Give Me Fever

by Karen Anders

  “Take me there now. I want to see it through your eyes first, Christien.”

  His face softened, his eyes unfocusing as he slipped into the past. In a deep, seductive voice, he said, “I guess dawn would have to be the best time for me. My dad used to take me crayfishing. We’d maneuver our pirogue out into the bayou, travel for about an hour in the predawn light, crisscross a maze of waterways, cut through dense curtains of willows and hardwood trees with clinging, tattered moss.

  “We didn’t talk. We’d just listen to the song of the bayou. Gulls flocked in the air as my dad dipped his paddle into the thick, muddy water. Dawn crept silently up into the trees. Through the misty air, the reddish earth and the gray-green country looked like a dreamscape.

  “So many different trees—cypress, sweet gum, persimmon and water locust. Their branches and leaves mingled in a living canopy overhead.

  “As we moved deeper into the bayou, it’s as if the world slipped away. The place renewed my body and spirit. Maybe what people say about the swamps is true—it’s full of magic.”

  “It sounds so beautiful.”

  “You’ve never been out in the bayou?”

  “No, I’ve always been a bit afraid of the water snakes and the alligators.”

  “Ah, no, chère. All part of the wild beauty of the bayou. They belong there and we visit. Little ole gators won’t bother you. As long as you respect them, they’ll respect you.”

  “I have a full and lingering respect for little ole gators, thank you very much. But I have to say that the picture you paint is beautiful, something I would love to experience with you, Christien.”

  “Then we will, Tally. I promise.”

  A breeze blew across her heated skin and her nipples puckered. Very gently, he trailed his fingertip from her cheekbone all the way to the hard tip of her nipple.

  “So far, you’ve made me scream out your name. How about I get to experience my other fantasy?”

  “Which one would that be?”

  “Running my mouth and my hands all over you.”

  “Okay, but only for about a hundred years. Then you’ll have to stop.”

  Lifting herself up, she slipped her pelvis over his hips.

  “You want to do it from that vantage point, huh?”

  “Yes, I want to watch your face.” She gasped as his cock lengthened and hardened beneath her. “Oh, hey, didn’t you say something about riding a guy won’t get me the results I want? Hmmm. It seems you were wrong about that.”

  “I’m very glad to be wrong.”

  Christien chuckled and tried to reach out for her, but she grasped his wrists and pulled them over his head, trailing her hands down the soft skin on the inside of his wrist and over his forearms and rock-hard biceps. “Oh, please, keep those wonderful hands to themselves. I don’t want to be distracted.”

  She smoothed her palms over his shoulders, down his taut pectoral muscles, the heated velvet of his skin tingling against hers.

  She pressed her clit to his scorching cock, which did absolutely nothing to relieve the insistent ache and throbbing in her pelvis. “Touching you like this is getting me so very wet, Christien.”

  He made a deep sound in his throat. Leaning down, she flicked her tongue over the flat disk of his nipple and his hips surged off the bed. “Oooh, sensitive there. That’s hot, soooo…” she flicked him again “…very…” once again just to feel him thrash and hear that delicious sound of surrender from him again “…hot.” She did it again and he twisted under her mouth, his groan rumbling in his chest. Closing her lips over that bead, she sucked him hard.

  “What would it feel like to have my mouth around your cock like this, Christien?”

  “Vous êtes massacre je,” he said, translated into, “You’re killing me.”

  “Ah, j’ai seulement commencé.” Tally said, telling him she was just beginning her exploration.

  “You’re going to make me come if you keep talking to me like that.”

  “Oh, that won’t do,” she said softly, trailing her lips down his rippled abdomen, kissing each heated ridge, each satiny valley. The closer she moved toward his groin, the more restless he became. Slipping her hand around his thick shaft, she tightened her fist. “Tell me what you want, sugar.”

  “Take my cock in your mouth and suck me,” he demanded.

  She did as he asked, causing his hips to roll and a guttural moan to issue from his mouth. She swirled her tongue over the plump, sensitive crown of his cock, pulling him into her mouth, all the way to the base of his shaft. She sucked him hard and strong, leading him to the brink of ecstasy, and then pushed him over the edge into a frenzied rush of satisfaction.

  He growled her name, his entire body shuddering as he came in a long, thick stream, his climax so all-consuming and powerful that it left him gasping for breath.

  Tally was throbbing, her clit full and engorged. Reaching down, she had to relieve herself, but Christien rose up and slipped his hands under her arms, dragging her up his body. “Come here, bruja, and ride my mouth.”

  “Calling me a witch, are you?” she gasped. Her hot, dazed eyes going over that delectable mouth, the soft lips ready to give her body the release it was clamoring for.

  She eased herself forward and straddled his head, giving him open contact to her engorged sex. She braced her hands on the small windowsill in front of her to steady herself.

  She whimpered as he nuzzled and kissed the inside of her thigh, called out when his breath gusted over her wet, swollen flesh and, when he finally tasted her with a slow, intentional lick, she screamed his name for the second time as he swirled his tongue around her clit and gave her body what it ultimately craved.

  His fingers tightened around her thighs, holding her while he took her greedily with his mouth. His tongue was hot and aggressive, ruthless and demanding, unfurling deep and stroking and suckling with insatiable hunger. Another thrust of his tongue, and a lusty moan ripped from her as she climaxed in wild, exquisite abandon.

  He didn’t let her go right away. He lapped at her more slowly now, drawing out her pleasure, forcing her to endure, to ride out her release until the last small spasms jerked through her spent body, only then did he take his hands from her thighs, and she slid down to his side.

  Snuggling into the crook of his arm, she closed her eyes, melting instantly into tears. Words deserted her. There was only twisted-up raw emotion. It was enough for her just to touch him, feel his body fitting against hers, to stare into his eyes. Two halves of a prefect whole. The wonder of it made her tremble.

  She could not help giving him what he needed. She wanted to heal all his wounds, fulfill all his dreams—too bad she just didn’t believe in them.

  TALLY JERKED OUT of a nightmare, one full of hazy terrors and the unknown, words whispered in her brain. He’s going to ruin everything. He’s going to break a heart you can’t afford to have broken again. It was smart to keep it free of entanglements. Ambition is all that you need. It’ll sustain you.

  She looked at his solemn face and her heart melted. He was relaxed in sleep, but still that raw male magnetism radiated around him. His hair lay in tangled disarray, dark and rich against the white bed linens, a lone strand across his cheek. She reached out and captured it, her fingers rasping against the five o’clock shadow outlining his strong jaw, and rubbed the silky strand between her thumb and forefinger.

  His broad shoulders took up a lot of space. Her eyes trailed to his rock-solid chest, his taut stomach bare to the night and her prying eyes.

  She released the strand and backed out of bed being as quiet as possible so as not to wake him. Finding her clothes in the dark, she dressed, her heart pounding, her heart telling her to get back into that bed and her head yelling at her to get out and go home where she could think more clearly.

  Determined to leave before her emotions got any more tangled up in this brief fling, she wheeled toward the door, but stopped and turned back. Biting her lip in indecision, she trembled in the
room. Backing away, she broke that mesmerizing hold he had on her and slipped out of his bedroom and his apartment. With her keys in hand, she headed to her car.

  Despite looking for an unforgettable sexual encounter, she feared she’d gotten way more than she’d bargained for with Christien Castille.

  On her way home, Tally passed the Count’s quiet piazza. The gaping hole where the tree had been made her feel even more melancholy.

  Tally let herself into her town house, her heart aching already. She was walking toward the kitchen light switch when she hit a solid barrier of cold that chilled her to the core. Her heart climbed into her throat and she stumbled backward. Light illuminated the room in a blinding flash. A man stood before her, but he wasn’t dressed in modern clothes.

  Her jaw dropped at the solidness of his presence, making the hair on her whole body rise as if charged by what felt like electricity filling the room.

  “I understand you’re looking for my treasure,” the apparition said.

  Tally retreated quickly, her heel catching on the carpet, landing her soundly on her backside.

  7

  A SOUND WOKE HIM AND EVEN before Christien was aware of that soft noise, he instinctively knew that Tally was gone. The sheets were still warm from her body heat. The other evidence that she’d even been in his bed were the tangled covers and the scent of sex.

  Glancing at the digital display on his clock radio, Christien saw that it was just past five.

  He rolled to his back, scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw and cursed vividly.

  Tally was making a statement here, one he wasn’t too dense to understand. She wanted a fling. Nothing more. Yet she’d asked him some pretty personal questions and her interest in him hadn’t been an act. Tally was a myriad of contradictions. Though, simply put, he wanted her to want more with him.

  He wasn’t moved at all by the female attention he’d gotten in the Spirit of Fluxus last night. Part of the reason had to do with the fact that he was working, but the biggest part had to do with Tally.

  From the moment he’d seen her wheeling around the tables at Café Eros, he’d been intrigued by her mixture of sweetness and sass. In the past, he’d have been grateful for a woman to spare him the awkward after-sex morning by hightailing it out of his apartment in the middle of the night.

  But not today. Today he had half a mind to get up, go over to her town house. He’d wanted to savor waking up with her, making breakfast for her, and having some time to connect before he started another day.

  But he also knew that getting into someone’s face wasn’t going to get him what he wanted. Tally was independent. The harsh realities of her early life had fashioned Tally into the woman she was today.

  There were no easy answers, just a voice in his head that told him that Tally was worth his time and effort. Whatever was between them had the potential of developing into something stronger and bigger than the both of them if nurtured slowly and carefully—with a little bit of romance and a whole lot of trust.

  No problem on the romance-and-trust front. But the patience that going slowly required, well, his track record didn’t bode well for his success in that department.

  He threw off the covers and grabbed for a pair of jeans.

  Before his hand closed over the denim, his cell phone rang.

  Christien searched for the phone. “Castille,” he said when he’d finally flipped the phone open!

  “Christien, our boy is on the prowl,” his former colleague said.

  “Where?”

  “Meet me in the Garden District at Vine and Plantation.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  After throwing on clothes, Christien jumped into the seat of his car. Dropping his cell phone into the pocket of his leather jacket, he thought he should talk to Tally about where they were headed.

  He couldn’t remember being this edgy or pumped up over a woman before, but with his sick sense of humor, it served him right and he was kinda turned on by it. Pursuing someone who was so worth the heartache that could be waiting for him at the end of it all stirred his blood in a way that he hadn’t ever experienced before. It made him feel alive and vibrant, as if he could take on the world and win.

  He loved living in the French Quarter except in the high tourist season. He took Canal to St. Charles and was soon in the Garden District.

  Jim Carter pushed away from his parked car when Christien pulled up. They greeted each other with a handshake.

  “What’s up?” Christien asked.

  Jim gestured toward the majestic house in front of him. “He was casing the place.”

  “He’s finally making a move?”

  “Looks like it. He’s been waiting six months, but the compulsion to steal again must be taking its toll,” Jim said, leaning against the car once again.

  “He still has no idea we’re keeping tabs on him.”

  “No. He doesn’t seem to have a clue.”

  “You’ll check out the owners tomorrow and let me know what you find out?” Christien asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I bet there’s an older woman living there.”

  Jim gave his friend a sly look and rolled his eyes. “I don’t take sucker bets.”

  “Thanks for staying on him. I know it plays havoc with your personal life, Jim.”

  “Christien, when are you going to stop being a jackass and get back on the force?”

  “I’m not coming back.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I know you love the job.”

  “Is that your way of telling me you miss me, Carter?”

  “Screw off, Castille. I’ll call you tomorrow with the particulars.”

  Christien got in his car and headed back to his apartment—maybe he could catch a couple more hours of sleep.

  TALLY SAT ON THE FLOOR looking up at Captain Gabriel Dampier in the…er…Oh God, it was his actual ghost.

  “Speak up, girl. Come now, you cannot possibly be surprised. You have seen me and heard me before.”

  She had. It was true, but having him stand in front of her and address her was a bit disconcerting to say the least. Surely, he had to give her a moment to take it all in.

  His attire was vastly different from what he wore in the mural on the Café Eros wall. He appeared in a pair of fawn breeches and black knee-high boots; Hessians, Tally was sure they were called. The white billowing shirt with lace at the cuffs and the crimson long coat were all pirate. Captain Dampier was extremely attractive for a dead guy; the mural and all the paintings she had stored in the attic didn’t do him justice.

  The gray eyes that regarded her were as deep and subtle as smoke from a wildfire. The face exquisitely male and finely formed; a cool sulky mouth, an aquiline profile; and a sure intelligence in the assessing look he gave her. The harsh light behind him lit a smoldering halo of reddish-gold around his black hair.

  She swallowed hard and swallowed again. She had his features. Why had she never seen it in the paintings and the mural? How had she not seen that she and Bree carried the exotic Mediterranean French ancestry in their very genes, genes shared with this man?

  He was their beginning, the man who’d formed their line and was responsible for her very existence; and, against her will, she felt a…connection that had existed long before she had seen or heard him. She’d only become aware of it just now.

  He braced his hands on his thighs and gazed down at her.

  Trembling inside from either excitement or terror, she couldn’t be sure, she straightened her shoulders, attempting at least the image of composure.

  Tally pushed up from the floor and gave in to her curiosity. She reached out, but her hand went right through him. “You look so real.”

  He smiled. “Alas, I am not.”

  “I feel like I should offer you something to drink.”

  “Aye, good ale would go down nicely. But it would be a waste. I would not taste a thing.”

  “Too bad,” Tally said, moving into
the living room on shaky legs. She needed to sit down before she fell down again.

  “It is. But getting landlocked in Court du Chaud was a tangle of my own making.” He followed her into the room. There was an efficient grace to his movement, a swing and balance that seemed to assess the ground beneath him, to interpret and exploit terrain instead of merely walk upon it, like the innate ability of a man who sailed through storm-tossed seas and rolling waves.

  “Are you talking about the curse you’re under?” she asked as he made a gesture and the bench slid away from the piano all by itself. He settled on the polished wood.

  “Yes, indeed, the deuced curse. How do you know about that?”

  Tally closed her gaping mouth and swallowed hard. “My uncle told me.”

  “And he came by the information how?”

  “Passed down through the generations of our family. All your descendants knew about the curse.”

  “And about the treasure. Tell me what you have done to secure it.”

  “You don’t mind that I’m looking for it?”

  “No. I led you to the journal, did I not?” He spread his arms. “Besides, what am I going to do with it? It’s fitting that one of my descendants should possess it. How much progress have you made? Tell me, girl.”

  “None, actually, but now that you’re here, you can just tell me where it is.”

  “I cannot do that for I do not recollect where I hid it. It’s been two hundred years after all. Where is the map?” He frowned at her as if she were a navigational chart that had proved to be grossly inaccurate. “Explain this folly.”

  “My brother took it. He’s disappeared and won’t return my phone calls.”

  “Does he know what he possesses?”

  “No.”

  “What steps have you taken to secure the missing map?”

  “I’ve hired a private detective two days ago.”

  “Private detective?” He looked at her with a puzzled frown.

  “A private detective takes money to find missing people.”

  “A mercenary, then?”

  A knock sounded on her door. The captain seemed quite unconcerned.