Donovans 03 - Pearl Cove

the space of a few heartbeats. He pulled her closer and opened her mouth with a twist of his head, sinking into her with a heady, slow luxury. A taste of brandy, a wisp of mint, and a swirl of something much hotter, more ancient.
    Dangerous.
    “You’re tired,” she said.
    “Dead on my feet. Take me to bed.”
    “You don’t have to.”
    “You’d rather I sleep on my feet?”
    Her smile curved against his lips. “You know what I mean.”
    “Nope.” His tongue dipped, tasted, savored. “What do you mean?”
    “It can wait until morning.”
    “It?”
    “Sex,” she muttered, embarrassed. She and Len had never talked about it. They had just done it.
    “Sex can wait until hell freezes over,” Archer said calmly.
    She gave him a startled look. The heat and laughter and confidence in his eyes made her feel as though she was being licked all over by tongues of fire.
    “Making love, now, that’s different,” he said. “That can’t wait a minute longer.”
    Her smile disappeared in a kiss that was both restrained and urgent. When it ended, she was naked on the bed and his tongue was sliding over her, lingering in all the tender places, the hidden places, the secret places where scent and mystery fused into heat. His hands caressed even as his mouth tasted, hovered, tasted again, before slowly, slowly sinking into her, unraveling her in a loving that was both tender and starkly intimate.
    Her breath stopped and her heart speeded as her climax uncoiled in a luxuriant whip of pleasure that arched her whole body. Seeing her lover’s dark hair against her skin as he turned and bit her with exquisite care sent another slow lash of ecstasy through her, another unraveling so beautiful that she couldn’t breathe. Yet somehow she said his name.
    He looked up, saw the hazy indigo of her eyes, and smoothed his cheek against the sultry flesh he could still taste on his tongue. When he felt the ripple begin again, the sweet slow clenching of her body, he could wait no longer.
    His name came in fragments from her lips when he entered her with a single, prolonged movement of his hips. The ravishing whip uncurled again, taking her, giving her to him. He took the gift and gave himself in turn, moving slowly, kissing her tenderly. Despite the urgency building with every leisurely stroke, he savored each moment, memorizing the scent and taste of her shimmering and crying, burning beneath him.
    And then he was burning with her, pulsing in light-shot darkness, spending himself until he had no more to give, no more air to breathe, no more body to feel, nothing but her arms holding him to tell him that he was still alive.
    It was a long time before he found enough strength to roll aside. Even then he didn’t leave her body. He simply gathered her closer and held her against him as he turned over. She made a murmurous sound, burrowed into his neck, and took a ragged breath as the silvery aftershocks of ecstasy rippled through her again.
    “You were supposed to be tired,” she said huskily.
    “I was. Next time you get to do all the work.”
    She smiled against his neck. “You’ll have to tell me how. In great detail.”
    The thought of it made his heartbeat quicken. He laughed softly. He had never been like this with any woman. The sensual revelation was as surprising to him as anything that had ever happened in his life. He nuzzled her ear, bit delicately, and said, “If this keeps up, you’re going to be pregnant for sure.”
    More than half asleep, she snuggled against him and said the first thing that came to her mind. “I hope so.”
    Relief and something very close to joy swept through him. He held her even closer, wondering if many people were ever lucky enough to know they held the world in their arms. “Good. I’ll make the arrangements tomorrow. We’ll be married as soon as—”
    “Married.” Hannah struggled upright and stared down at Archer as though he had grown two heads. “Who said anything about marriage?”
    “We did. When we agreed to make a baby.”
    “No.” She pushed away from him and sat on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t say anything like that.”
    “If you’re pregnant—”
    “I’ll sell my half of Pearl Cove,” she cut in, “buy a house, and make my living color-matching pearls for the other farmers. It would be a good, stable job, and it would give me plenty of time to raise my child.”
    “Your child?” Archer’s question was as cold as the chill he felt inside and out,