The Unsung Hero (18 page)

His hands moved to gently cup her rounded
flesh. He shook his head as her eyes linked with his. "Something
far more complicated—" he muttered as he trapped her mouth beneath
his "—and much more meaningful."

Somehow the words never managed to penetrate
as his fingers moved to trace lingering circles over her breasts.
She felt the brush of his fingers on her bare skin, the tips
faintly rough but incredibly arousing. Her breath caught in her
throat as she found her eyes drawn to the sight of his dark hands
against the gleaming paleness of her rounded softness, coming ever
closer to the budding pink rosebuds. Her eyes remained glued to
his as he rose and removed the last remaining barrier between them,
throwing his filmy shorts aside impatiently.

The last muted rays of the sun shimmered
through the open window, bathing the proud male physique in all its
glory a gleaming shade of bronze. Samantha felt the insistent heat
inside her burst into flames at the sight of him.

"Jason..." Her voice trembled. The husky
entreaty sounded strangely like a moan as it passed from her lips.
Even she couldn't be sure if it was a plea for him to continue this
maddening seduction of her senses or a protest to stop before she
threw away every principle she had ever believed in. But nothing
seemed to matter, nothing except the feel of his hands on her body
when he joined her on the bed once again.

Her fingers crept across his chest, raking
through the curly mat of hair to explore his skin, warm and faintly
damp. The male scent of him swirled around her, a scent more
powerful than any aphrodisiac.

"Hush, sweet... just let me love you."

That low voice was incredibly tender, the
sound intensifying the fiery mist of passion that surrounded her.
Her fingers clung to his shoulders as his tongue swirled around one
taut nipple and then the other, bringing her to a fever pitch. It
was like nothing she

had ever known before, this tight aching curl
of pure sensation inside her.

"God, Samantha!" His mouth was buried at the
base of her throat as his hands stroked a flaming line to catch her
hips in his hands. His fingers curled into the softness of her
flesh. He raised his head, his eyes blazing fiercely in his face
and showing more clearly than words the strain he was under as he
held himself back in order to prolong her pleasure.

"Jason," she moaned softly, and a melting
feeling swept through her body as he took her mouth hungrily. His
tongue crept into her mouth and began an evocative exploration even
as his lean hips undulated against hers in a corresponding rhythm.
She gasped at the feel of his vital male force probing between her
nether lips. "Now... Jason... now!"

Planted hard and deep, the heat and power of
his entry made her gasp. The melding of their bodies was as
explosive as she had known it would be, yet it was something else
entirely that touched a chord deep in her soul. Their eyes were
linked together by a force beyond control. Jason shuddered, his
eyes drifting slowly closed as he settled between the silken
prison of her thighs, so deep they were as one. His eyes lifted
once again to stare into the slumberous depths of hers, and he
smiled then, a smile that filled her heart until she thought it
would burst.

He bent his head so that his breath mingled
with hers. "Oh, Samantha...I was wrong." His whisper was hoarse
against her mouth, his breath harsh and rasping. "So wrong. This is
. . . heaven on earth."

And then there were no more words as they
were both swept away on a cloud of passion, a whirling giddy
feeling overtaking them both. His body surged boldly against hers,
yet mingled within that thrusting urgency was an aching tenderness
that moved her to tears.

Much later when their breathing had returned
to normal, Jason lifted his head to look down at her. That same
tender smile curved his mouth as he finally swept aside the
bedspread and blankets and scooped her under them. Scarcely wanting
to move from the lethargy that followed their fiery union, she
lifted a finger to trace the shape of his lips, reveling in their
smooth texture.

The pad of his thumb came up to trace the
path of the single tear that had slid down her cheek. "Regrets,
already?" he asked softly.

Samantha shook her head swiftly, still awed
by what had happened. Even loving Alan as she had, she had never
felt such all-consuming passion, such immense satisfaction and
utter peacefulness. "Not at all," she said softly, her blue eyes
shining. "I've never felt quite like this," she added, her voice
but a whisper. Jason bent to brush her lips. "Neither have I,
sweetheart," he said huskily, his arms tightening around her.
"Neither have I."

In spite of herself, Samantha tensed a
little. "Not even with your ex-wife..."

She broke off, afraid for a second she had
shattered the magical bond between them, but although there was a
guarded expression in his eyes for an instant, it disappeared as
he saw her wariness.

"I'll tell you something, Samantha," he said
quietly. "I never loved my wife, not really. Oh, I thought I did,
but it didn't take me long to discover that it was no more than
infatuation." He hesitated, and she knew the words were forced from
deep inside him. "Natalie came to L.A. like a thousand other women,
with visions of stardom dancing in her head. You remember I told
you I was a sitcom writer for a while?"

Samantha nodded, listening intently. She
sensed this might be the one and only time Jason would ever talk of
his ex-wife.

"Natalie was beautiful, ambitious and very
vain." His voice hardened. "She's a woman who needs constant
adoration, and it wasn't long before I found out a husband didn't
stop her from sleeping with any man who wanted her. Believe me,
there were plenty. When I found out, I divorced her, and she told
me afterward that the only reason she married me in the first
place was because of my contacts in the industry."

"How sad." Samantha's eyes moved over the
faintly bitter lines of his face. She wanted to reach out and touch
him, smooth them away with her fingers, but she wasn't sure if he
would welcome her touch right now. So she stayed where she was, her
head on the pillow next to his. But not before a question slipped
out. "Is she a big star right now?"

Jason shook his head. "She does a commercial
now and then but she's a lousy actress. Freeloading is her present
specialty."

Samantha frowned and turned to look at him.
"Is that why you were going to L.A. to see your attorney?"

Again he nodded. "She's been trying to get
her hands on some property I bought during the divorce
proceedings." A hard little smile curved his lips. "But as it
turned out, the matter was dismissed because she eloped with a
French director. Now she's his problem."

He turned on his side to face her, his hand
resting possessively on her stomach. He smiled a little crookedly.
"Now it's your turn. Why did things go sour with Alex?"

Samantha smiled slightly. "It's Alan, not
Alex," she reminded him. "And I'm not sure I can say what went
wrong. It just didn't work out. Maybe we didn't take the time to
get to know each other well enough. Believe it or not, Alan and I
got married exactly three weeks after we met."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "That is amazing."
He regarded her quietly. "Do you still love him, Samantha?"

She turned sideways so that she faced him,
the sheet draped loosely over her body. Her heart leaped as she saw
the guarded expression in his eyes. She had the oddest sensation
that it really mattered to him.

She ran a hand down his chest, twining her
fingers in the narrowing trail of curls on his lean stomach. "No,"
she said softly. She gazed into his eyes. "The magic just didn't
last."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "That's quite an
admission coming from a woman who thinks love is an endless bed of
roses."

"Maybe you were right and I did expect too
much of it. I suppose, thinking back, that neither one of us was
ready to sacrifice. Alan was just getting started in his job, and I
was working on my master's at Portland State." She sighed
reflectively. "When things began looking bad, I suppose I did what
every woman does. I blamed him, and then I blamed myself. But the
truth is—" and she was beginning to realize it now more than ever,
though she didn't say so "—Alan wasn't the right man for me." Her
eyes met his. "But we're still friends."

"I noticed," he commented dryly.

She smiled at him. "Now don't you feel better
that we've both got all the skeletons out of the closet?"

Jason's grin was both devilish and lovable.
The realization tore at her heart as she was gathered closely in
his arms. Lovable—how easily the admission came. She loved this
man, right or wrong. Lord, how she loved him!

His hand swept aside the sheet with a single
movement. Their bodies lay bare to each other's gaze. "I only wish
we'd done it a long time ago." His husky tone was tinged with
amusement, but his smile faded as he looked into her eyes.
"Samantha, would you believe me if I told you I didn't plan what
just happened?"

Her heart melted at his searching look. Her
hands slid around to twine in the thick hair on his nape. "Yes,"
she said simply. "Oh, yes!"

"I won't say I wasn't hoping." A faintly
teasing light reappeared in his eyes, but his mouth was tender as
his hps sought hers. "But I knew you needed some time."

"Jason, you gave me all the time I needed."
And as his hands skimmed over her body, the exquisitely fulfilling
passion flared anew between them. This time she knew it could last
forever.

It made her just a little sad.

"Jason! Jason Armstrong! Dammit, are you
still in bed? You lazy old son of a—"

The good-natured male voice dropped off as
Samantha abruptly sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare
breasts. Sunlight streamed through the drapes, silhouetting a man
standing in the bedroom doorway.

"Jason!" Her elbow nudged his bare shoulder,
rising just above the sheet, her startled eyes still on the figure
lounging against the doorjamb. He was in his

mid-thirties, roughly Jason's age, with wavy
chestnut hair and sparkling blue eyes. "Jason, wake up!" He finally
stirred at her hushed whisper and, to her horror, pressed a warm
kiss on the silken thigh near his face. His hand delved beneath the
sheet and sought the smooth hollow of her stomach, his fingers
straying relentlessly downward.

"Jason, get up!" She scooted as far away from
him as she could. Dear Lord, to wake from a delightful passionate
night in heaven—to this!

"I think you'd better, Jason. I've never seen
a face so fiery red in all my life."

The strange laughing voice at last roused
Jason. Dark hair tousled from sleep, he sat up and stared at the
intruder. He broke into a grin. "Dave! I didn't think you were
coming until Friday."

"I can see that," the stranger commented,
returning his grin.

Heedless of his nakedness, Jason sat up in
bed and stretched. He ran a hand through his hair, then curled an
arm around Samantha, who resisted the effort by pulling the sheet
up to her nose and sliding down onto the pillows.

"Don't be rude now, Samantha. This is my
longtime friend and buddy, David Winters." She cringed at the
smile in his voice. "David, meet your neighbor, Samantha
Monroe."

To her horror, David Winters acknowledged the
greeting gravely. "It's nice to finally meet you, Samantha. I'd
say the pleasure was all mine but obviously it hasn't been." She
peeked over the sheet to find him smiling. "If I'd known what I was
missing, I'd have made the trip much sooner."

This time she did moan. Turning her face into
the pillow, she muttered half-miserably, half-angrily,

"Jason, will you get him out of here so I can
go home?"

"So soon?" He looked genuinely surprised.
"Don't you even want breakfast?" He grinned at David. "As I recall,
Dave can whip up a mean batch of pancakes."

When she raised her head enough to glare at
him, he nodded at his friend, a crooked grin etching his lean
features. David obligingly left the room. He grinned as Samantha
got up from the bed, draping the sheet around her body. "No need to
be so modest," he teased lightiy. "You weren't last night." He
sighed when Samantha fixed him with another blistering stare.
"We'll meet you downstairs."

When he had slipped into a pair of jeans,
she stalked to the bathroom, where her clothes and underwear were
draped over the shower door. After dressing hurriedly she slipped
out through the bedroom onto the upper deck. Her face burned with
both anger and embarrassment at the thought of facing those two
laughing faces. Five minutes later she was back in her own house
and in the shower.

The stinging spray washed over her body with
a thoroughness that reminded her of the long fiery night spent in
Jason's arms, his hands sliding intimately over every inch of her
body, exploring and arousing her to heights she'd only dreamed of
before. Such sweet devastating pleasure was beyond anything she'd
ever known. His desire for her had been boundless, exciting—as was
hers for him. How many times had they made love? Too many to count.
And each fiery taking had left her passionately fulfilled, but she
turned breathlessly, eagerly, in his arms at each renewed
caress.

She closed her eyes against the memory. What
next, she thought dully, turning to rinse her back. Would Jason
think she was ripe for the picking any time he wanted—for as long
as he was here? She didn't know, and that was the whole problem. If
his lighthearted attitude this morning had been any
indication...

She sighed and reached for a towel. She
couldn't help but think of his sweet husky whispers in her ear all
through the night. She could have sworn she was special.