“But I don’t know that, do I? I don’t know how I’ll act in a crisis, if I’ll be up to it. I can guess, but you yourself said that’s not knowing.”
Nikos released me, saying simply, “I have faith.”
I jumped to my feet, started pacing. “Take this crisis. What good am I? A compulsion device that works by sound waves. I don’t even have the potential to solve that puzzle. I couldn’t tell a whole note from an octave. What the hell is an octave anyway?”
“It’s from ‘say’ to ‘see’ in the first line of ‘The Star Spangled Banner’.”
I ran the song in my head. Felt the notes with my throat. “Ouch. That’s a leap.”
“Yes.”
“But see what I mean? Here’s a crisis and circumstances or fate or whatever has put one of the least appropriate people for the job in the hot seat. What if ‘circumstances’ never come together for me? What if I’m just a dud?”
“Twyla, love. We need to go back to my hotel.”
I stopped pacing. “Pity sex?”
He smiled. “No. I must retrieve my patrol blade. And I think you’ll help me figure this out, but only when your thoughts aren’t blocked.”
Wow, over a dozen words, a veritable novel for the reserved Nikos. “Blocked by what?”
“By a belief that everyone has more to contribute than you.” He guided me out. “A mistaken belief.”
I checked the shadows of the building for Klaus but saw nothing. As we slid into the limo, I said, “A Spartan general, out unarmed? You must feel naked.”
“I have my public blade.”
“Whatever that means.”
In his hotel room, seeing the xiphos and kopis laid side by side on his dresser, I was smacked in the face with exactly what that meant. Twelve extra inches of cold steel. I swallowed. “Guess you’re serious.”
Nikos pressed a button on the shorter one, the xiphos. The double-edged leaf-like blade retracted almost magically. He picked up the longer one, started to rub the edges with a stone. His muscles worked steadily as he honed the wickedly curved blade. “The only way to stop Klaus is to cut off his head.” He paused. “Twyla. You have the heart of a warrior. But I don’t want you to watch that.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not into overachievement.”
He just shook his head and slid the kopis sword into its sheath in a quick, practiced motion. Setting it next to the switchblade xiphos, he turned the full force of his attention on me. “Come to bed.”
“I thought you said no pity sex.”
“More an exercise in confidence building.”
“Oh, that. The mayor has us do yearly team-building exercises. I’d rather have-what are you doing?”
He glided toward the closet, shimmering into mist as he moved. His clothes dropped to the floor. He re-formed while still moving, misting out of his clothes as easily as a man shrugs off a robe. Casually, naturally, as if he did this every night.
Hmm. Maybe he did.
And what was revealed-frickin’ yum. Forget Michelangelo’s sculptures. No mere artist could capture the stunning glide of lithe muscle under skin, the contrast of jet hair against ochre flesh, the gleam of intent in sable bedroom eyes as he grabbed some ties out of the closet and flowed to the bed.
I trotted after him like a puppy.
Nikos snapped the hold-back loops off the canopy. The curtains fell over the bed like sultry saffron promises. With a final scorching look, he disappeared in a billow of yellow.
But I hesitated. What did he have in mind with the ties? He was, after all, a Spartan general who was a tad dominant.
On the other hand-naked male. I climbed in after him.
He had tied his feet and one hand to the posts and was knotting the last wrist down with his teeth.
“What…?” I gazed at him in some alarm. His big body was spread-eagled on the silk of the comforter, and he was fully erect. Seeing him extended in all three dimensions like that, little ol’ me on my hands and knees next to him to measure against, took me way beyond guessing how big he was and smacked me in the face with enormous knowing.
“Come Twyla. Life has given you mixed messages. You are a siren, a beauty. A strong, powerful woman. Make love to me.”
“Make love…to you? Aren’t you supposed to be the dominant one?”
“I am.” He purred. “But tonight you are the dominatrix. Love me, my mistress. Give me what I need with your strong, lush body. Your beautiful mind. Your indomitable spirit. Kiss me.”
“I’m not sure-”
“You will be.” His eyes held mine, promising satin and sin.
I fell into those dark bedroom eyes. My arms buckled. My lips met his.
His mouth pursed, cushioning my landing. Talk about lush. I kissed first his upper lip, then the lower. Okay, maybe I could start small. Siren, probably not. But explorer I could do, my limited field his warm mouth.
I sucked gently at his lower lip, teased it with my tongue. He gave a satisfied sigh. His face was serene, confident. His eyes were closed, his lashes perfect onyx half-moons against his burnt sienna cheeks.
Encouraged, I kissed the corners of his mouth. He purred. I expanded my field, kissing along the line of his carved jaw. I kissed his face piece by piece until I knew the texture of every hair and the sleek feel of every plane. I took my time, moving slowly from face to neck to strong collarbones to muscular chest. The longer I took, the darker the purr, until it was a growl.
He arched his hips. “Love me, my mistress. Do not tease me.”
“Tease?” I bit his nipple. His body reared off the bed. His erection grew even fatter. “I’m tasting, not teasing.” And even if I weren’t teasing, I was supposedly in charge. Which meant I could do whatever I liked to him.
Whatever I liked. I tried the idea in my mind, found it frightening, forbidden-and oh so exciting. I licked away the sting of my bite. He groaned.
I continued my slow journey of exploration, kissing and licking his gorgeous chest. To prove I wasn’t teasing, though, I snaked a hand around the root of his erection. Stroked up about an inch, lightly. He let out a frustrated puff of air. So I stroked down. He twitched. I set up a soft rhythm, stroking that bottom inch so lightly, over and over. Okay, maybe I was teasing, just a bit. And I loved it.
From the deep restless groan he emitted, he enjoyed it too.
My mouth left his chest, continued its downward journey. I think he wanted me to skip right to the hot and juicy part but the wavy ripples of his belly fascinated me. The smooth skin was the same bronze-with-undertones-of-blue as his chest. A feathering of glossy hair shadowed the center, begging to be licked. I played my tongue over warm male muscle, delighted in his taut jerks of reaction. The combination of silky smooth and crisply rough textures was fascinating. And he tasted good too. Right. He tasted oh so right.
His erection filled until it tipped over onto his belly. The glans hit just short of his navel. My tongue ran up over the mountain ridge of it. The tip dripped glistening liqueur that tasted much more strongly of salt and male. I breathed on it. The root, still in my hand, jerked. I licked the tip lightly. His whole body jerked.
“Twyla-” His voice sounded strangled.
I glanced at him. His head was thrown back, exposing his strong throat. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed hard. His whole torso, neck to chest to belly, was clenched tight. “Love me. I need you now.”