Morgan's Son (19 page)

Gently, Sabra allowed him to find her. His head nuzzled against her; one shoulder pinned her thigh. She tightened her arms, just holding him. Words continued to slip from her. How many times had her mother held her, and soothed her this way as she lay crying, searching for protection?

Something old broke loose in Sabra's heart as she leaned forward and rested her lips against Craig's damp, short hair. He needed to be held, to be protected. She had no idea against what, but that no longer mattered. Even in the throes of his tortured sleep, caught in the predatory claws of the nightmare, he'd sought her arms and the safety of her embrace like a hurt child

Craig nestled more deeply into her lap, and in that moment, Sabra felt an incredible joy fill her pounding heart. As she continued speaking in soothing tones, her lips close to his ear, she felt him relax further, his arm unwinding to follow the curve of her hip and waist. A soft smile touched her lips as his arm encircled her and tightened. He was holding her back, his face against her belly, his breathing much less chaotic now.

Minutes ran together as her world became his. With each stroke of her hand up and down his strong spine, she felt his muscles respond. The sound of the helicopter receded, replaced by the happy noises of people at the beach. The salt breeze mingled with the scent of sweat from his body. Sabra saw color return to his face, his dark beard maintaining his dangerous look even now. Out of instinct, she leaned over and placed another soft kiss against his temple. She tasted the salt of sweat tangled in the strands of his hair. His breathing became more regular, and she closed her eyes and kissed his cheek. Something miraculous was occurring, and she didn't question it as she moved her lips against him.

This time, Sabra felt Craig move, his arm tightening even more around her. She had kissed him to ease his pain, an offering of solace and love. As she trailed her lips downward, his head moved. In moments, she felt his fingers touch her jaw and guide her down—down to his mouth. Heat purled within her as his lips, strong and hungry, slid against hers. His breath brushed her cheek and his fingers tightened, drawing her down, drawing her closer. Every place her body touched his was like wildfire to Sabra. Vividly aware of his strong, guiding hand at her cheek, Sabra surrendered to his hungry, searching mouth.

She lost all sense of time and place. The sounds of the ocean crashing onto the sandy shore, of children laughing and playing, dissolved and melted into a startling awareness of Craig moving his lips powerfully against hers. His mouth was electric, molding and stamping her with his taste, his strength. A soft sigh escaped her as she felt him turn onto his back, both of his hands now framing her face, drawing her down over him. She felt the rise and fall of his chest, the thick mat of hair tantalizing her breasts through the thin silk barrier of her gown as she rested more surely against him. His mouth was demanding, and she acquiesced, understanding on some instinctive level, that he needed whatever she had to share. There was a desperation to the feel of his lips on hers, and she allowed him to drink deeply of her, taste her and take her as she'd never been taken before.

For lingering, molten moments, Sabra lost all awareness of her surroundings. When reality finally intruded on her spinning world of light and heat, she drew back, out of his grasp. Her eyes flew open and she stared down at Craig, her ragged breathing in time with his. His eyes were open, smoldering, watching her, and Sabra saw the terror in their depths—and the desire for her overlaying those fears. She felt his hands clasp her arms, as if to stop her from leaving. His face glistened with sweat, but his cheeks were flushed with life now, not drained to the pallor of death. His mouth…She groaned to herself. Craig's mouth was wonderful. She could still taste him on her lips, a tingling sensation lingering in the wake of his branding, possessive kiss. She had been right: he was a man who claimed and took the woman he wanted. He was primal—part animal, part man.

Shaken, she stared at him, a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. What had she just done? She shouldn't be kissing Craig. He was her partner. They had a dangerous mission to accomplish. A little boy's life was at stake. With a small cry, Sabra pulled free and stumbled to her feet.

"I—I'm sorry," she whispered. She turned and fled from the room, her hand pressed to her parted lips to stop the cry that threatened to tear out of her.

Craig slowly sat up, still caught in memories of the past that were tangled with the surprising, molten present. What the hell had happened? Confused, he tried to sort out the events. He'd relived the crash. In the distance, he could still hear a helicopter. Was it his imagination? Shaking his head, he rubbed his face savagely and sat very still, his head cocked. No, there was a helicopter nearby. Had it flown near the hotel? Was that what had triggered the nightmare?

Looking around, he slowly realized where he was. He'd just been kissing Sabra. But how had it happened? Small fragments of memory started flowing back to him. His body ached like fire itself. He'd wanted Sabra—all of her—in every possible way. He wanted to lay her on the carpet, cover her with his body, plunge deeply into her, take her, love her and make her his. It was craziness!

Rubbing his face again, Craig wrestled with his demons—past and present. He could hear Sabra moving around in her room, but he was unable to see her from this angle. Without thinking, he got up, the twisted tangle of blanket falling to the carpet. He stepped over it and headed to the doorway between their rooms. Just as he got there, he heard the bathroom door shut. Grimacing, he stood, hands hanging helplessly at his side. He'd kissed her. He'd done more than kiss her, he realized as he slowly walked to the windows and pulled back the drapes. He'd taken her. Claimed her. As he stood there, bathed in the bright noontime sunlight, he looked with unseeing eyes over the turquoise Pacific and yellow sand beach below.

The room seemed suddenly stuffy, so Craig slid open the glass door and walked out onto the small balcony. Before him stretched hundreds of bright hibiscus bushes, exploding with a profusion of color, and palm trees swaying gracefully in a slight breeze. Birds sang melodically. Frowning, Craig leaned on the wrought-iron balcony railing. Families and couples moved around below, following a number of concrete paths that connected at least ten different pools within the hotel's expansive grounds. White and black swans swam in one huge pool, next to a man-made waterfall. In a smaller pool, children played on a water slide. Ducks swam in other pools. The hotel seemed to be part zoo, part water park, and definitely aimed at entertaining the hundreds of guests who could afford what it had to offer.

Craig's emotions remained elsewhere, however, hovering sweetly on his kiss with Sabra. Her mouth…He groaned and shut his eyes momentarily, reliving their wild, hot exchange. Her mouth was like a ripe, red hibiscus blossom, opening to him. She had tasted sweet and delicious, her lips sliding across his, allowing him to brand her with his essence. She had surrendered to him completely, he realized, as he opened his eyes, a stormy mix of emotions tunneling through him. Sabra had entrusted herself to him. He laughed sharply and straightened, throwing back his shoulders as if to throw off the weight he carried.

Sabra had no business trusting him. No one did—but especially not her. Why had she been sitting on the couch where he slept? Had he screamed? Called out? Grimly, Craig turned, stared into the room and leaned back against the balcony railing, his arms crossed over his bare chest. Somehow, he had to apologize for his actions. He'd seen the sorrow in her eyes as she pulled away from him—and the terrible regret. Compressing his lips, he sighed, unlocked his arms and walked back into the suite.

He could hear the shower running as he walked through the bedroom to the smaller room. Picking up the phone, he ordered breakfast and coffee. Then he picked up his blanket, folded it and placed it with the pillow on the sofa. Always, he kept his hearing keyed. What was he going to say to Sabra? The truth? No, he could never speak the truth of that horrible tragedy to anyone. Somehow, he would find a way to apologize to her.

Sabra felt the beat of her heart pick up as she quietly opened the bathroom door. She had towel dried her hair, and it hung in damp strands against the pale green blouse she'd put on. The mirror was covered with steam, and she deliberately turned back and wiped a small clearing on the fogged surface with her palm. For the first time, she dared look at herself. She felt so different after Craig's crushing, heated kiss. Leaning closer, she touched her lower lip, seeing its lush, well-kissed look. Craig's kiss had been startling. Unexpected. Wonderful.

Why was she trying to deny the good feelings that ran through her? She studied her eyes in the mirror, seeking an answer and finding none. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy color that made her look innocent. But she was hardly that. She was old enough to know what had gone down and honest enough to admit her role in it. Bluntly, Sabra told herself it was her fault the kiss had occurred in the first place.

Determinedly, she left the bathroom, her nightgown and robe over her arm. She looked around before stepping into the bedroom. Where was Craig? Hearing nothing, she moved to the bed.

"Sabra?"

She gasped and whirled around, her nightgown spilling off her arm and falling to the carpeted floor. Craig stood between the rooms, frowning, his arms crossed over his broad, masculine chest. All words fled from Sabra's mind as she helplessly surrendered to his dark, smoldering gaze. Desire was banked like hot coals in his eyes. Was she crazy? Too long without a kiss? When had she last kissed a man?
Joshua.
That had been two years ago.

She leaned down and picked up the fallen nightgown. "You startled me," she whispered, straightening, the silk gripped in her tense fingers.

"I didn't mean to," Craig murmured, walking toward her. He had changed into a short-sleeved white shirt and a faded pair of jeans. He was still barefoot.

Gulping, Sabra took a step back as he halted within feet of her. She tore her gaze from his mouth—the mouth that had claimed her, heart and soul, in one breathtaking kiss.

"I have to apologize," he said, opening his hands in a gesture of friendship. "I don't know what happened. I was asleep, and the next thing I knew, I dreamt you were there beside me, kissing me." He ran his fingers through his hair. "It shouldn't have happened…."

Sabra bowed her head and held the nightgown tightly against her. "I—I'm sorry, too. It was my fault…all my fault." She shrugged helplessly and whispered, "I heard a noise and went to investigate." Getting up enough courage to look him in the eyes, she said in a strangled tone, "I thought someone had broken into our suite."

"That's why your pistol is on my dresser?"

"Yes…I—I saw you on the couch. You were using your arms, swinging them around, as if trying to hit someone or maybe escape. I don't know. Anyway," she rushed on breathlessly, unable to stand the sudden warmth in his gaze, "I came over, thinking you were having that nightmare again, the one you'd had on the flight…." Sabra turned and went to the bed, dumping her robe and nightgown on it. She felt herself trembling. Why was Craig looking at her like that? She couldn't stand that unexplained warmth in his eyes. Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned back toward him, strengthening her voice.

"I—I did a stupid thing. I know you told me not to touch you when you were having a bad dream. I sat down and—and slid my arm around your shoulder. You seemed so tortured, Craig." She bit her lower lip and looked away. Finally, she forced the words out. "I tried to hold you, that was all. When I put my arm around you, you were still caught up in your nightmare, I think. You crawled into my arms and I just held you until…well, I felt so awful for you. You were like a hurt little boy, and I hurt for you. I leaned down and kissed your cheek…."

Craig rested his hands on his hips, studying Sabra in the uncomfortable silence. She was flushed, her gaze darting to him and away again. Feeling her nervousness, he took a step forward. "Look," he rasped, "you didn't do anything wrong. I'm not saying that. I can't separate nightmare from reality when I'm caught up in it. I thought I heard your voice. I thought…" He grimaced. "I felt your hand on my shoulder, and I thought it was some kind of crazy overlay to the nightmare." He managed a twisted smile for just a moment, the corners of his mouth deepening. "To tell you the truth, when I went to bed last night, I didn't think I'd sleep. So I replayed the words you spoke to me on the plane and remembered your touch." He shrugged. "I fell asleep. It's the first time in a long time I've dropped off that fast." He halted, realizing he was saying too much. Clearing his throat, he added, "So, you see, I thought you were a dream. I didn't know it was real, not until later…."

Rubbing her brow, Sabra whispered, "You don't have to make excuses for me—"

"I'm not trying to, Sabra." He saw the wariness in her lovely eyes and had the urge to reach out and touch her long, damp hair, to tame away some of her nervousness. "I'm just trying to tell you what happened at my end of that…kiss."