"Feel good?"
"You know it does." Her body tingled everywhere.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her. Flame closed her eyes and just absorbed the feel of the sheer mastery of his mouth. She thought it sinful to have a mouth like his and a kiss like he delivered. So hot, so perfect, she wanted to drown in his kisses. His hands roamed over her body. She reveled in the possessive way he touched her, yet he was incredibly gentle, even tender, swirling a fingertip over her bruises, kissing and nibbling his way to her breasts.
She ran her hand over his back, tracing the line, his narrow hip, even as she arched into his mouth, a soft moan escaping as he laved her nipples. He didn't stop but continued the foray with his tongue, gliding lower to tease the flames riding her hip, to kiss her scar, flicking his tongue over her belly button and kissing his way lower still.
Gator shifted position, drawing her bottom to him and lifting her legs over his shoulders. Flame gripped the quilt beside her, shocked at the sudden convulsing of her tight muscles. He breathed and muscles contracted. "I might not survive," she whispered.
He ran his thumbs over her soft folds and she arched her back, unable to stop the response. Her fingers bunched the material of the quilt into her hand. She had to hang on to something. Raoul licked her. Long. Slow. Like an ice cream he was savoring. She writhed on the bed, every nerve ending shrieking with awareness. He spent time stroking caresses over her mound, around it, on her soft inner thighs and then he went back to those long slow licks, his tongue broad and flat and sweeping over the outside between her legs until she thought she might really die from sheer pleasure.
"You have to stop."
"I'm just gettin' started, sugah. This is me loving you, Cajun-style."
He stabbed deep with his tongue, and she screamed, her breath coming in wild gasps. His hands went to her breasts, his fingers wrapping gently around the lush flesh. Once more he began his slow movements, circling her clit with easy sweeps, driving her out of her mind. Her breathing went ragged, and she couldn't stop bucking with her hips or arching her breasts more fully into his hands.
Raoul began slow circles with the pads of his fingers on her aureoles, heightening her pleasure. And then he sucked, the tip of his tongue dancing wickedly, flicking her clit while humming softly. The vibration spread through her body with the strength and sensation of a vibrator. He tugged on her nipples, squeezing in time with the vibration of his humming. Her muscles went into overdrive, clamping hard in a long, convulsing spasm. The orgasm tore through her like a rocket, from her breasts to her belly, engulfing her womb and hot channel until she sobbed with the strength of her release.
Raoul kissed his way up her belly to her breasts, paused to flick her nipples with his tongue and rub his face between the soft mounds. She felt so soft, so hot, almost melting into his body. She moaned softly and he felt it vibrating through his cock. He was so hard, unbelievably so, but this was for her. This night. He had one night to show her he loved her with every fiber of his being.
He lifted her hips with one hand, pressing the head of his erection against her welcoming entrance. She was soaked with desire, and he thrust in, driving through her impossibly tight folds, the pleasure so intense it tore a groan from his throat. He caught her hips in his hands, pulled back and drove as deep as he could go.
She cried out, her body holding his in a hot fist so tight his balls ached with the need for release. All the while her muscles rippled and quaked, adding to the pleasure coursing through him. "You're so ready, ma belle femme. So damn sexy I don' know if I'm going to be able to make this last." He thrust again, a long hard stroke that pushed him to the edge. "You come for me, Flame."
"I already have." She wasn't even sure how many times.
"Again. I want you to come apart in my arms. I want to hear you screaming, cher." She was panting, her breasts rising and falling with her labored breath. Her hand went to his hip again, fingers digging in deep while he surged in and out of her slowly.
"Then give me more, Raoul. Give me all of you."
He sank into her, felt the heat rushing through him with the speed of a fireball. He pulled her hips close, lifting her legs over his shoulders and began to ride her hard, long, deep strokes, faster and faster, over and over, burying himself so deep his balls slapped against her bottom. Sweat broke out on his body. The angle allowed him to penetrate her deeply while increasing the friction on her most sensitive spot. It felt like he was surrounded by hot velvet, living, breathing velvet wrapped so tightly around him it was squeezing and milking him.
The walls around him tightened, clamped down with ferocious intensity. Flame screamed and bucked wildly, sending him crashing over the edge right along with her. There was a roaring in his ears, little hammers tripping in his head and the rush started in his toes and consumed him completely. He emptied himself into her, caught somewhere between heaven and hell. It was the most explosive orgasm he'd ever experienced, the best sex, lust and love tightly intertwined.
He lay over the top of her, shifting enough to stay away from her injured arm, but burying his face in her neck. He closed his eyes, savoring the scent of her, the taste of her, the way her body held so tightly to his. Her hot channel had clamped down so hard on him, she'd ripped the climax out of him before he could stop, before he could make it last longer. And, Dieu, he wanted longer--he wanted forever.
"Marry me." It came out of nowhere. He hadn't planned asking. Hadn't thought about asking. But there it was. Two words that might save them.
She went still, her breath catching in her throat with a little audible hitch. Her breasts heaved against his chest, nipples hard and tight against him. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. "Raoul. Don't. You can't ask me something like that."
"Why not? I'm never going to love another woman the way I love you. I want this, what we have right now for always. Don' you?" He propped himself up on one elbow to stare down into her eyes. He wanted to beg her to save them, but he could only do his best to convince her. "Don' you want me, cher?"
She cupped the side of his face with her hand, her thumb sliding back and forth over his jaw in a small caress. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life." She rubbed the pad of her thumb over his lips. "Marriage ceremonies leave paper trails. You know that as well as I do. I believe Peter Whitney is alive. If I were to marry you he'd come after both of us."
"Lily married Rye and no one's bothered them."
"Now that's a real shocker. You're just adding to my belief that Lily knows exactly what Whitney is up to."
"So maybe that wasn't the best example. What about Nico and Dahlia? You can't think they're involved with Whitney."
She shook her head. "I can think a lot of things you don't, Raoul. You know Nico, I don't. For all I know he married Dahlia, and Whitney stays away because she's right where he wants her to be."
He kissed her. He tasted his own desperation, his fading hope. He tasted bitterness. "Just let's do this, Flame. We can go to a friend of mine, here in the bayou. Grand-mere and Wyatt can go with us. I won't even tell my friends if you'd rather I didn't. We'll be low-key."
"I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay with you until you have to go back."
Gator turned over onto his back, his fingertips pressed against his eyes. "And then, what? It's over? You just walk away like nothing happened?"
"I have cancer, Raoul." She was grateful for the candlelight. It made it so much easier to say the simple truth. She wouldn't be around all that long once it took hold.
"Whitney put it in remission twice. We'll go to a doctor."
"And I'll be in the computer system for Whitney to find." She sighed and reached for his hand. "Whitney manufactured his own variety of cancer that last time. He told me he did. If just any oncologist could put it in remission, why would I ever go back to him?"
"Did you ever have it checked out to see if it was the truth?"
"I hacked into his records. At that time, he probably let me, so who
knows how accurate they were?"
"Then let's give it a shot."
She rolled onto her side. "Raoul, I love you. I know that I do, but I'm not signing your death warrant. I believe Peter Whitney is out there and that he's looking for me. I will never, under any circumstances, go back there alive."
"Then we'll go to Lily."
"They're one and the same to me. It's all right."
"It's not all right, damn it." Raoul closed his eyes briefly and made himself breathe. There was no reason to argue; she'd made up her mind and he knew he couldn't change it.
"Let's just take this one day at a time. Who knows what will happen?" Flame suggested.
"Yeah. You're right." His voice was husky, tears clogging his throat. She was giving him no choice.
"I'd marry you in a heartbeat if things were different."
He forced a smile and sat up. "I want you to sleep tonight, so I'm going to make you some hot chocolate." He stood up quickly before she could stop him. He took care to mask the emotion in his voice.
"You don't have to do that. I doubt if I'll have any trouble sleeping."
"Grand-mere makes this special blend and she gave me the recipe. I made it up for you already. It won't take any time." He hurried into the small kitchen area and hastily poured the chocolate from the thermos he'd brought. It was still hot and steam rose from the mug. From the kitchen cupboard he pulled a small vial of clear liquid and stood for a moment staring at it.
"Are you having some too?"
"Yes." He closed his eyes briefly and then dumped the liquid quickly into the chocolate, stirred, and added a bit of whipped cream before filling a second mug with chocolate.
"Here you go, cher. There's nothing like it before bed."
Flame sat up and took the mug from him. The sheet slipped down exposing her breasts and he kept his eyes fixed on the bruises while she drank.
"This is good. An old family recipe?"
He nodded as he settled back on the bed beside her. "She made it for us on special occasions."
"What kind of special occasions?" She loved his childhood stories. She could so easily picture him as a little boy with tousled curls.
"If we managed to get a decent grade in school. Or if we didn't have a fistfight for an entire week with any of our friends--or enemies."
"Did you have trouble getting good grades?" She tilted her head to look at him. "I imagine you would have been very good in school."
He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't always go. I was the oldest and someone had to do the fishing and trapping. I worked on a couple of shrimp boats two or three times a week. I lied to Grand-mere because she said an education was more important, but of course she knew when she found the money in her drawer every week."
She looked at him over the cup of chocolate. "Sometimes the things you say melt my heart."
"It wasn't a bad thing, Flame. I loved workin' on the boats. It was simply our way of life. I preferred being out in the bayou to school any day of the week." He leaned forward and licked a small dollop of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth before he could stop himself.
She made a face at him and leaned in to him for a kiss. He tasted of whipped cream and chocolate. Raoul took the drink from her hand and set it on the small table beside the bed. "Go to sleep, cher. You're very tired, aren't you?"
She stretched out and then curled on her side, cautious with her broken arm. "I am tired. It's been a long day, but Joy's reunion with her parents was worth it all."
"You were good with her."
"Wyatt was good with her. I feel so bad for him. If the expression on his face was anything to go by, he's a little in love with her. It will be a long time before she ever is able to trust a man enough to have a relationship with him."
A lump formed in his throat and he ducked his head. Gator lay down beside her, drawing her into his arms and curling his body protectively around hers. He stroked back wisps of hair from her face.
She tangled her fingers with his. "Tonight was the most beautiful night of my life, Raoul. Thank you."
Her voice was drowsy, sensual, playing over his body like fingers. His heart shifted in his chest and he felt a vise begin to grip, take hold, and squeeze until his chest felt as if it might explode. He pressed his free hand to his chest while he held her other one and watched the drug take her.
The clock ticked loudly on the wall as time passed. He sat watching the candlelight flicker over her face, the dancing shadows play over her body, and he bent down to brush a kiss across her eyes. She didn't move.
Gator dressed quickly. The syringe was in his drawer and this time he didn't hesitate. He couldn't take a chance that she might wake up. He gave her a shot in her thigh, injecting the full dose into her.
It's done.
We'll bring in the copter. We have a plane standing by to fly us out of here and Rye has the compound ready.
It was difficult to put a robe on her, but he managed. He didn't want her naked when they came for her. He snatched up her duffel bag and shoved her new clothes inside. His own bag was already packed and ready to go.
He sat listening to the sounds of the helicopter as it flew overhead and swung toward the clearing just south of his cabin. It wasn't long before he heard the men as they approached the house, bringing the stretcher with them. One by one he blew out the candles until the room was dark.
CHAPTER 19
Flame awoke to the scent of lavender. She was lying in a bed, but it wasn't the same bed she'd gone to sleep in with Raoul's body wrapped closely around hers. Her heart slammed hard as she realized that there was a port directly into the vein under her collarbone. The last time she'd had something like that stuck in her body had been when Whitney gave her the cocktail of medicine needed to get rid of the cancer he had manufactured.
Oh God. Please God. Don't let this be happening to me. Anything but this. Anything at all. I can't do this. She sent the silent prayer over and over while she slid her hand up to feel the port, hoping she was having a nightmare. She felt the edges of the dressing and knew the port was stitched in place and the catheter was under her skin. She fought the urge to yank the foreign object out of her body.
Someone sat nearby in a chair. There was movement to her left. She feigned sleep, struggling to keep her heart under control when it insisted on accelerating, when adrenaline flooded her body, triggering every alarm in her system. Betrayal was a bitter taste in her mouth. She ached with it. Screamed silently with it. Tears burned but she refused to give them license.
Raoul Fontenot had delivered her back into Whitney's hands.
The person to her left moved to the edge of the bed and bent over her. She smelled him. Knew his touch. She reached for rage, needed it to survive, but there was only pain. She gasped aloud, shocked at the intensity of her anguish. She'd never felt so raw, so ripped open and vulnerable.
"I know you're awake. I can hear your heart, your breathing. Open your eyes, Flame. It isn't what you think." Raoul's voice was low, almost pleading.
"No?" She lifted her lashes, couldn't stop the tears from swimming where he could see them, but she didn't look at him. Couldn't look at him. "You didn't seduce me? You didn't drug me and take me to the one place you knew I swore I'd never go back to? You warned me. I can't say that you didn't. You said you were supposed to bring me back, but I let you seduce me into forgetting."
"Flame, you know better. Look at me. You know it wasn't like that."
She was going to be sick. Her stomach churned and she could hear the silent screams in her head growing louder. There was so much pain. She hadn't expected it to be so bad, the utter humiliation of knowing he had slept with her to do his job.
Surprisingly she wasn't restrained. She struggled into a sitting position, batting away his hands when he tried to help her. "Don't touch me. I never want you to touch me again." She pressed a hand to her stomach. "Where's the bathroom? I'm going to be sick." It was already too late. He shoved a small tray into her hands and sh
e was further humiliated by throwing up over and over again in front of him.
He left her side for a brief moment to return with a cool washcloth and towel. She took it without looking at him. She knew if she looked, if she saw his face and his lying eyes, the terrible storm inside of her would crash over her and she would break apart, shatter so completely that she wouldn't be Flame anymore.
Raoul took the small tray from her, dumped it and rinsed it out, returning it to the bed within reach of her hand. The sight of the tray triggered childhood memories. Ugly. Torturous. She felt dizzy and for a moment couldn't catch her breath.
Control. Discipline. Patience. She repeated the mantra silently. She knew what she had to do. She was prepared; she'd been prepared ever since the first moment of her escape. Death wasn't nearly as bad as living as a lab rat.
She let her breath out slowly. "I guess you didn't believe me when I told you I'd destroy everything before I'd be put in a cage again. I'm willing to die here, Raoul, are you? Because you have about two minutes to get the hell out and take everyone else with you."
"Why warn me, Flame? Why not just do it?"
"Get out, Raoul." She was tired. Desperately tired and drained. The screams in her head had subsided, but now, somewhere deep inside she was silently weeping. Great terrible sobs that she couldn't control were shredding her heart. Her body shook with sobs, her chest ached and her throat was nearly closed with the tears clogging it, but no sound escaped. She refused to give that to him.
"I'm not leaving your side."
"Look, you did your job. You can go tell all your buddies how great you are. You royally fucked me."
"Maudit! That's not the way it was."
"That's exactly the way it was. You knew you couldn't force me back so you pretended to fall in love with me." She shook her head. "I can't believe I fell for every word you said. Be proud of yourself. Maybe Whitney will give you a nice bonus. Just get the hell out of here. I can't stand the sight of you." She pressed the wet cloth over her face, hoping it would cool her burning eyes.
"You would never have come in on your own, Flame. Never."