his fingers around her opening and leaned down to sip at the nectar. “Tell me what you want.”
“I need to come.”
He stroked her with his tongue and then raked her with his teeth. Suckled and then pulled back to rub his face on her inner thighs. “I don’t think I believe you.” He blew warm air on her and then started all over again.
Only when she was writhing, hips bucking, and he heard that soft little panicked note in her voice did he send her crashing over the edge. Breezy wasn’t absolutely quiet when she came, but the sounds she made were always low and musical. He loved hearing them. Sometimes he wondered if he initiated sex so much just to hear those sounds.
She lay stretched out on the bar, her body rippling with pleasure, fighting to get her breath back. One hand went to his hair, fingers sliding in, and everything in him went still. It was the first time she’d really touched him of her own accord. The way she used to. She could communicate love with just one caress of her fingers. This touch was natural to her and had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with love.
She could convey her emotions so easily, so much so that to him, she was an open book. The way her fingers moved through his hair meant everything to him. He wanted time to stand still so that moment would last forever. His chest hurt. Ached. The pressure was unbelievable, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t move. Not as long as those fingers stroked little caresses in his hair.
TEN
The pool was heated. On the northern California coast it had to be if they were going to use it much, and Steele knew Breezy liked to swim. He’d discovered that little nugget of information on a warm day when she’d looked longingly at the river and told him one of her longtime wishes before she died was to own a pool where she could swim every day. The pool had been a requirement when he’d looked for a home.
He spent most of his time stretched out on a lounge chair, watching her swim laps. The way her body sliced through the water, as if she was a little fish, fascinated him. But everything about Breezy always had. Why she gave him everything he asked, he didn’t know, other than it was in her nature. Giving her everything was something he intended to do, and watching her sudden smile at him when she rose up out of the water, the happiness on her face, made him realize giving to Breezy was going to be his greatest joy.
He wanted to talk about their son, but he knew she was holding herself together by a thread. She didn’t even mention his name if she could help it. As much as it cost him waiting to know every detail about the boy, he had to curb his impatience and give her this time, this small reprieve before they hit the road and tore through Louisiana looking for Zane. The way she’d cried, her heart clearly broken, had reached into him and slipped the lock he kept on the door where the monster resided.
He closed his eyes against the sun. His captors, the guards, the trainers, so brutal, had won in the end. He’d been sensitive, a healer. Now he was a killer. A monster. He had the ability to shut down all feeling and become something else. Something no human being could possibly be. To get his son back, he would become what he detested. The thing he knew his captors had tried to shape him into and he had resisted for so long. Until … Until he had gone insane and the monster had emerged for his survival.
He thought about that while he listened to the sound of the water playing over Breezy’s skin. Survival instincts were strong in him or, like the other children who had succumbed to the torture, he would be dead. If he had died, he would never have met Breezy. He wouldn’t have a son. He wouldn’t be lying in the sun, hearing his woman as she emerged from the pool and tried to sneak up on him. He wouldn’t feel so alive and so happy.
Cold water hit his warm skin and then she was in his lap, laughing, her wet body stretched out over his. He brought his arms up as she buried her face