Spirit Bound - Christine Feehan [134]
She looked down over his body, not yet soft, not even close. “That’s not possible.”
He smiled at her. “You have no idea what I can do.”
16
“ I’M never moving again. Two days and nights in bed has just about killed me.” Judith tilted her chair back, set her feet up on the balcony railing overlooking her garden and stared up at the stars.
She was exhausted, completely and utterly exhausted. Her body was boneless and every muscle felt limp and useless. She was sore in places she hadn’t known existed, but it was a delicious soreness.
Stefan’s arm curled around her neck from behind and she looked up at his face looming over hers. He always looked so intent, so much the hunter. There was no way for him to hide what he was. She found herself smiling, joy bursting through her.
“If you’ve come to assault me, crazy man, I’m not moving.”
His mouth quirked. “A challenge then. I do not like to lose.”
“No! No way. It’s not a challenge. I made that mistake an hour ago and I had to crawl out here. I can’t even stand up.” Laughing, she held her hands up in surrender.
“In that case, I’ve come bearing gifts.” He bent his head and took her mouth.
She loved the confidence in him that bordered on arrogance. He knew he had wrapped her around his little finger. She wouldn’t say no to kisses—or sex—with him. Ever. It didn’t take much persuasion on his part and her body belonged to him. She lost herself there in his kiss, in the heat of his mouth, the taste of passion and love. She had to come up for breath before she simply drowned in him.
“Hot chocolate,” he announced. “I would have made tea, but you need to sleep if you’re going to work tomorrow.”
She took the hot mug and licked at the dollop of whipped cream on top. “You’re my savior. I was just thinking chocolate would revive me, but I didn’t have the strength to go get it.”
“I read your mind,” he admitted, toeing another chair around to sit beside her. “You don’t have to work tomorrow. We can take another day.”
“I wouldn’t survive another day,” Judith admitted, laughing. Happiness danced in the air around, small threads of silver and gold that sparkled with the stars. “And Airiana definitely would do me in if you didn’t—in a completely different way, of course. She’s covered for me at the shop, but she can’t keep it up.”
“I suppose I have to share you with the world,” he said. “I’ll go with you to Sea Haven tomorrow and go over the books at the gallery.”
“You’re really thinking of buying it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of money, but I wouldn’t enjoy doing nothing. I spend a lot of my time going to galleries all over the world and maybe in the back of my head I always considered what I’d do with one.”
“This is a small town, Stefan.”
“Thomas. Stefan Prakenskii doesn’t exist. There’s no photograph of him and no fingerprints. I doubt if a birth certificate exists. I’m a ghost, Judith. Sorbacov has never heard of Thomas Vincent, the American businessman. All of us develop numerous covers we can disappear into when needed and Vincent’s cover is solid. He’s going to settle here with you, make kaleidoscopes, own an art gallery and make babies.”
She laughed, taking a cautious sip of the hot chocolate. She should have known it would be the perfect temperature. Stefan saw to little details, she was learning that about him. He always saw to her comfort, running a bath, carrying her to it after they’d made crazy, wild love, wrapping her in blankets or handing her a sweater almost before she knew she was cold. He would never have served her chocolate that would scorch her mouth.
“You’re obsessed with babies.”
He grinned at her. “With making babies,” he corrected. “I’m practicing until I get it right.”
“If you get any better at it, Stefan . . . Thomas, I’ll be dead. I’m getting schizophrenic just thinking about this. So you’ll be Thomas Vincent.”
“And you’ll be Mrs. Thomas Vincent.”
“Is that even legal?”
“I have all the credentials to prove it. It’s more legal than Prakenskii. In any case, when it’s all done, we’ll have someone