Night Game (GhostWalkers, #3)(90)

“Flame…” he began, at a loss for words. He didn’t talk about feelings. He just felt. “I made love to you. That was me making love to you and maybe you deserved a different initiation, but I meant it as loving you. I’m not all that civilized and I can’t say what I’m feelin’ right all the time, but…”

She turned her head from him and he caught the glitter of tears. “Don’t, Raoul. This is me freaking out, not you doing something wrong.” She drew the sheet around her, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “I’m afraid of you, of how you make me feel. When I’m afraid, I have a tendency to run. And if I can’t run, then I go on the offensive.”

“You’re not embarrassed with me, are you? Because the things we did are natural. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not embarrassed.” And God help her she wanted to do them all again with him. “I’m just—confused. I’ve always had a plan and I’ve always kept on the move. I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know if I can stop, or even if it’s safe to stop, even for a little while.”

“It’s okay to be confused, cher. I can live with confused. I just can’t take you leaving me. Maybe we’re both a little afraid, but I say we give it a try.”

He was standing in front of her, totally naked and comfortable with it, such a temptation to her. It was impossible to be embarrassed around him because he made her feel beautiful and comfortable in her own skin, with her own sexuality. He made no excuses for the things he wanted from her body, but more than that, with the way he looked at her, the look in his eyes hungry and possessive, she couldn’t help but respond.

He held out his hand. “We need to shower. Don’ be worrying about what we can’t change, cher. You don’ throw something like this away.”

“Like this?” she echoed.

He sighed. ‘Why do women always make you say things?” He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “If I’m makin’ love to you, sugah, it’s because I’m in love with you. Come on, you’re still a bit sticky from all that whipped cream.”

Flame didn’t let herself think about the future as the hot water poured over her. Raoul insisted on shampooing her hair, using her broken arm for an excuse, and then he soaped her body, his hands lingering in intimate places. His lovemaking was far gentler without the wild, frantic pace, but no less intense. She wanted to cry with the way he made her feel.

“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered, holding her close to him.

She knew a sound must have escaped without her realizing it. Life wasn’t as easy and laid-back elsewhere as it was in the bayou, but she wasn’t going to think about it anymore. She’d stay with Raoul as long as she could.

The clothes his grandmother had chosen for her were very tasteful and in stark contrast to the strange leather and mesh attire. She wiggled into a powder-blue tank top and frowned at Raoul. “Are you certain you had nothing all to do with that bag of sex toys? I just can’t imagine your grandmother in an adult store. I mean, you are a perv and it had to come from somewhere, but it just doesn’t seem like something she’d do.”

Gator drew his jeans over his hips and buttoned them up, as casual dressing in front of her as he was with his nudity. “Now that you say that, I’ve never had an inkling she even knew there were such things as adults stores, but don’ be selling her short. She wants us together and she’s very shrewd.”

Flame ducked her head. “She wants you to have children. Raoul. She doesn’t want you to be with me. I’m go to tell her the truth. She deserves to know.”

Raoul paused, hands on the last button of his jeans. “Don’ be getting all hot and bothered, cher, but she already knows the truth. I told her a little bit about you when you were in the hospital and I made certain she knew you couldn’t have children.”

“Then why…” She pointed to the candles and the remnants of mesh and leather. “Why would she want us to have any kind of a relationship let alone a permanent one?”

“Because you make me happy.” He said it simply, his dark eyes meeting hers.

Flame shook her head. “You’re such a goof, Raoul. I have no idea why I make you happy. You’re not a very logical person, are you?”

He grinned at her as he scooped up the fur-lined handcuffs. “We’ve still got these, cher. You’ll make me very happy when you’re my little sex slave.” He leered at her and dangled the cuffs.

She started laughing again, shaking her head just like he knew she would. “You’re going to have to help me with the zipper on these jeans.” They were just a little tighter than she normally wore them.

Raoul dropped the cuffs on the bed and crossed the room to stand in front of her, obediently doing the enclosure up for her. She suddenly sucked in her breath. “Too tight?” He stepped back to look at her. “They don’ look too tight.”

“Sex slave.” She repeated the words aloud. “There were tie-downs in that car. And a recorder. It was on when James tore my shirt open.” She looked up at him. knowledge blossoming. “That’s what they’re doing. They drug the girl, have sex with her, and record it, probably really humiliate her and they keep her locked up while they get her addicted to drugs. They’re using her as their own personal sex slave, Raoul. She’s got to be somewhere in the bayou.”