Linda Howard - Sarah's Child

“You can put me down now,” she ventured softly. “Were you intending to carry me through the lobby of the hotel?”

“This is Texas,” he replied with a hint of wryness. “No one would be surprised, though for form’s sake I suppose I should throw you over my shoulder.” But he let her down, though he kept his arm firmly anchored around her waist.

“What was that all about?” she asked as the doors slid open and they stepped out into the vast ultramodern lobby, overwhelming with its glass and greenery.

“It’s called staking a claim.”

She considered that in silence for a moment. She wasn’t coy, nor did she believe in dissembling; she wasn’t going to simper and pretend she didn’t understand. On an instinctive level, though, she was a little alarmed by the swiftness with which he’d moved. She darted a quick nervous glance at him, one that he intercepted and read, and his mouth tightened fractionally. Looking at him, with his hard face set in determined lines, she knew that she’d been cut from the herd the way a stallion would isolate the mare he’d chosen. The thought made her mouth go dry, and her knees feel weak. Perhaps he wasn’t a native Texan, but he knew just how to go about it. The move Max had made on her had awakened a possessive streak in Rome, and instinctively he’d snatched her away from the other man; now he was determined to finalize his possession.

“My car is here,” she said, making a motion with her hand as if to halt him.

“Forget about it.” He didn’t even glance down at her as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, where the warm night breezes fanned his face. “I’ll bring you back for it in the morning.”

“I’d feel better if I drove it home.” She spoke firmly, and he sensed her decision, realizing immediately that the car gave her a feeling of independence that she needed, after the way he’d high-handedly whisked her away from the party. He didn’t want her out of his sight for a minute, but he was afraid that if he pushed too hard, he’d run the risk of making her retreat back behind her cool mask. He was close, too close, to breaking her reserve for him to let his impatience ruin things now. Having her was becoming an obsession with him; shattering her control was a goal that occupied more and more of his time and thoughts.

“All right,” he agreed, deciding to use the time alone during the drive to her apartment to cool himself down. He was feeling violent and caged, and he needed to ease himself with the soft magic of a woman’s flesh. Sarah’s flesh. She was the only specific woman he’d wanted since Diane’s death, and he wanted her so violently that he almost resented her for getting to him the way she had.

She was so pale and composed and sure of herself, like an ice-queen. Would she be that cool and controlled in bed, or would those shadowy green eyes blaze with animal need? He imagined her beneath him, writhing in the throes of desire he’d awakened in her, with wild cries tearing up from the depths of her slender body as he drove into her again and again and again…

He stopped his fantasy, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he watched the graceful swaying of her body as she walked away from him. He went to his own car and waited until her little red car passed him; then he pulled out behind her and followed closely on the drive to her apartment.

Sarah already had the door unlocked when he arrived, and she glanced at him warily as he entered behind her. His dark eyes still held that dangerous look, with a hunger in them that she understood but couldn’t measure. She wanted him—she’d always wanted him—but at the same time she didn’t want to be a one-night stand for him, a fast coupling for the purpose of easing him, forgotten as soon as it was finished. Spontaneously she tried to slow him down.

“Would you like coffee?” she invited, dropping her small purse on the sofa and moving away from him to the kitchen.

“No.” His refusal was flat.

“I think I’ll have something to eat, just to be on the safe side,” she called over her shoulder. “How about one of those chicken sandwi—”

Without warning, he seized her from behind, his hard hands locking on her waist and pulling her back against him. His head bent, and his hot breath blew over the curve of her neck, lightly touching her sensitive skin and awakening all her nerve endings. She shivered a little, but didn’t try to pull away; instead she pressed back against the virile contours of his body.

“I don’t want a sandwich,” he muttered, nipping at her neck with his teeth, then soothing the slight sting with butterfly strokes from the tip of his tongue. Sarah’s eyes closed in ecstasy, and she let her head fall back against his shoulder, baring the vulnerable curve of her throat to him.

His breathing was becoming hard and fast, rasping in her ear, and the way he moved against her buttocks vividly demonstrated his arousal. His right hand shifted from her waist, sliding boldly upward to rub and cup her breasts, his touch burning her through her dress.

“I want to break Max’s jaw when he looks at you as if he wants to do this.” There was a roughness to his voice that she hadn’t heard before, the guttural tone of fierce desire. His hands were all over her, stroking her as if to stake his claim as he’d told her he would do, and she leaned against him, her eyes closed, shaking a little as waves of pleasure assaulted her, each one stronger than the one before. With a harsh, impatient sound, he quickly tugged down the zipper of her dress and dropped the garment to her hips, then dispersed with her bra, freeing her breasts to his hands and gaze.

Sarah moaned softly as he cupped both of her breasts in his palms, kneading her soft flesh and gently pinching at her pink nipples. “You’re so beautiful,” he groaned and the rough desire in his voice made her feel beautiful. She loved the way the mounds of her breasts filled his palms, hardening and thrusting out to seek his touch.

Abruptly he turned her in his arms, holding her so tightly against him that her ribs ached, while he kissed her with blatant hunger. With his tongue, he told her what he wanted to do, and the symbolism was unmistakable. Sarah gasped under his mouth, seeking air to feed her starving lungs. “Rome…please!” But she didn’t know if she begged for mercy, or for more of the primal pleasure he was giving her. Her body was growing heavy and liquid, and a deep inner throbbing made her move restlessly against him.

“Yes,” he said against her throat, interpreting her plea as he chose. He bent her over his arm to give himself access to her tempting breasts, and she gave a thin cry when his hot mouth closed over her nipple, sucking it strongly into his mouth. Blackness swirled over her, a warm, velvet blackness that blocked out any reservations she might have had about belonging to him. She dissolved into a purely physical animal, instinctively seeking more of the pleasure he offered her. Her hands roamed his body as his had roamed hers, impatiently brushing away the layers of cloth that separated her from his hard muscled flesh. He trembled wildly at her intimate touch and pleaded with her for more.

At some point, they dropped to the floor, the plush carpet soft under her back. Too impatient to undress her completely, he lifted her skirt out of the way and stripped her panty hose down her legs. Sarah reached for him, her expression rapt, lost in the passion he’d aroused in her, and he caught his breath sharply. “Easy, easy,” he said hoarsely, not wanting it to end too quickly, and knowing he was perilously close to satisfaction. He wanted to make certain she was satisfied too; he wanted to see her face at the peak of her pleasure. He held back, twisting his body away from her inciting hands, while he stroked and petted her, bestowing fleeting, intimate caresses on her that had her arching for more.