The right path, p.16
The Right Path, page 16
Capturing her mouth, he pulled her to the sand.
His lips were urgent, burning. His talk of branding raced through her head, but Morgan accepted the fire eagerly. And already he was stripping off her shirt as if he couldn’t bear even the thin separation between them.
Morgan knew he would always love like this. Intensely, without thought, without reason. She gloried in it. Desire this strong took no denial. Her own fingers were busy with his shirt, ripping at the seam in her hurry to be flesh to flesh. She heard him laugh with his mouth pressed against her throat.
There was no longer any right or wrong. Needs were too great. And love. Even as passion drove her higher, Morgan knew and recognized her love. She had waited for it all of her life. With the heat building, there was no time to question how it could be Nick. She only knew it was, whatever, whoever, he was. Nothing else mattered.
When his hands found her naked breasts, he groaned and crushed his lips to hers again. She was so soft, so slender. He struggled not to bruise her, not again, but desire was wild and free in him. He’d never wanted a woman like this. Not like this. Even when he had taken her the first time, he hadn’t felt this clean silver streak of power.
She was consuming him, pouring inside his mind. And the taste. Dear God, would he never get enough of the taste of her? He found her breast with his mouth and filled himself.
Morgan arched and dove her fingers into his hair. He was murmuring something, but his breathing was as ragged as hers and she couldn’t understand. When his mouth was back on hers, there was no need to. She felt him tugging her jeans over her hips, but was too delirious to realize she had pulled at his first. She felt the skin stretched tight over his bones, the surprising narrowness of his body.
Then his lips and hands were racing over her—not in the angry desperation she remembered from the night before, but in unquestionable possession. There was no gentleness, but neither was there a fierceness. He took and took as though no one had a better right. Those strong lean fingers stroked down her, making her gasp out loud in pleasure, then moan in torment when they lay still.
His mouth was always busy, tongue lightly torturing, teeth taking her to the edge of control. There seemed to be no part of her, no inch he couldn’t exploit for pleasure. And the speed never slacked.
Cool sand, cool water, and his hot, clever mouth—she was trapped between them. There was moonlight, rippling white, but she was a willing prisoner of the darkness. In the grove of cypresses a night bird called out—one long, haunting note. It might have been her own sigh. She tasted the sea on his skin, knew he would taste it on hers as well. Somehow, that small intimacy made her hold him tighter.
They might have been the only ones, washed ashore, destined to be lovers throughout their lives without the need for anyone else. The scent of the night wafted over her—his scent. They would always be the same to her.
Then she heard nothing, knew nothing, as he drove her beyond reason with his mouth alone.
She was grasping at him, demanding and pleading in the same breathless whispers for him to give her that final, delirious relief. But he held her off, pleasing himself, and pleasing her until she thought her body would simply implode at the pressure that was building.
With a wild, hungry kiss he silenced her while leading her closer to the edge. Though she could feel his heart racing against hers, he seemed determined to hold them there—an instant, an hour—hovering between heaven and hell.
When he drove them over, Morgan wasn’t certain on which side they had fallen—only that they had fallen together.
***
Morgan lay quiet, cushioned against Nick’s bare shoulder. The waves gently caressed her legs. In the aftermath of the demands of passion she was light and cool and stunned. She could feel the blood still pounding in his chest and knew no one, no one had ever wanted her like this. The sense of power it might have given her came as an ache. She closed her eyes on it.
She hadn’t even struggled, she thought. Not even a token protest. She had given herself without thought—not in submission to his strength, but in submission to her own desires. Now, as the heat of passion ebbed, she felt the hard edge of shame.
He was a criminal—a hard, self-seeking man who trafficked in misery for profit. And she had given him her body and her heart. Perhaps she had no control over her heart, but Morgan was honest enough to know she ruled her own body. Shivering, she drew away from him.
“No, stay.” Nick nuzzled in her hair as he held her against his side.
“I have to go in,” she murmured. Morgan drew her body away as far as his arm would permit. “Please, let me go.”
Nick shifted until his face hovered over hers. His lips were curved in amusement; his face was relaxed and satisfied. “No,” he said simply. “You won’t walk away from me again.”
“Nicholas, please.” Morgan turned her head aside. “It’s late. I have to go.”
He became still for a moment, then took her face firmly in his hand and turned it back to his. He saw the gleam of tears, tightly controlled, and swore. “It occurs to you suddenly that you’ve just given yourself to a criminal and enjoyed it.”
“Don’t!” Morgan shut her eyes. “Just let me go in. Whatever I’ve done, I’ve done because I wanted to.”
Nick stared down at her. She was dry-eyed now, but her eyes were bleak. Swearing again, he reached for his partially dry shirt and pulled Morgan into a sitting position. Athens, he thought again, could fry in hell.
“Put this on,” he ordered, swinging it over her shoulders. “We’ll talk.”
“I don’t want to talk. There’s no need to talk.”
“I said we’ll talk, Morgan.” Nick pushed her arm into a sleeve. “I won’t have you feeling guilty over what just happened.” She could feel the simmering anger pulsing from him as he pulled his shirt over her breasts. “I won’t have that,” he muttered. “It’s too much. I can’t explain everything now . . . There are some things I won’t ever explain.”
“I’m not asking for explanations.”
His eyes locked on hers. “You ask every time you look at me.” Nick pulled a cigarette from the pocket of the shirt, then lit it. “My business in import-export has made me quite a number of contacts over the years. Some of whom, I imagine, you wouldn’t approve of.” He mused over this for a moment as he blew out a hazy stream of smoke.
“Nicholas, I don’t—”
“Shut up, Morgan. When a man’s decided to bare his soul, a woman shouldn’t interrupt. God knows how dark you’ll find it,” he added, as he drew in smoke again. “When I was in my early, impressionable twenties, I met a man who considered me suitable for a certain type of work. I found the work itself fascinating. Danger can become addicting, like any other drug.”
Yes, she thought as she stared out over the water. If nothing else, she could understand that.
“I began to—freelance.” He smiled at the term, but it had little to do with humor. “For his organization. For the most part I enjoyed it. In any case, I was content with it. It’s amazing that a way of life, ten years of my life should become a prison in a week’s time.”
Morgan had drawn her knees close to her chest while she stared out over the water. Nick laid a hand on her hair, but she still didn’t look at him. He was finding it more difficult to tell her than he had imagined. Even after he’d finished, she might turn away from him. He’d be left with nothing—less than nothing. He drew hard on his cigarette, then stared at the red glow at the tip.
“Morgan, there are things I’ve done . . .” He swore briefly under his breath. “There are things I’ve done I wouldn’t tell you about even if I were free to. You wouldn’t find them pleasant.”
Now she lifted her face. “You’ve killed people.”
He found it difficult to answer when she was looking at him with tired despair in her eyes. But his voice was cool with control. “When it was necessary.”
Morgan lowered her head again. She hadn’t wanted to think him a murderer. If he had denied it, she would have tried to have taken him at his word. She hadn’t wanted to believe he was capable of what she considered the ultimate sin. The taking of a life.
Nick scowled at the cigarette and hurled it into the sea. I could have lied to her, he thought furiously. Why the hell didn’t I just lie—I’m an expert at it. Because I can’t lie to her, he realized with a tired sigh. Not anymore. “I did what I had to do, Morgan,” he said flatly. “I can’t erase the way I’ve lived for ten years. Right or wrong, it was my choice. I can’t apologize for it.”
“No, I’m not asking you to. I’m sorry if it seems that way.” She drew herself up again and faced him. “Please, Nicholas, let’s leave it at this. Your life’s your own. You don’t have to justify it to me.”
“Morgan—” If she had hurled abuse at him, stabbed him with ice, he might have been able to keep silent. But he couldn’t be silent while she struggled to understand. He would tell her, and the decision he’d been struggling with for days would be made. “For the last six months, I’ve been working on breaking the smuggling ring that runs between Turkey and Lesbos.”
Morgan stared at him as though she’d never seen him before. “Breaking it? But I thought . . . you told me—”
“I’ve never told you much of anything,” he said curtly. “I let you assume. It was better that way. It was necessary.”
For a moment she sat quietly, trying to sort out her thoughts. “Nicholas, I don’t understand. Are you telling me you’re a policeman?”
He laughed at the thought, and part of his anger drained. “No, Aphrodite, spare me that.”
Morgan frowned. “A spy then?”
The rest of his anger vanished. He cupped her face in his hands. She was so unbearably sweet. “You will romanticize it, Morgan. I’m a man who travels and follows orders. Be content with that, it’s all I can give you.”
“That first night on the beach . . .” At last the puzzle pieces were taking a shape she could understand. “You were watching for the man who runs the smuggling ring. That was who Stephanos followed.”
Nick frowned and dropped his hands. She believed him without question or hesitation. Already she’d forgotten that he’d killed—and worse. Why, when she was making it so easy for him did he find it so hard to go on? “I had to get you out of the way. I knew he’d cross that section of beach on his way to Stevos’s cottage. Stevos was eliminated because he knew, as I don’t yet, the man’s exact position in the organization. I think he asked for a raise and got a knife in the back.”
“Who is he, Nicholas?”
“No.” His eyes came back to hers. His face was hard again, unreachable. “Even if I were sure, I wouldn’t tell you. Don’t ask me questions I can’t answer, Morgan. The more I tell you, the more dangerous your position becomes.” His eyes grew darker. “I was ready to use you once, and my organization is very interested in your talent with languages, but I’m a selfish man. You’re not going to be involved.” His tone was final and just a little furious. “I told my associate you weren’t interested.”
“That’s a bit presumptuous,” Morgan began. She frowned until he twisted his head and looked at her again. “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”
“You haven’t one to make,” Nick countered coolly. “And once I know for certain the identity of the head of the ring, my job’s finished. Athens will have to learn how to function without me.”
“You’re not going to do this . . .” She gestured vaguely, not knowing what title to give his work. “This sort of thing anymore?”
“No.” Nick stared back out to sea. “I’ve been in it long enough.”
“When did you decide to stop?”
When I first made love with you, he thought, and nearly said it. But it wasn’t quite true. There was one more thing he would have to tell her. “The day I took Iona on the boat.” Nick let out an angry breath and turned to her. He had his doubts that she would forgive him for what he was going to say. “Iona’s in this, Morgan, deeply.”
“In the smuggling? But—”
“I can only tell you that she is, and that part of my job was to get information out of her. I took her out on the boat, fully intending to make love to her to help loosen her tongue.” Morgan kept her eyes steady and he continued, growing angrier. “She was cracking under pressure. I was there to help her along. That’s why someone tried to kill her.”
“Kill her?” Morgan tried to keep her voice level as she dealt with what he was telling her. “But Captain Tripolos said it was attempted suicide.”
“Iona would no more have committed suicide than she would have tended goats.”
“No,” she said slowly. “No, of course you’re right.”
“If I could have worked on her a little longer, I would have had all that I needed.”
“Poor Alex,” she murmured. “He’ll be crushed if it comes out that she was mixed up in this. And Dorian . . .” She remembered his empty eyes and his words. Poor Iona—so beautiful—so lost. Perhaps he already suspected. “Isn’t there something you can do?” She looked up at Nick, this time with trust. “Do the police know? Captain Tripolos?”
“Tripolos knows a great deal and suspects more.” Nick took her hand now. He wanted the link badly. “I don’t work directly with the police, it slows things down. At the moment,” he added cheerfully, “Tripolos has me pegged as the prime suspect in a murder, an attempted murder, and sees me in the role of the masked smuggler. Lord, I’d have given him a thrill last night.”
“You enjoy your work, don’t you?” Morgan studied him, recognizing the light of adventure in his eyes. “Why are you stopping?”
His smile faded. “I told you I was with Iona. It wasn’t the first time I used that method. Sex can be a weapon or a tool, it’s a fact of life.” Morgan dropped her gaze to the sand. “She’d had too much champagne to be cooperative, but there would have been another time. Since that day, I haven’t felt clean.” He slid his hand under her chin and lifted it. “Not until tonight.”
She was studying him closely, searching. In his eyes she saw something she had only seen once before—regret, and a plea for understanding. Lifting her arms, she brought his mouth down to hers. She felt more than his lips—the heady wave of his relief.
“Morgan.” He pressed her back to the sand again. “If I could turn back the clock and have this past week to live over . . .” He hesitated, then buried his face in her hair. “I probably wouldn’t do anything differently.”
“You apologize beautifully, Nicholas.”
He couldn’t keep his hands off her. They were roaming again, arousing them both. “This thing should come to a head tomorrow night, then I’ll be at loose ends. Come away somewhere with me for a few days. Anywhere.”
“Tomorrow?” She struggled to keep her mind on his words while her body heated. “Why tomorrow?”
“A little complication I caused last night. Come, we’re covered with sand. Let’s take a swim.”
“Complication?” Morgan repeated as he hauled her to her feet. “What kind of complication?”
“I don’t think our man will tolerate the loss of a shipment,” he murmured as he slipped his shirt from her shoulders.
“You stole it!”
He was pulling her into the water. His blood was already pounding for her as he saw the moonlight glow white over her body. “With incredible ease.” When she was past her waist, he drew her against him. The water lapped around them as he began to explore her again. “Stephanos and I watched the connection from a safe distance on several runs.” His mouth brushed over hers, then traced down to her throat. “We’d just come back from one the night I found you on the beach. Now, about those few days.”
“What will you do tomorrow night?” Morgan drew back enough to stop his roaming hands and mouth. A hint of fear had worked its way in. “Nicholas, what’s going to happen?”
“I’m waiting for some conclusive information from Athens. When it comes, I’ll know better how to move. At any rate, I’ll be there when the boat docks with its cache tomorrow night.”
“Not alone?” She gripped his shoulders. “He’s already killed a man.”
Nick rubbed his nose against hers. “Do you worry for me, Aphrodite?”
“Don’t joke!”
He heard the very real panic in her voice and spoke soothingly. “By late tomorrow afternoon, Tripolos will be brought up to date. If everything goes as planned, I can brief him personally.” He smiled down at the frown on her face. “He’ll gain all official credit for whatever arrests are made.”
“But that’s unfair!” Morgan exclaimed. “After all your work, and the time, why shouldn’t you—”
“Shut up, Morgan, I can’t make love to a woman who’s constantly complaining.”
“Nicholas, I’m trying to understand.”
“Understand this.” Impatience shimmered in his voice as he pulled her close again. “I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you sitting on that damn rock, and I haven’t begun to have enough. You’ve driven me mad for days. Not anymore, Aphrodite. Not anymore.”
He lowered his mouth, and all else was lost.
Chapter 11
Her jeans were still damp as Morgan struggled into them laughing. “You would make me so furious I’d run into the water
