“I know I was very bold today in the swamp,” she said. “I enjoyed it too, but I’m not . . .”
“Honey, look at me. I’m just about as banged up as I can get without broken bones. I can guarantee you going to sleep with no problem.” He hesitated, wanting to be completely honest. “Waking up might be different.”
“If I’m in your room, somethin’s goin’ to happen and you know it,” she said. “I might even be the one to start it. I dream about ”
“Do you think I’m afraid?” He winked at her as he pulled open the door to his room. “You can have your wicked way with me anytime you want. And a man likes to know his woman dreams about him.”
“What if I don’ meet your expectations. Men have them. Don’t tell me they don’t. I imagine you must be fairly experienced and the thought of tryin’ to live up to that is rather dauntin’.” Her accent was thicker—and more sensual.
Drake dragged her into his room, kicked the door closed and wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the protests of his body. His mouth descended on hers. He indulged himself for several long minutes, showing her just what he thought of that kind of drivel. When he lifted his head, they were both breathing raggedly.
“If I don’t get it right the first time, Saria, I promise to spend hours, months, years, practicing until I do. You won’t have any complaints and if you don’t, believe me, babe, I won’t either. A man likes to know his woman is satisfied. In any case, I’ve noticed you tend to follow instructions beautifully when you want to.”
Saria laughed. “Okay then. If you’re sure. Take your bath and I’ll get a few things. Will we be goin’ out tomorrow?”
He nodded. “I want to get my bearings and talk some more to Remy as well as some of the others in the lair. But”—he planted another kiss on her mouth—“not so early this time.”
“I guess you do need to sleep in.”
“I wasn’t intending to sleep,” he admitted.
Saria shook her head, and left him. The tub was deep and wide. He made a mental note to himself that it was large enough for two. One thing about Pauline’s inn, it had plenty of hot water and he sank gratefully into the deep tub. Lacerations stung, but the water was soothing and he closed his eyes and let himself drift.
He was exhausted. It had been a long while since he’d had to fight leopards, and for a test of whether his leg would hold up or not, this had been a baptism by fire. He laughed softly to himself. His doctor had been very specific. Shift—but take his time. Go slowly. Feel the leg out. Make certain it held up before using it strenuously. Somehow he didn’t think he was following the doctor’s orders too closely. Yeah. He was fine. His leopard was fine. The world was right again—well, almost. When he considered there was a psycho serial killer leopard on the loose and an entire out-of-control lair to deal with—maybe things weren’t quite so right. But for now, for tonight, knowing Saria would lie beside him, he’d take whatever peace he could and be damned happy about it.
“Are you plannin’ on stayin’ in the bath all night?”
Saria’s soft voice pulled him out of his revelry. He’d drifted off, floating in hot water that had gone warm on him. He ducked his head under the water to rinse out his hair and came up looking for her. She stood in the doorway, dressed in a short tank top and small pair of boy shorts that clung to her hips and buttocks lovingly.
“You sleeping in that?”
She tugged at the hem of the shirt that didn’t quite cover her belly. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I’ll just have to take it off you in a couple of hours.”
“You want me to go to bed with you naked?”
He stood up, stark naked himself, allowing the water to pour off of his body. “Yes. I want to feel your skin against my skin.”
Saria didn’t avert her eyes. She reached for a towel and instead of handing it to him, when he stepped from the tub, she began to dry him off, her hands gentle as she skimmed the soft material over the lacerations on his chest and belly. When she lingered, he pretended not to notice, standing patiently, waiting for her to claim his body in her own way.
She seemed fascinated and not at all shy. Nervous, yes, but not shy. She stroked the towel down his back and over his buttocks, removing the water drops as she continued down his legs.
“You’re really quite beautiful,” she said. “Very symmetrical.”
He was struck by the tone of her voice. It was factual, observant, almost scientific. He found himself smiling. “Symmetrical?”
She touched his muscles. “Each side is amazingly perfect when the human body isn’t really that way at all.”
“You do know I’m real, don’t you?” He tried not to laugh.
“You’d be perfect to photograph, Drake.”
“It isn’t going to happen, Saria.” He looked down at the expression on her upturned face and he did laugh. Dragging the towel from her hands, he tossed it aside, wrapped his arms around her and walked her backward into the bedroom. “No matter how much you pout, how cute you are, no matter if you’re the sexiest woman alive, the answer is no.”
“Consider that you should do it for art. For science.”
He lifted her easily and tossed her on the bed. “Absolutely, unequivocally, no.” He plunged the room into darkness.