Always by Iris Johansen Page A

against his chest. She made a sound deep in her throat that was half moan, half purr of satisfaction. This was what she had wanted. Her palms tingled as the crispness of him pressed into their softness. She moved her hands slowly, tentatively, savoring the sensation, playing, tangling, tugging.
    He was rock hard against her, and the muscles of his chest and belly were knotted with a tension that was almost unbearable. His breath came raggedly in harsh gasps and he was forced to lift his head. He shuddered. “I love your hands on me.” His hands tangled in her hair. “But it’s not enough. I want your mouth, too, love.” He pulled her close so that her cheek was cushioned against the soft hair that had been her playground. The clean smell ofsoap and man surrounded her, and his skin was warm beneath her lips. Her tongue touched, tasted.
    He flinched as if she’d struck him, his fingers twisting in her hair. “Lisa …” He moved her lips to another place on his body. “Here, acushla.” Then he shifted her again. “And here.” He moved her head once more. “Lord, that’s wonderful.” Suddenly he crushed her mouth to his chest, holding her so tightly that she was breathless. Shudder after shudder ran through him. “Too wonderful. I’m going out of my mind. Let’s go to bed!”
    She couldn’t seem to think. How had they come this far in such a short time? “Clancy …”
    “I’ll make you happy.” His hands left her hair and slid down her back in a caressing movement that held yearning tenderness as well as hunger. “Let me try to give you what you need, what we both need. I love you, Lisa.”
    She felt a little shock run through her as the last words sank home. He did believe that he loved her and this wouldn’t be just a pleasant night’s romp for him. It would be a step towardthe commitment he was trying to wrest from her. The commitment she had no intention of giving any man.
    He went still as he felt the unconscious stiffening of her body against him. “Lisa?” He pushed her gently away from him, his hands cupping her shoulders. His gaze searched her face and his expression clouded at what he read there. “No?”
    She bit her lower lip. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop you right away. I’m not usually a tease, Clancy.”
    “I know that,” he replied. His features were still drawn and hard with hunger. “My fault. I started it. It’s been a rough couple of days, and I got a little impatient.” He laughed mirthlessly. “But I’m sure I’ll be punished for that lack of virtue tonight. I’ll probably lie in bed awake and aching all night.”
    “So will I,” she whispered.
    “Well, you can just lie there in the same torment that I’m going to go through. I’m not about to give you back those damn sleeping pills.”
    She shook her head wearily. “I don’t want them. I only take them when—” She broke off and turned away. “Good night, Clancy. This situation isn’t getting any easier for either one of us, is it? I think you may decide to let me go sooner than you think.”
    “Don’t get your hopes up. I can take a fair amount of punishment. I was once captured by a band of revolutionaries who tortured me every day for three and a half weeks before Alex rescued me. It wasn’t nearly as bad as what I’m going through right now, but it did condition me.” He inclined his head in a half-mocking bow. “Good night, Lisa. I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning.”

T HERE WAS NO question about it. It was Martin standing in the half shadow of the awning of the booth across the square.
    Lisa felt the blood freeze in her veins, then heat up and start pumping so furiously that she felt a little ill. She cast a swift, surreptitious glance at Clancy standing next to her and breathed a sigh of relief. He was examining a rather flamboyant straw basket with a big-eyed Betty Boop on the side. There was an amused smile on his lips, so he couldn’t have noticed either