Claimed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 3 (11 page)

Stefan pulsed up to meet her. Her breasts swayed into reach, and he leaned up, drifting his mouth across one soft globe as Nicki sighed. His hand came up and around her back, anchoring her to him, giving him greater access to one, then the other breast. He leaned back and drew her down closer, drawing her face to his as he settled back on the pillows.

“Kiss me,” he whispered again, and she smiled, the pressure of her driving down on his cock an intense counterpoint to her soft expression.

“Okay,” she said quietly. The touch of her on his lips sent him spiraling upward faster than he would have expected, and though Nicki pulled away, he found himself already at the brink. She seemed to realize it too, because her movements became steadier, more intense, and her eyes were bright as she focused on his face.

A tide surged within Stefan, and he fixed on her face as well, wanting to memorize every detail, every nuance, as if all of this might be a dream that he was on the verge of waking up from, and he couldn’t bear to let it end.

When he reached his climax he nearly shouted, an almost soundless battle cry, but it reverberated through Nicki and into the air around them, joining them together note for note, pulse for pulse. Nicki rode out his orgasm, her hands tight on his chest, her gaze intent, and there was no denying the smile that spread across her face as she watched him lose control. Then she was the one rolling off him, and grabbing the towel from the nightstand she tossed it his way before wheeling away.

“Hey—”

“You about broke me. Quiet,” she snapped, the laughter in her voice lightening his mood further as she retreated to the bathroom. He sank back into the bed, his hand lifting to massage his jaw. He’d never smiled more in his life than in the days since he’d met Nicki Clark.

She was back moments later, piling into bed with him, her gaze searching his face as she forgot her hesitation for a moment. He didn’t let her recover it, instead reaching out and pulling her against him.

“That was amazing—and you are amazing,” he said, his chest quaking as she laughed against his body.

“I think you’ve shunted off a ton of adrenaline. A good thing for the mission.”

“And for that I’m intensely grateful. I’ll note it in the report.”

She burrowed a little more closely in his arms, as if she was born for his embrace. “Appreciated, sir,” she said.

He leaned close to brush his lips against her hair, and held her tight.

Chapter Nine

Nicki woke with a start, her body dwarfed by the enormous bed. She blinked, but she knew where she was. It wasn’t a dream, despite the fact that she hadn’t woken up in a room as tidy as this since she’d shared college dorm rooms with Emmaline.

In fact—the room looked too clean. Almost swept.

She moved up against the pillows. The bed was cool beside her. Stefan had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around her, but he clearly hadn’t been there for the whole night. The dinner dishes on the table outside were gone, the wine taken away and glasses removed. The glasses on the nightstand had vanished as well. There was no evidence that Stefan had remained there, she realized. No visible clothing, no drawers left askew, nothing out of place on the tables. Even the remote for the TV was in its holder.

Had he abandoned the room in the middle of the night, a wolf gnawing off its own leg to get out of a trap?

“You slept well?”

“Oh!” Nicki’s pulse jacked as she turned to see Stefan leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom. He was freshly showered, his hair slicked back carefully over his brow, his body draped in a low slung towel. Nicki’s gaze dropped to his damp chest with its scatter of fine hair—and then it dropped further, following the trail as it pointed down his abs to his groin.

As she watched, the towel dropped to the floor.

Stefan didn’t give her a chance to react as he strode quickly across the room, climbing up on the bed until his shower-damp body flattened her to the sheets. His head dipped toward her and she squirmed to the side. “No!” she laughed. “Stop it, I need to fix my—”

“You don’t,” Stefan murmured, following the angle of her head until she surrendered and allowed him to kiss her. He kissed her mouth, her brow, and followed the line of her head and neck until he reached her outer shoulder. “You are as perfect this morning as you were last night.”

She turned beneath him, staring up at his impossibly chiseled face. “You can cut that out, you know. We’ve had sex.”

It was his turn to frown. “Cut what out?”

“The chivalry thing. I mean—it’s nice, don’t get me wrong. But it’s totally unnecessary. And it has to be exhausting.” Despite her best intention to stay focused, she was distracted by the curve of Stefan’s hard pecs and the tension in his biceps as he held himself above her, giving her space. Whatever, it allowed her to focus on his chest, not his face.

“I’ve broken my right leg and my left arm—here—” she pointed out the scars, clearly visible in the morning light, no matter how filtered it was through the French doors. “I cracked myself in the head when I was twenty falling off a monument and they glued my eyebrow back together—here.” She traced the line along her right eyebrow. I have a high hamstring tear that kicks up when I sprint if I don’t stretch out, and when I don’t have my nails manicured, I have a tendency to rip them down to the quick.”

She stared back at Stefan’s face, resolution firming her words as a smile played about his lips. “All I’m saying is, I’m not perfect. I know I’m not perfect. You don’t have to use that word.”

“Noted.” Slowly, tenderly, he dipped his head—not to her mouth, but to the hairline scar she’d pointed out on her brow. “But this—this scar you received while being careless on a monument… you were careless, I suspect?”

“I was the worst. I didn’t know my limits.”

“Ah.” He drifted his mouth along her brow, the movement sending a thrill down her spine. “This scar is perfect, because it’s yours. Because you received it doing something that only you would have done.”

“Mm.” Nicki fought to follow his words as his mouth drifted down to her shoulder, her arm. “I wasn’t the only idiot up there that day.”

“And this—your arm was reset after—what?”

“Snowboarding accident, spring break in the Rockies,” she said automatically, sucking in a breath as he traced the old scar with his tongue. “I was totally not being an idiot then. The course was well marked, but there was a snow ghost—tree buried under a drift—they hadn’t gotten to. I veered too high in a turn, got incredible air—but when I came down I was right on top of the thing.” Her eyes drifted shut. “I didn’t stop though. No one knew how bad I was injured until we got to the bottom of the mountain. Not even me.”

“I’m not surprised.” Stefan transferred his attention to her thigh, where the angry whorls of her pin scars stood white against the dark tan of her skin. “The leg, was it also snowboarding?”

“Bike—hit by a car on campus, old lady visiting her…ohh…” Stefan put his hands on either side of her thigh, the pressure of his palms steady as he massaged the muscles around the long ago injury with a sure, strong touch. His fingers dug into the knots of her thighs, knots she didn’t know she had, and Nicki flopped back, suddenly feeling oxygen-deprived.

“My God. You should take that act on tour,” she groaned.

“I suspect this is the same leg with the hamstring tear?”

She could barely make out his words as pleasure crested within her. She’d known she’d needed a massage, but she’d never imagined it could be so electrifying. She didn’t complain as his hands firmed on her body, easing her first to her side, then her stomach, his large hands transferring their pressure to her back. He stroked long and firm, and when he got to the curve of her ass, she belatedly realized she was still naked, and he was—

“Hey—” she spluttered, half rising from the bed.

“Humor me,” he said, pushing her back down with the flat of his hand. Then both hands returned to her glutes. “Your left leg, right?”

“Yes but—ow!” she went rigid again as he pressed two fingers in a sharp, deep line down the curve of her upper thigh, the muscle spasming beneath his touch for a harrowing moment, driving all thoughts of pleasure from her mind. “That hurts!”

“It won’t in a moment. Endure it,” he said, his voice low but absolute. He stroked again, more deeply, and Nicki ground her hands into the sheets, tightening them into fists around the luxurious fabric. She tried to scoot away and he restrained her, talking low as she gasped and panted.

“Relax,” Stefan growled. “You’re doing yourself no favors fighting me.”

She snorted. “Spoken as someone who always wins—ouch! Enough!”

“For the moment,” he said, the pressure of his hand changing to the broad flat of his palm as he pressed up with more general force into the intersection of her hamstring and glute. The warmed muscle tightened then gave way, and a spiral of pleasure radiated outward as Stefan continued the deep massage. He chuckled as Nicki groaned into the sheets once more.

“That’s so much better,” she managed on a sigh.

“It would not be so, without the pain. As you more than most should know.”

She was too aroused to be wary, but fear pricked in the back of her mind.
What did he mean by that? What did he know?

“You think so?” she managed.

“Don’t tense up.” He brought his hands down both legs, and shifted them slightly wider. When his long, brushing strokes moved back up, they fluttered between her legs.

Despite his admonition, tensing is exactly what Nicki did.

“Hey—” she managed, but the combination of the deep tissue massage and this new, arousing pressure was too much for her brain to process. She let her legs fall naturally wider, accepting more of his touch as his laughter rumbled low in his throat.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, dipping his fingers into her to verify. The touch of him woke up nerve endings that had barely recovered from the night before, but the endorphins from the massage overrode any complaint, and need erupted within her with each of his lazy strokes. He dipped into her again, pressing up against the slick skin, and she moaned into the sheets.

“Stop teasing me,” she breathed out. “I want you inside me.”

Stefan proved he was also excellent at taking direction.

Gritting his teeth at the delay, Stefan sheathed himself, then returned to the bed and covered Nicki’s body with his, sliding smoothly up her curves until he was positioned tightly against her. She sighed with satisfaction as he seated himself inside her, the purely feminine sound winding him tighter.

Nicki did him one better, as he was already getting used to her doing. Bracing her arms beneath her, she lifted her body until she was on her knees, providing him more leverage as she leaned back against him. He groaned and she turned her head, her hair spilling over her shoulders as she smiled back.

Her change of position afforded him his own freedom too, however. Bracing one hand on her hip, he curled his body over hers, his hand snaking around as she stiffened in surprise to feel the touch of his fingers against her clit. Then it was her turn to sigh, pulling her breath back in with a short hiss as his fingers moved gently against the tight nub of nerves. She was slick with need and desire and she opened more to him as he traced intricate patterns against her clit, the clenching of her channel exquisitely tight.

“I’m—I’m not going to last, Stefan.”

He stifled the urge to laugh as she echoed the same thoughts rocketing through his mind. “It’s not a competition,” he said, a reminder more to himself than to her, but her laughter was cut off short as he teased her into another shiver of reaction. Then her body went taut for one long, perfect second, her breath catching as she suddenly convulsed against him, the heat and the energy of her release setting off a similar explosion inside him. He bucked forward and she met him with equal force, the twin intensity of their releases providing equal, violent reactions that devolved into Nicki shivering uncontrollably, sliding forward as he moved back and rolled free from the bed, landing on unsteady legs.

Nicki, for her part flopped to the side, tangling in the sheets as she gasped and flung herself over onto her back. “I think you broke me,” she moaned.

“You said that already. I can’t break you twice.”

“I’m pretty sure you can.”

Stefan continued laughing as he moved into the bathroom, knowing he needed another shower and not minding a bit.

By the time they made it to the deck, it was nearly ten a.m., and the intense Mediterranean sun was high in the sky. Nicki had retreated to her own room and showered, and was dressed perfectly for her role. She wore a pair of long, feminine linen pants, a light nearly-sheer blouse that covered her neck and arms, with a matching camisole top underneath, making her appear fresh and cool and respectably conservative at once. A large hat shaded her face, also part of the artifice of her as a demure female photographer, but the ensemble would get her easily through the streets of the resort town. Her camera was slung over her arm, and she turned and smiled as he strode toward their small group, all of them waiting for his orders.