Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [93]
“I’ll make it up to you,” she whispered, going into his arms. His familiar scent teased her senses, and she inhaled it delightedly. The smell of him brought back hot, sunny days and the echo of laughter.
“Starting tonight,” he threatened. “Or better yet, as soon as we can get to the hotel room I’ve booked for us.”
“Aren’t we flying back to Phoenix today?” she asked, lifting her head in surprise.
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a snowstorm.” He grinned. “All flights are grounded until it clears, which could be days and days. How would you like to spend days and days in bed with me?”
“I’ll try to bear it,” she sighed.
“Do you spell that b-a-r-e?” he asked, nuzzling her neck. Then, slowly, as if he had waited as long as he could, he closed his lips over hers. He kissed her for a long time, savoring the taste and feel of her, then pulled himself away with a visible effort.
“I’m able to drive now,” he said unnecessarily as he put the car into gear.
“So I see.”
“And I’m flying again. I tested a new engine last week—”
“Are you going to keep doing the dangerous stuff?” she interrupted.
He eyed her. “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think I’ll be taking as many chances as I used to. There’s too much excitement going on at home for me to risk missing any of it.”
She was swimming laps, the hot May desert sun beating down on her head. The exercise felt good to her body, stretching muscles that had felt cramped. She had missed the pool and the well-equipped little gym where she and Blake had played out so many of their crises. That morning she had gone to a Phoenix hospital and been hired on the spot; she would miss the intensity of a one-on-one therapeutic relationship, but the regular hours would permit her to be with Blake at night and still keep doing the work she loved.
“Hey!” a deep voice called. “Are you in training for the Olympics?”
She began treading water. “What are you doing home so early?” she asked, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“That’s a fine welcome,” her husband of two weeks grumbled. He shed his coat and draped it over one of the chairs, then pulled his tie loose. Dione watched as he systematically undressed, dropping his clothes on the chair until he stood as naked as the day he was born. He came into the water in a neat, shallow dive, and reached her with a few powerful strokes of his arms.
“If you get caught like that, don’t blame me,” she warned.
“It’s too hot for clothes,” he complained. “Did you get the job?”
“Of course I got the job,” she sniffed.
“Conceited.” He put his hand on top of her head and ducked her, which didn’t bother her at all. She was as good a swimmer under water as she was on top of it, and she kicked her graceful legs, darting away from him. He caught up with her when she reached the edge.
“You never did say why you’re home so early,” she said, turning to face him.
“I came home to make love to my wife,” he replied. “I couldn’t keep my mind on what I was doing; I kept thinking about last night,” he said, and watched in fascination as her eyes grew heavy-lidded with memory.
He moved in closer to her and pressed his mouth to hers, his hand going to the back of her head and slanting her mouth across his. Their tongues met in mutual desire, and Dione quivered, letting her body float against his. Her legs twined with his and found them steady.
“You’re standing,” she said, lifting her mouth away.
“I know.” His hand moved purposefully up her back and deftly unclipped her bikini top. He pulled it way from her and tossed it out of the pool. It landed on the tiles with a sodden plop. His fingers touched her breasts, cupping them together as he leaned forward and took another kiss.
With a moan she twined her arms around his neck; then she was wrapped around him like a vine. No matter how often he made love to her, it kept getting better and better as her body learned new ways of responding to him. The