Free For All (Red Light, Book Four) (3 page)

He tucks his paddle over his lap then leans forward until his nose must meet his knees, impressing me with his limber flexibility. “Watch your head, Sarah. This one is extra low.”

I follow his lead, unfolding once sunlight warms the back of my neck, proclaiming it’s safe. We continue to wind through the maze of still water in silence.

A cat watches us pass from his perch on a crumbling stone wall like a sentinel guarding his kingdom from invaders. He stares with a level of haughty derision only a feline can muster. I’m so focused on the village, the assortment of ducks bobbing beside us, and the gorgeous old church rising from the fabricated land that I could never navigate the return to Adelbert’s cafe on my own. Luckily I won’t have to.

Rick doesn’t turn around when we come to a larger channel. Instead, he raises his voice. “I’ll need your help for a few minutes. Then you can go back to sightseeing and letting me do most of the work.”

If he were closer, I’d spank him with my paddle for that irreverent tone. Not that it would do a lick of good against his solid derriere. Still, it could be fun. An idea for later…

“We’re going to cross Kanaaldijk. This one heads straight into Amsterdam so traffic is steady. Mind any larger boats and their wake. It’s warming up out here but I still wouldn’t want you soaking, exposed to the breeze. After this, we’ll be set.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

He laughs but not for long. Together we dip our oars deeper and pull, propelling our craft across the much wider waterway, battling modest waves that feel enormous in the little boat. The exertion keeps me toasty. Or maybe that’s a side effect of studying the interplay of Rick’s fine muscles beneath his light jacket. Damn, he’s gorgeous.

Without instruction I match my strokes to his so we glide steadily. My paddle mirrors his to ensure our trajectory remains a straight line. Without me, he’d be turning circles. Same goes double for me.

As we continue, cottages grow sparse then fade away altogether. Now it’s just the two of us, floating through this strange, quiet paradise. The splash of disturbed frogs cannonballing into the marsh and the frequent call of a host of waterfowl herald our passage. I recognize the bitterns and cranes that occasionally visit my houseboat’s deck.

I gasp in surprise when we round a bend and a lean cow munches on grass less than a foot away at the edge of her spongy roost on the bog island. For a quarter of an hour or more, we enjoy the natural songs without interruption. Until Rick breaks our comfortable hush. He points with his oar. “See that streak of white? Over there?”

I peek up in time to descry the flash made by dark feathers covering a very large wingspan. The stark edging is almost as bright as the sunlight it blocks an instant before the bird disappears behind a tree at the edge of our liquid highway. “What was that?”

“A white-tailed eagle.” His awed murmur comes low and fast. “People used to think they were extinct. I remember Adelbert telling me stories about them as though they were already legendary. I might not have believed him when he swore they’d take your breath away until I spied one myself. Larger, more pure and inspiring than any secondhand retelling could capture. That was not so long ago. Just a few years, I guess. The first naturally occurring mated pair since their decline was spotted here in this preserve.”

Somehow it feels right that I met Rick about that time myself. Virginal white might not be my color of choice, but I think what we have might be more rare than even his beloved aviators.

“I helped Adelbert build shelters for them, raise awareness, things like that.” He shrugs though I haven’t said anything. “Not much, really. Now there are several dozen. The population is stronger every year.”

“I believe that. Between the two of you, I bet you’re capable of nurturing anything to its full potential.”

“Let’s hope so.”

I’m not sure I heard him correctly. Before I can ask, he guides the bow of our craft into the reeds. “And they say women make bad drivers.”

“Very funny.” He latches on to a metal hoop, which dangles from a post I hadn’t noticed beneath the brambles. “We’re here.”

“Where is this?” I scan the area. No landmarks make it appear different than the hectares of wilderness we passed along our route.

“I’m not sure it’s anywhere in particular. Except exactly where we’re meant to be.” He climbs from the canoe, reaches for the backpack, straps it on then extends his hand.

I twine my fingers with his warmer ones and allow him to usher me onto not-quite-dry land. “I must have been in the boat a little too long. Feels like we’re still moving. Just like home.”

“It’s not your imagination.” He steals a quick kiss despite my attempt to turn the peck into something that lingers. “The bog islands are basically floating. If you jump up and down, you can feel them bounce.”

My hand clenches on his when he demonstrates.

“Okay. Enough of that.” I frown. “I’m afraid you’ll fall right through.”

“Uh, maybe in spots.” He tosses me the asymmetrical grin I adore. “Stick to the path and you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not straying a step from your side.” I follow close on his heels as he heads deeper inland. “You know where we parked, right?”

He doesn’t bother to acknowledge my nerves. He marches onward until the sea of reeds and plants threatens to swallow us. A faint trail marks the passageway.

“I have to admit Adelbert put on a pretty good show, though once you know him a little better, you’ll spot his tells as easily as I did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I nearly run into Rick’s strong back when he pauses in front of me.

“He went all out for us, didn’t he?” The faraway rasp of his question spurs me beyond the bounds of my patience. I squeeze past him, careful not to trod on the wildflowers in the early stages of unfurling. “He must have guessed I planned to ask you—”

“Ask me—?” When I see what’s caught Rick’s attention, I freeze in my tracks. “What’s all this?”

“I wanted today to be special.” The wistful note in his answer has me spinning from the gorgeous layout in front of me to observe him instead. “I counted on Adelbert to help me. But this…”

“It’s amazing.” I brace my palms on Rick’s chest as I peek over my shoulder, afraid the vision might have disappeared like a mirage on a sweltering day. This rustic oasis is a fairy tale come to life. “Thank you.”

A fresh clearing hosts a square canvas tent. Rusty buckets brimming with river rocks and gnarled branches that didn’t survive the winter make impromptu sculptures, anchoring the structure against the occasional gust of wind. Flaps tied wide open with fraying rope allow me to spy netting that cascades inside over a shape I can hardly discern. “Is that…?”

“An old flat-bottom boat.” Rick chuckles. “Sure is. Looks like Adie improvised to keep the mattress inside it dry. Probably easier to drag out here that way too. That wily old bastard. I just asked him to pitch a tent for us and leave a solar heater in case it was chillier than expected this afternoon. Didn’t envision five-star accommodations.”

“You planned to seduce me?” I plant a fist on my hip and stand akimbo.

“Well, sort of.”

“Why not definitely?” My pout doesn’t last more than a moment. It morphs into a delighted smile when he scoops me into his arms and charges toward the gauzy material.

“See what you made me do.” He burrows through the gossamer layers of our fortress until he can plop me onto the mattress. The time it takes him to strip off his backpack and set it aside is long enough to have him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I intended to be gentle. Take my time.”

“The painfully slow approach is overrated.” I lunge for his jacket and manage to peel it halfway down his arms before he balks.

“Not today.” He shakes his head as he retreats.

I notice a slight chill for the first time without him sharing my personal space.

“We’re going to do this right.” He’s adorable when his serious side kicks in. The concentration with which he unlaces his boots and sets them aside in a perfectly aligned pair makes me want to ruffle his hair, or fall to my knees at his feet, I can’t decide which. Maybe both.

I settle into the horseshoe of pillows mounded at one end of our boat bed and drink in the sight of my lover wandering around the tent, hopping from braided rug to braided rug in his socked feet. It’s odd to lie back and let someone else set the scene for our erotic interlude. He frees the material entranceway then lets it drape closed, making sure the panels overlap.

Cut off from everything surrounding us, my world narrows to him and me. Exactly how I prefer it.

I kick off my shoes then tunnel beneath the snuggly-soft quilts covering the plush mattress. Extra care was taken to fill the gaps between the hull and the padding, leaving no shin-busting edges exposed. I could hibernate here and still be comfortable four months later.

One by one, Rick activates half a dozen battery-powered lanterns. I catalog the grace of his movements as he roams from beacon to beacon. The glow he gives birth to draws intricate designs on the roof of our cozy paradise. I study the interplay of shadows and light while he fiddles with the heater. I’m not sure if his success with the gadget or the presentation of his fine ass in those jeans as he bends over is responsible for the blast of toasty warmth that seeps straight through my pores to the marrow of my bones.

I can’t help myself. Without conscious thought, I cup my breasts to soothe the ache he’s inspired with his careful preparations and the only possible outcome of his efforts. His shoulders rise and fall beneath the force of his deep inhalation and slow release. A laser-beam stare singes me when he finally faces forward, witnessing my involuntary writhing and the naughty activity of my fingers.

“You’re so gorgeous, Sarah.”

“I could say the same of you.” My gaze cruises from his prominent jaw to his thick chest, narrow waist and the displacement of his jeans, which appear to strangle the erection distorting the fabric in the neighborhood of his crotch.

“All your clients must tell you that, but it’s true.”

“Only most.” I’m vain enough to enjoy hearing it. I won’t remind him the rest of the guys say something more along the lines of, “That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”

“I wish I could make you understand. You’re everything I was afraid to hope for.” He sinks onto the foot of the mattress then crawls toward me like a lion on the prowl. Confident, deliberate, unstoppable.

When will he pounce? Soon, I hope.

“You’re the same for me.” I don’t resist when he comes over me, pressing me flat to the bed as he advances. It’s a delicacy to surrender control. Through my window I’m always the one with the power, no matter what privileges I grant a customer. It’s always on my terms. This is like walking a tightrope strung between two skyscrapers with no net to break my fall if things should go to shit. With Rick, I’m never afraid of the heights he lifts me to.

“I need to be closer to you.” He kisses me long and slow as he descends, allowing me to bear his full weight. His hand rubs the bare patch of skin between the top of my jeans and the hem of my sweater, which he’s nudged a few centimeters higher.

I spread my legs, welcoming him into the cradle of my thighs.

“Yes.” He nips my bottom lip then sucks the sting into oblivion. Time slips away as we devour each other in an unending exchange of pleasure.

Suddenly, too much fabric creates an intolerable barrier between us. Perspiration breaks out on my back, reminding me of the rising temperature.

Rick grunts when I press on his shoulder, as if he’s reluctant to surrender his position.

“Roll over,” I whisper between mini-kisses. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

He complies, his heavy-lidded eyes only adding to the swelter of our retreat. His sexy sprawl takes up most of the bed. I slip from beneath the unneeded covers and blanket him instead.

Strong arms band easily around my waist. The thick length of his cock creates the perfect hump to rub my pussy on while I taste him one more time. Only now, I don’t stop with a nibble on his parted mouth or a swirl of my tongue over his. Instead, I skim along his jaw to his chin then lower down his neck.

His moan vibrates my lips. I pause to torture him. When he shivers beneath me, I smile against the curve of his shoulder.

“Screw slow and gentle.” He tugs at his shirt. I refuse to budge and allow him room to disrobe.

“No, you had it right the first time.” I toy with the skin just above his collar for a moment before flicking open the top button of his shirt. “Let me unwrap my present.”

“
Verdomme.
” He chokes a little when I lap at the sexy dip in the base of his throat.

“Feels more like heaven to me.” I thread the next button through its hole with trembling fingers. I can hardly believe I’m lucky enough to have this man all to myself. For now. A flash of him in the swingers’ club we discussed earlier zips through my mind. Would it fill me with pride to watch him thrill someone else? Or would jealousy overcome my appreciation for his dissolute talents?

“Yes.” He buries his fingers in my hair, massaging my scalp. All thoughts but here and now fade from my mind with the sure press of his hands.

I graze my teeth across the freshly exposed landscape of his firm pecs while I torture him with the unfastening of another few inches of his shirt. I worship the series of small hills that stand witness to the eons he spends training at the gym. I study him as though he’s a statue come to life. Only the finest artist could have devised a form so spectacular. It’s hard to pinpoint when my ideal for all things masculine became embodied by him. Any flaws I used to notice have long since faded into comfortable familiarity.