In Bed With...Collection

She tasted, licked, kissed, stroked, wherever desire took her, all the time consciously keeping him inside her, voluptuously rolling around him, sliding forward and backwards, feeling every inch of him enveloped and squeezed, released and teased. It was a glorious, glorious feeling…Nathan, all hers.

She exulted when she heard him catch his breath, when she felt the flesh under his skin quiver, when a husky growl escaped from his throat. Her own pleasure continued to come in delicious waves with the move-ment she manipulated herself, but the best of it came when he could stand no more of being taken.

He erupted into action, heaving her back onto the pillows, gathering her to him, plunging himself hard and fast as though his survival depended upon it, a violent, primitive mating, his energy pouring into her in bursts of need—compelling need—no other woman made for him—not like her—none like her—and she was drawing this from him, climbing with him until they both reached a peak of fierce jubilation in their ultimate togetherness.

They hugged each other tightly, wanting the oneness to go on and on…the reality of it, the sense of it, the flow of feeling…and for a long, long time they shared the blissful harmony. Miranda was drifting into drowsiness when Nathan spoke, his voice humming softly in her ear.

“Is it too soon to hope you will be my mistress, Miranda?”

Her heart instantly contracted at his use of a word that had so many painful memories attached to it. She could barely bring herself to speak, but reason insisted he had to be thinking in more than sexual terms. Or was her own need for more than a sexual relationship colouring reason?

“What do you mean?” she asked flatly, trying to keep her emotions in check.

He wound a long tress of her hair around his hand, then let the silky strands of it slide through his fingers. “Is this ephemeral, or something we can keep?” His chest rose and fell as he expelled a long sigh. “I’m asking if there’s any chance you want to be the mistress of my heart, the mistress of my bed and home, the mistress of King’s Eden…for all the years ahead of us.”

Relief and joy erased the tension of wretched doubt.

“I’m not asking for a decision,” he went on. “I know it’s too soon. But I think you understand how it is, that this land is another kind of mistress and you’d have to tolerate its call on me. If you don’t see any possibility of sharing what I’d need you to share…”

“I’d share anything with you,” she cut in fervently. “Anything!” She felt him hold his breath and into her mind slipped the words Elizabeth King had spoken of her husband, Lachan, words that held the truth of her feeling for the man holding her in his arms. She hitched herself up, sliding her arms around his neck, speaking directly to the eyes questioning hers. “You are where I want to be. Whatever that entails, Nathan.”

His sigh whispered out through a smile that warmed her entire being. “So we have a beginning,” he said, a husky contentment in his voice.

“And no end in sight,” Miranda answered exultantly.

He laughed and rolled her onto her back, looming over her in a pose of wonderfully dominant maleness. “I gave you a choice,” he said teasingly.

“There was no choice,” she retorted. “Only you.”

“No one but you,” he answered softly.

And there was respect for the truths they had spoken this night in the love-making that followed. It was a good beginning, an open and honest communication of where they stood with each other, and Miranda ardently hoped that all the tomorrows would prove they were right in feeling what they did.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#ud535c0fb-8216-5cc4-a273-7d8e9771b73f)

NATHAN waited in his office for the call he was expecting from Tommy. The weekend was over and he was content he’d made the most of it with Miranda, but he wanted to be sure there would be no comeback from the man who’d driven her into his life in the first place. He was certain now that Hewson was out of her heart, but he wanted her mind clear of him, as well—the past completely past.

It appalled him that he himself had briefly cast Miranda in the role Hewson had maliciously painted—a woman on the make, uncaring whom she hurt. Lies…yet that morning at Cathedral Gorge, he had let his own frustration and her choice of words weave such a false picture.

Completely false.

And he’d hated Hewson for coming up with the same sexual scenario out of spite. All too easy to target a woman who had no back-up. But, by God! there would be no lack of back-up in this instance.

The telephone rang.

He snatched up the receiver, automatically noting the time—8.41—which more or less placed the proposed Monday morning departure on schedule.

“Nathan?”

“Here.”

“The Hewson charter flight is lifting off as I speak,” Tommy announced smugly. “The birds have flown.”

“You saw them onto the plane yourself?”

“No. I sent Sam to do that. I’m watching it from the homestead verandah.”

“Dammit, Tommy, I asked you.”

“Calm it, brother. No love lost between Sam and the Hewsons. She would have hog-tied them and hauled them into their seats if they’d so much as hesitated. And quite frankly, I’d had enough of them.”

“Is the problem cleared?”

“Oh, I think we established a pertinent understanding and Jared will make it stick during their stay in Broome.” He chuckled. “By the time Bobby-boy pays out there, I rather fancy he’ll want to forget he ever came to King’s Eden.”

“What payment are we talking about, Tommy?”

“Now, Nathan, you got the kudos for whizzing Miranda out of harm’s way. I deserve the kudos for clearing the decks. Bring her back now and I’ll tell you all.”

The call was disconnected before Nathan could press the point. He hoped Tommy’s confidence was not misplaced. A snake had a habit of wriggling and spitting venom even when it was spiked. Still, Tommy should know his own business. It was not only a matter of protecting Miranda. The resort was his baby.

Nathan smiled to himself as he moved out of the office and headed down the hall to Miranda’s room where she’d gone to pack her clothes, ready to leave. He didn’t mind the resort any more, despite the occasional irritation of tourists wandering where they shouldn’t. It had brought him the gold he’d thought he’d never find. True gold. And he’d staked his claim to it. His charming and gregarious brother could win as many kudos as he liked. It wouldn’t win Miranda. She was his and his mind was set on keeping her his. Whatever it took.

He knocked on her door, the memory of last night’s love-making fresh in his mind. Sleep had been minimal but he didn’t feel tired. He’d never felt more vibrantly alive, excitement stirring through him again as she called out, “Come in,” the words reminding him of her sexual openness, inviting all he wanted of her and revelling in every intimacy.

He stepped into her room, itching to hold her once more, and the anxious eyes she turned to him spurred him on.

“Is it all right? Have they gone?”

“Yes.”

She sagged into his embrace, her arms winding around his neck so the full lush femininity of her was pressed against him. He couldn’t resist flattening his palm across the pit of her back, fitting her even closer as he lifted his other hand to stroke away her worry lines.

“Tommy assures me Hewson won’t be coming back. It’s safe for you to return to the resort.”

“How did he handle it?” she asked, uncertainty still clouding her eyes.

“He insists we come and find out.” He smiled to reassure her. “Tommy enjoys a bit of boasting.”

She sighed, her breasts heaving sensuously. He’d never been so horny in his entire life. Difficult to push temptation aside but it was time for business now and Tommy would not appreciate being kept waiting.

“I just hope there aren’t any nasty repercussions,” she said, still fretful.

“Not on King’s Eden, Miranda,” he promised with absolute confidence, and kissed her frown away. “Ready to go?”

“Yes.” Trust and courage glowed in her eyes.

His heart kicked into a joyous beat at this further evidence that his instincts had been right all along. It had simply been a matter of breaking through her barriers for her real character to be revealed and everything made sense to him now. Whatever had made Miranda Wade, the result was she was made for him. There was not one response from her that didn’t fit want he wanted, what he craved.