After Caroline (33 page)

“That ought to be a snap,” he said. “Know any good mediums?”

Joanna turned her head back toward the fire, a brief smile appearing on her lips. “I have some friends into that
stuff. Me, the only medium I know is what’s in the middle.”

Griffin watched her profile as she fell silent. It was better for her when she was talking, he thought. When she could focus her agile mind on the intellectual puzzle of what was going on in Cliffside. It was the best way, the way most cops operated, and it usually succeeded in lending a bit of detachment when it was desperately needed. But they had talked it through now, at least as far as they could for the moment.

Then, remembering, he said, “When I opened your car door today, you said this was the third time. What did you mean?”

“The third time I’ve cheated death,” she said softly. “But if poor Amber died in my place, I guess it was the fourth time.” She looked at him, and that little smile wavered on her lips again. “How many more chances do you think I have left?”

This time, Griffin didn’t fight the urge to touch her. He slid across the space separating them and surrounded her face with his hands. Her lips were warm and trembled under his, and he felt the pulse in her neck throbbing rapidly. She made a little sound, then leaned into him, fumbling to push the pillow between them out of the way and turning fully toward him, lifting her hands to touch his chest.

He knew she was vulnerable tonight, knew she might willingly accept something else when it was simple comforting she needed, but when her mouth opened beneath his and her tongue glided along the inner surface of his lips with a featherlight and wildly arousing touch, all he could think of was how much he needed her.

“Joanna…”He could barely force himself to lift his mouth off hers long enough to whisper her name, but he needed that, too, needed to say her name, and then he was kissing her hungrily again. One of his hands slipped around to tangle in her silky hair, and the other moved to her back, drawing her closer.

She made another of those throaty, sensuous sounds,
and her back arched beneath his touch. Her instant and total response wrenched a groan from him, yet at the same time brought him at least partly to his senses. He managed to draw back far enough to look at her, his hands moving once more to surround her face.

“Doc isn’t the only one with rotten timing,” he said huskily. “Joanna, you’ve had a hell of a day. I can’t take advantage of that.”

Her eyes seemed huge, still gleaming with moisture, still darkened, but the smile that wavered on her lips was oddly amused. “Thank you,” she murmured. “But Griffin, I knew days ago this would happen. Didn’t you?”

His thumbs rubbed across her cheekbones rhythmically. “Yes,” he admitted. “Still—”

She didn’t let him finish, but simply leaned into him once more and pressed her lips to his. Against his mouth, her breath warm, she whispered, “I want you. And I know what I’m doing. Don’t make me sleep alone tonight, please.”

Maybe some other man could have resisted that plea, but Griffin couldn’t. His arms surrounded her, drawing her as close as possible, and his mouth slanted over hers, deepening the kiss. She responded instantly, her arms slipping up around his neck and her upper body molding itself to his. And she didn’t feel vulnerable to him, not now; she felt like a passionate woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

She was light when he lifted her from the couch, and it was a stark reminder of how physically delicate she was. The recognition sent a jumble of emotions clashing in his mind. Anxiety because someone had tried—twice—to kill her. Fear for her, because she would be helpless in the grip of almost any man. A sense of protectiveness he had never felt before. And an oddly primitive, iron determination to keep her safe. He had never felt anything like that before. And he had never felt anything like the oddly focused quality of his senses; all he could see or hear or smell or feel was her.

He carried her into his bedroom and set her gently on her feet beside the bed, reaching out one hand to blindly fling back the covers. He couldn’t stop kissing her, driven to try to satisfy a need he didn’t even understand. Her mouth was warm and wild under his, as if she felt the same hunger for the deceptive simplicity of a kiss.

But it wasn’t enough, for either of them. He felt her fingers coping with his belt even as his lifted to unfasten the buttons of the pajama top she wore, and both of them were abruptly frantic to do away with the barriers between them. He took his hands off her long enough to peel the T-shirt off over his head, then pushed the open pajama top off her shoulders. Her naked breasts touched him, the hardened tips like points of fire burning his chest, and Griffin felt more than heard a groan rumble up from somewhere deep inside him.

“Christ, Joanna … I want you so much.” He hardly recognized the hoarse sound of his own voice. Her eyes gleamed up at him and she moved slightly, rubbing her breasts against his chest, and he thought he’d shatter into a million pieces with the pleasure of it.

He wanted to look at her, to strip her naked and stare at her until he’d memorized every inch of her, but as strong as that need was, the urge to bury himself in her was far more overwhelming. He fumbled at the drawstring waist of the pajama bottoms until it was loosened, allowing the material to slide easily over her slender hips and down her legs, and felt her soft hands against his hips as she pushed his pants and shorts down.

That intimate touch made every muscle in his body tighten in exquisite anticipation, and then the soft, silky skin of her belly pressed against his hardness, and the touch sent a jolt of pure raw desire through him. He felt her shift slightly as she worked the socks off and stepped out of the material pooling around her feet. Somehow, he got rid of his own shoes and socks, kicked them and the pants out of his way.

Griffin lifted her onto the bed and followed her down.
Her body in the lamplight was as beautiful as he had known it would be. As slender and delicate as she was, her small breasts were full and firm, and her hips curved gently in a shape that was all woman. Her eyes gleamed up at him, liquid and sleepy with desire, and her lips were full and reddened from his passionate kisses.

He wanted to tell her what he saw and felt. Wanted to tell her she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and that he couldn’t think of anything but how much he needed her. But he couldn’t tell her anything at all, because he didn’t trust himself to even try to speak.

Instead, he told her with his touch. He kissed her face, her throat. His hands touched her breasts, stroking the warm, silky skin and examining the stiff pink nipples. His mouth followed his fingers, and the tension and heat inside him surged wildly when she moaned and shifted restlessly in response. He could feel her heart thudding as rapidly as his own, hear her soft, quick breathing and tiny gasps. And the taste of her fed his desire until he didn’t think he’d be able to hold back another minute.

His hand slid down over her belly, feeling her quiver, and his fingers combed through the silky blond curls until he found the wet heat that told him she was ready for him. He caressed her for a moment, stroking her sensitive flesh gently until her hips lifted and she made a pleading little sound.

The last threads of his restraint snapped. With a groan, Griffin moved over her, spreading her legs and settling between them. He felt her hands on his shoulders, his back, her nails tiny darts of exquisite sensation, and stared down into her darkened eyes as his body penetrated hers.

She was smaller than he’d expected, tighter, her body admitting him with a reluctance that made the slow joining infinitely pleasurable. He wanted to lose himself in her, to meld the two of them together until they were a part of each other.

The winding, maddening tension built as he began to move, at first slowly. But as she responded, her body moving
sensuously beneath his, her moans and husky little sounds urgent, a more primitive rhythm took hold of him. Joanna met his quickening thrusts, her body taut and sinuous, her hands gripping his shoulders. Her face was beautiful in passion, riveting his gaze until she was all Griffin saw, all he could hold in his mind.

It was like being swept up into a storm of sensation, carried along helplessly toward a peak of release that had become an overwhelming necessity. Joanna cried out, and the inner spasms of her pleasure caught Griffin in a caress so shattering that he was blind and deaf to everything except the sheer power of his own blissful climax.

“You’re a silent lover,” he said.

Joanna opened her eyes to find him looking down at her, his head raised and propped on one hand. He had pulled the covers up over them at some point during the last few minutes, and she had been drifting peacefully in the warm cocoon of blankets and him, listening to the distant thunder of high tide battering the cliffs.

“A big change from the rest of the time,” she murmured. She couldn’t read his face and wasn’t sure if her silence had disturbed him or if he was merely making a comment. That rugged face was grave, his very dark eyes—black? blue?—fixed on her face intently.

“Is it … usual for you?” he asked almost tentatively.

Joanna thought about the question for a moment. What did he really want to know? For some men, a woman’s past sexual history was a topic to be avoided; others wanted chapter and verse—and a comparison with those previous lovers to boot. On the other hand, Griffin might simply be wondering if she thought their experience a unique one.

Slowly, she said, “I went steady with my high school sweetheart for three years; two years in high school and then during our first year of college. We waited until that last year to have sex, and it … wasn’t very satisfying. In fact,” she smiled faintly, “I didn’t see what all the fuss was
about. I don’t know why we were incompatible that way, maybe just because we were young and he didn’t have much more experience than I did. In any case, it didn’t get any better, not for me. And I suppose my lack of enthusiasm showed. Anyway, we broke up six months later. My next relationship that got as far as the bedroom was the one I told you about in your office. It lasted only a few months. So I don’t really know if being a silent lover is usual for me.”

She drew a breath. “All I do know is that I never understood how anybody could be … overwhelmed by desire—until now.”

His free hand reached over to brush back a strand of her hair, then lingered to stroke her cheek gently. His expression still grave, he said, “We did click, didn’t we?”

Even the mere touch of his hand on her face sent a surge of heat through her, and Joanna could only smile wryly at what was, on her part at least, quite an understatement. “Yeah, we did.” And then she added, “You didn’t say much, either. Is it usual for you?”

“No,” he replied simply.

Joanna waited, watching him.

“I didn’t plan on you,” he said, his fingers still moving lightly on her skin as if the feel of it enthralled him. “It was almost like lightning out of a clear blue sky, it was so sudden. So unexpected. When I saw you that first day, when you turned your head—”

“And I looked so much like Caroline,” she said.

Griffin’s hand stopped moving and rested along her jaw-line and the side of her neck. His brows drew together just a bit, but his voice remained quiet. “That was my first thought, yes. It had to be. But the differences stood out too. Your voice and accent, your hair and eyes. But the resemblance made me cautious. I don’t believe in coincidence, and I had to wonder what you were doing here. Then, later, when I realized you were very methodically asking questions about Caroline, I didn’t know what to think.”

“So you decided to warn me off?”

“It made me uneasy, Joanna.
You
made me uneasy. I didn’t know what you might stir up—and God knows I didn’t expect a killer—but I knew many of the people in this town hadn’t gotten over Caroline’s death.”

Joanna merely nodded, silent.

“I didn’t expect this to happen, not then,” he went on. “I’m not even sure when my feelings began to change, but it wasn’t long before you no longer reminded me of Caroline.”

She wasn’t entirely sure she believed that, but Joanna didn’t question him about it. She preferred—very much preferred—to believe that it was her he had taken into his bed tonight, not a stand-in for Caroline.

He smiled suddenly, crookedly. “That’s when I realized I was in trouble.”

“Swept off your feet?” she murmured, smiling.

“Knocked on my ass,” he replied dryly.

Joanna couldn’t help laughing.

“I’m not kidding,” he told her in a pained tone with something serious underneath. “I’m thirty-seven, Joanna. I’m supposed to be beyond this stuff.”

“Stuff?” she inquired innocently.

“You know what I’m talking about. Daydreams. Ridiculous impulses.”

Joanna wanted very much to ask him to describe those daydreams and impulses, but she was so surprised by what he seemed to be telling her that all she could think to say was, “Lost in lust, huh?”

Griffin leaned over her suddenly, and there was an unexpectedly fierce glitter in his dark eyes. “I’ve felt lust,” he said. “This isn’t it.”