Dark Paradise (37 page)

of questions and doubts and fears on hold and exist just on instinct for

a while.

J.D. seemed content with that idea as they stood in the tub. He focused

his attention on her body, exploring with his hands and his mouth,

experimenting with touch and pressure as the water rained down on them

from the shower head. He seemed unhindered by qualms of any kind as he

washed her back and chased the soap suds down with his hands, hands that

then found their way around her rib cage and up to her breasts. He

rubbed her nipples with his thumbs, enticing them to peek out through

the lather. She closed her eyes and whimpered softly as he slid the bar

of soap between her legs and teased her until she was breathless.

Dripping water all over, they found their way into the guest room. Too

impatient to make it all the way to the bed, J.D. pressed her up against

the wall just inside the door. He bent to take her breast into his mouth

as he swept a hand down over her belly to the thatch of dark curls at

the juncture of her thighs. He trailed his kisses up her throat to her

lips, easing his tongue into her curb as he slid a finger deep between

her legs. Marilee groped blindly for him, wanting to curl her fingers

around his shaft and draw him to her, into her. But he twisted out of

her reach, chuckling darkly.

"Not yet, honey." He murmured the words in her ear, his voice low and

rough as he stroked her. "I want you ready for me this time."

"I am ready, J.D., please."

She slid her arms around his neck and leaned into him, raising up on

tiptoe, rubbing the tips of her breasts against his chest. J.D. groaned

and pulled her up against him in a crushing embrace, kissing her deeply

and wildly.

Without breaking the kiss or the hold, he carried her to the bed.

They fell across it, oblivious of the tears in the mattress and sheets,

oblivious of everything but each other. The afternoon was cloaked in

gray, the room cloaked in shadows that softened the chaos the vandals

had left behind.

Outside, another thundershower had rolled across the valley from the

Gallatin side and the rain fell steadily, drumming on the roof and the

skylight above the bed.

Marilee felt wilder than the weather, out of control of herself, as if

her body had taken on a will of its own, making up for all the time she

had spent bending to the expectations of others. The sensations were

thrilling and frightening, overwhelming all thought. She gave herself

over to them, gave herself over to J.D., arching her back when he caught

her nipple between his lips, arching her hips as he found the bud of her

desire with his thumb.

He kissed his way down her body, lingering on the curve of her waist,

the point of her hip, the sensitive spot just above the delta of curls

on her groin. Marilee moaned with a mix of pleasure and frustration and

tried to urge him lower, but J.D. had other ideas. He slid his body up

along hers in one long, exquisite caress and buried his face against the

curve of her neck, murmuring hot, dark words in her ear.

Burning with need, Marilee took the initiative, setting off on an

exploration of his body. He was powerfully built.

His was the body of a man who had done hard physical work his whole

life. Beautiful was too feminine a word; handsome too civilized. Male.

Utterly male. Shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of his world. A

chest thick and deep and rough with dark hair. A belly ridged with

muscle. A horseman's powerful thighs and calves.

He was tough, muscular, scarred in spots. Marilee kissed those spots,

wanting to offer him softness and comfort, knowing he would take only

what he wanted - her body.

She stroked his shaft, brushed her cheek against the velvet-soft head,

breathing deep the musky scent of his arousal. She kissed him lightly,

her tongue rubbing across the drop of fluid that had pearled at his tip.

J.D.'s control snapped abruptly. He hauled Marilee up into his arms,

twisting her beneath him in an aggressive move. The need astonished him.

He was a man with a healthy sexual appetite, but with Marilee he was

ravenous. The need to take her, to possess her, to make her his in

nature's most fundamental way was urgent. Blinding.

Just sex, he told himself, it's just sex. The disclaimer chanted through

his mind over and over. The assurance didn't make the need any less or

the urgency any tamer.

It didn't even begin to loosen the tension at the core of him.

He dug in the drawer of the nightstand for a condom, resenting the need

to use it. Resentment not from a comfort standpoint, but from somewhere

deeper, some basic, instinctive place inside him. He had always taken

precautions with women. He was too wary of getting trapped in a

relationship he didn't want. But he didn't want anything coming between

himself and Marilee. He already knew how good it felt to be buried

inside her tight, silky heat. He had already experienced the primitive

pleasure of spilling his seed inside her. The desire to do so again damn

near outweighed his common sense.

Marilee took the decision away from him, taking the condom from his

fingers and rolling it down over him. Then there were no decisions left.

No thought. Nothing but the need and the woman.

He slid into her, groaning at the warmth, the tightness of her body. He

slid his arms around her, groaning at the feel of her breasts, the silk

of her skin, amazed at the sense of rightness, of belonging inside her.

Somewhere in his wary heart he thought that he shouldn't allow himself

to feel this way. But then all thought was swamped by sensation,

absorbed by instinct. He eased nearly out of her and thrust back into

her core slowly, powerfully, filling her.

He whispered something softly. "Good."

Her breath caught and eased. "Yes."

Their gazes held. They moved together.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain washed across the skylight. None of

it mattered. Only this ritual as old as time. Only having her take the

essence of what made him male deep within the most feminine part of her.

He rode her gently, strongly, thrusting deep with each slow stroke. She

moved with him in perfect rhythm, accepted him in a way that was as

simple, as complex as life. The pleasure was acute, the need for release

potent.

"Come for me, Marilee," Rafferty growled against the side of her neck.

"Come on, honey, come for me."

His voice was low and rough and dark, as dark as the gray of his eyes as

he stared into hers. Marilee whispered his name between gasps, between

strokes. He filled her completely, lifted her hips from the mattress

with each thrust. The intensity of the pleasure was almost too much,

riding the fine line on the edge of pain. It built inside her powerful

hybrid of tension, passion, need. She felt as if they were being pulled

up the side of a mountain, then teetering at its crest.

J.D. slipped a hand between their bodies, parting the delicate petals of

her femininity, tapping gently against the aching bud of her desire.

"Come for me, Marilee. Come on. Come on, sweetheart."

She whimpered and strained against him, closer, closer to the edge. He

slipped a finger lower, pressing at the entrance to her body where he

already filled her, where his thick, pulsing shaft pumped in and out, in

and out.

"Come on . . . come on."

"J.D. . . . J.D.!"

Over the edge. Into a free fall. Sensation rushed through her like the

wind, wild, pounding, exquisite..J.D. fell with her. She wrapped her arms

around him and held tight as consciousness dimmed and she became nothing

but a pounding heart and humming nerve endings and burning, throbbing muscles.

And then there was stillness, within and all around.

Stillness and self-revelation. That she had never known anything quite

like this with another man. That she was in over her head. That what had

begun in the heat of the moment on the side of the mountain might be

more than she wanted to handle. That Rafferty might be more than she

wanted to handle.

Marilee opened her eyes slowly. She lay tucked beside J.D., her cheek

pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, one leg tangled with his. His arm

was around her, holding her loosely. The light in the room had faded to

the dark grainy texture of an underexposed black and white photograph.

Rain still fell beyond the log walls. It ran in sheets over the

skylight. It was the only sound. Soothing.

Melancholy.

Day was slipping into night. She had no idea what time it was, how much

time had passed. She didn't know whether Rafferty was awake. His

breathing was deep and regular. He didn't say a word. Marilee flexed the

fingers of her left hand, tangling them in the coarse dark hair that

grew across the hard planes of his chest. His heartbeat was slow and

even.

What was he thinking?
 
What was he feeling?
 
What did this mean to him?

She wouldn't ask for fear he would answer her. She didn't want to hear

him say it in that same callous tone he had used the night they met. We

had sex. Friendship didn't enter into it.

Was that all it meant to him?
 
A release. Scratching an itch.

Did she want it to mean more?

That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. She was supposed to be

living for the moment, not looking for a future with a man she barely

knew. They weren't a match made in heaven. He was stubborn and and bound

and determined that she didn't belong here.

Pain seeped through her like a wash of salt across old wounds that never

healed.
 
All she had ever wanted was someplace to belong. All she had

ever looked for was somewhere to fit in. J.D. said she didn't belong

here.

He wouldn't let her fit into his life, not beyond this. He would leave

her on the outside looking in. He would come and go from her life at

will, but he didn't want her in his.

She had told herself she would live in the moment, float on in that odd

state of limbo, but she wasn't made that way. In her heart of hearts she

wanted more, had wanted more all along. The joke's on you, Marilee.

The loneliness that enveloped her was a chill that went soul deep.

"You cold?" His voice was deep and soft as rumpled velvet.

Marilee bit her lip and nodded, feeling close to tears. Ridiculous. She

had no business crying. She swallowed hard against the lump in her

throat as J.D. pulled the tattered coverlet around her.

"You're quiet," he murmured. "Too quiet."

He crooked a knuckle under her chin and tilted her face up. She sat and

turned away from him, but not before he caught a glimpse of those huge,

deep eyes, luminous with tears. The sight kicked him in the gut with all

the power of a horse.

"Marilee?
 
What's wrong?
 
Was I too rough?
 
Did I hurt you?"

"No." Not yet. She stood as he reached for her, his fingertips grazing

her bare back.

This room had seen its share of action from the vandals. Clothes that

had hung in the closet were strewn across the floor. Marilee spied a

terry-cloth robe near the foot of the bed, picked it up, and shrugged it

on. It swallowed her whole, the sleeves falling well past her

fingertips. Fine. She wanted to cocoon herself, insulate herself.

Tucking her hair back behind her ear, she wandered to the dormer window

and stared out at the rain-drenched mountain side and the gathering

darkness.

J.D. watched her from the bed. She could feel his gaze on her, steady,

powerful, willing her to turn around. When she didn't, he up and came to

her, completely unconcerned with his naked state.

"I was thinking about Lucy," she said, feeling bleak and raw inside.