Iris Johansen (14 page)

Janna sat as docilely as a child while he quickly went over her hair, strand by strand, with the cloth. The intimate attention Rafe was showing her made her feel treasured and protected, and she had no desire to lose that feeling by asserting her independence in what would be a purely symbolic display. Then she was abruptly jarred out of her narcissistic contentment as she noticed a drop of moisture running down Rafe’s cheek from his still-wet
hair. He was the one who’d been ill, she thought guiltily. Yet she was selfishly sitting here letting him take care of her.

She grabbed up a napkin and edged still closer. “Now it’s my turn,” she said firmly, wiping his face gently with the cloth. “You’re far wetter than I am.” She rubbed at the heavy sideburns, frowning in concentration. “You have a little silver in your hair,” she observed casually. “I’ve never noticed that before.”

“It’s probably a new acquisition,” he said, his voice oddly husky. “I’m sure it wasn’t there before you appeared on the scene.”

Janna laughed softly, her gaze leaving his hair to glance down into his eyes. What she saw there caused her to catch her breath and her hands to halt in their task. She was suddenly acutely aware of how close she was to the vibrant heat of his body. Mere inches separated them, and her arms were lifted on each side of his head in an intimate parody of an embrace. “Perhaps you’d better finish yourself,” she said faintly, making a move to lower her hands from his hair.

He caught her upper arms in his hands, preventing her from completing the motion. “No,” he said softly, his eyes holding hers with a mesmerizing intimacy. “Keep on with it. I like your hands on me.”

Janna looked away hurriedly and with dreamlike slowness continued with her task, hardly conscious of what she was doing. She was only aware of the slow rise and fall of Rafe’s chest as he breathed in and out and the pulse beating strongly at the side of his throat. With every breath she could smell that woodsy cologne, the freshness of the rain, and the musty sweetness of the loose hay that surrounded them. There was no noise but the drumming of the rain on the roof of the barn and the light sound of their own breathing. The silence seemed to quicken her own awareness to an almost painful sensitivity.
It was as if she could feel each individual straw of the soft, fragrant mass they were kneeling upon through the fabric of her jeans, and she was suddenly conscious of the ripe heaviness of her breasts as they brushed against Rafe with the movement of her hands in his hair.

“That’s enough,” Rafe said thickly.

Her arms fell slowly to her sides. Her gaze flew back to the hot intensity of his, and she moistened her lips nervously. “Do you think you’re dry enough now?” she faltered.

He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Don’t worry about that,” he said dryly. “I feel as if I’m generating enough heat at the moment to turn a rain forest into a virtual Sahara Desert.” He drew a deep, shaky breath, and his gaze traveled over her lingeringly. “I wish that you’d let me finish before you decided to return the favor. You’ve made things difficult as hell, Pocahontas.” His lips twisted wryly. “Now let’s see how long my resistance will last before I throw you down in the hay and have my way with you.”

“There’s no need for you to bother,” she said a trifle breathlessly as she started to edge away from him. “I’m dry as toast now.”

“Sit still,” he ordered raggedly, brushing a strand of silky hair away from her forehead. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you there’s nothing more provocative to a man’s hunting instincts than a gazelle in flight? I’m not going to hurt you, damn it.” Suddenly his eyes darkened with concern. “I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”

She could feel the warm color flood her face, and she shook her head vigorously.

“That’s good,” he said quietly, his expression relieved. “I meant to be more gentle when I found out you were a virgin, but you felt so hot and sweet that I went a little crazy.”

He wasn’t the only one, Janna thought wryly as he began to dry her throat. At that point she’d had no
use for gentleness or restraint and had wanted only the pounding rhythm that had been the center of her universe. Just the memory of that moment brought a heavy languor to her loins and caused her nipples to harden and thrust against the wet fabric of her shirt.

Rafe could hardly miss the evidence of her arousal, and she heard his swift indrawn breath as he looked down at the swollen fullness of her breasts.

“God help me,” he breathed softly, and slowly started to unbutton her shirt. His face was all bladehard planes and contours, but his lips were beautifully sensual and his eyes midnight-dark with desire. His hands were trembling a little as he peeled the wet beige shirt off her. The flimsy bra followed immediately, and he stood looking at her for a long moment, his face flushed and his eyes glazed with intensity. “Lord, that’s lovely,” he said hoarsely. “There’s nothing more beautiful in the world than a woman’s breasts pleading to be loved.” He rubbed the napkin over the taut nipples, the crisp abrasiveness of the cotton on their sensitive tips causing Janna to shiver and catch her breath. Then the cloth was moving over her midriff and around to the small of her back, so that she was enfolded in the curve of his arm, her breasts arched upward against him as he slowly moved the napkin in sensuous circles up and down her back. “I’m getting you wet again,” he said softly, and, releasing her for a brief instant, he pulled his cream sweat shirt over his head and threw it carelessly aside. “Now, where were we?”

Janna reached out with one tentative hand to stroke the springy dark hair on the massive bronze chest. It felt deliciously abrasive against her soft palm. She could feel Rafe stiffen and then freeze beneath her hand, but she was too intrigued with her explorations to really notice. Her hand lightly traced the smooth, rippling muscles beneath the
taut skin and then curiously sought out the small male nipples. Did they react to stimuli like her own, she wondered dreamily? Then she was irresistibly drawn to find out. She leaned forward, and her tongue darted out to caress the hard nub teasingly. She received her answer immediately in the form of Rafe’s sharply indrawn breath and, encouraged, she transferred her attention to the other nipple, with similar success.

“You know that you’re driving me out of my mind, of course,” Rafe said, gasping, as her hands traced slowly from his chest to the hard flat muscles of his abdomen and stroked the taut smooth flesh with sensuous enjoyment. Janna didn’t answer, as her teeth joined her tongue in tiny erotic nibbles at his nipples while her hands moved around to the small of his back to knead and massage the muscles rhythmically, delighting in the feel of his smooth skin.

She was dimly aware that her actions were building a white-hot arousal in Rafe, and it filled her with the same primitive satisfaction that she’d known last night. She loved the tensing of that massive, strong body as she touched him with her tongue or with a feather-light brush of her hair as she leaned her face close to his chest. She loved the way he shuddered and inhaled sharply at every new, unexpected touch of her hands on his body. She could hear the rapid pace of his heartbeat beneath her ear and with joyous triumph knew it was she who had caused it to thunder.

“Enough, you little devil,” Rafe said hoarsely, pushing her almost desperately away from him. “I’ve heard it was the Indian women who were the most inventive at torturing their prisoners, and I believe it now.”

She looked up at him and grinned happily. “You didn’t like it?” she asked demurely, knowing very
well the effect that she’d had on him. Oh yes, he’d liked it, all right.

He gazed down, and his dark eyes narrowed as they read the satisfaction on her face. “You know I did,” he said tersely. “And you’re just a little too pleased about it to suit me.” He ripped off her jeans and the tiny bikini panties at the same time, and Janna felt suddenly very exposed and vulnerable as she lay naked before him in the soft, fragrant bed of hay. “I think I’ll just puncture a little of that smug complacency, Janna.”

He was calmly stripping off the rest of his clothes, and Janna looked up at him, frowning in confusion. There was no doubt that he was tremendously aroused. The physical evidence was clear not only in the hard tension of his body but in the dark blaze of his eyes in the lean, taut hungriness of his face. When he pushed her back in the hay, she had expected him to follow her down and once more send her on that passionate odyssey they’d traveled last night. She knew now that the thought had been in the back of her mind all day, and she’d subconsciously been torn between anticipation and frustration.

Despite any mental rejection and qualifications she might have had, she
wanted
Rafe’s possession of her body with a passionate ferocity that she hadn’t admitted even to herself. And he wanted
her
, damn it. So why was he being so painstakingly deliberate, as he removed the remainder of his clothes and folded them neatly before tossing them aside with a maddening calmness? Then, incredibly, he was picking up another blasted napkin! “What are you doing?” she squeaked indignantly.

“I have the reputation of always finishing what I start,” he told her silkily as he parted her legs and slid in between them. “Didn’t you know that, Janna? You’re still a little damp, sweetheart.” Then he proceeded to dry her with skilled thoroughness, from
the bare toes to the arching apex of her thighs—so skilled and so thorough that he had her arching and moving in a feverish torment, her head moving from side to side in a restless searching that was not to be satisfied.

“Rafe!” she cried, and there was fury as well as frustration in that exclamation, which caused him to look up with a grin that had an element of tigerish enjoyment in it.

“Not yet, Janna,” he said softly. “I want you as crazy for it as I am.” He reached out for the plaid blanket and with a billowing motion spread it on the hay beside them. “Roll over, darling,” he said as he moved from between her legs. “I wouldn’t want those lovely breasts scratched by the straw.”

His hands were tender as he moved her gently onto her stomach. Then he was once more between her legs and he was playing the same maddening detailed attention to the silky line of her back and buttocks as he had to her front. Somehow it was even more erotic to be unable to see what he was doing to her, she thought breathlessly, with a painful tightening of the muscles of her stomach, to feel his hands moving over her possessively and know he was gazing at her with that almost blind look of desire in the depths of those night-dark eyes. She could hear his breathing quicken above her and she knew his restraint was being strained to the limits by this love play. God, let that control break soon, she thought feverishly. She didn’t think she could stand much more of this. Her hands knotted into fists as she felt his hands gently brushing the hay from her back.

“I knew the hay would mark you,” Rafe said huskily, “your skin is so silky.” His finger touched a spot where her lower back joined the soft swell of her buttocks. “There’s a little scratch right there.” Then she felt the warmth of his breath as his lips replaced
his finger in a gossamer-light kiss that burned like an electric shock.

Then the waiting was over as Rafe gave a low groan that sounded like an animal in pain. His hands weren’t gentle this time when he flipped her over and joined her on the blanket with two swiftly coordinated movements. His lips were voraciously hungry on hers and his hands were running up and down her back with a feverish urgency. He was uttering little smothered groans of need deep in his throat, which were echoed by Janna’s own frantic moans.

She was burning up, writhing in a flame of desire so intense she felt as if she would be devoured by it if Rafe didn’t give her what she needed so desperately. She didn’t know which one of them initiated their union, but suddenly they were together and Janna was clutching at Rafe’s shoulders, her face convulsed with savage satisfaction.

With a swift movement that caught her by surprise, Rafe rolled over and she was on top, gazing down at him with wide, inquiring eyes, his hands on her hips binding their bodies together in indescribable excitement. “I want to see your face,” Rafe explained huskily as his hips started to gyrate forcefully in an upward rhythm that caused her breath to leave her. “I want to look up and see that expression and know what I’m doing to you is causing it.” He reached up and cupped her breasts in his hands. “I want to be able to hold you in my hands like this.”

Janna felt as if she were exploding into a million dazzling splinters of sensation, and she started to move with the same frantic urgency that was driving Rafe, meeting him with an energy and power equal to his own. Both the tempo and intensity were so blindingly extreme, it was inevitable that it also be as evanescent as an exploding star. It seemed only an incredibly short time later that they were lying locked in each other’s arms, clinging trembling to each other in the aftermath of that explosion.

Rafe’s arms were possessive and sheltering about her, and Janna was too languid and weary to do anything but snuggle closer into their warm strength.

Rafe’s warm lips pressed an affectionate kiss on her temple that was oddly sexless after the stormy sexuality that had preceded it, and his hand gently stroked her hair back from her face. “God, that was completely mind-blowing,” he said softly. “You’re quite some lady, sweetheart. If you’re this fantastic as a novice, I can’t wait until you’ve had a little practice.” he chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I can’t wait for the practice itself.”

“You’ll have to,” she groaned wearily, burrowing her head deeper in the curve of his shoulder. “I may never be able to move again.”

“Poor baby,” he crooned huskily, brushing her forehead again with his lips. “You’ve had quite a workout for someone so new at the game. You shouldn’t be so damned delectable. Do you know that you drive me nearly crazy with wanting you?”

How could she disbelieve him, when he had the same effect on her? she thought dreamily. “Not very gallant of you to lay the blame entirely at my door,” she murmured lightly, nestling still closer to him. “I seem to recall some very active participation on your part.”