splaying her legs wide, and proceeded to illustrate his point. He took her clitoris delicately between his teeth and flicked his tongue across it, skillfully, without stopping.
The pleasure went on and on, and finally she seized as much of his short, silky hair as she could grasp and tugged. “OK, OK,” she pleaded. “She'll jump into the sea, shell fight sharks with her dagger, she'll do anything, I promise. Just come back inside me, please. I need your arms around me.”
Seth rubbed his face against her thigh and nuzzled her navel, kissing his way slowly up her body with hot, wet, sucking kisses. He got distracted when he reached her breasts, and stayed there, suckling and licking until she was writhing with delirious frustration, struggling to yank him up to where she needed him.
Finally, he was back on top of her, covering her with his heat. He pushed inside her, panting, and stopped, looking perplexed. “So what happens to them? Do they drown, or get chomped by sharks, or what?”
Raine jerked beneath him in protest. “God, no! How could you even say such a thing?”
“Sorry. I'm a cynical realist So sue me.”
She thought for a moment, and looked straight into his eyes. “They wash up in a tropical paradise, and live in primeval splendor on coconuts and mangos and barbecued fish,” she said. “They spend the rest of their lives frolicking in the surf, playing on the beach and making passionate love in a ten-room hut made of palm fronds.”
“Oh, yeah?” There was an anxious frown line between his eyes.
She pulled his face down to hers and kissed it gently. “Oh, yeah,” she said softly. “He spends his time spearing fish, garnering fruit and making garlands of tropical flowers for her.”
He looked doubtful. “Garlands of flowers? Come on, Raine.”
“Keep in mind he's not the only one who gives excellent head.”
He grinned. “OK. Garlands of flowers. You want 'em, you got 'em. Big, smelly piles of them.”
“They sit beneath the swaying palms in the evening, watching the sun set” Raine said softly. “They leave the violence and ugliness of the world behind. They let go of the pain and betrayal in their past, and give themselves to each other, body, heart and soul. No more power games, no more lies, no more manipulation. Just passion and truth and tenderness. He gives it all to her, and she gives everything to him.”
Emotion vibrated between them like a taut silver wire.
“That's a good ending,” he whispered. “That ending works for me.”
“It's not an ending, Seth.” She covered his face with tiny kisses. “It's a beginning.”
They stared into each others’ eyes. Both lost, both terrified. Only he could save her, only she could save him. She was swimming with sharks, a dagger between her teeth. Tears sprang into her eyes.
His arms tightened. “No,” he pleaded. “Please, sweetheart. Have mercy. I'm too far out to sea tonight. You cry on me, and I'll lose it.”
She pressed her face against his neck, burying her tears where he couldn't see them. “I wouldn't mind if you lost it,” she whispered. “You're safe with me, Seth. I'll hold you together.”
“Please, don't.” He hid his face against her hair. “Not here. Not in this house. Not so close to him.”
Seth was right. There was a loaded gun lying next to their bed. This was not the time or place to make that fearless dive into the infinite.
“Distract me, then,” she ordered him. “Quick.”
He cradled her face and kissed her. “OK. Ah, sunsets on the beach. Garlands of flowers. I give it all to you, you give it all to me.” His hand trembled as he stroked her hair. “No more games.”
She kissed him back, holding him as close as she could. “All right. Give it all to me, Seth,” she whispered. “I want all of you.”
They pulled away from the perilous brink of the unknown. They gave themselves up to wild, soaring pleasure instead. And it was enough for now, surging and melting together into the swirling red heart of their own private tropical sunset.
Chapter 18
The monitor that should have shown four different camera angles of the tower room was blank and dark.
Victor turned away with a chuckle. He wasn't disappointed that he would not witness the intimacy between his niece and her lover. It would have been inappropriate anyway, though the thought made him laugh at himself. Such scruples, all of a sudden. How odd.
On the contrary, he was quietly pleased that the young man was astute enough to protect his privacy, and Katya's. He could not think of the girl as Lorraine, or even Raine, no matter what she preferred. Wretched name, Alix must have chosen it. It smacked of her taste.
Yes, intelligence and territorial instincts were exactly what he wanted in a self-appointed and highly motivated bodyguard for his niece, now that Novak had been so bold as to indicate an unhealthy interest in her. All Victor needed was to find some way to ratchet up Mackey's protective instincts to a higher pitch without compromising his own all-important security. A challenging puzzle, but he was confident that the solution would present itself soon.
Mackey was not a bad match for Katya, he reflected. He was seething with repressed anger, of course, but most men were if you scratched their surfaces. He was smart, successful and aggressive. Careful background research had revealed that his childhood had been of the squalid urban variety, but he had pulled himself out of the tar somehow. He was a self-made man, which Victor respected. Rather like Victor himself. Rough around the edges, but what he lacked in polish he made up for in sheer ruthlessness. And Katya was more than strong enough to handle him, whether she knew it yet or not. All she needed was a whip and a chair, and a little bit of practice.
The intercom made a melodious ding. He clicked the line open.
“Mr. Lazar, it’s Riggs again.” Mara's husky alto voice was as soft as the brush of costly sable across his skin. “I told him several times that you didn't wish to be disturbed, but he's at the Severin Bay Marina, asking to be brought over to the island.”
A glimmer of an idea began to take form in his mind, chasing away his irritation at Riggs's presumption. “Wake up Charlie. Tell him to go pick Riggs up. Then bring him here, tome.”
“To the control room?” Mara sounded discreetly astonished.
“Yes. And Mara?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You have a lovely speaking voice,” he told her.
There was a long, startled silence. “Ah... thank you, sir.”
He tit a cigarette and settled himself to wait, letting his mind clear to examine possible solutions to his dilemma. All too soon, he heard the heavy clump of the man's boots outside the door. Then the subtler click of Mara's heels. The door opened, and the stink of bourbon that exuded from Riggs's pores reached across the room. The man was much reduced, and failing fast. His usefulness was drawing to a close.
Mara's heels clicked delicately into the distance. Victor did not even bother to turn from his view of the video monitors. “It is uncharacteristically stupid, even for you, to come here,” he said.
“You ignore my messages.” Riggs's voice vibrated with tension. “I didn't know what else to do.”
Victor snorted.
“You don't seem to understand how dangerous the situation is. She saw me today! Peter's daughter was at the Cave, talking to Haley, asking questions! She has to be taken care of, Victor. I should have done it seventeen years ago, but Alix... God, I'm sorry, but it just has to be done. I know she's your niece, but you have to admit —”
“I do not have to do anything.” Victor's tone cut off Riggs's monologue, and he panted, waiting like the whipped dog he was for permission to continue speaking. Victor took a leisurely drag on his cigarette. “Perhaps what happened seventeen years ago has given you a mistaken impression of me, Edward. The truth is, I really do prefer not to kill members of my own family, if I can possibly avoid it.”
“You didn't mind throwing my team into Novak's trap, though,” Riggs snarled. “Didn't lose any sleep over that decision, did you?”
