Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night (26 page)

He spread her flesh with his thumb and forefinger, about to use his other forefinger to rub her tight little clitoris. Her short, soft moans grew louder with each of her breaths. So close . . .

The rising seed in his shaft made it throb for relief. Yet even as he was desperate to pin her hips to the ground and plunge it inside her, he wanted to savor the sight of Mariketa on the razor's edge.

Her reaction was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

Her piercing glinted in a filtered ray of sunlight as she began to shake. Her breasts were so plump, her swollen nipples jutting, as if begging to be sucked more. She looked from where he was about to stroke her, then breathlessly gazed up at him, meeting his eyes.

“Bowen,
please . . .
”

*  *  *

Mari lay back, lowering herself off her elbows so she could grasp his wrist, pulling his free hand down as she rolled her hips up.

MacRieve shook his head hard, as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. “Only with me, witch,” he rasped, raking his gaze along her body. “This
must
be all mine.”

At that moment, she'd have told him anything. Her voice sounding throaty, she murmured, “Only with you.”

“Then come hard for me.” One flick of his big finger sent her over. With a strangled cry, she arched her back sharply, undulating her hips to his hand in abandon. “
Good girl,
” he rumbled in her ear as she helplessly writhed. “
You like that.
”

On and on it continued until the pleasure became too much, and Mari had to press his hand away. Finally, he allowed her to stop.

As he knelt between her spread legs, he yanked open his jeans, shoving them to his knees. His heavy erection sprang free, and he bit out a curse when her hands shot forward for it. She adored the feel of him, lovingly stroking his entire length up and down until he groaned and bucked his hips, shoving his shaft through her fists.

Then he slipped his middle finger inside her wetness, making her moan and him hiss, “
So tight.
” Gritting out the words, he said, “Doona want to hurt you. Need tae make sure you're ready.”

The muscles in his neck were corded with strain, his chest slick from the falls and sweat. His gaze flickered over her body, but always returned to her eyes, as if he was as aroused by looking at them as he was by her breasts.

“Witch, if you doona stop with your soft palms, you're goin' tae bring me off.”

She licked her lip but kept working his throbbing flesh. As he eased a second finger into her, she felt herself on the verge yet again. “
Bowen . . .
”

“I'm beginning to recognize that tone. You're no' near done, are you? I knew you'd be like this. I knew it.”

Just when she thought he would hastily replace the fingers inside her with his shaft, she began to come in a wet rush and cried out.

“I can
feel
you squeezing me.
S'over
.” With his free hand, he enclosed hers in a fist, pumping their hands hard, rasping, “
I canna hold my seed, Mari
.” His body tensed, going perfectly still, then he gave a brutal yell. At the last second, he aimed away from her body. She gaped as he spurted out into the sand beside her, over and over, stunned by how magnificent this big male was in his wild pleasure.

When he'd finished with a shudder, she sank down again, and he sprawled on his back beside her, his penis still pulsing. Even as he lay there, seeming dazed, he reached over and seized her hand in his—just to hold it as they caught their breath. After the things they'd just been doing, he felt the need
to hold her hand
.

They stared up at the muted sunlight, side by side and hand in hand.

Mari, the water just got too deep, and you're in way over your head.

When he turned to her, his eyes were warm amber, and the corners of his lips curled. “You could no' please me more. Could no' possibly.” He seemed in an elated mood, as if she'd just capitulated far more than she actually had.

And she knew that Bowen MacRieve was excited because, for probably the first time in nearly two centuries, he truly had begun looking forward to the future.

But she didn't want him to get his hopes up when she had no place in her life for him. Even if she forgave him for trapping her, and even if she knew encounters like they'd just shared would only get more cataclysmic, she also believed that she would have to radically alter her life to be with him. And she wasn't sure she'd be ready to do that for someone she loved, much less for someone she merely desired.

No matter how strong that desire was.

*  *  *

“Now, tae get you ready—”

She pressed his hand away and sat up. “No, I'm done.”

“You're
done
? We're just gettin' started! Did I . . . did I do something wrong?”

With a shrug, she began dressing. “We need to get going.”

His brows drew together. “Do you regret what we've done, then?”

“I'm not unhappy that we were together like this. But I'm not happy either.”

He yanked his jeans up. “What would it take tae make you so?”

“Look, MacRieve, I wasn't giving you lip service before—you're not the guy for me. Yet you just assume that I'm on board for whatever you finally decide, and that's not how this will work. While you're trying to make up your mind, know that mine's already decided. There isn't any place for you in my life.”

“Even after this?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, after all the ‘wenches' you've nailed and bailed, you of all people should know that one hookup means nothing.”

“Nailed and bailed? What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Cade told me about the female you two fought over.”

“Damn it, she crawled into bed with me!”

“And now your cruel comment to him last night makes perfect sense. Of course, you couldn't kick her out of your bed for your friend?”

“I'd had some mead, and dinna even recognize her as the one he wanted.”

She quirked a brow. “One wench among many, huh?” she asked, turning from him.

Mariketa was prickly, no doubt uncomfortable at the speed this thing between them was moving. But her coolness didn't daunt him in the least, because he now knew that he could win her. She had just cried out his name.
His.
He'd been prepared to fight for her; after this, he would only redouble his efforts.

Bowe had feared this witch could make all his sexual dreams come true—and he'd
dreamed constantly
.

Now he knew she could.

I
f the others hadn't already figured out that she and MacRieve had been intimate, they would have guessed by his behavior.

When the two of them had silently dressed and rejoined everyone, he'd had his shoulders back, sporting a victorious expression. His eyes kept straying to her, his gaze heated, and
proprietary
.

His obvious sense of satisfaction was a one hundred and eighty degree contrast from the glower he'd sported all morning. Now he was the epitome of masculine satisfaction.

She sighed. And damn, it was a good look for him.

Rydstrom and Tera cast her quizzical glances. Cade—with one of his eyes swollen nearly closed and his jaw already mottled with bruises—again focused on her neck. When she flushed under his scrutiny and glanced away, she heard him mutter to MacRieve, “Still don't see your mark.”

His tone so smug, MacRieve said, “Day's no' over, demon.”

At that, Cade flashed a look at her, then said, “I'll take point again,” seeming to want to get away from them.

The group began following the riverside up the mountain,
and again the terrain made for single-file going. Which was good. She needed to process everything that had just happened. Again, all she knew was that too much had.

From behind her, MacRieve said, “Doona worry about what they think.”

“Of course, you can say that. They're not going to think you're weak. Or easy.”

“No way they could consider you weak. They've seen too many demonstrations of your power. And no' easy either—all they'll believe is that such a young lass as you was no match for the seduction skills of a twelve-hundred-year-old Lykae.”

Under her voice, she said, “Whatever—
I
jumped
you
! I started it.”

“Aye,” he began solemnly, “and that was a highlight of my long life.”

“Riiight.” Flustered, she stepped over an ant line, studiously regarding the leaves they carried.

“It's true, Mariketa. Though it is a shame I dinna get a chance to pay more attention to your pretty arse.”

“Shh!” she hissed in a whisper. “They'll hear you!”

“Hear me? You worry about that now when you were just moaning so lustily? Do you always make so much noise?”

Her face flamed when Tierney, the next in line to her, glanced over his shoulder with raised brows. She slowed to let the others take more of a lead.

“Do you, then?” MacRieve asked again.

Fine, she could play. She turned to him, and in a monotone voice, she said, “Oh, baby. Oh, Bowen. It was you. Only you.”

He grinned, and the sight made her want to grin, too. They were following the cascading river, and the sun was shining, and she'd just had two orgasms—her mood had definitely improved.

No! She couldn't get caught up in his palpable excitement, because she knew it wasn't due only to what they'd just done, but what he expected them to do.

Yet every time she tried to call up her previous anger toward him, she kept picturing him frowning as he asked Rydstrom what jangle pop was. Somehow, she knew MacRieve hadn't asked out of mere curiosity but because he was trying to learn, for her.

And the simple fact was that, Hekate help her, she
liked
being around him. Even when she'd despised him, she'd somehow been buoyed by his presence. Now that she
didn't
despise him, he excited her, gladdened her. . . .

From mere inches behind her, he said, “Was wondering, do you always come so quickly?”

“I don't know—do you?”

He gave a half laugh. “Demanding witch. You forget how long I went without. But I'm a swift rebounder.” He furtively grabbed her hand and made her cup his growing erection.

If he was trying to embarrass her, he'd have to do better than that. Not missing a beat, she said, “Why, Bowen, I do believe you're flirting with me.” Without glancing back, she rubbed with curiosity. After giving it a heft that made him rock his hips to her hand, she released him, blithely continuing on.

His voice rough, he said, “I must no' be any good at flirting if you doona know for certain.” In a dry tone, he added, “Maybe I should be more direct?”

She couldn't help it—she chuckled, but covered it with a cough. She was supposed to be the one who could charm, but he was doing a damn commendable job, making her grin against her will.

Was she so easy that a mere two earth-shattering orgasms and her unwavering attraction to him could make her forgive their past? As she inwardly answered herself, she thought,
Then why fight it?
Mari had never been one to fight battles, much less losing ones.

He leaned over her and murmured at her ear, “Show me those bonny breasts.”

“You just saw them!” she cried in exasperation, though she was secretly pleased by how much he seemed to appreciate her body.

“If I had my way, witchling, you'd never wear a top again.”

She was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling but didn't want him to see, so she quickened her pace. “Shouldn't you be concerned with getting me safely out of the jungle?”

“Come, then, remind me what I'm so happy to die for.”

He was so . . .
wolfy
. So teasing. And Mari realized this was kind of
fun
. She half-expected him to play-trip her and start nipping at her ears. And she suspected she'd love it.

She waited, giving him enough time to drop back and assume she was ignoring him, then turned with her brows—and her top and bra—raised, flashing him. He took a stutter step, tripping over his feet. With his hands over his heart, he fell to his knees; she yanked her clothes down and whirled around, continuing on with a goofy smile.

But he was right behind her in an instant. “You good
girl,” he rasped. “Give us a feel, then.” She swatted at him. “Tease.”

“Temptress,” she countered.

“Aye, that you are. No' ten minutes ago, you made me come till my eyes rolled back in my head, and already you've got me randier than I was with my first milkmaid.”

She turned and tapped her chin. “Hmm. Would you like me to wear a corset and bend over a pail?”