Bay of Sighs (19 page)

“But I want him to have sex with his body.”

“Can't blame you.”

With a nod to Riley, Annika leaned in. “He's brave and strong and kind, and very handsome. But you don't have sex with him.”

“Huh. Okay, yeah, he's a cutie—a hot cutie, and nobody's wimp, but . . . you want who you want, right?”

“Yes.” Pleased, Annika sat back. “It's a mystery of the heart. I want Sawyer, and he wants me. His—your name for it—I can't remember.” She patted her lap.

“Lots of names for that.”

“We'll stick with penis.” On a laugh, Sasha poked Riley's arm.

“His penis gets hard—this is for sex—when we kiss, when he touches me. That's desire, and I see the desire in his eyes. But he doesn't put his penis inside me.”

“Is it just that simple in your world?” Sasha wondered.

“There can be a mating ritual—this is more serious. Or it can be for fun. For the needs.”

“Not so different. Look, this is a good balance here, I think. I'm probably looser about sex than Sasha.”

“Hey.”

“Before Bran,” Riley added.

“All right. Your point.”

“I'm saying Sawyer's code makes his rules—about you—complicated. He doesn't want to take advantage of you, or the situation. That doesn't mean he doesn't want to bang you, or imagine banging you.”

“Bang. Oh! Because the bodies . . .” Amused, Annika banged her hands together. “I like it. It's a fun word. How do I make him, without force, stop imagining and start banging me?”

“Jump him.”

Riley blinked. “Wow. You surprise me, Sash.”

“Called me a tight-ass.”

“Didn't, could have. Yeah, I'd go with jumping him.”

“As in combat?”

“No. You make the moves. You go to him, initiate the . . . banging,” Sasha decided. “You close the door, and you take off your clothes. Then, if necessary, you take off his.”

“Go, Sash.”

“Tight-ass no more,” Sasha said with a smirk. “I wouldn't suggest this if I hadn't felt how much he wants you, Anni. It was so strong, I couldn't not feel it. I don't intrude, I promise.”

“It's a code, I know. But you felt his desire for me?”

“Yes. And his struggle to control it.”

“So I make it so he can stop the struggle.” Because her heart started to beat harder, Annika pressed a hand to it. “This is allowed?”

“Even encouraged.” When the waiter came back, Riley sent him that hey-baby smile.

He showered flirtation on all three as he set down the next round, along with a little plate and a small platter heaped with cakes and pastries.

“Belle donne.”
He kissed his fingertips. “It is my pleasure to give you service.”

Riley watched him walk away. “Maybe I should rethink—”

“No,” Sasha said definitely.

“Easy for you to say; hate that you're right. But there's always pastries.”

“Can I help Sawyer with his struggle, jump him, so he bangs me tonight?”

“Your choice.” After a quick scan, Riley snagged a
zeppole
from the platter. “But we need him to make the bugs.”

After some hard thought, Annika nodded. “This is more important than banging. But if he finishes the bugs?”

“Jump away. What's that one?” Sasha pointed.

“If it looks good, what do you care what it's called?
Bombolone
. Think of it as a world-class donut. Here.” She picked up a pastry, a little frosted cake, set them on Annika's plate. “You'll like them. Now it's a party.”

“I love parties. Thank you for helping me understand the rules and the codes of banging.”

“I don't think you'll need it, but—” Sasha took Annika's hand. “Good luck.”

“Now eat and drink up, ladies. We've got a meet in about twenty minutes.”

“On the way to that, or to the house, we can shop?”

Before Riley could object, Sasha nodded. “Actually, I think we have to. We can't go back without some evidence we did what we said we were doing.”

“Crap. But it's the lightning round of shopping. Fast,” Riley explained.

“Oh, I can be fast.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll believe it when I see it.”

T
hey came back loaded. Maybe Annika didn't hit Riley's goal of lightning round, but she managed to buy earrings—two pair—sandals—one with five-inch heels she navigated as if born in them—a tiny purse that would hold little more than air, but had a seashell clasp that charmed her, and three new dresses.

Together, they hiked the slope back carting shopping bags, Sawyer's parts, and three large pizzas.

“Where the hell are you going to wear those heels?” Riley demanded.

“She's going to wear them when she seduces Sawyer. She's going to walk in on them, take off her dress, and stand there wearing just the heels.”

“You may be new at this, Sasha, but you've got skills, and you've got strategies.”

“I had such fun! Your new earrings are so pretty on you, Riley.”

With a shrug, Riley accepted her own weakness. “In a fight, all the opponent has to do is grab one and pull.”

“They look pretty. So do Sasha's, and Sasha will look beautiful in her new dress and the sandals. You should have bought the new dress I showed you, Riley.”

“I don't have a man to seduce.”

“You have a very good body. It's small and strong and agile, and your breasts are lovely.”

“Well, that doesn't get me laid, but thanks.”

“In my world both male and female would very much wish to bang you.”

So they walked into the house laughing, and drew Bran in from where he'd tried not to worry.

“Successful shopping, it seems.”

“Excellent shopping, and pizza as promised.” Sasha lifted her face for a kiss.

“I'll take the pizza into the kitchen. Doyle's in the grove, or was. Sawyer's outside, working on the plans for whatever you brought for him.”

“Riley can take that out.” Subtly Sasha gave Annika a nudge. “We'll just go up, put away our shopping extravaganza.”

“This is strategy?” Annika asked as they started up.

“Give him a little time to miss you, to wonder where you are. Don't wear the heeled sandals yet. Save those for impact.”

“It's like a game.”

“A little bit, but one where you both get to win.”

At the door to her room, Annika put down her bags to hug Sasha tight. “Thank you. You and Riley are my sisters in this world, and in mine.”

“I've learned what family is from you, from all of you. When this is done, I'm going to try to use everything I've learned with my own mother. I'll see you downstairs.”

“You should wear your new dress.”

At the door to her room, Sasha paused, smiled. “You know, you're right. I'll put on my new dress.”

A
nnika understood games, and she understood rituals. She'd watched three of her sisters execute mating rituals. It involved flirtation, pretending disinterest, then flirtation.

Though she knew Sawyer couldn't be her life mate, she loved, would always love, so the ritual could be allowed on her part.

She changed—not into her new dress because Sasha should shine in hers. But she used the lip color and the brush with color on her lashes as she knew women did to look even prettier.

After she went down, she made—as Sasha had taught her—a
pitcher of sparkling fruit juice. On a tray she arranged the pitcher, glasses, and the bowl that held ice if needed.

Sawyer sat at the table under the pergola, with the things Riley found for him, a drawing he'd made, a kind of tool that reminded her a little of a gun.

Since Doyle sat across, watching Sawyer work, she smiled, carried the tray over.

“I made cold drinks because you'll want beer with the pizza in a little while. Bran will make it hot again for dinner. Is this the bug?” she asked while she poured the drinks.

“It will be. I need to attach this capacitor—”

“Is that a flux capacitor?” Riley called down from her terrace.

“Hah. Just need a DeLorean. Got enough here to build three room transmitters, so we'll need to figure out where they'll do the most good.”

“How did you learn to do this?” Doyle wondered.

“Curiosity, I guess. I took apart this old radio, then an old answering machine, one of my broken remote-control cars, stuff like that. Figured out how to work them together to play spy. This'll be a little more sophisticated. But it's pretty down and dirty.”

“You need dirt?”

“No, it's an . . .” Sawyer glanced up at Annika. “Ah, you look good. I mean, you always look good, but—”

“Thank you.” She trailed a finger over his shoulders as she walked behind him. Then sat on the edge of the table, her back to him as she faced Doyle.

Yes, she knew the ritual.

“You drive the boat very well.”

“Good thing.”

“It's a very good thing. Maybe you could teach me. I like to learn. And in return, I can teach you to do the handsprings.”

“I do handsprings, I can't hold a sword.”

“I can teach you to do it with one hand only. You're strong.” Deliberately, she reached over, tapped his biceps. “You could spring with only one hand, so your sword sweeps at the legs, and your feet kick the face.”

“One hand?”

“Yes, I can teach you. And the running up a wall, both hands free, to flip back? It would be useful to you in combat. Would you like me to show you?”

“Sure. I'm up for something new.”

When he rose to go with her to the strip of lawn, he glanced back at a scowling Sawyer, then up at Riley. She grinned, then leaned on the rail to enjoy the show.

She heard Sawyer curse. “Problem, cowboy?”

“Nothing. Just a little burn.”

She watched Annika, dress billowing down toward her head, gorgeous legs flashing up in the spring.

“I bet,” Riley said, and grinned again.

S
awyer worked through it. Riley had come through with what he needed, now he'd use it to make what they all wanted.

He did his best to concentrate, to ignore Annika's instructions to Doyle, Doyle's comments back.

And her laugh. Doyle—not much of a laugher—sure seemed to be having a hell of a fucking good time.

Cut it out, he warned himself when he felt annoyance and outright jealousy crawling over his skin. He had a job to do, worlds to save, and couldn't be worried about part of his team tumbling around on the stupid lawn.

Maybe he'd like to learn how to do a one-handed handspring. Doyle wasn't the only one with upper-body strength.

Maybe Doyle had the kind of upper-body strength that bench-pressed Toyotas, but still.

He tried to settle down. No point in singeing his fingers with the soldering gun again because he was watching them instead of what he was doing.

Then Sasha came out, sat beside him. “We figured pizza in about an hour, if that works for you.”

Grunting, he finished wrapping enameled wire around a bolt, cutting off the ends. “I want to keep at this,” he said, and stripped the ends of the wire. “I can take it inside, grab a slice.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head, picked up the soldering iron to solder the stripped ends to his new, tiny circuit board. “Really a one-man job.”

“If you— Well, wow!

“Wow, what?”

“Doyle just did a handspring, but with one hand.”

He looked up in time to see Annika give Doyle a congratulatory hug. “Great.”

By the time he'd finished building two listening devices, on a table in the living area where he had room and some damn quiet, the moon was up, the stars out. And he needed a break.

He walked outside, and down, sat on the steps to look out at the sea.

“How did it go?”

He glanced back and up, saw Bran on the terrace. “I got two done, and tested. I need—”

“Wait, I'll come down.”

When Bran came out, he sat on the steps, passed Sawyer a beer. “Sasha said you stuck with water or caffeine during the build. I thought you could use this now.”

“Yeah, I can, thanks. Needed a break. It's not complicated so much as exacting, especially when it's makeshift. I could work on the last one tonight, but I think I'd start getting sloppy. We can wait until tomorrow night to plant them, or go with two.”

“We talked about it at dinner, already opted for tomorrow night. Don't push yourself tonight.”

“Appreciate it.” Content with the company, with the beer, Sawyer turned his mind on the what's next. “I can get us inside Malmon's villa, no problem. Since we won't have to deal with windows or doors to get in, we don't have to worry about an alarm system. But if they run to motion detectors, that's a problem.”

“Ah.” With a nod, Bran leaned back against the steps, looked up at the star-strewn sky and the waxing moon. “And one none of us considered.”

Since the decision to check out Malmon's villa, Sawyer had considered a lot. “Or internal cameras, that's another. If I knew, one, they had motion detector alarms or security cameras, and two, what type, and three, where the system's based, I could maybe bypass.”

Amusement had Bran's scarred eyebrow lifting. “Is that the case then?”

On a quick laugh, Sawyer lifted the beer. “I don't make breaking and entering a habit, but it's good to know things, and how things work. You can bank on Malmon installing that kind of security while he's in there. We don't know if it's already there. And if I'd thought of it before, maybe Riley could have found out.”

“She may still—we'll tap her on it. Otherwise, we take our chances, I think. If we set off any alarms, we can be out again before anyone checks.”

“I can probably make it look like a glitch. But the cameras—”

“I can find a way to deal with those, if there are any to deal with.”

“All right. If we're back around five like usual tomorrow, I'll have the third one done before sundown.”

“More than soon enough, as we think to wait until about midnight. Doyle wants a look at the grounds as well, and we'd want quiet and privacy for that.”

“Can't forget what Doyle wants.”

Bran took a contemplative sip of his own beer. “Problem with Doyle, is there?”

“No. No . . . No problem.”

To Bran, three “nos” in succession meant yes. “I see he's learned some new moves from Annika.”

“What— Moves?” Sawyer's head swiveled so fast, Bran wondered it didn't twist off like a bottle cap. “Oh, right, right. The famous one-handed handspring.”

“A forward one, yes. She claims she can teach him a backward one in no time. There's affection and admiration from him to her and back again. And,
mo chara
, if you think there's more than that on either side, you're, well, a git, that's all. She's yours, but for the asking. And now, since I've a mind to have my own woman, I'll say good night to you. And sleep well,” he added as he rose to go inside.

His for the asking, Sawyer thought and glugged down more beer. Not how it looked, not how it felt right at the moment. Besides, asking didn't seem right. She was new to this world. She still got words mixed up, had to have things explained to her. How could it be right to ask her to sleep with him?

Added to that, which was more than enough to his mind, she only had three months—less than two and a half now, he remembered—before she had to go back to the sea.

He was very much afraid if he asked, if he took, if he had her, he'd never in all his life—wherever and whenever he went—get over her.

He should never have touched her in the first place, given them both ideas. The simple solution? Don't touch her again. God knew they had enough to do, to risk without adding in sex and heartbreak.

He rose, took the beer with him to his room. Opened the door, and nearly dropped the bottle.

She sat on the side of his bed, got to her feet as he stood there.

“I waited for you.”

“Okay.” Carefully, he set the beer aside. “Do you need something?”

“Yes. So do you, I think. And so I waited for you.”

Watching his face, she lifted her hands, nudged the two thin straps from her shoulders, and with a kind of shrug had the dress pooling at her feet.

The single thought that shot through his head was: I'm a dead man. In a fumbling rush, he shut the door.

“Annika, don't . . .”

Words slipped away as she stepped out of the discarded dress and stood, lithe and lean and lovely in shoes that were nothing but a few bright red straps and high, thin heels.

“You desire me.” She took a step toward him. “I desire you. Will you take what I offer you? Will you offer me what I ask?”

He knew there were reasons, but he couldn't find and hold a single one. “I'm supposed to—”

“Lie with me,” she said, and took another step. And her eyes, just her eyes, bewitching green, destroyed him. “Mate with me.” And another step. “Be with me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed that long, beautiful body against his, and took his mouth.

Long, warm, slow, deep, she twisted him into knots, then set the knots on fire. Her fingers dived into his hair, gripped him there while his defenses crumbled to dust. Before he could find the will, the reason, to shore them up again, she slid her leg up his and breached the wall.

He surrendered to her, surrendered to his own spiraling lust. Screw the rules, he thought. Screw the risks. He pulled her closer, gripped her hair, all that wonderful hair.

They'd break them and they'd take them together.

When he backed her toward the bed, she lowered her hands to tug up his shirt.

“I want to see you, touch you. All of you. I need to take your clothes off.”

“Yeah, yeah, we'll do that. Just let me . . .” As they fell on the bed, his hands ran over her. Soft, smooth, sublime. “Annika. Just let me.”

It was everything she'd imagined, everything she'd hoped for. This freedom he'd never given her before, the full passions in the way his hands took and touched, and the wild hunger of his mouth as it . . . fed on hers with teeth, tongue, lips.

No one had ever kissed her just like this. With such appetite.

Eager to give him more, she pressed up against him where she felt the hardness, and he moaned against her breast as if in pain, but the kind of pain that spoke of need.

So she arched her hips against him again, felt a jolt in her own center, and a kind of lovely, lovely clutching.

The muscles in his back, his arms—all so different when lying on a bed—the softness under her, the hard over her, caused such
feelings
inside her.

Though she'd never undressed a man, it couldn't be so different from undressing herself—and she so much wanted to have his body, without the clothes, against hers. She reached for his belt, trying to stem her excitement so her fingers could work on the buckle.

“Maybe just hold on there,” he murmured, “or it'll be over awfully quick.”

Her hands went still. “Can it only be once?”

The sound he made, a mixture of laugh and groan, puzzled her.

“No. Not just once.”

“Then it can be quick this time.” Her need was now, now, now, so she pulled the belt free. “I want to know. It's the first I've mated with legs.”

Breathless, next to desperate, he forced himself to stop. “The first?” Of course it was the first, for Christ's sake. “Does that mean, you're . . . Would it be like your first time? Ever?”

“Oh, you mean do I still have the shield?” She dragged him back again. “No. This part is the same. But the legs, the bed, your legs. It's different. It's new. I want you between my legs. I want you inside me, between my legs. I want to know, Sawyer. With you.” Filled with those wants, with those jolts, she took his mouth again. “Only you.”

She started to tug his jeans down.

“I've still got boots on. Wait.” He rolled, sat up. As he dragged violently at his boots, she reared up, circled him from behind, drove him closer, closer to madness with her mouth at his neck, her hands running over his chest.

Freed, finally, of boots, jeans, everything, he turned toward her. She stayed on her knees, her hair spilling like ink down her back, over one shoulder. Her gaze traveled down his chest, down. And she smiled.

“You're beautiful, and strong.” Reaching out, she trailed her fingers over his shaft, made his blood thrum. A thousand strings plucked at once.

“This is pleasure?”

“I don't think they've come up with a word for what I'm feeling.”

Still smiling, she lay back, her hair spread over the white sheets in long, rich rivers. A perfect gift, offered without guile or artifice.

“Mate with me, please. Put your pleasure inside me.”

She dazzled him, undid him, and in that moment owned him.

He lowered to her and, struggling to take care, to go slow in case she was wrong and it would be like her first time, began to enter the hot and wet.

“Oh. Oh.” Her fingers gripped his arm, nails digging in as she shuddered. And she cried out, with her eyes full of wonder. “But this . . . this comes at the end. It's the end?”

“No, it's not the end.” Every muscle trembled as he braced himself over her. “Do you want to come again? Feel that again?”

“I can? Yes. Yes.”

She made a sound, low in her throat, when he went deeper.

He held there, strained to just hold there until her hips began to rise and fall.

“I need to . . . I need to.”

“That's right.” His lips skimmed light over hers. “Do what you
need.” Then he used his tongue, roughened the kiss when she came again, cried out against his mouth.

He thrust once, hard, deep, and she gasped, she arched.

“Yes. Again. Again.”

So he rode her, fast, hard. Just let himself take.

She felt that ending that wasn't an ending with him rise up in her again. As it flooded her, she threw her arms back, hooked her legs around his waist, moved with him, mated with him, flew along the wave, then the next.

Then what rose in her was more, more than pleasure and joy, more than all she'd ever known. She shuddered with it, and he shuddered with her.

When the true end came, it swept her into another world, one beyond beauty.

Even when he caught his breath, and that took a while, his heartbeat sang in his ears. When he rolled off her, she rolled with him, nuzzled up beside him.

And that felt exactly right.

“You're pleased with me?”

“Anni, there isn't a word big enough for what I am with you right now.”

“I'm the same for you. Making sex with legs is different. And with you, it's more. You have a very good penis.”