Connecting Rooms(17)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

She knocked once, very softly. Owen opened the door immediately.

Almost as if he had been waiting for her.

She smiled tremulously up at him. “You’re not in bed.”

“I’m thinking.”

“I know.” She shivered. “I can’t sleep, either. I keep seeing those headlights coming straight toward us.”

“Amy.” He drew her into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

Amy felt something inside her begin to relax. She rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s all my fault. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“For what?”

“For getting you into this mess. I swear, I never had any idea that this would get so complicated.”

He framed her face in his powerful hands. His eyes gleamed in the shadows. “You don’t have a clue just how complicated things have gotten, do you?”

Before she could answer, his mouth was on hers.

His kiss was different this time. Instead of reckless eagerness and hot passion, there was gentleness and a tender warmth. Amy gave herself up to the sweet persuasion without a single qualm.

“Amy?” His voice was ragged but under control.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Thank God.” Owen whispered against her throat. “I thought I was going to go crazy.”

He picked her up and carried her through the doorway into his room, then set her down amid the turned-back sheets of his bed. She looked up at him with dawning wonder as he stripped off his shirt and jeans.

She loved him.

The realization came with quiet certainty, not as a bolt out of the blue. Amy knew that she had recognized the truth deep inside weeks ago. She reached up to take him into her arms.

Owen came to her then.

His body was heavy with desire. Amy felt him shudder at her touch. His hands trembled slightly as he eased aside her quilted robe.

“I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life,” he said against her mouth.

He kissed her throat as he undressed her. And then he lowered his mouth to her br**sts. Heat flooded Amy’s body. Owen’s hand slid upward along her leg, squeezing gently. His fingers moved to the inside of her thigh. Amy gasped.

Owen covered her mouth once more, drinking in the small sound she made. He cupped her softness and then probed, opening her to his intimate touch. She gave another muffled cry and clutched at his shoulders. A frantic sense of urgency stormed through her.

Owen continued the tender torment, stoking the flames within Amy until she could not stand it any longer. She twisted on the sheets.

“Owen, please.” She parted her legs and fought to pull him to her. “Please.”

“I think I’ve been waiting for this forever.” Owen leaned across Amy to open a drawer in the bedside table.

The movement brought his broad, strong chest directly over Amy’s face. She kissed one flat, male nipple and ran her fingers through the curling hair that surrounded it. Then she reached down between their damp bodies to stroke him. It was like touching warm steel. Owen was utterly rigid with his need. Hard and hot and throbbing. When her fingertips moved on him he shuddered. Amy’s body responded with another tidal wave of heat.

A moment later Owen was ready. He moved between her thighs, braced himself on his elbows, and looked down at her with burning eyes. He held her gaze as he pushed slowly, carefully, deliberately into her. Amy drew in a sharp breath as her small muscles stretched to accommodate him.

And then he was inside, filling her completely.

“Amy.” There was a world of wonder and need in the single word.

Owen began to move. Amy took flight. Mindlessly, she gave herself up to the delicious, spiraling tension. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She heard her own voice calling Owen’s name over and over again.

And then, without warning, her climax exploded in a series of rippling vibrations that sent pleasure to every nerve in her body. Amy was breathless. All she could do was cling to Owen as the world whirled around her.

She was vaguely aware of his fierce, hoarse shout of masculine satisfaction. He surged into her one last time. She felt every muscle in him tighten.

After a long, long moment, Owen shuddered and collapsed along the length of her. Together they drifted in the darkness, locked in each other’s arms.

• • •

A long while later, she stirred beside Owen. She stretched languidly, aware of a sense of joyous satisfaction. Before she could even begin to savor her newfound love, a thought struck her. She sat bolt upright in bed.

“Good grief. Owen.”

“What’s the matter?” Owen sounded like a sleepy lion that had recently been very well fed.

“I just thought of something.” She turned to look down at him. “If you’re right in thinking that it was the blackmailer who tried to run us down tonight, then that means that it was a . . . what do you call it?”

“A crime of opportunity?”

“Right, exactly. A crime of opportunity. After all, he couldn’t have known we’d be walking behind the library at that hour. He must have followed us.”

“Maybe.” Owen sounded unconvinced.

“You think there’s another possibility?”

“Amy, there are lots of possibilities. It could have been one of the people who attended that meeting in the library tonight or someone who was wandering around in the park after the band concert. Whoever it was, he saw us and recognized us, in spite of the fact that we were wrapped up in each other’s arms.”

“No great trick, I suppose, when you think about it. This is a town in which everyone knows everyone else. We must stand out like sore thumbs, even in the dark.”

“Yeah.”

Amy had a sudden vision of Madeline Villantry’s son. She recalled his comment as he had walked past Amy and Owen. “You don’t think Raymond Junior is behind this, do you? I think he might have recognized us tonight.”

“We’ll find out tomorrow night.” Owen tugged her down on top of him. “In the meantime. I’ve got better things to do.”

She smiled demurely. “I suppose you want to get some sleep.”

“Hell, no. Us private eyes can go for days without a good night’s sleep. It’s in the genes.”

Chapter 8

“. . . And so I am proud to dedicate the new wing of the Raymond C. Villantry Memorial Public Library.” Madeline Villantry’s cultured tones rang out from the speaker’s podium that had been set up in the center of the library. “We should all be proud of our community’s commitment to literacy. A free nation cannot exist without such a commitment. I thank you, friends and neighbors. I salute all of you who helped make our fine library what it is today.”