Claimed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 3 (19 page)

“Good,” she managed, her mouth wobbling into a smile. “So, so good.”

A surge of triumph surged through Stefan’s blood, quick and hot, thickening his shaft further and causing the muscles in his back to knot up, if only to keep his position steady over Nicki’s sweat and oil-slicked body. She surrounded him with heat and need, and he pulsed inside her, glorying in the wonder of her strength, her intensity, her passion.

Her lids drifted shut again, but he knew she was struggling to focus, to store up every touch, every twitch, every pressure of his body against his. She was no stranger to sex—no stranger to him anymore—but with her headlong race through life he suspected she didn’t often take the time to truly indulge herself. He would give her that time, though he could almost hear the crash and clank of her thoughts banging around in her head. She couldn’t rest but that her mind started up with all the fervor usually reserved for her body.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with the condition.

Now he rocked into her with gradually increasing speed. He could afford to let the pressure build up within him, secure that Nicki was beneath him, surrounding him, willing to ride this tide of pleasure for as long as it might last. He watched as her body relaxed further, the reaction allowing him to bury himself further with each thrust. At some point the tide of his urgency woke an echoing response within her, and her lids fluttered open again, her sex-glazed stare meeting his, flickering with renewed desire. Her mouth curved into a grin as her hands came up, curling around his forearms.

“You’re the one who’s perfect,” she said, her words a purely feminine purr. “God—you are built exactly—right. You are.”

The words seemed oddly truncated to him, like half of what she’d meant to say, but at that moment Nicki tightened around him, and Stefan’s brain short-circuited briefly before coming back online. She continued to roll her muscles along the straining length of his cock, and she smiled up with him with clear knowledge of what she was doing.

“Showing off?” he murmured, dipping down to kiss her.

“It’s important to exercise your muscles whenever you can,” she said. “Especially your core.”

“My compliments to your physical trainer. On second thought, he’s a dead man.”

Stefan lifted himself to his knees, bracing her hips on his thighs as her legs stretched to accommodate the movement. He went further still, though, bringing her ankles up until her legs were veed in front of his face, her ankles bracketing his jaw.

“What are you doing—” Nicki laughed as bent into her, and her thighs tensed even as they accepted the gentle pressure he was applying.

“Every good workout demands stretching as well,” he said, sinking into her as her body accepted the different pose.

“You’re so good to me,” Nicki said wryly, but her head tilted back and she sighed, her legs lengthening into the stretch. “That feels…unreasonably good.”

It was the expression on her face that did him in. She watched him with pure, unfiltered pleasure lighting her features, her eyes half-lidded, her face creased with a slight smile, and that was all it really took. The need built up within him, quick and hot, and his grip firmed on her ankles, urging her knees to bend and allow her legs to relax as he rocked into her.

“Ohhh—” Nicki’s gaze was fixed on his face, her eyes alert, searching, and once again he sensed she was tracking his movements, his reactions, cataloging his every shift to play it back later. He didn’t plan on letting the experience fade into memory, and the thought of that ratcheted him up further, until he hissed her name through his teeth and she grabbed his forearms, moving with him, rocking with him, experiencing the explosion that jolted through him as he felt it shatter him completely, everything he wanted, yearned for, needed suddenly releasing in a swift and fiery rush.

He collapsed to the side, rolling away from Nicki briefly as she moved as well—then froze. “I’m covered in oil,” she said, staring down at herself. “I think if I move I’m going to destroy these sheets.”

“You worry too much.”

She snorted. “You’re the absolute first person to ever accuse me of that.” But she remained on the bed as he fetched towels, and the cleanup of her body required another shower, and then an extensive drying off period that filled the room with laughter and teasing and the kind of kisses that alternated between long and slow and fast and hard. And Stefan watched the hours slip by too quickly, until suddenly it was three p.m.—which he knew only by Nicki’s reaction.

“Is that right?” she squeaked. “That can’t be right—is that really right?”

“What?” He glanced up from where he was pulling on his boxers—and Nicki pointed to the clock.

“I have to be at the beach in an hour—an hour! Ready to give a demonstration. That means I need to be there in all truth in a half hour, which means we should already be on our way!”

She flew to the dresser, pulling out clothes and throwing things on the floor until she found what she needed. Then, as if suddenly realizing what she’d done, she picked up the discards and shoved them back in the drawer—all more quickly than Stefan could draw breath to protest.

She was wriggling into a sport suit when he finally got words out. “We’re only a few minutes away from the beach by speedboat—we’ll go that way.”

“Great!” she said, diving for another drawer. He had a feeling he’d see a second avalanche of clothing. “Go get ready—and hurry! I don’t want to give Omir a reason to cancel the tour again tomorrow. Go!”

Stefan went, not trying to stay his laughter. Nicki had transformed from languorous to hyper alert in the blink of an eye, all over a demo that she was doing not for love, not for money—but simply because it was the one thing required of her to get the mission to the next step. As ridiculous as that sounded, it was enough motivation for her.

He was still laughing as he emerged from his own room a few minutes later, to find Nicki already at his door, wearing a sundress over her bathing suit. “The concierge said you’re right, said you’d called for a boat—it’s only a few minutes,” she blurted. “But we’ve got to go!”

They made it to the marina in less than ten minutes, Nicki chattering the whole way, mapping out her planned moves for the demonstration.

“It’ll be quick, I’m thinking, maybe only twenty minutes though could be up to an hour,” she said, shouting over at him as they streaked across the bay toward the open beach. “I have no idea if I’ll like their equipment, but I’m sure they’ve got top of the line stuff. It depends on how its rigged.”

The wind was whipping around them, forcing her to stand close to him in order to be heard. He didn’t mind. While he refrained from wrapping an arm around her, he leaned in close ostensibly to hear her chatter about the demo. In truth, however, he simply wanted to be nearer to her, as near as he could manage in the public eye. She was a live wire once more, all the fogginess of her mood directly after the short fall at the cliff gone, and her breathless excitement was intoxicating.

She pounded his arm. “Are you listening to me?”

“Every word,” he shouted back, transferring his gaze to the beach as they neared it. “Who’ll be out there with you?”

She turned and squinted, then nodded briskly, up on her toes, as if she was going to hop overboard and swim if that would get her there to shore more quickly. The boat banked and cut speed, heading through the no wake zone.

“Josef—that’s half his staff right there, on the beach talking to the crowd. Oh good, they have kids. They’re the best with wind surfing, it’s so much like play they pick it up quickly, not as intimidating as surfboarding or as boring as bodyboarding. That’ll be—” she flashed a glance at him, coloring visibly despite the glare. “Sorry,” she said. “I chatter when I get nervous.”

He lifted his brows. “This demonstration makes you nervous?”

“Any performance does. It’s part of what makes it good, I guess, but I’m always keyed up, even for something simple, at least until I get rolling on it.” She blew out a breath. “Once I get rolling I’m fine, usually. I simply have to get started.”

The boat swung in close to shore, and the gathering of men and women on the beach turned, one of the men raising a hand. Josef.

“Go ahead,” Stefan said. “It’s quicker from here if you swim. I’ll be along before you get started.”

“Good. Right.” Without further word Nicki stepped up on the ridge of the boat and jumped into the water, dry-tech dress and all. Her beach shoes were meant for exactly that, and she stroked briefly through the water before hitting a section of the beach where she could stand, then she moved swiftly out of the water, her arms pumping, her skin shining bright in the full sun.

Stefan couldn’t stop watching her as the boat whirled around, putting distance between them once again. Nicki had everything she needed—but he didn’t. He wanted to capture her demonstration on video.

He wanted to hold all that sunshine in his grasp, before it slipped away.

Chapter Sixteen

Nicki blew out a long breath as she reached the knot of people gathered at the shoreline. Her usual pre-performance nerves were fully in evidence, despite the very thorough, very relaxing time she’d spent with Stefan. She’d hoped that languor would endure for a little while longer.

“Miss Clark! Excellent, you are here.” Omir came forward first, her performance from last night clearly paying dividends. She didn’t mind flirting with the Turkish official as a concept, but the reality was proving a little more tedious. She only had one more day, though. Twenty-four hours or so, and then they’d have the tour of the excavation site and the information they needed—she hoped. Either way, she would be done with Omir and his musky cologne for good. She doubted she’d participate in another windsurfing competition in Alaçati until he left his position. There were hundreds of other places to windsurf in the world.

Of course, none of them were as close to Stefan as Alaçati was. He was here, and he wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world but here. If she ever wanted to see him again, she would need to drum up some reason to come to this side of Europe…and the most obvious would be windsurfing. Otherwise, she’d look pathetic.

That thought struck her with an unexpected blow as she and Omir were joined by Josef and his crew, all of them buzzing happily about the moves they were going to show the beginners—and the ones they had saved to impress the intermediates as well. Unlike the international competition in August, not too many world-class windsurfers were in town for the exposition, given the focus on the newer adherents to the sport, but there were a few, and Josef fully planned to strut his stuff.

“You good, Nicki? We found a board we think you’ll like.” Josef waved his hand in front of her face, snapping her focus forward.

“I’m good—but don’t stick me out there first round, at least not doing anything interesting,” she warned. “I haven’t had much time in the water so far this year.” She cracked a smile, trying to quiet her own nerves. “Not all of us live on the beach, you know.”

“Not yet—my offer stands!” Josef grinned. “We’re growing faster than we know what to do with, and the newer entrants to the sport have the money to travel. You could have all expenses paid, my friend, to go and windsurf your brains out in every corner of the globe. Think about it!”

He headed off and Nicki surged forward, scanning the boards and sales with a practiced eye. She spotted the one Josef had picked out for her almost immediately. Sleek, brightly colored and slightly smaller sized, it would fit her frame comfortably and give her maximum lift. The sail was connected properly to the mast foot, though the hinge configuration was new to her. How long had it been since she’d used equipment this nice? The boards at the Royal Beach had been serviceable and sturdy, meant for beginners. These babies were light. They would totally fly in the wind kicking up over the bay.

“Everyone in! We’ll demonstrate beach starts—water starts are better suited for boat trips.”

Nicki gave Josef the thumbs up, then lifted her board and carried it down into the water. A beach start was far easier than a water start, though when she’d first learned, it’d been on a large, choppy lake—no beach start beginning for her.

Still, the group crowded to the closer to the shore was made up primarily of new surfers, and about a half dozen of Josef’s team pushed their boards out past the crashing waves, to where the water reached their thighs. She started with her sail downwind to keep the beach start easy. She wasn’t trying to show off here, merely to reassure beginners how easy a proper beach start was. She walked her hands along the mast, taking it in one hand and the boom in the other. She pulled the sail backward to control the board. Turning upwind, she placed her mast hand on the boom and straightened both her arms. Then she placed her foot on the middle line of the board and pulled the board toward her, extending her arms. Using the power of the wind in the sail she was lifted easily onto the board, and just like that she was flying.

They stepped off the boards and started again, showing the different ways to mount, common pitfalls, and getting a few of the intermediates into the game as demonstrators. The idea was to be relaxed, moving with the wind, and as Nicki warmed up, she felt more revived, eager to be in the water and moving fast. At length Josef pulled up beside her, waving something in his hands—a freestyle belt.