The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [123]
The lovemaking they’d shared had left her spent and sated. In her life, she’d never felt so thoroughly loved.
How could this be?
She had no rational answer. But this much she knew: She wasn’t dreaming. She was wide-awake, and this man, who claimed to have died hundreds of years ago, was warm and real and here in her arms. And though she knew that none of this seemed possible, she no longer cared. After all that she’d been through. After all the pain and anguish of the past year, it was enough to be here, feeling safe in his arms, steeped in a warm glow like nothing she’d ever known before.
He stirred and touched a finger to the corner of her eye. “Tears, love?”
She sniffed, unaware until that moment that she’d been weeping. She wiped the back of her hand over her eye. “Crazy, I know. But I’m feeling . . . a little overwhelmed.” She looked away, ashamed to meet his eyes. “I like to think of myself as a sophisticated woman. I certainly don’t want to read too much into this. I know that lovemaking is different for a man, but this felt . . . special.”
He leaned up so that he could stare directly into her eyes. She felt a tiny thrill course along her spine as he touched his hand to her cheek in an achingly sweet gesture. “It was more than special to me, Brianna. In all the years I’ve remained here in this twilight world, this was the only time I’ve been driven to such madness. This wasn’t just about my needs, but rather my need for you alone. You’re like a potent drug. One I haven’t the strength to resist.”
He rolled to one side and drew her into the circle of his arms before gathering her close and kissing her long and slow and deep, until she sighed and returned his kisses with a need that bordered on desperation.
“My bonny, bonny Brianna.” Something about those whispered, sultry words alerted her moments before he took her down, down with him into a steamy, darker side of love. A side she’d never tasted before.
With Jamie’s clever hands and mouth and tongue leading the way, she followed eagerly on a fast, furious ride to paradise.
The sky was still dark outside. Rain splashed the windowpanes and pattered on the roof. Inside, a log burned on the hearth, casting a warm glow over the figures in the bed.
“Warm enough?” Jamie drew a blanket over Bree’s shoulder.
“I’m roasting. You’re like a furnace.”
“The heat you feel is a reflection of you. Most humans who encounter me feel only a cool dampness.”
“Why is it different with me?”
He shrugged. “I’ve asked myself that question since you first came here. Why are you different from all the others? My only thought is that you are part of some grand design.”
She sat up, hair tumbling around her shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Again that indifferent shrug. “I know not, lass. I know only that from the first, you’ve been unlike any other. You refused to be frightened away. You chose, instead, to stand and fight.” He shot her one of those heart-melting smiles. “There’s nothing I admire more than that.”
“You have an odd way of showing it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was too busy resenting you. And trying to fight this damnable attraction.” He drew her down into his arms. “But now, lass, it’s not fighting I have in mind.”
She sighed. “I’m glad of that.”
He ran slow, easy kisses over her face, brushing her eyebrow, her cheek, the curve of her jaw. “You make me forget my anger, lass.”
She relaxed in his arms, trusting him to take the lead.
“You make me forget everything except this. Just this.”
His mouth, his hands, began to weave their magic.
This time their lovemaking was as slow and easy as that of old lovers who had all the time in the world.
Sunlight trickled through the damp panes, burning off the last of the morning mist. The fire had long ago burned to embers.
Brianna stirred, feeling something heavy across her body. Jamie’s leg lay over hers, his arm thrown across her torso.
If he were truly a spirit, wouldn’t he be weightless?
As