went dim, and she
was aware only of the man nestled so intimately between her thighs.

He peered up at her, his green eyes burning with
something like... hunger.

“Spread your legs for me, Sophia.”

Sophie’s heart jolted at the request. But she was
powerless to deny him. His gaze demanded it and she wanted to give him
everything he wanted ... anything he wanted. She swallowed any protest she
might have uttered.

Her legs trembled as she obeyed and he rewarded
her with the most wickedly pleased smile Sophie had ever beheld. It made her
belly flutter with anticipation.

“That’s it, flower,” he encouraged her. “Open for
me.”

He teased her ... there ... and Sophie’s breath
caught at the intensity of sensation that exploded everywhere he touched.

“Jack!” she cried out, and sought his gaze.

His eyes glittered like jewels. He didn’t stop. He
continued without mercy, his fingers dancing magically, eliciting the most
delicious sensations she had ever felt in all her life.

“Oh my!” she said again, and thought she would die.
“Jack!” she hissed, and it might have been a protest but her body arched toward
him, urging him on. Her legs spread of their own accord, opening to him like a
blossom to the sun.

Her head fell backward, and her breath faltered as
he lifted her skirts higher.

And then she felt something so delightfully sinful
that she wanted to cry out in ecstasy. His mouth replaced his fingers... his
tongue moving over her with such slow precision that Sophie thought her heart
would stop completely. His tongue danced where his fingers had, teasing her.
And then he suckled her, and Sophie couldn’t bear it any longer. Unable to
speak, she cried out for mercy.

She fell backward as a finger slipped within her
body, gently, caressing until she was oblivious. And then something suddenly
burst within her, and she cried out with a joy so intense that she could scarce
contain it.

She heard his answering gasp and felt his ardor as
he continued to devour her.

Her own cry of release played like an echo in her
ear. As she lay there on his desk, Sophie was aware of only two things... no,
three...

One, she had never felt so cherished in all her
life. Though she knew it was an illusion, an afterglow from the intensity of
her pleasure.

Two, she seemed to have given him something he’d
desperately wanted, because he was kissing her sweetly still and didn’t seem to
want to stop.

And three... she seemed to have his quill embedded
in her spine ... but be damned if she cared if it skewered her completely
through.

At the instant, she was floating on clouds.

CHAPTER 21

Jack
sat at his desk, trying to make sense of the words jumbled before him.

He
was reading through reports that had been made by colleagues... accounts that
had been lambasted and tossed away as inconsequential or erroneous simply
because they did not comply with the accepted theory of human evolution.

He
was trying to read them but he could scarce concentrate over the sounds coming
from the other half of the room.

Sophia
was preparing for bed.

But
he didn’t feel the least bit tired.

In
fact, he could barely sit at his desk; he was so tense. He couldn’t stop
remembering the taste of her... the feel of her sweet shudders as he’d brought
her body to climax.

His
own body was in dire need of relief... relief only she could give him.

His
vision blurred and his concentration was reduced to nil.

She
was washing.

He
could hear her too clearly; buttons being unfastened, the rustle of falling
garments, water splashing...

She
was painfully quiet otherwise.

He
tried to concentrate on his work, forcing his attention on the papers before
him.

It
was his contention that the Mayan civilization, to have evolved to its final
state of technological advancement, must have had ample time for said
evolution...

Water
splashed behind the curtain.

Where
was she washing?

Images
taunted him—soft dark curls—he craved the taste of her all over
again. Swallowing, he closed his eyes for a moment, and, when he reopened them
he tried harder to focus ...

It
was difficult to believe that, as the present theory would have it, a
Mesoamerican civilization could have developed to such a degree as had the Maya
if man had migrated to the continent as late as only ten thousand years ago.

Sweet...
she was sweet.

He
blinked away the powerful image of her lying back on his desk... and ignored
the evidence of his arousal.

Sophie’s
presence was driving him absolutely insane.

What
was she doing? Her silence was maddening.

Should
he speak to her? Tell her good night? Why the hell was he suddenly behaving as
though he were some kid with his first crush? She was a Vanderwahl, sure
enough, but those beautiful legs had not too long ago been wrapped around his
neck, while her soft passionate cries had filled his ears.

Annoyed
with himself, he refocused his thoughts, tapping his fingers impatiently on the
desk.

The
Mayan accomplishments left Jack incredulous. They had developed knowledge never
obtained by comparable civilizations. Their system of mathematics could express
sums in the millions, and they had understood the concept of the quantity of
zero a thousand years before anyone else. Among their many other
accomplishments, they’d developed a calendar accurate for four hundred million
years, and their measure of the year was only a small fraction off target from
the actual. An infant society, so to speak, would not have had the necessary
time to advance to that point—at least not without outside influence.

Those
had been the seeds Penn had run away with... literally.

Having
worked closely with Jack, Penn had presented to the board Jack’s precise body
of thought, except that he hadn’t truly understood the gist of Jack’s theory.
It was Penn’s contention that because the Mayan civilization never seemed to
move beyond the Stone Age—never employing the wheel for any sensible
purpose, or developing a phonetic alphabet—the Maya must have been handed
their knowledge by sources outside their own culture.

Having
had access to Jack’s reports, Penn had shot down Jack’s theory point by point
before the board, twisting his own arguments against him in the name of
religion, to such a degree that Jack found it an insult to his intelligence and
a crippling blow to progress. As it was, it wouldn’t have been easy to convince
them of the validity of his own theories, but after Harlan had finished with
them, they hadn’t even been inclined to hear him out.

Even
though Jack had proof to offer.

The
reports he had in front of him by trusted colleagues gave evidence that
strongly implied anatomically modem man had inhabited the continent from a far
earlier date. That led Jack to believe it more likely that the Maya had indeed
developed on their own. But with that theory, he had committed a professional
sin: He had dared to question the standard institution.

It
seemed incredible to Jack that evidence such as this, given by respected
researchers, could be dismissed in favor of that given by someone like Penn.
Though Penn’s evidence was minimal, relying almost primarily on religious
parallelisms, it was he who had received the grants for continued research, and
Jack who had been left to flounder.

Jack
believed it was because Penn’s research not merely supported the accepted
theory of evolution, but favored religious doctrine. And it galled him, not
that Penn’s theories were given credence—all evidence should be
considered—but that Penn’s theories and those like his were the only ones
given any credit at all.

Jack
sure as hell didn’t mind being wrong.

In
fact, he’d proven himself out of countless theories. But he damned well didn’t
like being told he was wrong even before he’d set out to do his job—by
men who considered themselves the ruling elite.

The
curtain opened abruptly.

Sophie
stood there, dressed in her tattered nightgown, and somehow still managed to
look regal.

Despite
his mood, the sight of her brought a smile to his lips.

Sophie
smiled back at him.

He
was leaning wearily on his desk, chin in hand, staring at his papers with that
provoked look he usually reserved for her.

“What
is it you’re studying?” she asked him, resisting the urge to go and peek over
his shoulder. He didn’t seem to appreciate her interest in his work, but her
curiosity was addling her. She just couldn’t help herself.