Iris Johansen - Quicksand

"What the hell do you mean? I am disturbed. Every minute of the day and night I'm going to be disturbed until Kistle is caught. Do you expect me to sleep peacefully just because you've decided to barricade yourself in your own room?"

"I thought it best." He took the towel and began to dry off. "You're upset enough without me-"

"Bullshit," she said. "Get rid of that towel and talk to me. You've been closing me out since you got on that plane to come here. Disturbed? You're the one who's ready to explode. You can't even look at me."

"Oh, I can look at you." He threw the towel away. "But I don't want to talk. Tell me what I want to do, Eve."

His dark hair was tousled and his brown eyes were glittering in his taut face. He was half naked and his shoulders gleamed under the lights. His body was lean and tough and sleek with muscle. She could feel his tenseness, which was like a bolt of electricity. Lord, it was striking at her, stroking her, readying her. "I'm not sure," she said unevenly. "Sex. But do you want to make love to me or do you want to rape me?"

"When have I ever raped you?"

"Never. But then I've never seen you in a mood like this."

"I've never been in a mood like this." He started toward her. "And I may be rough. I don't know if I can help myself. So if you don't want me, tell me now."

He wasn't touching her, but she could feel the heat move through her. It was a mindless response. They were so far apart emotionally that she should try to ignore it and try to talk to him.

She didn't want to talk. She wanted to be mindless and only move, feel, be close to him. No matter what else lay between whenever they came together, the sex was always fantastic.

He was standing only a few inches away from her. She could feel the warmth of his body flowing, surrounding her. Yet she was still aware of violence held at bay. He looked into her eyes. "Tell me."

She slowly reached out and touched his bare chest. His skin felt fever-hot to her palm.

A shudder went though him. "Eve."

"I do want you." She took a step closer and laid her cheek on his chest. His heart was pounding hard beneath her ear. "I always want you, Joe. Stop worrying about being rough with me. I can take care of myself."

"I don't want you to take care of yourself. I want to be there to meet every need. I've never wanted anything else since the day I met you." His hands were hovering over her shoulders, still not touching her. "And when I can't do it, I go crazy."

She felt an aching deep within her. She couldn't take it. She cleared her throat. "Well, you're driving me crazy now. If you want to address a need, I have one that's very urgent."

He was silent a moment. "Yeah, that's a problem I can usually fix, can't I?" His hovering hands fell to cup her shoulders. "Hooray for sex." He pushed her away from him and she could see the bitterness mixed with the desire in his face. "I may not have killed your dragon for you yet, but I can entertain you."

Dragon? What the hell was he…?

Then she forgot everything as his fingers quickly unbuttoned her shirt and slipped inside to cup her breasts. She arched backward with a low cry.

"Bed," he said thickly. "Now." He was tearing off her clothes. Backing her toward the bed. "I have to-"

He was over her on the bed, shedding the rest of his clothes and recklessly casting them aside.

Beautiful, she thought hazily. She'd always thought Joe was beautiful naked. Lean and muscular and full of repressed energy.

Not repressed any longer.

Fierce. Desperate. And, yes, rough.

To hell with it. It didn't matter. Her nails dug into his back as she pulled him to her. She'd meet fierceness with fierceness, roughness with roughness…

"ARE YOU OKAY?" JOE'S CHESTwas lifting and falling with the harshness of his breathing as he looked down at her. "Did I hurt you?"

"I've no idea." She couldn't catch her breath. "If you did, it didn't make an impression through the… " Through what? The maze of wild erotica that was almost animalistic? "I didn't care."

Joe got off her and rolled over to the other side of the bed. He tucked his arm beneath his head. "I care. I lost control. I knew it would happen."

"If I hadn't wanted it, I'd have walked away." Eve pulled up the sheet. "Now come over here and cuddle me. I'm not having this separate-sides-of-the-bed business. That's not the way we do it and we're not going to start now."

"I should go up to my room and unpack."

"Bullshit." She rolled over and pressed her body against him. "Hold me."

He hesitated and then put his arm around her and drew her close. "It could happen again."

"Good. But not right now. I want to get my breath before the next storm." She pressed her lips to his shoulder. "Why are you fighting me, Joe?" she whispered. "You held me like this not four days ago. I thought everything was getting all right between us."

"Did you? I didn't. I knew that it was only a matter of time before it blew up in our faces." He brushed his lips over her forehead. "It was only a question of when I got word about Kistle. I knew that would be the trigger."

"It wouldn't have made any difference if you'd just not closed me out. We would have worked through it together. That's what we've done all these years."

He shook his head. "I can't do that any longer."

She stiffened and then sat up and looked down at him. "That sounds final. Are you trying tell me something, Joe?"

"I'm trying to tell you that I've changed and the way I'll react will be different."

"I see." She swung her legs to the floor and stood up. "Then I'd better find out what to expect, hadn't I?" She slipped on her terry robe and sat down in the easy chair across the room. She drew a deep breath. "Was it Colombia, Joe?"

"You mean Montalvo? He brought a few things to a head. But it's been going on long before you went to Colombia. We both knew you were slipping away from me. I couldn't seem to stop it. I didn't even know why it was happening." He stood up and started putting on his clothes. "I blamed it on you. Then I blamed it on Montalvo."

"I never slept with Montalvo, Joe. I'd never be unfaithful to you."

"But you told me you wanted to do it."

"You asked me, I'd never lie to you. I don't know why he had that effect on me. I felt close to him because he'd suffered the same loss and then it just became…" She wearily shook her head. "You know I haven't had much experience with that kind of sexual attraction. The kid who got me pregnant with Bonnie when I was sixteen and then disappeared? I believe you're the love of my life, but evidently that doesn't mean that I'm totally immune to feeling something for others." She stared him in the eye. "But I'm not going to apologize. I didn't do anything to hurt you but tell you the truth. I treated our relationship with honor."

"I know that." He smiled crookedly. "And I don't blame Montalvo for trying to snatch the gold ring. I'd do the same thing. But it doesn't stop me from hating his guts. I'm too primitive to do anything else." He shrugged into his jacket. "But blame is something else. The only reason I blamed either of you was that I didn't want to blame the person who rules our lives. I knew my chances weren't good of ever being able to fight Bonnie."

She stared at him. "You don't have to fight Bonnie. We only have to find her."

"I'm doing my damnedest. But what if it isn't Kistle? What if we don't find Bonnie? I don't know how many more times I can stand by and watch you be disappointed. Every time it makes me die a little." He paused. "And sometimes it makes me wish Bonnie had never been born."

She recoiled as if he'd struck her. "No."

"I realize that's a terrible sin to you. I can't help it. You love her. You know her. But she died before I met you. Maybe if I'd gotten to know her I wouldn't feel this bitterness. I used to try to feel some of the affection you feel for her because she was part of you. I thought it would help me go on with this hellish search. But I can't feel anything for her but pity." His lips tightened. "And lately when I see what's happening to you, I can't even feel that."