Sandra Hill (32 page)

She followed him meekly into the cabin, or as meekly as was possible for Britta. While she walked around, examining the place, he added more logs to the fireplace. “Take off your cloak, Britta.” She was sitting on the sofa now, still enfolded in the voluminous, fur-lined garment. He was pretty sure it was sable. PETA would hate it.
God, that thing must be worth a mint, even if it does smell like wet dog.

“I do not want to remove my cloak.”

“Wanna tell me what’s bugging you?”

“You are.”

Okaaaay.
He went to sit down beside her, and she shooed him aside.

“Did you wish-pray me here again?”

“Probably.”

“Why?”

“Briiiitta! I’ve told you I missed you like crazy. Sammy has missed you like crazy, too. What more do you want?”

She shrugged. “I thought I wanted you. I called your keep, and the number was disconnected. Everyone else has an unlisted number…Hilda, Madrene, Cage. I was going to find a way to go back to Coronado next sennight.”

“But…?”

“But I saw you with that woman, and I realized how tenuous this bond is betwixt us, and I cannot take the chance…What are you doing?” That last came out on a squeak.

“Taking my clothes off.”

“Well, do not.”

He continued to remove his clothes and was down to his long john bottoms.

She watched him closely, her eyes glazing over. He hot damn knew what that meant, but he needed to play his cards close to his chest. This was Britta, not his average targ—uh, prospective partner.

“I am not taking
my
clothes off.”

“Not even your cloak?”

She shook her head. “Especially not my cloak.”

Something strange was going on here. Meanwhile, his emotions were banging off the walls. “I was kinda hoping you would toss it on the floor, and we could make love the first time on the fur.”

“The first time?” She whimpered and stood, backing away.

He took one step forward. She took one step backward. A losing battle for her, if she was thinking straight, which she must not be. Praise God and bring on the ammunition!

Speaking of ammunition, time to bring in the big artillery. “Britta. Honey. Sammy gave me your message.”

Her blush told him that she knew exactly what he meant. She didn’t try to deny it; he had to give her that.

“It is not chivalrous of you to bring that up to a lady.”

“
Lady
, I’m fresh out of chivalry.” His frustration was turning into anger. “Do you or do you not love me?” He had her backed up against the wall now. She had no place to hide or escape.

“There is so much more involved than…than…”

“Love?” He licked her neck, and for a brief second she sighed before putting her hands to his chest and holding him at arm’s length.

Britta stared at the too-handsome rogue and felt as if she were drowning in quicksand. Warm, tempting, sensual quicksand. She wanted him so much it hurt, but what she decided now would have implications for not just her lifetime but the lifetime of the child she carried. She needed time to think. Hah! She could not think when under the influence of searing arousal. “Zachary, there is so much you do not know. So many things to consider.”

He took both of her hands, which were pressing against his bare chest, and raised them, kissing first one wrist, then the other. She barely suppressed a moan. How could a mere butterfly of a kiss, and not even on her lips, inflame her so? “We need to talk.”

“No, we need to make love. And make love again. And then maybe talk.”

“Your persistence is to be commended.”

“It’s one of my better talents.”

“That was sarcasm, lout.”

“C’mon, Britta, come with me into the bedroom. I want to lay you down and show you how much I’ve missed you.”

“You fight dirty. Another of your talents?”

“For sure.” He took her hand and tried to tug her along with him.

She dug in her heels, fighting an inner battle. She, too, wanted to make love. She, too, had missed him desperately. But she could not let him know about the babe…not till other issues were resolved. Like his stated opinion that he wanted no more children. Like his womanizing habits…leastways, in the past. Like what kind of future they might have.

An idea came to her, a way to have what they both wanted and not reveal her secret…yet.

“There is only one condition under which I will engage in bedsport with you.”

He halted in his tugging exercise and raised his eyebrows at her.

“You need to allow me to do some things to you.”

He let out a hoot of laughter before he could catch himself. “Baby, you can do anything you want to me.”

“Be serious.”

“I am.”

“Turn around and do not look at me when I tell you my…uh, conditions.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Man, your face is red as a beet. This must be really good.” He turned his back on her, but he still held her one hand in his.

“You must allow me to tie your hands to the bed so you cannot touch me.”

She heard the hiss of his indrawn breath and the reflexive squeeze of their joined hands.

“And you must let me blindfold you.”

Silence was her only response.

Then, slowly, very slowly, he turned and gave her his hot regard. “Are you freakin’ for real?”

She tried to back away, humiliated.

“No, no, no! You don’t make that kind of offer to a guy, then back off.”

“Dost mean you would like…um, what I offered?”

His smile now was pure, unadulterated lustsome male. “Bondage? Baby, I’m game.”

And Britta wondered if she might have entered a trap of her own making.

Beware of women with secrets…

Okay. So, Zach was lying on his bed, nude, his arms spread and tied to the headboard posts. There was a lamp lit in the room, but he couldn’t see it because a folded knit neck scarf covered his eyes.

This should have been Sexual Fantasy Number One, but it felt weird. Not that weird was bad. No. It was just that something felt odd with Britta.

But, hey, he was a guy. He wasn’t about to argue.

“If you’re not going to let me see you, or touch you, at least talk to me, honey.”

He felt the mattress move as Britta crawled up beside him.

“Have you taken off the frickin’ fur shroud?” he grumbled at her continuing silence. Was she looking at him, or what? If she was, he had a flagpole standing at attention, and growing, even as he thought about it.

“Yea, I have taken off the cloak…and everything else. I intend to make bold with you, knave.”

“Make bold, huh? Promises, promises.” He laughed, but she was quiet. “What are you doing?”

“Just looking. You are so beautiful.”

A certain part of his body nodded its thanks for the compliment.

She chuckled. “I want to touch you all over.”

“Feel free.”

“And I want to lick you all over, too. To see if you taste as good as I remember.”

“Holy crap, Britta. Keep that up, and the opera’s gonna be over before the fat lady sings.”

“Are you saying that I am fat?” There was genuine indignation in her voice.

“Are you kidding? You don’t have an ounce of fat on your body. It was a saying.”

Her fingers traced his mouth, and he latched onto one finger, sucking.

He felt her soft gasp of pleasure against his face as she replaced her fingers with her mouth. This he could handle blindfolded. Over and over, they shaped each other’s lips, relearning each other. Openmouthed, wet, tongues and teeth. They were both panting when she lifted her head.

“I like kissing you,” she said and moved downward. He could tell she was still kneeling at his side.

Her fingertips stroked his neck and shoulders and arms, then his nipples, which were supersensitive.

“You are gritting your teeth. Does that mean you liked that?”

His answer was short puffing noises designed to haul in this raging freight train of an arousal before it crashed.

Taking his puffing for a yes, she flicked him some more with her fingertips, then took him in her mouth and suckled.

He about shot up off the bed…or at least as far as his restraints would allow him to go.

“You did not like that?”

“I liked it too much. Take it easy or—” His words were cut off because Britta had moved even lower, her hand cupping his balls, her fingertips stroking him lightly, as if she were petting a dog. A dog!

“Dost know you have blue veins sticking out of your manpart?”

He gurgled, especially when it felt as if she had just kissed the tip. “Britta, bring yourself up over me. I mean it. Do what I say, or this game is over.”

“And how would you stop…this game?” she asked, even as she straddled him, then leaned over.

By pulling the damn bedposts out of the headboard, that’s how
. Every nerve in his body, in fact every inch of his skin felt raw with arousal. He needed the deed done, and soon. But what did the witch do? She was stroking his chest with her breasts. Lightly. So that the nipples grazed his chest hairs.

“That feels wonderful,” she revealed breathily.

“Bring your breasts up to my mouth, sweetie,” he urged.

He latched onto one breast and licked and flicked and sucked on her till she was keening. Then he moved to her other breast, not letting her move back, even when she tried. Her body stiffened then. He could feel her buttocks clenching against his belly. “What?” he asked.

“I just orgasmed.”

His cock jerked against her butt, and he could swear it grew some more. He’d like to see that. “That’s just great, baby, but you better climb up on me and take me home, or you’re gonna be tied to this bed for a week. My love slave.”

It was Britta who gurgled now. “And that is a threat?” She laughed.

But then she was in the saddle, and he was filling her tight, hot sheath. Amazing how the senses intensified when one of them, like eyesight, was withdrawn. For example, he could feel Britta’s wetness pooling around the base of his erection.

“Do me now, baby,” he encouraged. “Do me good.”

And she did. Had he taught her how to move like that? Had he shown her that slow was good at first, but short and hard was even better? It didn’t last long. It couldn’t have. But they both came together in an excruciatingly intense orgasm, him howling with neck and chest arched, her whimpering a long, “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh…”

Then there was silence, except for the beating of their two hearts against each other, with Britta’s face nuzzled into his neck. She raised her head, kissed him gently, and said, “I love you, Zachary.”

He felt about ten feet tall then and told her, “I love you, too, Britta. And before you say anything, I have never said those words to another woman.”

“Good.”

“Untie me now. I want to touch you.”

His words prompted her to lift herself off of him.

“What now?”

“Mayhap I will let you touch me tomorrow. For tonight, methinks I will sleep in Sammy’s bed, and we can talk in the morn.” The mattress dipped and rose as she stood up.

“Like hell!” he roared, and with one mighty pull, he yanked his hands free, carrying the drapery ties and the broken bedposts with him. Within a second, he had the blindfold off and was removing the ties. Only then did he glance up and see Britta standing beside the bed with that bloody fur cape held in front of her.

“Enough, Britta! This is enough! What is it that you’re trying to hide? What did Arsallah and his men do to you?”

“’Tis not what Arsallah and his men did to me. ’Tis what you did to me.”

“Huh?” He sat up in bed and was about to go yank the friggin’ cloak off of her when she dropped it herself. Chin raised, diamond tears glittering in her eyes, she waited for his reaction. It came quickly. First his jaw dropped, his eyes widened with disbelief, and then he smiled. “You’re pregnant.”

“How can you tell?” she inquired with sweet sarcasm, putting both hands over the swell of her stomach.

He smiled even wider, then opened his arms wide for her. “Come here and let me hold you, sweetheart.”

She knuckled the tears off her face and moved closer. “You are not angry?”

He frowned. “Why would I be angry?”

“You said you did not want any more children,” she reminded him.

He lunged for her and hauled her onto the bed and under him. He kissed her forever, then settled his new hard-on between her legs. Raising himself on his elbows framing her face, he told her, “I didn’t mean I never want children. If I had a choice, the timing would have been different, but children with you would be wonderful. How do you feel about it, though? I know you wanted a military career, and now you’ll never be able to go back to WEALS.”

“It does not matter. Whatever else the Norns of Fate hold for me, I want this child. And I want you.”

“You’ve got me,” he said huskily. “And now, about that love slave business.”

“Hah! As if you could ever make a thrall of me!”

“Was that a dare? Oh, baby, you should never challenge a Navy SEAL. Never.”

She laughed, but not for long. And much, much later, she was heard to yell out in surrender that favorite Navy SEAL word, “Hoo-yah!”