Rogue's Pawn (21 page)

“This isn’t flirting,” I gasped out.

“What do you call it?” he asked lazily, as a lock of his hair fell across my breast, stark against the white curve.

I held back a whimper as his tongue dipped below the fabric dangerously close to a nipple. Longing surged through me.

“I don’t agree to this. I agreed to flirting, nothing more.”

Rogue chuckled and raised his head. With a heated stare at my breasts pushing above the top of my dress, he placed a last kiss just over my heart.

And set me on my feet. He watched me with close interest while I pulled the fabric back into place. He cocked his head when I set to massaging the feeling back into my hand.

“Shall I help?”

“No thanks. No more touching.”

“Flirting means no touching to you?”

“Correct.”

“I want touching. To me, flirting involves some touching. It’s not acting as if you’re interested otherwise.”

“That would be your problem,” I quipped back, all sweetness.

“Okay, we can void the agreement and I’ll proceed as I wish—you don’t seem to be very good at fighting me off.”

Humiliating but true. Though I didn’t think he’d rape me, I could tell by the need already throbbing through me that I wouldn’t resist him forever if he made a concerted effort. I hated him—why wasn’t that helping? Instead I felt alive and alert. Stimulated. And by more than just the foreplay. I enjoyed the banter.
He’s not your friend,
I reminded myself.

“Limited touching. No lips, no…body parts.”

His lips quirked at my unwillingness to name the parts.

“
Some
body parts, surely—hands?”

“One hand only,” I allowed grudgingly. “Outside the clothes.”

“And any publicly exposed skin,” he qualified.

I didn’t like it, but I thought it might be the best deal I’d get.

“Agreed.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

In Which I Fulfill One Bargain

We stood there, glowing pillows scattered at our feet. Rogue quirked a gloss-black eyebrow at me. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to flirt with me now?”

“I really hate to tell you this, Rogue, but you’re barking up the wrong skirt here—I’m a lab rat from way back. I’ve dated exactly three men in my life and have absolutely
no
idea how to flirt.”

He sighed expressively, then held out his elegant hands in a palms-up gesture. “What shall we do? You promised flirting.” His eyes fell on the full bathtub. “You could take your bath and I’ll watch.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It would be a flirtatious thing to do…”

“It would be exhibitionism on my part and voyeurism on yours. Besides which, I am not stupid enough to add to the skin that’s already publicly exposed.”

“But your feet are dirty.”

He was right. Dust and mud mixed with unmentionable fluids caked my toes and spattered up my legs from my run through the camp. Ick.

While Rogue watched with great interest I walked over and stepped into the tub, holding my skirt up out of the water and shivering at the tepid temperature. Bunching the fabric carefully between my legs, I sat on the uncomfortable narrow rim and began scrubbing.

Rogue piled up a few pillows, smacking them to his desired brightness and arranged himself as if for viewing a show. He peeled off his leather boots and, reaching back, he pulled the tie off his tail of hair, releasing it to spill around him. He looked like a raven Viking, all masculine cheekbones and streaming hair, his bare feet as long and elegant as his hands.

“Tug the skirt up higher,” he suggested, “and blow me a kiss.”

“No.”

“It would be a mild flirtation and you’ve yet to do anything that qualifies as vaguely flirtatious.”

I tugged my skirt up a grudging inch and pursed my lips at him.

His eyes flared. “Is the water warm enough for you? I could heat it up.”

“So can I,” I retorted and wished it a little warmer. “Rogue, we need to talk.”

“No, no, no.” He waggled a long finger at me. “That’s anti-flirtation. ‘We need to talk’ is the death of romance. I don’t think you’re taking this bargain seriously. I’m close to crying foul.”

A smile curved his lips, but his eyes were deadly intent. I tried to think up something flirtatious.

“Surely a big, strong, handsome man like you wouldn’t take advantage of little ol’ me,” I fluttered with a peachy accent.

“Amazing. You really are bad at this.”

I stood, clutching the fabric balled in my lap. “Look, Rogue…”

As I moved to step out of the tub, he was there in a flash, holding my hand to help me balance. One hand only, I noticed.

“Oh, believe me, I am looking,” he assured me. “You are lovelier than ever, saucy Gwynn.” He let go of my hand to run his fingers over my hair. “Come, sit with me. I’ll teach you how to flirt, as I’ve taught you so much else.”

“Barely an ounce of what I need to know,” I grumbled, but allowed him to help lower me to some pillows when he gave me a significant look. I stretched out on my side, propped up on one elbow.

He stood over me. “Observe.” He swept his hands in a grand flourish and presented me with a flower. Another Stargazer lily—if anything, larger, sweeter and more intensely blue in the throat than the first had been. “Now, when a gentleman gives a lady a gift, to evince interest in him, she might trail it along her cheek to show him how lovely it feels against her skin, to give him ideas of how he might touch her.”

He sank down onto the pillows, not close enough to touch, eyes intent on me, glowing bluer than the blossom. There was no harm in playing this game, theoretically. Unable to tear my eyes from his, I inhaled the fragrance, then brushed the velvet petals along my cheek. The light flared in his eyes and, emboldened, I trailed the flower down my throat to brush with exquisite delicacy over the upper curves of my breasts.

“Very well done.” His voice sounded a bit hoarse.

“This seems more like seduction to me.” My voice had a whiskey quality, too.

“Oh yes,” he murmured, easing himself to lie down to face me, mirroring my pose, but still not too close. “Flirtation is seduction with clothes on, sex without sex, back and forth. You are ravishingly seductive, Lady Gwynn.”

“You just want me for my eggs,” I teased.

“I plan to enjoy much more than that on my way to them.”

“Why me?” I asked softly. Just as I’d asked the Black Dog.

“Never question a man’s desires, Gwynn. Especially when he’s flirting with you.” He slipped the lily out of my hand and laid it between us, then lifted my fingers in his, rubbing his thumb over them lightly. “I should never have agreed to no lips.”

“It’s not your fault,” I offered generously. “You were outwitted.”

“Is that what happened?” He stared at me, burning blue. Then laid my hand back on the flower and leaned over to trace my cheek. Then down my throat, following the path of the lily. I held my breath as he stroked over the upper curves of my bosom. “Much can be done with one hand, Gwynn.” His sensitive fingertips trailed over the cotton of my dress, circling my breast. A breath shuddered out of me and I closed my eyes. “Watch, Gwynn,” he whispered, “see how you want me, too.”

His fingers, pale against my dress, gracefully swirled over my breast. Ever smaller circles, until they brushed over the painfully hard point of my nipple. I nearly convulsed in response, a sharp cry escaping my lips. I started to pull back, but his fingers closed on my nipple through the fabric.

“Resisting, Gwynn? Will you deny me what you granted?”

“Oh, please…” I whimpered, but held myself still.

“What do you plead for?” he asked, massaging the nipple with his clever fingertips.

My head spun thick and sweet. My elbow seemed to collapse and I laid my head down. I couldn’t form a response. I did want him. To my great peril.

Rogue released my nipple to resume his circling, moving to include the other breast now offered up as I lay back. I gazed blurrily at the night sky through the open flaps above, until his face moved over mine. Propped on his elbow still, he watched me, seeming to drink me in. Jet-black hair, glinting navy and rose from the pillows, fell around his face, shadowing it. A few long locks fell across the hand lying by my side. I surreptitiously wound them around my fingers, clutching at the silk of them. It reminded me not to reach up and wrap my arms around him.

I was pushing my breast into his hand now, fighting the overwhelming urge to spread my legs just a little. It had to be hardwired into women’s brains—enough arousal and we wanted to open right up.
Nothing like making it easy for them.

“I’m not having sex with you,” I gritted out.

“Did I ask?” He sounded amused. He also never stopped teasing my breast. “Though if you wish to cry off the bargain, I’d be happy to oblige you.”

I was going to explode, but I didn’t think I could actually climax this way. Only endless buildup. My vision reddened and I clutched at the pillows beneath me. I should have taken my chances with fighting him off. Allowing this was unbearable.

“I can’t take any more.”

“Oh, I think you can. We’ve only just started, lovely Gwynn.” He breathed along my cheek, not quite touching his lips to me. “Do you wish to cry off?”

I moaned in despair.

“Is that a yes?” Rogue watched me, the lines of his face seeming to oscillate in the light. Maybe that was my own frantic pulse, pounding through the fragile vessels of my retinas.

“No,” I gasped, then whimpered when he increased the pressure on one breast, the pleasure keen as pain. I realized it was my left breast, Falcon’s bite marks throbbing anew under the stimulus, the pain flaring up. “You’re hurting me, Rogue.”

He frowned but lightened his touch. “Why? That shouldn’t hurt.”

I tried to sit up, but he held me still, searching my eyes. I looked away uncomfortably.

“Tell me Gwynn. Now.”

I felt a nudging against my thoughts, so I gave him the image of Falcon bending over me, his razor teeth sinking into me. Vastly easier than describing it.

“He took a taste of you?” Rogue’s voice was eerily calm, devoid of emotion. He ran his hand lightly over my breast. “Let me see.”

I sat up, clasping the fabric to my chest. “Absolutely not.”

“Think of me as a healer—I need to see if it’s okay.” Something glinted in his eyes, however. Anything I uncovered would fall under the “exposed areas portion” of our agreement. I didn’t want to find out how I’d respond to him touching my bare flesh, if the fabric-muffled version had been so intense.

“No, it’s healing fine. I can tell that much.”

He studied me for a moment, then sighed, resigned. That was too easy. He looked too relaxed, too at ease. He radiated satisfaction, not the frustration of a man denied. It appeared Falcon’s trick had at least gotten me out of this snare, but Rogue had something else up his sleeve.

“It’s late and you need to sleep. We can continue tomorrow.” He gathered his hair into the tail again. “Take your bath and get your dress washed—the dragon blood is a little much.”

I watched him, trying to crank my thinking back into gear. “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

“Why, my lovely Gwynn—more flirting!” Rogue gave me a wicked smile and lightly tugged on my hair where it spilled over one shoulder.

“Wait…” Geez, I seriously needed to clear my head. Rogue looked suspiciously alert and unaffected by our little tryst. “More flirting? I didn’t agree to more than tonight.”

“In point of fact—” Rogue stood and held up a professorial finger, “—you did not place a time limit on the bargain. You said, and I quote, ‘we can flirt all you want after you deal with Darling.’ It’s still after.”

I stared at him, trying to assemble a coherent argument. I could not go through this all day, every day. I knew myself. I’d cave eventually. An image of myself begging him to take me, promising all sorts of things, asking for that green silk binding, crossed my mind. Like a dose of cold water, it hit me. Here I was, hurtling toward another slavery.

“But,” he allowed in a generous tone of voice, “I’m willing to settle for the standard night and a day. At sunset tomorrow you may return to denying and sniping at me with the bargain fulfilled.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest under the skirt, wrapping my arms around them. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“I might have a battle tomorrow.”

“No.” Rogue shook his head, pulling his boots on. “Falcon and I will be meeting. He can pursue his war later.”

“Don’t forget your flower.” I nodded at the lily still lying next to me, beguiling me with its scent.

A slight frown creased Rogue’s brow. “It is a gift for you—I’m hopeful you won’t destroy this one so willfully.”

“I’ve learned to be wary of gifts. And this is no magic chamber pot. Is this one also a spying device?”

“If you’re with me, lovely Gwynn, why would I need to spy on you?”

“I’ll be with you?”

“After tomorrow,” he said, with great confidence, even smugness. “Falcon will have no choice but to cede possession to me early, after this stunt.”

“The stasis spell in the necklace?”

“Oh yes, that, too. But he broke the rules by damaging you, foolish Gwynn.” He smiled at me fondly. “Also he failed to safeguard you during battle today. You were nearly killed, so I’m entitled to safeguard my investment.” His smile faded.

“What if I don’t wish to cede possession of myself to you?” I asked in a steady voice, trying to keep the pissed-off out of it. He hadn’t called me on not-flirting, yet. In fact, he seemed like the cat that ate the canary.

Rogue dropped down beside me, running his hand over my hair and down my bosom to toy with the nipple on my uninjured breast. I made myself hold still for it. “Seductive Gwynn, you can’t fight your nature. After a day of my…attentions, by tomorrow night you’ll be begging me to take you.” His eyelids lowered in intent pleasure as he massaged my breast and I leaned into his hand. “Once we have bedded one another, you will know what we can have. You will never want to leave me.”

I believed it, too. He filled my head like the lily, sweet and bewitching. Bewitching indeed. An image of that dream bedchamber crossed my mind, the green sash lying on the bed.

“I won’t lose myself to you,” I whispered.

“What’s to lose? This isn’t much of a life. I’ll keep you safe, lovely Gwynn,” he promised. “Not even the passage of time will touch you.”

I shuddered, and it wasn’t sexual this time. The prospect of timeless imprisonment congealed in my belly with a chill. Despair filled me. A gilded cage was still a cage. No matter how appealing my jailer might be. A captive breeding program for exotic human sorceresses. Was that why he wanted the baby I would possibly have?

He was right that I would cave. The physical longing to have him inside me, possessing and filling me, washed over the caution. I needed something else to keep him from that moment when I would collapse and let him in.

Then I caught an idea, glimpsed a path through.

“There’s just one thing.” I opened my eyes and smiled dreamily at him. The cat with cream on his lips indeed. “I think you were right the first time. Our bargain did not have a time limitation. It would be unfair of me to require you to end it after only a night and a day. We should stick to our original agreement.”

Rogue stilled. Then anger began to filter through his eyes, amber sparking in the lapis.

I smiled sweetly and pressed my breast more firmly into his hand. “Outside the clothes, one hand, no body parts…forever. You might be able to make me go with you, but, crafty Rogue, however do you plan to impregnate me?”

I watched, fascinated, as the eyes iced over, cold fury creeping through them.

“You will cry off eventually,” he said, his tone steel. “You are a sexual creature—you cannot resist the demands of your body for long.”

I shook my head at him, kept shaking it, slow and measured. “I am also a creature of the mind and will, Rogue. If not before, then the training I went through saw to that. If it means my freedom from sexual slavery and my maybe-child from some unknown, possibly horrific, fate? That gives me plenty of incentive to resist.”