Page 74 of Just Say (Hell) No
“Decorative.” She tried to hold back her heart. It wasn’t easy.
“Bugger decorative. You’regood.You should believe me. And no, I don’t care if Kane hears me say it. I hope he does. If he can’t see how good those are, he’s blind. I want to buy that blue one to hang in the foyer, by the way. The blue flowers in the pitcher, with the gold scarf behind them. That’s something special, and I want it. But what you’re working on now is under the cloth, eh. Something bigger.”
She went still. “You didn’t look.”
He shot her a glance, then concentrated on the road again. “No. Not my business. I’d like to see when you’re finished, though.”
“Uh… thanks. And thanks for what you did. I mean it. Thanks. You got me the bridal couple, at least.”
“A mixed blessing.”
She hummed her agreement. She’d had too much champagne, and Marko had been too sweet, and… everything. She was melting like a piece of chocolate in the sun. “Confession for you. I don’t like dachshunds.”
“Good,” he said. “Means you’ll never be after me to adopt one.”
She yawned, and since she didn’t have to watch the road, closed her eyes. “Ella told me you hate doing public things. She said that when you do signings with the All Blacks, you look like you’re going to jump people if they don’t shut up, and they move off. She couldn’t believe you today.”
“Yeh, well,” he said, “maybe I was in a good mood. Could be from taking off somebody’s clothes and all.”
“Mm. Is that what you call that?” If she laid her head against the door, just for a minute…
“Pizza tonight, I reckon,” she heard him say as she drifted off. “And another steak, maybe. In my Japanese dining room, since I’ve got it. If anybody but me is still awake to eat it.”
Monday afternoon, and once again, Marko was heading across Auckland towards home with that same lift in his heart. Even though today, a series of squalls was moving across the island. At this moment, in fact, the sun was shining even as his windscreen wipers battled the latest cloudburst. It could be rainy on Saturday night for the match, he wasn’t playing under a roof anymore, and none of it mattered.
He was playing. That was enough. And right now, he was flying like an arrow headed for the target, on his way to a house that felt like home. A house with a painting in the foyer, delicate strokes of blue against rich gold, that he’d hung last night, because it was his now. A house with Nyree in it.
The night before, everybody had stayed for pizza, steak, and salad, as he’d imagined they would. He had six chairs now, though, so that was all right. The roomwasserene, exactly like Nyree had told Ella it would be, with the discreet lighting outside shining on the ferns and palms, making it look like the magical world she’d described. He’d watched Nyree eat pizza and heard her heady, midnight-and-silk laugh, and had laughed himself when Ella had jumped up and imitated Harold falling into the arbor and losing hold of Pookie. He’d seen the looks Kane and Victoria had exchanged, had heard Kane offer Vic a lift home, and had caught Nyree’s eye as she smiled about that. And maybe about him not having to drive Victoria home himself, because it meant they’d be alone sooner.
The bruise on his thigh had ached, the stitches on his ear had throbbed under their strip of tape, and he hadn’t cared. Kors had stayed to do the washing up with Ella while Marko and Nyree had hung Marko’s new painting, and then Kors had left, too. Marko had seen him take Ella’s hand, bend to kiss her cheek, and murmur something, and had decided he didn’t have to do anything about that. Not right now.
And then Ella had gone to bed, saying, “That was agreatday. That was one of the best days ever.”
After that? He and Nyree had gone upstairs, and he’d locked his door.
The first urgency had passed and been replaced by anticipation, now that he knew how good it could be and had moved on to wondering how much better he could make it. You always pushed for improvement.
They started in the spa tub, and it was even better than his fantasy. Candles lit around the edge because she’d brought them up, and clouds drifting across the moon. Shadow and light, warm water and cool breeze, all of it telling him that the slow road was the best one, and that he had all the time in the world.
Holding her in his lap and kissing her, slow and hot and sweet, keeping his eyes open so he could watch hers close. Touching her everywhere, learning how she liked it, and then how she loved it best of all, and having her touch him. Feeling her kiss his chest, run her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, then wind her arms around his neck, kiss his mouth, and tell him he was beautiful. Which a man shouldn’t need to hear, but he somehow did.
Blowing out the candles, then, and picking her up and carrying her into the shower, another fantasy that was even better now that he had his hands on her soft body. Washing each other off, soaping each other up, going slower with every stroke, and kissing some more. Seeing Nyree drop to her knees. That was a good moment. Hearing her say, “Lean back so I can reach you,” and getting that hard rush. Wrapping his hands in her hair, wild and black as the southern sea, and watching her as long as he could. Until he was the one who had to close his eyes.
He kept waiting for her to stop, and then realized she wasn’t going to. After that, he forgot to think about it, because all he could do was surrender to the pleasure she was giving him. Until his head was the one that was banging, until he couldn’t keep himself from calling out, and he knew he was pulling her hair, but he couldn’t help it. She didn’t mind that, either, because her smile, afterwards, as she looked up at him, was wicked. Like she saw straight into his mind, and she liked what she saw.
After that? He stayed there and got his breath back for a minute or ten, and she smiled some more, washed him again, and then washed herself while he watched. And when he’d seen enough, he took her to bed, drew back his white sheets, and turned on a light.
She said, “Maybe that’s too much… uh…” And sighed, which may have been because he was over her already, and she liked it that way. “Too much illumination on the subject.”
“Not possible,” he told her, trailing kisses over to her ear, then settling in to play. “I need to watch, and I need to see your face when I make you come. But I may have to wait for that until the second time.”
They got to it. There was that first time, though, that he needed to take care of before they could move on. Taking her up fast and hot, drinking her in, getting all the benefit of the kissing in the spa tub and the rush it had been to her to please him. His rush, now, as he pulled the fierce climax from her, holding both her wrists in one hand and feeling how much better that made it for her. She loved it, he’d already learned, when he held her tight, so all she had to do was focus on what he was making her feel. You could say that worked for him, too.
The second time, then, when he was over her. All the way up on his palms, and her legs not wrapped around his waist at all, because her ankles were over his shoulders.
Going so slowly. Going so deep. Driving to the heart of her, and feeling her hold him there like she never wanted it to end, like he’d be inside her forever. And then being rewarded for his patience. Feeling the shift in her, watching her face begin to twist, hearing her start to sing out.
At last, the tortured look on her face, the sound of her stifled moans, as if the pleasure were too much to bear, and he was pushing her to a spot that was almost too far. The way she grabbed him as she went over, pulling the response from him, making him helpless to delay it any longer.
