Night Game

CHAPTER 14

Someone had tried to fix up the cabin to make it less of a hunting cabin and more of a home. Flame suspected Nonny had paid a visit while they were gone. A homemade quilt, the craftsmanship beautiful, covered the bed there was a tablecloth on the small makeshift table.

“Are you tired? Do you need to get into bed?” Gator announced.

“It’s a broken arm. I’ve spent more time in bed than I ever have.” She wandered over to the window and looked out. “I love this place. The bayou is so peaceful. I think I love the nights like this the best.”

“We’re alone,” Gator announced.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’m very much aware of that. You’re still angry with me.”

“Damn right I’m angry. You took off.” He threw his gloves and everything else in his hands on the table and crossed the room to stand behind her. “You know how casual you sounded when you told me you knew you were sick again?”

Flame turned to face him, resting her back against the wall. “There was no question that the cancer would come back. Dr. Whitney made certain of that.”

His gaze darkened. “You knew that?”

“Not at first, not until I realized he’d coordinated my escape.” She shrugged. “Oh, it wasn’t all that easy. I was kept in a laboratory in Colorado for years. I escaped when I was nineteen. He made certain my escape was difficult so he could record it and see what I could and couldn’t do. He soundproofed everything so I couldn’t use sound against him. He made it hard enough, but after I managed to get out, it occurred to me that he wanted me to escape. How else could he test me in the world? In the field? Unlike his beloved Lily, I wasn’t co operative. He didn’t give me any run of the mill cancer; he made up his own. He needed to find a way to ensure I would have to come back to him. It didn’t occur to him I’d be willing to die.”

There was absolute resolution in her voice. Gator felt something hard grab his heart and squeeze until he thought his chest might implode. “That’s not an option.” He forced the words out when his lungs burned for air.

“It’s the only option. I’m not ever going back where he can get his hands on me. He’s evil. I don’t care how much he spouts that his work is invaluable to science and will save thousands, maybe millions of lives. He’s evil.”

“Flame…”

“Don’t.” She cut him off, her features set. “I weighed my options before I ever escaped. I knew he wanted something from me and if I left, maybe I’d be giving it to him. He didn’t think I’d be smart enough to figure it all out. He placed a microchip in my body to track me. It was here.” She pushed the low-riding jeans his grand mother had bought for her down farther so he could see the arc of flames along her hipbone. The tattoo covered an ugly scar.

He heard a hoarse shout of protest echoing through his mind and for a moment was afraid he’d yelled out loud. He made himself breathe. “You cut the chip out of your body yourself.”

“Damn right I did.”

He wanted to hit something. Smash it. Drive his fists into something solid until he felt the physical pain. Maybe that would take away the churning rage and the terror of losing her.

“Raoul.” She leaned close to him, laid her hand gently, almost tenderly on his chest, right over his heart. Her voice was soft, so low he barely caught the words. “The cabin is shaking. You have to calm down.”

He let his breath out, his hand coming up to cover hers, pressing her palm closer to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was losing control. You were just going to walk away, walk down that road and head out of town, weren’t you? Knowing you could die from an infection or from cancer. You were going to let it happen.”

“I was protecting you. Both of us, really, but you’re in an impossible position. You’re so…” She searched for the right word. “Gallant. I can’t let you lose everything you have in the world when there’s no saving me. It’s not logical.”

“Sometimes I want to shake you until your teeth rattle.”

“Well try to control the impulse.” Flame moved around him to pace the length of the cabin restlessly. She knew the painkillers were making her anxious, but she couldn’t help it. “There are so many things I need to do. Burrell’s killers. Keep away from Whitney. Find Joy or at least find out what happened to her.”

“We’ve been looking for Joy, but we haven’t turned up any information that will help us yet.” He jammed his hands into his pockets as if to keep from grabbing ahold of her. “We’re not finished talking about this.”

“Well talk all you want. I’m finished. I’m really, really angry that you let that woman into my room when I was…” She broke off.

“Vulnerable? You were vulnerable. Say it. It happens to all of us at one time or another. I’m not going to let you die because you’re too damned stubborn to see the truth when it’s staring you in the eye.” He had to work to keep his breathing slow and even. She could make him angrier than any other person on the face of the earth.

“What truth? Yours? You didn’t even know Whitney was alive. You’re too trusting, Raoul, and it’s going to get you killed.”

“Maybe, cher, but lack of trust will definitely get you killed.”

“I’m going to get ready for bed after all. It’s warm in here.” It was warm just being in the same room with him. And for some reason, when he was angry, she found herself getting damp with need. Even her breasts ached. Maybe she was the pervert.

Gator snatched up a bottle of beer and uncapped it, using the edge of the table. He sank into the one good armchair and took a long swig of the cold liquid, hoping it would cool his temper. She damn well wasn’t going to die on him. And he couldn’t get the vision of her scar beneath the tattoo out of his mind. He wanted to kiss it better. He just plain wanted. He pressed the beer bottle to his brow. It was going to be a long night.

“Don’t you want to know why I bashed James Parsons in the head with his little crystal tumbler? The bastard.”

He turned his head and wished he hadn’t. She had her back turned to him and was in a man’s plaid shirt. He was certain this time it was his shirt. His grandmother’s version of nightwear? She was awkwardly shimmying out of her jeans, shoving them down with one hand and kicking at them to get the material away from her.

“Are you just going to sit there or are you going to help me?” She glared at him.

“Oh, cher. I’m goin’ to sit here. I’m not getting near you when you’re in such a mean mood.” He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I rather like the show.”

“You would.” She gave a final kick to her jeans and they went flying off.

“So tell me about Parsons. I didn’t believe his story, but I didn’t have time to beat the truth out of him.”

She shook her head. “You aren’t the type of man to beat the truth out of anyone. You’re too nice.”

He took another pull of the beer and looked at her over the bottle. “Don’ you go thinkin’ I’m all that nice, cher. If that man did what I think he did, he is accidentally goin’ to die. He ripped your shirt, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Something deep inside him he kept hidden from the rest of the world began to unravel. He felt rage. Cold. Absolute cold rage. He set the beer bottle down carefully on the floor and looked at his hands.

“Raoul.”

He heard her say his name softly, from a great distance. He curled his fingers into two tight fists. The man had been so close and on some level, Gator had known. Flame would never have sat in a car with her breasts bared to the world no matter how much blood she’d lost. If some other man had ripped her shirt in the swamp, she would have covered up before getting into the car. She had presence of mind to bash Parsons, she sure as hell would have covered up. He was going to kill the man with his bare hands.

“Raoul.” This time her voice was sharp. “You’re doing again. The cabin is old. Do you want it to come crashing down? He’s a skanky little punk.”

“He’s a dead man walking.”

She sighed softly. “There’s more. I saw scratch marks the leather and there was an earring. The earring was very distinctive. Joy’s mother sent away for the pair when she saw them in a magazine. They had silver footprints over gold. The footprints represented a poem Joy loved about Christ carrying her in times of need.” She frowned, trying to remember more details. “It was strange. I felt dizzy and everything seemed so dreamlike.”

She wiped at her face. “I still can’t remember very much.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood and they have you on heavy painkillers.” His voice had a hard edge to it. He swallowed his anger and picked up the beer bottle, trying to distract himself from the memory of her covered in blood, in mud, bruised, battered, and her rescuer ripping her shirt open. He couldn’t drink enough to erase that.

“I’m all right now. You got there in time. My arm’s fine.”

Gator took another swallow then pointed toward the table because he couldn’t think about it now. He had to change the direction of the conversation and his thoughts or he would be in jail by morning. “Take a look at those pictures. Kadan pulled those out and said to have you take a look at them. He thought you might see something the rest of us don’t.”

“Pictures?”

“On the table by my gloves.”

Flame leaned over the small makeshift table to study the pictures strewn over the tablecloth where they’d fallen out of a manila envelope. The shirttails rode up to reveal the underside of her bottom, her cheeks firm and smooth and curving deliciously. Gator repositioned his legs in an attempt to ease the growing ache in his groin. He wasn’t about to call her attention to the fact that she was showing bare skin and giving him one hell of a hard-on.

“Joy’s mother said she was a wonderful photographer and she’s right. These must be the pictures Joy took of the bayou and wildlife. Have you looked at them? They’re quite good. Joy took these photographs right before she disappeared.”

“Yes, Grand-mere told me her family developed them and took them to the police in the hopes that they’d see a clue to her disappearance. The other photos were taken of the other missing girl’s bedroom. Lily had duplicates made for us.” His voice had gone husky and he could feel his body beginning to pulse with awareness.

“There’s something here I’m not getting, Raoul. I can feel it.” She didn’t look back at him but bent closer to the photographs. “Maybe we should enlarge these. There’s a small ripped piece of paper on the corner of this nightstand.”

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. She was far more exposed now. He caught glimpses of the inviting entrance between her legs barely covered with a scrap of black lace. She brought up her foot and absently rubbed her calf with it before putting it down, her stance a little wider. The hem of the shirt was halfway up her bottom, exposing the globes of her ass to him. His air ran out and s lungs burned.

“You know what I think this is? Remember when Parsons’s driver handed him his business card to give me? I think this is part of his card. He only had a number on it and I can make out part of a number on this ripped piece. That means that other missing girl had contact with Parsons, his son, or the driver at some point.”

“That makes sense, especially if that snake had the balls o rip your shirt. Good aim, by the way.” His voice was husky. “You tore up his face.”

“With the drink. I thought he was trying to drug me.” She leaned her elbows on the table to study the various photographs. “I can’t believe how foggy my mind is. I keep trying to remember the details about what happened and to be honest, I just can’t quite remember everything. It’s so freakin’ frustrating I want to scream. I should stop taking the painkillers. They’re fogging my rain.”

“Give yourself time, cher, it will come back.” He set the bottle aside and got to his feet, drawn by the smooth temptation of her skin. His breath came in ragged gasps and his voice was hoarse. He stood directly behind her until he could feel the heat of her body. He pressed one hand on her lower spine and the other slid over the bare silky skin of her bottom. The feel of her took what little breath he had left. “I have to see this black thong.”

She didn’t protest. He heard the hitch of her breath and she went very still beneath his exploring caresses. He pushed the shirt up farther until he could see the three rows of black rolled string with the tiny bows down the middle disappearing between the firm globes of her bottom. “Mon Dieu! Is this your idea of nightwear?” He couldn’t keep his hands off of her, rubbing and massaging almost compulsively. He had no idea he was virtually holding her down with his other hand.

“Not exactly. Remember, all of my clothes were burned.”

“Grand-mere didn’t buy these.” He made it a statement as he tugged at the thin lacy strip covering everything he wanted.

“Like hell she didn’t.” Flame closed her eyes, suddenly frightened of the things he could do to her body when he wasn’t even trying. She couldn’t move, didn’t want him to stop, yet paradoxically, was terrified of where it would lead.

“She buys these sexy panties but gives you a man’s shirt to sleep in?”

There was a small telling silence. “I can’t possibly wear what she sent.”

“She sent you a nightgown?” The hand at her spine began to make small circles to match the stroking on her bottom.

Flame closed her eyes, pushing back against his hand, feeling damp liquid heat pooling low in response. “Not exactly.” It was the only response she could manage to get out. Her brain was melting right along with her body.

His hand spread the massaging circle wider, moving up her back until he suddenly stopped. A flare of excitement arced between them. “Femme sexy. You’re wearing a knife.”

“I always wear a knife.”

He pushed her shirt up until he found the small leather sheath snuggled along her back. Gator bent forward and pressed a kiss against her bare spine. “You know how much that turns me on.”

“Everything turns you on.”

“Baby, I’m so turned on I’m about to burst out of my jeans.” He bent forward, right over the top of her, his hardened groin pressed tightly against her buttocks as he pulled the knife out of the sheath and laid it on the table. I want to see the outfit.”

His voice was so damned sexy, his soft drawling whisper. Flame thought her legs might turn to rubber. She could feel the blush starting somewhere at her toes and consuming her entire body. He moved away from her and she straightened, almost afraid to turn around, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Gator pulled open the shopping bag and dragged out the tiny scrap of mesh and leather. “This is it? This is what Grand-mere sent you to sleep in?”

She nodded wordlessly, her hand on her throat.

He glanced down into the bag. “What else is in here?”

“Don’t look. Whatever you do, don’t look in there.” Her voice was strangled.

He pulled the shopping bag wider and withdrew a small paddle covered in fake leopard skin. Flame groaned, her color deepening. He pulled a wireless strand of three small vibrating eggs with a little remote and some furred handcuffs. She covered her face. “My, my. Looks like we’re in for a long night of fun and games, cher.”

“What was your grandmother thinking?”

“She was thinking she needed to move us along in our relationship. She wants action obviously.” He held out the garment. “Put it on.”

“Look at it. I can’t put that on, it’s crotchless.”

He smirked at her. “I know. She chose it because it has no straps and you can easily get into it.”

“You’re such a perv.”

“Put it on for me, cher.” One hand went to the front of his jeans. Her gaze followed as he stroked unselfconsciously, a soft groan of excitement escaping.

Flame stood motionless looking at the impossible scrap of leather and mesh and the man holding it out to her. Stark desire was so intense, so raw, it deepened the color of his dark eyes to almost midnight black. She shook her head, knowing she was going to give in to him, knowing all that mattered to her in that moment was pleasing him.

She took the outfit and retired to the bathroom, refusing to struggle into it one-handed in front of him. If he looked into the bag he was going to find the whipped cream and the oils and the scented candles. And she knew he was going to look into the bag. Why that excited her, she had no idea, but maybe being a pervert was contagious. She mulled it over while she dressed, or rather undressed. There was no doubt that she was getting even more turned on at the idea of his reaction to seeing her in the very revealing and risqué outfit.

“You coming out anytime soon, or do I have to come in and get you?”

Flame looked at the little pile of clothing, the over sized plaid shirt, the black thong, the leather sheath and harness for her knife and she took a deep breath. Once she stepped out that door there was no turning back.

“Cher.” He sounded impatient, sexy, hoarse with need. “The suspense is killing me. You want me to come to you?”

Flame opened the door and sauntered out, pretending be confident and casual and that a million men had seen her with nothing on but leather and mesh. The leather part of the bustier pushed up under her breasts into the black mesh that ended just under her nipples, so at she was completely exposed. The mesh was open around her belly button and crotch and buttocks, but clung to her waist and ribs.

The room was dark other than the glow of several candles. She was grateful for that, particularly when she saw that Raoul was completely naked. He was very well endowed. She couldn’t help staring. There were a couple of things she should have mentioned to him before she ever put on leather and mesh, but now, when she had his undivided attention, she was afraid it was too late. He stood beside the bed, the silly sex toys laid out on the end table as if he intended using every one. Her heart accelerated at the sight and she knew he could hear it because he held out his hand to her.

Gator moistened suddenly dry lips. “Mon Dieu. You have a beautiful body.” He made a small circle with his fingers.

She forced herself to turn around slowly for him, showing off the outfit and the bare body beneath it. With him watching, her nipples hardened into tight peaks and her breasts ached for attention. She watched as he circled the rigid length of his shaft with his fist as he said some thing in French she wished she understood.

“Come here.” His body shook with wanting her. He had been with other women, but he had never felt like this. He’d never needed like this. In that moment, when she’d emerged from the bathroom looking so damned sexy in her outfit, the realization that he’d been isolated for so long came to him. She was sunshine. Laughter. Fine wine and silk sheets or beer in the bayou with the setting sun. She was secrets and sex and his very own warrior. She was his equal. She was everything he could want standing right in front of him.

She could hardly breathe, but Flame wasn’t a woman to back down once she’d made up her mind. He was looking at her, his face etched with desire and his body as starkly aroused as it could be, holding out his hand to her and she took it, allowing him to draw her close.

Careful of her broken arm, Gator bunched her hair in his hand and, tilting her head, caught her soft sigh in his mouth. The hard peaks of her nipples pressed tightly into his chest as her body melted into his. His tongue tangled with hers, hot and moist until a river of need burst free in him. He wanted her so much he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. Her skin was incredibly soft against his and her throaty little moans nearly drove him mad.

He kissed her over and over, rough with desire, until she was pressing her body against his, rubbing her soft belly against his arousal. The mesh brushed against his ultrasensitive groin until he was afraid he might explode. His mouth left hers to trail down her throat, nibbling along her neck until he found the creamy mounds spilling out of her costume. He thumbed her nipples, watching her eyes darken with desire.

She cried out when his mouth closed over her nipple, suckling hard while his fingers tugged at her other breast through the mesh. She arched her body into his, wanting more of him. His hand slid down between her legs, to cover her dampness and she jerked in his arms, her need nearly as strong as his own. He took his time, lavishing attention on her breasts, rubbing the mesh over her skin with his chin, teasing her belly button with his tongue, all the while, moving her backward to the bed.

When the edge of the bed hit the back of her knees, he lowered her, his mouth once more on hers, hard and insistent, refusing to allow her a moment to think. She had taken him to the very edge of his control and they’d only gotten started. She kissed him back, every bit as hungry as he was, but her eyes contained a hint of fear. She moaned in his arms, her body moving naturally against his, yet her touch was unsure.

“You want me.” His lips left hers and returned to her breasts, his teeth and tongue teasing, mouth suckling, pulling strongly, hands tugging and massaging. He loved the animalistic sounds coming from her throat. He looked at her body, flushed with desire, breasts swollen and nipples hard peaks, her breathing as ragged as his. Beneath his wandering hand her stomach muscles contracted and her hips moved restlessly. “But I want more from you, Flame. I want you crying for me. I want you needing me the way I do you. I need more.”

Flame couldn’t imagine there being more. More might kill her. He wanted her crying? She was nearly sobbing for mercy. His mouth was so hot, blazing a trail of fire along her tummy. He paid particular attention to her tattoo, licking along the flames, kissing her scar, driving her crazy. His hand slid up her thigh, drowning her in sensations she’d never experienced.

His eyes met hers as his tongue paid lavish attention to her belly button, and then began to track lower, dropping little kisses and teasing bites all the way down to the end of the mesh. His fingers brushed her mound and she jerked beneath his hand, a moan escaping, one that brutally hardened him to the point of agony. He wanted to sink into her heat immediately, but not before she was writhing mindlessly. Flame was a warrior woman and he needed to keep her involved, because if she changed her mind, he’d have a fight on his hands. He lowered his head and inhaled her scent.

“Raoul.”

There was a catch in her voice. A tremor. He heard it as he flicked his tongue along the flowering moist seam. She nearly came apart as he widened her thighs to accommodate his shoulders. He pushed his tongue inside her with a slow deliberate stroke. Her hand twisted in his hair and she pushed forward into his mouth.

She tasted sweet, like honey and he couldn’t stop himself from diving deeper, taking his fill. He flicked and stabbed with his tongue, sucked and teased until she bucked against his mouth, sobbing for release.

Flame tried to find an anchor, something, anything at all to hold her to earth. She wasn’t prepared for his expertise and Raoul was sweeping her away before she could catch her breath, or think or analyze or do any of the things she needed to do for control. His mouth was insistent, drinking her, eating her, shattering her every erotic fantasy and replacing it with something far too real. He seemed to savor her taste, groaning with need, hot and hungry and desperate for more.

Flame couldn’t catch her breath as pleasure crashed over her, wave after wave of it, her body not her own, but his to do with as he wanted. She screamed as her entire stomach contracted, her belly, and breasts and her thighs. “I can’t take any more.” She gasped the words, wanting more, needing more, but afraid it was going to till her.

“There’s so much more,” he whispered. “I want to be inside you, Flame. I can’t wait any longer.”

The sound of his voice, the look on his face, the harsh hunger for her nearly sent her over the edge. She widened her legs as he knelt between them. Her heart began to pound and fear edged up into her throat. She wasn’t giving herself to him. It wasn’t like that at all. She repeated it over and over to herself, waiting. Feeling the large head of his erection pressed tightly against her. He pushed slightly, but he didn’t enter her, making her wait.

“Look at me.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes meeting his. He wasn’t even in her and he felt too big. She should have started with something much smaller.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” His voice was harsh with the struggle for control.

Flame shook her head. “Who was I going to do anything with?” Her fist tightened in the quilt. If he stopped, she had no idea what she was going to do. She knew so much in theory, but he was light-years ahead of her.

It shouldn’t have made him feel more possessive to know that no other man had had her. It was a primitive way to think, but he was beyond all reason, it seemed. when it came to Flame.

“This is us. You and me, Flame. And this is my choice. I want you because of who and what you are, not because of an experiment. You’re in my heart. You have to understand that. This is only between us.”

She could hardly think or breathe, her body not her own anymore. His features were set and determined. He was waiting for a response. She didn’t have one, didn’t know what was real when it came to her life. She’d never had a man want her the way Raoul did. His hunger was so raw, so intense she almost couldn’t believe it was for her. She managed a nod, lifting her hips, searching for more, searching for relief. She needed him inside of her now.

He watched her face as he began to push into her body. “You’re so fuckin’ tight you’re killing me, Flame.” And hot and slick and velvet soft yet gripping him like a fist. He stretched her slowly, terrified of hurting her, but far too close to losing his own control.

She thought he had it the wrong way around. He was killing her, stretching her impossibly. It stung, burned, yet it felt so good. She didn’t know if she wanted to fight him off of her, or drag him closer.

“Don’t move.”

She realized she had been moving, pressing closer, trying to take more of him, wanting all of him. She could feel her muscles clenching around him, gripping him tight, beginning to spasm with the hard slide of his body. She moved again, an enticing little wiggle she couldn’t quite stop. He groaned and surged forward, past the thin barrier to lodge deep. The bite of pain mingled with a burst of pleasure and the breath exploded out of her in a single rush.

“Its all right now.” His voice was strained. He moved, withdrawing from her, so that she held her breath at the first feel of fiery friction. He surged into her deep and hard, making her cry out. His arms looped beneath her thighs giving him a better angle so each time he pistoned forward through her tight folds, he could hear that breathless little cry over and over. It seemed to vibrate through his body and center in his groin adding to his own pleasure.

Her body squeezed tightly around his until he felt sweat beading on his forehead with the intensity of the sensations pouring over him. She was so hot and the sight of her, lying under him, her body sprawled out for his pleasure alone was enough to send him into oblivion. With every hard stroke as he thrust into her, her round breasts swayed, nipples hard with desire-for him. Her eyes were slightly glazed and her breath was ragged. Her soft little moans drove him crazy, vibrating through his body, swelling his cock more than he’d ever experienced.

Gator didn’t want to stop, wanted to be forever just like this, his idea of paradise, thrusting in and out of her tight body with hard, deep strokes, watching the effect of his body on hers, the near ecstasy washing over her and the idea that she was his. Only his. That she opened to him, body and mind and heart when she never let any other so close. That alone was a huge turn-on to him.

The walls of her channel tightened impossibly around him with hard deep spasms, contracting and squeezing, the orgasm exploding over both of them, robbing him of what little control he had left. He swelled impossibly bigger, his balls drawing up painfully and then he was surging hard, pounding into her, a single long note of ecstasy escaping from his throat. His orgasm seemed endless, a merciless volcano pouring through his body and into hers while she sobbed, clutching at the quilt, trying to ride out the exquisite torment.

Flame didn’t think her body would ever stop the rocketing spasms. Wave after wave of sheer pleasure rippled through her body, and when she thought it would subside, he moved, just a bit, and aftershocks instantly took over, shaking her and throwing her into another quaking round. She clung to him, shocked that he could make her body so responsive, so sensitive and so incredibly hot.

Gator stared down at Flame in awe. “Mon Deiu, cher. Just kill me now and I’ll go happy.” He collapsed on top of her, sliding the top half of his body to one side to avoid her injured arm. “You’re amazing.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” Flame said, smirking with satisfaction. “And don’t let me forget to mention to your grand mother that mesh is not the least bit comfortable.”

He kissed her neck. “What about the leather?”

“It itches when it’s sweaty.”

“I don’ sleep in clothes anyway. You don’ need to either.” Gator propped himself up on one elbow and proceeded to rip the mesh away from the leather. It came away in his hand after a little wiggling on her part to get it out from under her, leaving her rib cage wrapped in leather.

“Now I look like a sausage,” she announced and burst out laughing.

He rubbed his face against her breasts, his shadowy jaw rough on her nipples. “I wouldn’t say that. I think you look sexy.”

She couldn’t stop laughing, even though the movement sent aftershocks rippling through her body. “You’re so crazy. Unzip it.”

“I don’ know, cher.” His accent thickened. Her body reluctantly released his from her snug sheath and he sighed softly. “I think you look good in leather.” His tongue flicked her nipples and he nuzzled his face into the valley between her breasts.

Still laughing, Flame reached for the knife on the end table beside the bed at exactly the same moment he reached or the can of whipped cream. “You’re such a freak, Raoul. Just what do you think you’re doing with that?”

“Expanding my horizons.” He traced the flames of her tattoo as he shook the can. “What ‘ya going to do with that knife?” His tone lowered, was husky, frankly sensual.

She slid the tip of the razor-sharp blade along the edge of the leather and cut herself free of the offending material. “Nothing thrilling, believe me.” Laughter was beginning to overtake her again. She couldn’t help it. He looked so eager. “Put your little can of whipped cream down, I’m going to sleep. You wore me out.”

He outlined her tattoo with the whipped cream, leaned down and licked it off. “Good brand.”

“Well that’s all right then.”

“Stop squirming. I’m drawing a masterpiece. This is art.” He used the whipped cream to draw a happy face on her lower belly. This time when he licked it off she closed her eyes and he could feel the shudder of pleasure running through her. “I got me lots of toys to play with, Flame. You just go ahead and go on to sleep and when I think I need to wake you up, I’ll find a way to do it that you’ll like.”

“I can’t go to sleep with you spraying whipped cream all over me.”

This time he outlined a bikini top on her breasts and bent to lick it off. His tongue rasped over her skin and around her nipple. There was a small tug of his teeth. Her womb contracted and clenched hard in response. Flame tangled her fingers in his hair and closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sensations of his tongue and teeth, the moist heat of his mouth and his exploring hands. “You’re not planning on really using those ridiculous toys, are you?”

“Hell yeah, we’re using them.”

She opened one eye. “I call the handcuffs and paddle.”

“Not a chance, femme sexy, I’m stronger than you.” His hand caressed her bottom. “I’ve got me plans.”

“You’re such a goof.” For the first time in her life, she felt truly happy. And she hoped it would be a long, long night. “Just remember who has the knife.”