She walked two fingers up his arm as she leaned forward. “We would just have to find a way to keep me muffled,” she murmured against his ear. “Got any bright ideas?”
“You know I do,” he told her. Then he lifted back his head to give her a serious look. “As long as you’re sure. The conditions could hardly be any less ideal.”
“I’m sure.”
They were so lucky they could share stolen time together and draw comfort from each other in a warm, dry place. She was so incredibly lucky that she could relax against his inexhaustible strength and feel the two most luxurious things of all, love and safety. So many people would endure that night feeling neither love nor safety, and many of them might be in the valley. Dragos might not believe that the enthralled knew much about what was happening to them, but she wondered if something of their spirits knew. She had to wonder what Beluviel felt that night, or the children.
Dragos reached overhead and clicked off the flashlight, throwing their tent into darkness. A dim light from the campfires and the blazing passageway showed through the tarps. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the outline of his head and broad shoulders. He hugged her close, his big hands running down her back.
“My fingers are cold,” she warned in a whisper.
“You know that doesn’t matter.” She could hear a smile in his murmur.
She gave into temptation and slipped her hands under his black silk sweater, and all the starch melted from her spine as she came in contact with his bare, hot skin. He sighed and shifted closer, slipping his hands under her own sweater to cup her breasts.
Are you warm enough? he asked, as he ran his fingers along the edge of her bra to the fastening at the back.
Mm. I’m plenty warm now. She reached over her head and pulled her sweater off as he unfastened her bra.
He bent his head, and she wondered what he saw, as he massaged her bare breasts gently. I always thought I was a leg man, he said, his voice filled with lazy sensuality. Until I became acquainted with your truly outstanding breasts.
Were they outstanding? She tucked her chin in and looked down at herself, but her body was just as shadowed as his was. She remarked, doubtfully, I’m pretty sure they’re just boobs.
They’re exquisite works of art, he told her. He pulled off his own sweater and set it aside on top of hers. And since you have the most remarkable legs I have ever seen, I get the best of both worlds.
She smiled against the satin skin covering the hard muscles of his shoulder. She teased him about her changing body, partly in an effort to cover up how she occasionally felt self-conscious at her thickening waist and growing breasts, but he never left her in any doubt that he loved everything about how she looked, not only before the pregnancy started to show but at every stage since. She simply couldn’t hold on to her self-consciousness for long.
Aren’t you a lucky man, she said.
He bent his head further and licked along the swell of one breast. I am a lucky man, and you know why? While I find everything about your body unutterably sexy, the most sexy thing of all is your mind. When you talk to me telepathically and I’m in a conference, sometimes I get a hard-on and I have to leave the room.
Is that why you’ve shown up for a quickie when I thought you were busy? She scratched his flat, hard nipples lightly with the edge of her fingernails.
Of course. He hissed and grabbed her hands. Dammit, woman, hurry up and get your jeans off.
You say the prettiest things, she told him.
He exhaled a silent laugh as he helped her to wiggle out of her jeans. Then he tugged at the fastening of his fatigues. Get over here, he said. He coaxed her into sitting on his lap, facing him. I’m not going to spend half the night pulling splinters out of your ass.
Ooh, my hero, she crooned, full of sensuality and happiness. She raised her arms, lifting her hair off her neck as she arched her back, and she felt the breath leave him. He fitted his hands on her rib cage, and before she could stop him, he lifted her up to suckle at her nipples.
He must have forgotten the low tent ceiling. She cringed to avoid it, but she still smacked one of her raised elbows along with her head against the long pole that formed the top of the A-frame.
“Ow!”
“Shit,” he snapped. He lowered her onto his lap immediately and hugged her.
She draped her arms around his neck and collapsed against him, dissolving into hiccups of laughter. So much for trying to keep what we’re doing quiet and private.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, cupping the top of her head and rubbing at the spot where she had hit the pole.