Authors: Julie Ortolon
“More wine?” he asked, lifting the bottle.
“Yes, please.” When he’d refilled her glass, she turned sideways to face him. Leaning against the arm of the daybed, she slipped her toes under his thigh to warm them. “Do you mind? My feet are getting chilly.”
“Not at all.” He looked pleased. “Comfy?”
“Very,” she said, watching him take a bite of Spanish ham. “So, when are you going to show me how to play Vortal?”
He choked. “Uh. Well…” Coughing, he reached for his wine.
“Sorry.” She leaned forward and patted his back, feeling his amazingly toned body under his clothes.
“I’m okay.” He managed to get his breath. “It’s just, it’s um… It’s not as easy as showing you how to play. You have to create your alter ego first.”
“Sounds like fun. Let’s do that.”
“Now?” His eyes widened.
“Why not?”
“We can’t.” He looked oddly alarmed. “You can’t just do it in the blink of an eye. It takes hours. Some people work on it for days. The character you create is the one you’ll live with forever. Well, unless you decide to create a new one. Except, a lot of players never abandon their original character. It becomes part of who you are.”
“AJ didn’t take hours creating a character.” She frowned.
“That’s because I let him play as me. Or rather Blade.”
“Can I do that?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” She frowned in disappointment.
“You saw what happened,” he insisted. “I died. I rarely die anymore. Do you know what that will do to my average score?”
“Can’t you delete that game?”
“Deleting a bad game is against the rules.” He looked affronted at the mere suggestion. “We built in locks to prevent players from ever erasing a bad score for a character. If players could erase all their bad scores and only keep the good ones, average scores would be bunk. The only way for a player to wipe the slate clean is to abandon a character completely, and start from scratch with a new character. I can’t abandon Blade.”
“But you’re the programmer,” she pointed out. “Surely you can do anything you want.”
“There are ethics involved here.” He grew indignant. “A gamer’s code of honor.”
“Well, yeah, if you had actually been playing.” When he clamped his mouth shut, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You are so erasing that game,” she teased. “No way are you going to hurt your average score just because you let a six-year-old boy have a little fun.”
His lips thinned, but he didn’t dispute her accusation.
“Admit it.” Setting her glass aside, she tickled his ribs with her fingertips.
He trapped her hand against his side. “Never.”
“I bet I could make you.” Coming up on her knees, she straddled his lap. Her free hand moved to his chest, where his muscles flexed beneath her palm.
His eyelids lowered. “I bet you could make me do a lot of things. But if you really want to play Vortal, I think you need to create your own character.”
“Can I be a pirate?”
“You can be anything you want to be.” He toyed with the ends of her long hair. “You’d only be a pirate in that world, though.”
“I don’t understand. Aren’t you always Captain Blade?”
“I’m always Blade, but in the medieval world, I’m Sir Blade. As a special ops soldier I’m Code Name Blade.”
She made a humming sound. “Would I like Sir Blade as much as Captain Blade?”
“If you like Blade, you’d like him in all his guises.” He smiled slowly. “Underneath the clothes, the character remains the same.”
“Under the clothes?” She trailed her fingers over his chest to the opening of his polo shirt. “From what I saw earlier, I think I’d like Blade very much.”
His gaze held hers for a moment before he cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth down to his.
The first touch of his lips against hers sent a surge of pleasure through her. The kiss went from lips pressing to tongues tangling in a flash. His fingers dove into her hair as he plundered her mouth. Growing breathless, she tipped her head back, and he trailed kisses down her neck.
Timid Luc vanished as his arms encircled her, easing her down onto the daybed. Excitement raced through her as he moved over her, kissing his way from her collarbone to the center of her chest. He stopped when he reached the barrier of her shirt, and she arched her back, encouraging him to keep going, take more, do more. When he didn’t seem to get the message, she moved to unbutton her shirt for him.
In a haze of heat, Luc lifted his head to watch, transfixed as the fabric parted to reveal a lacy peach bra. She didn’t stop. Moving so slowly he thought his heart would pound out of his chest, she hooked her index fingers into the cups of the bra and lowered them. Somewhere in the back of his head, a voice shouted for him to stop her. There was something he was supposed to say or do before he let this go beyond kissing. But then, her coral-peaked mounds appeared before him, and rational thought vanished. Lowering his head, he took one of her nipples into his mouth.
A moan of pleasure reverberated in her throat, and blood rushed to his groin.
He moved to her other breast, needing to taste more of her, touch more of her.
She arched into him, demanding more, but the voice in his head grew insistent.
You haven’t told her about the necklace, you idiot!
Startled, he jerked upright and stared at her.
Her pleasure-dazed smile slowly faded. “Luc?” She frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry.” In a rush, he pushed off the daybed and stumbled to the porch rail. Keeping his back to the sight of her lying there, her breasts bared to the evening breeze, he gripped the rail and sucked air into his lungs.
“Luc?” she called from behind him, sounding confused.
He heard a rustle of movement and dared a glance over his shoulder. She sat on the cushion, holding her unbuttoned shirt closed. The candlelight revealed the confusion in her eyes. God, he wanted to slug himself. “I… I didn’t mean to get so carried away. Not until…”
“What?”
“Until…” He struggled for an explanation. He couldn’t blurt out that he needed to tell her why he’d come to Galveston before they took things further. Because then she’d start asking questions, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to answer them. He needed to leave, cool off, and come back tomorrow when he could think straight. He had to say something, though, to take that hurt look out of her eyes. “Until we know each other better. I don’t want to rush you. I—I should go.”
“Wait a second.” The hurt in her eyes faded into disbelief. She stood and dropped her hands to her hips, letting her shirt fall open. The bra had slipped back up to cover her breasts, but they looked no less enticing. “You think you’re rushing me? Or am I rushing you?”
The look she gave him made him feel like an idiot. What red-blooded straight guy stopped when he had a gorgeous woman underneath him, unbuttoning her shirt and offering up her breasts?
“I see,” she said, when he just stood there. “My mistake. I must have been confused by all those kisses. Sorry if I got the wrong impression.”
“What?” He gaped at her. “You think I’m not interested? Are you kidding?” He raked her body with his gaze. “You’re perfect. Beyond perfect. Which is why I don’t want to screw this up.”
The confusion on her face transformed into understanding. Then a challenging light sparked in her eyes as she walked toward him. She came to stand right in front of him, so close he could smell her floral shampoo and heated skin.
Shaking with the temptation to touch her, he pressed back against the rail. “I really think I need to go.”
Her chin lifted as she looked up into his eyes. A seductive smile curved her lips. “Is that what you want to do?”
“Of course it’s not what I want.” He realized she thought he was too old-fashioned to sleep with a girl until they’d dated for a while. Great. That made him not just a geek, but an uptight geek. Gritting his teeth, he let the hunger coursing through him show. “What I want to do is carry you inside and ravage you as if I really were a pirate.”
“Then do it,” she dared him. “Just do it.”
When excitement flared in her eyes, he knew she meant it. If he walked away now, she’d take it as a slap of rejection. To hell with that. He’d figure out how to tell her later. Bending forward, he tossed her over his shoulder.
Her gasp of shock turned to laughter as he strode to the door and carried her inside. He kicked the door closed behind him, then stopped. She’d left a lamp on, but shadows filled the corners. He glanced down a short dark hall, wondering which door led to her bedroom.
Apparently realizing his dilemma, she planted a hand on his rump to lever herself up and pointed toward the door on the right. “That way.”
“Got it.”
He carried her into a dark bedroom. Moonlight streamed through sheer curtains, illuminating a queen-size bed with lots of pillows and a turned-down comforter. He tossed her into the middle of it. She landed on her side, her shirt falling open to reveal her toned torso. Laughing, she flipped onto her back, then went still when she looked up at him. Whatever she saw on his face, in his eyes, made her mouth round into a little O.
God, the way she looked at him made him feel like a conquering warrior. He sucked in a breath to stop himself from pouncing on her.
She pushed herself onto her elbows, which made her shirt fall completely open. Her gaze traveled down his body, then slowly back up. “So, captain, is that all ye plan to do with me?”
The suggestive question, spoken in a saucy accent, sent a shaft of excitement knifing through him. Holy crap. Did she want him to take her as if he were Captain Blade? Last night, she hadn’t liked Blade at all. Right now, though, she looked as if that was exactly what she wanted him to be. It didn’t make sense.
Her eyes grew sultry. “I think,” she said in a low voice, “you’re just a tad overdressed”—she licked her lower lip—“for a pirate.”
His heart nearly stopped. Who gave a shit if it made sense?
He started to rip off his shirt as fast as humanly possible, but stopped himself. If she wanted Blade, that’s what he’d give her. Forcing himself to slow down, he pulled the shirt up his torso, his gaze never leaving her face. “Aye, and you’re a saucy wench, aren’t you?”
A wicked grin turned up the corners of her mouth as her gaze dropped to his hard abs. The gleam in her eyes made every hour in the gym worth it. “I have a feeling you like saucy wenches.”
“Indeed, I do.” He pulled the shirt off and sent it sailing toward a dark corner. “Now you’re the one who’s overdressed.”
With fluid grace, she rose onto her knees, her body so close to his, he could feel the heat building between them. She placed a single fingertip on the center of his chest and drew it slowly down. Need rippled through him at her touch. She stopped just above the button of his pants, and his erection jumped against the fly, eager to be free.
“I thought”—her gaze flicked up to his eyes—“pirates liked to take what they wanted.”
Spurred on by the invitation, he took her head in both hands and covered her mouth for a demanding kiss. Their breaths had turned labored by the time he raised his head. Letting his eyes feast on her, he slipped his hands under her shirt at both shoulders, then skimmed his palms down her arms, taking her shirt with them. He’d seen her on the beach yesterday wearing less than this, but dear God, even then she hadn’t looked this gorgeous.
Trembling inside, he cupped her jaw, lowered his mouth to hers, and lost himself in another kiss, this one as worshipful as it was ravenous.
Her nimble fingers unbuttoned his pants and lowered the fly. He returned the favor, helping her wiggle out of her capris, both of them taking time to caress, admire, and taste. Finally, he stood before her totally nude, while she still wore her bra and panties.
He had just enough brain power to retrieve the condom from his wallet before pressing her down onto the bed. He hovered over her, his hands caressing her breasts, his lips sampling the bare skin right where it disappeared under the bra.
She reached between her breasts and undid the clasp, then smiled up at him.
“Bold wench,” he said, praising her.
“Bold pirate,” she corrected.
With a throaty chuckle, he lowered his mouth to her breasts. Her moan sent him toward the edge. Fearing he’d come before he even got inside her, he pulled her panties down her slim, shapely legs.
Skin to skin at last, he lost himself in exploring her, sampling her, learning what made her gasp with pleasure and writhe with need. Any remnants of self-doubt or hesitation fell away as he wrung one gratifying response after another from her. Her hands explored him with equal abandon, urging him on.
Giving in to his own need, he worked his way down her stomach, nibbling and kissing, until he reached the juncture of her legs.
“Yes,” she panted as he parted her thighs and tasted her desire. She lifted her hips to meet him.
When an orgasm hit her, he rode it with her, driving her for every whimper he could elicit. The freedom of her response pushed the emotions expanding inside him from lust to mind-blowing liberation. He could do this with her, be anything he wanted to be. Everything he wanted to be.