Page 23 of Gator's Gambit
“Sounds like a plan.” She nods, still not having looked at me once. “Where are we headed?”
I hesitate a moment, but then figure I may as well come clean since she’s going to find out soon enough. “I’ve booked a room at a bed and breakfast in Morehead. Now, before you go and get all antsy about it, I only booked it so we’d have somewhere to go that we could have some time on our own to talk, away from others who would be offended if we didn’t include them in the conversation.”
Again, she nods. “Makes sense.” I release a quiet sigh of relief that she’s not going to lose her ever-loving mind over this.
We make small talk as Em’s car eats up the miles to our destination. Fancy appoints herself the official road trip DJ and sets about selecting tunes for us to listen to, or sing along to, whichever grabs us in the moment.
During a lull in conversation, as she’s taking in the passing scenery, a popular song comes on, and she joins in. It’s been a lot of years since I last heard Fancy sing, and I’d forgotten what a beautiful singing voice she has.
As she sings along, the words clearly familiar to her, I find myself wholly entranced. I’m so caught up, I almost miss the car trailing us. Spotting him in my rearview mirror, I feel my blood pressure rise. I bide my time and when we finally make the turn into Morehead City, I make sure to speed up enough to lose him by twisting and turning through some side roads.
“Is something wrong?” Fancy eventually asks, a frown marring her brow.
“No – well, yeah. I guess.” I sigh, playing the fool to keep her from catching on. “I thought I knew the way to the bed andbreakfast, but it seems I’ve got myself turned around. But you know how loath us guys are to ask for directions.”
“Yeah, true story that.” She laughs, just as I’d hoped she would.
Keeping an eye on the road behind us, I give her my trademark killer grin, what Scooter calls my panty dropper. “I don’t suppose I could entice you to look up the address on the GPS, could I? I’ll make it worth your while.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her, although she can only see one. But she knows me long and well enough to know what I’m doing.
“Sure thing. What’s the name of the place?” I tell her, and she finds it within seconds. Setting the GPS to talk me through the route, I follow the instructions while staying vigilant that I don’t pick my tail up again.
Thankfully, the little B and B we’re going to has secure off-street parking behind a solid wall and gate, no way for someone passing to see onto the property. I like the security of it all. As I park, I inform Fancy about the little white lie I told when making the booking. I didn’t want it to reflect badly on her, so I told our hostess that we wanted a night away to celebrate a happy occasion, and when the time comes for us to leave, I’ll share that I’m military and have been called away on a mission. No harm, no foul. Right?
Taking my bag out of the trunk, for good measure, I lead Fancy over to what appears to be the front door, a hand to the small of her back. After registering, the woman at the desk leads us down a hall leading off the reception area and to our room. She put us in a room with the most incredible view of the beach.
After showing us where everything is, she walks back over to the bedroom door. “I’ll leave you two to it. I’m just down the hall if you need anything.” Letting herself out, she closes quietly behind her.
For long moments Fancy and I simply stare at each other, neither saying a word. She’s beautiful in one of her favorite flowy kinds of dresses, in the softest of pinks, blues, and greens, all of which draw out the deep mossy green of her eyes.
Unable to resist – not wanting to resist, if I’m being honest – I step forward and pull her gently into my arms before laying a kiss on her the likes of which leaves us panting for air and thoroughly hot and bothered at the end of it. My heart sings when she leans into me, giving me her weight and throwing herself wholeheartedly into it.
Our tongues explore, playfully dueling, learning each other’s taste as we let the kiss lead us wherever it wants. Finally, needing to come up for air, we step back just the tiniest bit.
“Baby, if we’re going to spend any time talking, we’re going to have to ixnay on the kissing. My poor hormones won’t be able to cope,” I say, resting my forehead on hers.
At first, she doesn’t acknowledge my words, then she looks up at me shyly and knocks my feet out from under me. “Who says I want to talk?” Her eyebrows lift; her eyes sparkle. “Maybe I just want to see where all of this will end if we keep going.”
My dick hardens painfully in my jeans, the metal teeth of the zipper biting into the flesh behind it. I step back in surprise, wanting to get a better look at her face. “Pooks, I want you. In the worst way possible. It would take very little to encourage me to make love to you right this second. So be very careful what you say.”
I watch in fascination as I watch her pupils dilate, leaving nothing but passion burning bright in those gorgeous orbs. Fancy reaches behind her, and before I can comprehend what she’s doing, I hear the sound of her zipper being opened in the quiet of the room.
Licking my lips, I fist my hands tight to prevent myself from grabbing and scaring her. This is not how I’d envisionedtoday going. I mean, yeah, I’d hoped we’d get to this portion of the proceedings, but it certainly wasn’t expected. If we’d done nothing but talk all day, I would have been satisfied with just that. But now, with what’s on offer, right off the bat, I struggle to keep a leash on my desire.
The material of Fancy’s dress makes the softest ofsshhhsounds as it slithers down her curvaceous body, to land in a puddle at her feet. A single ray of sunlight shines on her through the window at her back, causing a halo effect in her glorious russet curls rioting over her shoulders and down her back.
God, I want this woman under me, over me, around me – any way I can have her – so badly I can almost taste it.
11
FANCY
Standing in nothing more than tiny scraps of lace and satin, held together with silk thread and a prayer, I fight my every instinct screaming at me to cover myself from Godric’s view. I’m so uncomfortably aware of every scar, lesion, blemish, and mark on my skin I can’t even meet his eyes.
Silence hangs suspended in the room, as if waiting for something to bring it crashing down. From my vantage point, all I can see is the bottom half of his legs, akimbo, his body still. Unmoving.
There’s an utter lack of sound – so unusual in the hustle and bustle of our modern world that it’s almost unsettling. Made even more so by the thread of tension I can feel running beneath its surface.
When I can no longer stand it, I raise my eyes to stare at Godric’s throat. Still he says nothing, just stands there continuing to wait. For what, I have absolutely no idea. The minutes tick by slower than molasses oozing out of a squeeze bottle.
