CHAPTER 11
Flame paused in the act of shifting carefully off the bed. She should have known she would disturb him. “I’m not escaping. I’m not your little flame either. I’ve got business this morning.”
Gator groaned and sank his head back onto the pillow, fingers curled around her wrist, anchoring her to him. “Is it morning? It’s still dark.”
“You have your eyes closed. You’re not a morning person, are you?”
“I could be if you snuggled with me,” he said hopefully.
“I don’t snuggle. I don’t even know how.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss against his forehead. “Thanks for last night. I’m not usually so-pitiful.”
“You were grieving for Burrell. That’s human, Flame. You are human, aren’t you?” His eyes were open now. One kiss, a featherlight brush over his skin at that, and he was wide awake.
She frowned. “How would I know? For all I know I have the DNA of a tiger. Let go. I’ve got work to do and I don’t have much time. It occurred to me that whoever sent those men is going to be wondering what happened to them. The police know all about Burrell and the house boat, but they have no idea all four men were killed too. So someone will be looking for them. And they’ll be hunting for evidence before too many people start stirring.”
“It’s too damned early in the morning to be killing anyone. And you certainly aren’t going off alone.”
“I can handle it.” She twisted her wrist to remind him to loosen his grip. “It’s just recon. I want the person behind this, whether it’s Whitney or someone else. I’ll just follow them and see where they go.”
“We’ll follow them,” he corrected, reluctantly letting go of her. He watched her scoot off the bed, fish around for her jeans, and drag them on. He caught a brief glimpse of soft curves and his body reacted with a rush of need.
“You could have looked away.”
“Yeah. I could have.” He’d be damned if he was repentant. He’d been a saint all night, lying awake in too tight clothes, with her bare skin and silky hair and soft breathing. He’d been as hot and as aching as a man could be without shattering. And then she cried in her sleep. It was enough to make a tough man turn into Jell-O. “But the view was too nice. You have beautiful skin.” Although her leg was worrisome. It was very bruised and for some reason, that raised a red flag in his mind. He wanted to bring her to his grandmother immediately.
“Thanks. Good genes, you know.” Sarcasm dripped.
Gator groaned again and buried his face in the pillow. “I need coffee.”
She gave a small sniff of disdain. “I’m leaving. Right now. If you’re coming, get a move on.” She caught up the duffel bag. “Afterward, I’ve got to go shopping for some clothes.”
“Afterward, I’m taking you to my grandmother so she can have her friend treat your leg,” he called from the bathroom. He glanced at her through the open door. She was strapping knives on. The sight of her working so efficiently, so casually, to arm herself, sent another rush of heat through him. She was someone to contend with, a woman to stand with him in the midst of a crisis. He was grateful he’d thought to provide her with her favorite weapons after she’d sacrificed her own.
“You could close the door.”
“I could, but then you wouldn’t get a good look, would you,
“Don’t flatter yourself And you’d better not be slowing me down because I’m not waiting for you.”
She flounced out of the cabin and slammed the door. It was a nice exit, but the duffel bag got caught between the door and jamb. Gator followed her out. “I’m drivin’.”
She glared at him over her shoulder. “You’re not touching my airboat. You already destroyed my motorcycle.”
“Woman, forget about the motorcycle. I’ll get you another one.”
She ducked her head, the mass of shiny hair covering her expression. “I hid things in the bike. Stupid little things. I guess they really aren’t all that important. My getaway money was in it too, but I’ve got more.” She held up the duffel bag she’d stuffed with money.
He followed her to the airboat, took the duffel bag from her and tossed it aboard while she untied the rope. The “stupid little things” weren’t really stupid at all-they were important to her. It meant going out to the swamp and retrieving the bike any way he looked at it, because she was getting her things back. He caught the rope she threw and held out his hand to help her aboard.
She hesitated before taking his hand. A slow grin came over his face and crept into his eyes. “You like me.” He pulled her up against him until her soft breasts were crushed tight against his chest. “You don’ want to admit it,
She sucked her breath in and her breasts shifted, rubbed right through the thin barrier of their clothing until his jeans were suddenly uncomfortably tight and he wanted to groan with need. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. His arms slid around her, aligning their bodies more closely, so she could feel the painful hard-on stretching the front of his jeans. His mouth found her neck, her throat, his lips trailing kisses, his teeth taking tiny nips.
“I could devour you.”
“Well don’t.” Her voice wasn’t as controlled as she would have liked it to be. “Show some restraint.”
“Someday, I swear to you, Flame, you’ll be begging me not to show restraint.”
“Well it isn’t this morning.”
“If I can’t have coffee, maybe sex would do the trick.” She hadn’t pulled away from him. In fact, her body moved restlessly against his. He bent forward just a bit, enough to use his weight to bend her body backward away from his. His fingers slipped beneath the material of the old plaid shirt, settling on her narrow rib cage. Her skin was definitely as soft as it looked.
“I’m sure we have plenty of time. Don’t you think we have time?” He meant to tease her, swore to himself it started out that way, but
The sun was coming up, spilling light through the cypress trees and over the water’s surface. Her face was bathed in the early-morning light as it scattered through the trees, highlighting the confusion in her eyes. She still hadn’t pulled away from him and he allowed his knuckles to brush the underside of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful, Flame.”
His hands cupped the soft weight of her breasts, thumbs sliding over her taut nipples. A small sound escaped her throat and he felt the sound vibrate through him. He bent his head very slowly to the sheer temptation of her body, giving her time to protest. He felt her first reaction, stiffening, her hands pushing at his shoulders as if she might thrust him away, but the lower half of her body moved against him, rubbing subtly, sending small electrical charges flashing through him. His jeans were already stretched to the maximum without bursting, but impossibly he felt his body tighten more, harden more.
Her breath escaped in a little rush as his lips touched her bare throat, moved lower to nuzzle along the swell of her breasts where the button was open. His hands held her possessively as his mouth found her right through the material of her shirt, teeth scraping gently, sending sensations shooting through her bloodstream. Her womb clenched and welcoming liquid heat rushed to bathe her entrance. His mouth settled over her breast, suckling strongly, his hands sliding down her bare skin, tracing her waist to her hips until he found the curve of her bottom. Without stopping his assault on her breast, he lifted her so that the throbbing heat of her mound met the thick bulge at his groin.
“Raoul.” His name came out somewhere between a plea and an invitation. Her arms went around his neck to cradle his head. “I thought you weren’t going to seduce me.” She arched her back to thrust her breast deeper into his mouth.
“Unbutton your shirt.” He murmured the command around her breast, the material of her shirt wet from his ministrations, her nipple aching and tight from the combined sensations of his mouth and the rough material.
Her hands slid the button loose, then a second one before bunching in his hair. His hair was silky soft, as black as night and curled around her fingers as if holding to her as tightly as she was holding to him. She closed her eyes
