Night Game

CHAPTER 18

The shower was hot and helped take some of the sting out of the bruises marring her body. Flame leaned against the shower stall and let the water pour over her. She’d never felt so exhausted in her life. She concentrated on the feeling she had when she witnessed Joy’s reunion with her parents. It had been an uplifting, yet incredibly sad moment. For some reason, she had shifted her attention from Joy and her weeping parents to Wyatt. He looked broken. Utterly broken. So much so that she had wanted to cry for him.

She never, ever wanted to see that same expression on Raoul’s face. She put her head back and closed her eyes, allowing the water to cascade over her. Even if she stayed with him, when she died, it was going to tear him up. What was she supposed to do? She’d actually tried to talk to his grandmother about it, but before she could confess the truth, they’d been interrupted. She had no one to discuss things with and more than anything, she didn’t want to see Raoul hurt.

“Hey! Are you planning on living in there?” A loud thump on the door made her heart jump. She swept back her hair and turned off the water.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to use up all the hot water.” She caught up a towel and wrapped it around her.

“I don’ care about the hot water, cher.” He poked his head in the door. “I just needed to know you were safe.” His sharp gaze roamed over her bare skin.

Her heart sank when he frowned. She knew she looked bad. There was no way to hide the bruises from him. They were everywhere, large black and blue patches that looked hideous. She ducked her head. “It looks worse than it really is.”

Gator stepped into the room and skimmed his fingertips over the outline of the dark bruise riding the swell of her breast. His touch was light, barely there, but her womb clenched and her stomach muscles contracted in response.

“Does it hurt?”

His gaze roamed her face, his eyes dark with emotion. She stroked the hard edge of his jaw. “I’m all right. Raoul. You can’t look at me like that.”

He caught her hand, pressed her palm against his mouth. “I don’ know if my heart can take you getting hurt anymore, Flame.”

No one had ever looked at her like that and she didn’t know if her heart could take it. Her chest actually ached. “Im not hurt,” she tried to reassure him. “Even my arm s feeling better.” She managed a smile. “I’m a tough chick.”

“You’re something.” He drew her out of the bathroom.

The house smelled of the fresh baked bread, fried chicken, and pecan pie his grandmother had sent home with them. He hadn’t bothered with the lights, but had scattered candles all over so that the room seemed to glow. The small rustic cabin suddenly seemed more than a trapper’s cabin. It was intimate and comfortable and all too homey.

She rubbed her temples, pressing deep with her fingers. He was killing her, offering her things already out of her reach. She wanted to weep for both of them, but instead she let him seat her in the chair across from his. If she was what he really wanted, knowing she didn’t have very long, she was going to accept the gift given to her and hang on tight to him with both hands.

“You’re so lucky to have your grandmother, Raoul. She’s incredible.” She picked up her fork as he dished the food onto her plate. “She was so sweet to send a care package with us.”

“When she’s nervous, or upset, Grand-mere cooks. When I was a boy I used to smell the food long before I ever reached our cabin. We always had plenty of food.” He gestured toward all the candles. “I told her I wanted soft lights and a relaxing, soothing atmosphere for you and she gathered every candle she’d made with the right scent.”

“For me?” Flame looked around her, awed by the trouble he’d gone to. “You did all this for me?”

He grinned at her. “Well, you didn’t think I normally lit candles all over the house, did you? I only do it for you. This is used mostly as a hunting cabin now. We fish and trap and drink a lot of beer in here, but this is the first time I’ve ever done this.”

“Your grandmother didn’t happen to send another shopping bag filled with strange items, did she?” Flame asked suspiciously.

“No, cher. I was tempted to ask her, but if she wasn’t the one to buy us those toys then I’d have to explain it all and I’m not talking to Nonny about vibrating eggs.”

Flame nearly choked on her food. The towel slipped and she had to reknot it to keep it in place. Her hands trembled. Just the thought of being alone with Raoul was enough to make her happy, and that was frightening. He made her laugh with his outrageous comments. The old hunting cabin he used for fishing and trapping felt like a home with the candles and the food and Raoul sitting across from her. “You just were very lucky growing up with Nonny as your grandmother. How old were you when you went to live with her?”

He shrugged. “About seven I guess, although we stayed with her more often than not before that. Our family was very close so if we weren’t at one house, we were at the other, or sometimes we all lived together.”

“You enjoyed your childhood, didn’t you?”

He ducked his head, suddenly all too aware of the differences in their lives.

“You goof.” There was affection in her voice. “I like hearing stories of your childhood or I wouldn’t ask. I think your grandmother is one of the most awesome people I’ve ever met. She really cares, not only about you and your brothers, but her neighbors and friends. Did you see her face when Joy’s parents saw Joy alive?” She wailed, her eyes lighting up. “It was beautiful. She’s genuine, Raoul. Completely genuine.”

He reached across the small table to take her hand. “I don’t know how you turned out to be so wonderful with your background, but you have.”

She laughed. “I doubt there’s a single other person who would think that. I’m not all that nice, Raoul, and you know I’m not. I have a very low tolerance for certain things.”

“You look so beautiful with the candlelight playing over your skin. I’m getting a little uncomfortable sitting in this chair.”

She put down her fork and raised her eyebrow. “Uncomfortable?”

“Damned uncomfortable.”

“And just how are you uncomfortable?” Flame leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, looking into his eyes. She loved the way his eyes went dark with need and desire. She loved the stark hunger on his face and the raw sexuality that he exuded. Mostly she loved the way he d told her, straight out, honestly, that he wanted her.

“Im so hard, cher, I might not be able to walk.”

Laughter rose up again. Happiness. She felt it burst through her, bright and powerful, driving out worries of a future and leaving her basking in the here and now. Her heart did some fluttering and her muscles clenched in the most delicious way, but most of all, she loved him. Really loved him. And that was a priceless gift. “I’m not even wearing a knife,” she teased. “I’m not wearing anything at all but this towel.”

He groaned. “That wasn’t nice, Flame. You know I’ve been sittin’ here imagining all sorts of things and then you go and say a thing like that.”

“It’s rather obvious.”

“Knowin’ and sayin’ it aloud are two different things.”

“I want to see.”

“See?” he echoed, his voice turning hoarse. “You want to see me hard and ready for you?”

She nodded. “If I’m going to put aside the chance at this great meal for something else, I think I should see what I’m getting.”

“I’m hearing a bit of a challenge in your voice, femme. You can’t be thinkin’ I’m not up for the task?”

Flame loved him for that, the playfulness in his voice, the teasing in his eyes. He stood up, shrugging out of his shirt and she drew her breath in sharply at the sight of his chest. His hands dropped to his waistband and the air left her lungs in a rush. His body was hard, muscular and compact, and she appreciated every inch of it. He slowly pushed the jeans over his narrow hips so that his thick erection sprang free.

“I’m definitely up for the task, cher.” His hand circled the broad length of him.

She moistened suddenly dry lips. There was something sexy about seeing his fist wrapped intimately around his erection. “I’ll need a closer inspection.” She moved around the table, nearly mesmerized by him. His broad shoulders and beautiful male body, the flash of his white teeth when he smiled, but most of all, by his eyes and the way he looked at her.

There was raw lust. She wouldn’t deny that and in any case it simply added to her excitement. But more than that, there was love. And that was the most powerful aphrodisiac of all. Someone loved her. Not just anyone, but Raoul Fontenot. Her fingertips brushed over him, producing a visible shudder of pleasure.

He tugged at the knot and her towel fell to the floor. At once he bent his head to her bruised breast. His tongue slipped over the dark smudges with extraordinary gentleness. “Does it hurt, Flame?”

“No.” He continued to look at her steadily. She shrugged. “Well. Maybe a little. It doesn’t hurt when you do that.” He’d been so careful of her. His tongue felt like velvet, his touch light and soothing.

“Good. I don’ want anything to hurt you tonight. I just want you to feel good.” He reached for her, drew her body against his, needing to feel the softness of her skin and the lush curves that were such a temptation to him. ‘I’m going to make you feel so good, cher,” he murmured, kissing her ear, his mouth wandering down her neck. “No matter how angry you get with me, you’re going to want to forgive me.”

Flame threw her head back to give him better access to her throat. “Really? You’re going to be so good in bed that every time we argue, I’m going to want to let you win? Or just forgive whatever macho, chauvinistic thing you do?”

He kissed his way up her chin to the corner of her mouth. “I’m thinkin’ I might be a little on the macho side for a woman with your stubborn streak of independence and I might just get on your bad side occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

He grinned at her. “So let’s just say, I’m goin’ to find other ways of pleasin’ you to make up for it.”

His mouth settled on hers, taking her breath, heightening her passion with the sinfully wicked edge he always seemed to have to his kisses. She could kiss him forever, just melt into his body and let his hot mouth take her somewhere far away. He brought her body to life and made her feel totally alive.

“I know you’re a macho idiot.” She whispered it into his open mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I don’t get pushed around easily so we’re pretty even.” She kissed him back, exploring his mouth, and kissing him more. “Not that I mind at all if you want to find lots of ways to please me.”

She found herself in the bedroom and wasn’t certain how he’d managed to walk her backward, kissing her every step of the way. She hadn’t been aware of anything but his mouth and the electricity zinging through her body. He laid her across the bed and stood over her, looking down at her.

“You have to be one of the most beautiful women in the world.”

She should have felt embarrassed, but all she felt was happy-and turned on. She wanted him with every cell and nerve ending in her body. “You make me feel beautiful, Raoul.” And that was it. He made her feel wanted. Beautiful, loved even. He didn’t see the flaws and the bruising wasn’t a turn-off to him, he just kept looking at her as if he needed to devour her.

Raoul pushed her legs apart, his hand skimming over her mound. He dipped a finger into her and licked, his tongue savoring her taste. She lifted her hips in an effort to entice him, but he shook his head. “This is the bayou, cher. We like things slow and easy in the bayou.”

“You weren’t slow and easy last night.”

His hands went to the insides of her thighs, slowly caressing her with long smooth strokes. He wasn’t touching her breasts, but her nipples tightened into two hard buds. A shiver went down her spine and warm liquid pooled in welcome for him.

“Tonight’s different. Tonight’s all about slow and easy.” Raoul poured warm oil into his hands and picked in her foot. His fingers began a deep massage that some bow was as sensuous as it was relaxing. “Close your eyes, cher. Just enjoy for me.” He worked slowly up her calves to her thighs.

Flame lowered her lashes and concentrated on the feel of his hands on her body. He was careful to skim any bruise, but whatever oil he was using seemed to take the sting out of the bruises. He massaged her belly, her breasts, and then her shoulders and her one good arm, leaving her feeling like a puddle of melted flesh in the bed.

“Feel good?”

“You know it does.” Her body tingled everywhere.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her. Flame closed her eyes and just absorbed the feel of the sheer mastery of his mouth. She thought it sinful to have a mouth like his and a kiss like he delivered. So hot, so perfect, she wanted to drown in his kisses. His hands roamed over her body. She reveled in the possessive way he touched her, yet he was incredibly gentle, even tender. swirling a fingertip over her bruises, kissing and nibbling his way to her breasts.

She ran her hand over his back, tracing the line, his narrow hip, even as she arched into his mouth, a soft moan escaping as he laved her nipples. He didn’t stop but continued the foray with his tongue, gliding lower to tease the flames riding her hip, to kiss her scar, flicking his tongue over her belly button and kissing his way lower still.

Gator shifted position, drawing her bottom to him and lifting her legs over his shoulders. Flame gripped the quilt beside her, shocked at the sudden convulsing of her tight muscles. He breathed and muscles contracted. “I might not survive,” she whispered.

He ran his thumbs over her soft folds and she arched her back, unable to stop the response. Her lingers bunched the material of the quilt into her hand. She had to hang on to something. Raoul licked her. Long. Slow. Like an ice cream he was savoring. She writhed on the bed, every nerve ending shrieking with awareness. He spent time stroking caresses over her mound, around it, on her soft inner thighs and then he went back to those long slow licks, his tongue broad and flat and sweeping over the outside between her legs until she thought she might really die from sheer pleasure.

“You have to stop.”

“I’m just gettin’ started, sugah. This is me loving you, Cajun-style.”

He stabbed deep with his tongue, and she screamed, her breath coming in wild gasps. His hands went to her breasts, his fingers wrapping gently around the lush flesh. Once more he began his slow movements, circling her clit with easy sweeps, driving her out of her mind. Her breathing went ragged, and she couldn’t stop bucking with her hips or arching her breasts more fully into his hands.

Raoul began slow circles with the pads of his lingers on her aureoles, heightening her pleasure. And then he sucked, the tip of his tongue dancing wickedly, flicking her clit while humming softly. The vibration spread through her body with the strength and sensation of a vibrator. He tugged on her nipples, squeezing in time with the vibration of his humming. Her muscles went into overdrive, clamping hard in a long, convulsing spasm. The orgasm tore through her like a rocket, from her breasts to her belly, engulfing her womb and hot channel until she sobbed with the strength of her release.

Raoul kissed his way up her belly to her breasts, paused to flick her nipples with his tongue and rub his face between the soft mounds. She felt so soft, so hot, almost melting into his body. She moaned softly and he felt it vibrating through his cock. He was so hard, unbelievably so, but this was for her. This night. He had one night to show her he loved her with every fiber of his being.

He lifted her hips with one hand, pressing the head of his erection against her welcoming entrance. She was soaked with desire, and he thrust in, driving through her impossibly tight folds, the pleasure so intense it tore a groan from his throat. He caught her hips in his hands, pulled back and drove as deep as he could go.

She cried out, her body holding his in a hot fist so tight his balls ached with the need for release. All the while her muscles rippled and quaked, adding to the plea sure coursing through him. “You’re so ready, ma belle femme. So damn sexy I don’ know if I’m going to be able to make this last.” He thrust again, a long hard stroke that pushed him to the edge. “You come for me, Flame.”

“I already have.” She wasn’t even sure how many times.

“Again. I want you to come apart in my arms. I want to hear you screaming, cher.” She was panting, her breasts rising and falling with her labored breath. Her hand went to his hip again, fingers digging in deep while he surged in and out of her slowly.

“Then give me more, Raoul. Give me all of you.”

He sank into her, felt the heat rushing through him with the speed of a fireball. He pulled her hips close, lifting her legs over his shoulders and began to ride her hard, long, deep strokes, faster and faster, over and over, burying himself so deep his balls slapped against her bottom. Sweat broke out on his body. The angle allowed him to penetrate her deeply while increasing the friction on her most sensitive spot. It felt like he was surrounded by hot velvet, living, breathing velvet wrapped so tightly around him it was squeezing and milking him.

The walls around him tightened, clamped down with ferocious intensity. Flame screamed and bucked wildly, sending him crashing over the edge right along with her.

There was a roaring in his ears, little hammers tripping in his head and the rush started in his toes and consumed him completely. He emptied himself into her, caught somewhere between heaven and hell. It was the most explosive orgasm he’d ever experienced, the best sex, lust and love tightly intertwined.

He lay over the top of her, shifting enough to stay away from her injured arm, but burying his face in her neck. He closed his eyes, savoring the scent of her, the taste of her, the way her body held so tightly to his. Her hot channel had clamped down so hard on him, she’d ripped the climax out of him before he could stop, before he could make it last longer. And, Dieu, he wanted longer-he wanted forever.

“Marry me.” It came out of nowhere. He hadn’t planned asking. Hadn’t thought about asking. But there it was. Two words that might save them.

She went still, her breath catching in her throat with a little audible hitch. Her breasts heaved against his chest, nipples hard and tight against him. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. “Raoul. Don’t. You can’t ask me something like that.”

“Why not? I’m never going to love another woman the way I love you. I want this, what we have right now for always. Don’ you?” He propped himself up on one elbow to stare down into her eyes. He wanted to beg her to save them, but he could only do his best to convince her. “Don’ you want me, cher?”

She cupped the side of his face with her hand, her thumb sliding back and forth over his jaw in a small caress. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb over his lips. “Marriage ceremonies leave paper trails. You know that as well as I do. I believe Peter Whitney is alive. If I were to marry you he’d come after both of us.”

“Lily married Rye and no one’s bothered them.”

“Now that’s a real shocker. You’re just adding to my belief that Lily knows exactly what Whitney is up to.”

“So maybe that wasn’t the best example. What about Nico and Dahlia? You can’t think they’re involved with Whitney.”

She shook her head. “I can think a lot of things you don’t, Raoul. You know Nico, I don’t. For all I know he married Dahlia, and Whitney stays away because she’s right where he wants her to be.”

He kissed her. He tasted his own desperation, his fading hope. He tasted bitterness. “Just let’s do this, Flame. We can go to a friend of mine, here in the bayou. Grand-mere and Wyatt can go with us. I won’t even tell my friends if you’d rather I didn’t. We’ll be low-key.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you until you have to go back.”

Gator turned over onto his back, his fingertips pressed against his eyes. “And then, what? It’s over? You just walk away like nothing happened?”

“I have cancer, Raoul.” She was grateful for the candlelight. It made it so much easier to say the simple truth. She wouldn’t be around all that long once it took hold.

“Whitney put it in remission twice. We’ll go to a doctor.”

“And I’ll be in the computer system for Whitney to find.” She sighed and reached for his hand. “Whitney manufactured his own variety of cancer that last time. He told me he did. If just any oncologist could put it in remission, why would I ever go back to him?”

“Did you ever have it checked out to see if it was the truth?”

“I hacked into his records. At that time, he probably let me, so who knows how accurate they were?”

“Then let’s give it a shot.”

She rolled onto her side. “Raoul, I love you. I know that I do, but I’m not signing your death warrant. I believe Peter Whitney is out there and that he’s looking for me. I will never, under any circumstances, go back there alive.”

“Then we’ll go to Lily.”

“They’re one and the same to me. It’s all right.”

“It’s not all right, damn it.” Raoul closed his eyes briefly and made himself breathe. There was no reason to argue; she’d made up her mind and he knew he couldn’t change it.

“Let’s just take this one day at a time. Who knows what will happen?” Flame suggested.

“Yeah. You’re right.” His voice was husky, tears clogging his throat. She was giving him no choice.

“I’d marry you in a heartbeat if things were different.”

He forced a smile and sat up. “I want you to sleep tonight, so I’m going to make you some hot chocolate.” He stood up quickly before she could stop him. He took care to mask the emotion in his voice.

“You don’t have to do that. I doubt if I’ll have any trouble sleeping.”

“Grand-mere makes this special blend and she gave me the recipe. I made it up for you already. It won’t take any time.” He hurried into the small kitchen area and hastily poured the chocolate from the thermos he’d brought. It was still hot and steam rose from the mug. From the kitchen cupboard he pulled a small vial of clear liquid and stood for a moment staring at it.

“Are you having some too?”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes briefly and then dumped the liquid quickly into the chocolate, stirred, and added a bit of whipped cream before filling a second mug with chocolate.

“Here you go, cher. There’s nothing like it before bed.”

Flame sat up and took the mug from him. The sheet slipped down exposing her breasts and he kept his eyes fixed on the bruises while she drank.

“This is good. An old family recipe?”

He nodded as he settled hack on the bed beside her. “She made it for us on special occasions.”

“What kind of special occasions?” She loved his childhood stories. She could so easily picture him as a little boy with tousled curls.

“If we managed to get a decent grade in school. Or if we didn’t have a fistfight for an entire week with any of our friends-or enemies.”

“Did you have trouble getting good grades?” She tilted her head to look at him. “I imagine you would have been very good in school.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t always go. I was the oldest and someone had to do the fishing and trapping. I worked on a couple of shrimp boats two or three times a week. I lied to Grand-mere because she said an education was more important, but of course she knew when she found the money in her drawer every week.”

She looked at him over the cup of chocolate. “Some times the things you say melt my heart.”

“It wasn’t a bad thing, Flame. I loved workin’ on the boats. It was simply our way of life. I preferred being out in the bayou to school any day of the week.” He leaned forward and licked a small dollop of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth before he could stop himself.

She made a face at him and leaned in to him for a kiss. He tasted of whipped cream and chocolate. Raoul took the drink from her hand and set it on the small table beside the bed. “Go to sleep, cher. You’re very tired, aren’t you?”

She stretched out and then curled on her side, cautious with her broken arm. “I am tired. It’s been a long day, but Joy’s reunion with her parents was worth it all.”

“You were good with her.”

“Wyatt was good with her. I feel so bad for him. If the expression on his face was anything to go by, he’s a little in love with her. It will be a long time before she ever is able to trust a man enough to have a relationship with him.”

A lump formed in his throat and he ducked his head. Gator lay down beside her, drawing her into his arms and curling his body protectively around hers. He stroked back wisps of hair from her face.

She tangled her fingers with his. “Tonight was the most beautiful night of my life, Raoul. Thank you.”

Her voice was drowsy, sensual, playing over his body like fingers. His heart shifted in his chest and he felt a vise begin to grip, take hold, and squeeze until his chest felt as if it might explode. He pressed his free hand to his chest while he held her other one and watched the drug take her.

The clock ticked loudly on the wall as time passed. He sat watching the candlelight flicker over her face, the dancing shadows play over her body, and he bent down to brush a kiss across her eyes. She didn’t move.

Gator dressed quickly. The syringe was in his drawer and this time he didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t take a chance that she might wake up. He gave her a shot in her thigh, injecting the full dose into her.

It’s done.

We’ll bring in the copter. We have a plane standing by to fly us out of here and Rye has the compound ready.

It was difficult to put a robe on her, but he managed. He didn’t want her naked when they came for her. He snatched up her duffel bag and shoved her new clothes inside. His own bag was already packed and ready to go.

He sat listening to the sounds of the helicopter as it flew overhead and swung toward the clearing just south of his cabin. It wasn’t long before he heard the men as they approached the house, bringing the stretcher with them. One by one he blew out the candles until the room was dark.