I lowered my mouth to her breast and gently ran my tongue there, savoring the taste of her skin and the shiver of pleasure that ran through her as her nipple hardened.
Her fingers stroked through my hair; the other hand slid up to my right arm braced beside her. She slipped her fingers between mine and pulled my hand toward her.
I reluctantly shifted away and looked down at her again.
“I want all of you,” she whispered. And without breaking eye contact, she removed my rings, one by one, and kissed my bare flesh there.
She was my air, my sensation, my world.
And, for the first time in a very long time, I wondered if this was what love felt like.
“Dog or cat?” she asked.
We were lying together under the covers, me on my back, her beside me. Our bodies were pressed together, her head tucked against my chest, her fingers tracing the old scars there.
“Both,” I said. “Ice cream or sorbet?”
“Sorbet all the way. Have you ever wanted kids?”
“That’s the kind of question that makes strong men run, you know.”
She stopped tracing my scars and looked up at me. “Want me to get your boots?”
“No, no. I got this one. Kids.” I took a deep breath. “I’d never thought I’d live long enough to be a father. So. No.”
“You didn’t say you didn’t want them.”
“True.”
“I think men who want kids are very, very sexy.” She dipped her head. Kissed my nipple. A ripple of pleasure slid through me.
“Well, then, of course I want kids. Loads of them.” It came out, strangely, not flippant. For a second or two I lay there trying to imagine myself holding a little chubby-cheeked Flynn baby with her blue eyes.
“Your turn,” she said.
“Mmm. Star Wars or Star Trek?”
She giggled. “Really?”
“Civilizations have crumbled under this question. I expect you to answer me truthfully.”
“Trek.”
“What?” I said with mock horror. “You’re a Trekkie? No. This will never do. We should just say our good-byes now.”
“Hold on. I get to ask you another one,” she said.
“All right. Make it good.”
“Do you want me to tie you to the headboard and do wicked things to you, or do you want to ask me another question?” Her hand moved down my chest, my stomach, my hip.
Mercy.
“I think that’s enough interrogation for one night,” I said.
“Well, then,” she said, “headboard it is.”
Chapter 24
I was freezing. I was also lying in my bed. Naked.
Huh.
I opened my eyes. It was dark out now. My room was lit by the moonlight pushing through the blinds.
Moonlight that showed me I was not alone in my bed.
I grinned. Dessa had every damn one of my covers wrapped around her, tucked tight up to her chin. She was curled on her side, facing me.
She was asleep, and if I weren’t shivering so hard my teeth were beginning to rattle, I’d probably do the gallant and manly thing and lie there watching her sleep while I compared her to flowers and sunrises in haiku. Instead I pulled on the covers.
“Wake up, woman. I’m freezing out here.”
She smiled, but didn’t open her eyes. “Does that mean you’ll stop snoring?”
“What? Lies.”
She opened those innocent blue eyes and gave me a wicked grin. “Admit it. I wrecked you.”
Caught by that look, I couldn’t help doing the comparing thing, while my heart tapped up a warm beat. I decided she was a sly little fox, and that her smile was sweeter and hotter than any whiskey I’d ever tried to lose myself in.
I suddenly realized I’d been looking for her for a long, long time.
“Well,” I said, swallowing back the emotions that I wasn’t sure how to deal with. I glanced up at the silk stockings tied to the headboard and rubbed the faint mark they’d left around my wrist. “If I concede that there was mutual wreckage going on, do I get the password for your blanket fort?”
She rolled her eyes as if considering it, then locked her gaze on me again. “Kiss me nice enough, and I’ll think about it.”
“That sounds like a fair enough deal.” I scooted closer and leaned down like I was going to give it my all.
Instead I reached out, grabbed a handful of blanket, and pushed up onto my knees, pulling the blanket with me.
“Aha!”
She clung to the cover and squealed, pulling back. “We had a bargain!”
“No more bargains, woman,” I said as she laughed. “I claim these blankets in the name of Flynn!” I threw the first blanket over my shoulder, which just made her laugh harder.
“I shall de-fleece you. Then I shall have all the blankets, and all the warmth, and you will be at my mercy!”
“Fine.” She used her feet and hands to push all the blankets off her, then pulled up onto her knees. “You can have the blankets. I didn’t want them anyway.” She wadded them up and threw them at my face.
I didn’t do much to catch them as they fell in a mess to one side. Because suddenly she was in front of me, on her knees, naked, her hair falling in tousled waves around the curve of her shoulders, the graceful arc of her neck, unafraid as she gave me a challenging smirk. Her hand was to one side, clutching the pillow in preparation of braining me.
I blinked slowly and gave her a predatory grin. “Oh, I like this much better.” I reached out, brushed my fingers down the outside of her hip, then down the back of her leg to that particularly sensitive spot behind her knee I’d discovered.
She closed her eyes and goose bumps washed over her skin. She bit her lip and made a needful sound.
I lifted my finger and placed my palm on her hip.
She jerked back, her eyes wide.
I tipped my head. Wondered what had spooked her. If I had hurt her.
“Your hands are ice!” she accused.
“Really? You think? Maybe if someone hadn’t stolen every damn blanket.”
She gave me a glare that was wholly ruined by her small smile. “Hands off until you shower. Hot shower. No touching until those hands regain human temperatures.”
“I am so not showering alone,” I said.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She slid out of bed, just inches away from me, careful not to brush against me as she passed by. She stood, stretched her arms up over her head, and arched her back.
I lost track of breathing for a moment or two.
Then that gorgeous woman sauntered off to the bathroom, swinging her hips. She paused, and gave me the come-hither over her shoulder.
Oh, baby. I hithered.
The inn is an old structure and the showers had been put in somewhere around the nineteen twenties. And while they were the height of modern convenience then, a Realtor might categorize them as “quaint” now.
Small for one person, downright cozy for two.
Not that I was complaining. And after my skin had gone up a few degrees so that I could once again use my hands along with my boyish charms, Dessa wasn’t complaining either.
We finally untangled from each other, toweled off, and got back into our clothes. I made her help me find my rings, which were in the bed, under the bed, and one, strangely, in my half-open sock drawer.
Something darted out from under the bed and burrowed under the towel I’d thrown on the floor.
“Uh, Dessa?” I said. “Your hat got loose.”
“What?”
I pointed at the towel just as a tiny furred triangular head with a black mask peeked out and made an equally tiny grunt/squeak.
“Your hat,” I repeated.
She took a few steps toward the towel. The ferret must have spotted her because it took off at a ridiculous Slinky-like hop-run, darting under the chair, then suddenly reappearing under the pillow on the bed.