by Isabo Kelly
“You don’t need to thank me,” she said, stepping back so he was forced to drop his hand. “I don’t like the idea of goblins running around the city unchecked.”
He didn’t allow her to get more than a few feet away before he closed the distance again and pulled her close, holding her near with one hand against the small of her back. Even as her heart thundered blood through her veins and heat raced across her body, her mind whined at being turned into little more than a prostitute.
Defensively, she shoved at his chest and tried not to notice how solidly muscled he felt through his shirt. “What do you think you’re doing, Marin?”
“I’m thanking you, Victoria. And I’m apologizing for the other day.”
“You did both already.” She pushed harder, but he held her tight. “Let go, Marin. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
His chuckle rumbled against her hands. When he brought his mouth close to hers, Vic felt her willpower waning. The last thing her body wanted was free of Jacob’s embrace. His kiss was so soft compared to the strength in the single arm that held her against his torso, Vic almost forgot to breathe.
As his kiss deepened, Vic’s mind suddenly produced an image of Mar parading in front of the Hawk’s patrons, then her thoughts leapt to the faces of the whores she knew. Each face held that same emotional distance, the cold, determined separation of body and heart. A separation she knew she couldn’t manage.
Roughly, she pushed away from Jacob, retreating to put distance between their bodies. “Listen, Marin,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I’m not here to be your evening’s entertainment. Or to help you forget your real love for a few hours. I’m not one of your faithful trollops, at your disposal for the price of a flower every time you need to get laid.
“I came here—against my boss’s orders—to give you information I thought important to the realm. If you’re not going to take me seriously, you can find out about the damned goblins and magicians yourself!” She spun back toward the balcony doors.
“Enough!”
His bellow ricocheted off the walls. He stopped her just short of the balcony doors, lifted her off the ground and unceremoniously dropped her onto his bed.
She gasped at his rough handling.
“Now, little thief, you’re going to sit there and listen very closely while I explain a few things.”
She started to launch up, but he leaned against the bed, his hands on the mattress, caging her in. His closeness forced her to lean backward.
“First of all, despite the rumors you may have heard, I do not jump into bed with every woman I meet.” He leaned closer. “Second, also contrary to popular opinion, I have never, ever taken any of my affairs lightly or with the casual disregard you seem to think me so readily capable of.”
Again, he leaned closer, forcing her back onto her elbows.
“Third, for reasons of which I’m sure we’re both quite aware, I’ve not even attempted an involvement with a woman for over two years—until now. That, plus the fact that I know where you carry at least three of your knives, ensures that I take you very, very seriously.”
She stared up into his hard, dark eyes, the set line of his mouth, the slight crease between his brows. And suddenly, she began to giggle. She couldn’t help herself. “Which three?” she asked through a grin.
His expression softened, a crooked, sexy smile replacing his serious frown. That look made her heart start to hammer. Hooking one finger into the neck of her shirt, he stood and pulled her into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. They locked gazes as Jacob’s hand slid down her right arm. He lifted her elbow and broke eye contact only long enough to slip his free hand under the cuff of her shirt.
“One,” he said, pulling her wrist knife from its scabbard. He didn’t bother to look when he casually tossed the knife onto the bedside table.
He knelt in front of her between her legs and ran a hand slowly down the outside of her left leg and into the top of her boot.
Vic bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling as he inched her boot knife up along her calf.
“Two,” he whispered.
Her gaze flashed to were the second knife clattered against the first on the table, then snapped back to his face when his hands began moving up her thighs and over her hips. His caress sent a shiver through her entire body. One hand stopped when it reached the small of her back, but the other continued along her spine, easing her forward with gentle but persistent pressure, until her face was no more than an inch from his.
Her skin tingled everywhere his fingers touched, and her stomach clenched. His breath was hot against her mouth. She darted her tongue out to moisten suddenly dry lips, and his eyes darkened as he watched the movement. While his fingers traced fire along her back, the hand at her waist slipped beneath her sash.
“Three.”
She didn’t look away this time when her knife clattered onto the night table.
“Impressed?” he whispered.
His voice was a husky temptation. She could feel the movement of his lips, a tantalizing brush against her mouth. Her gaze dropped to his full, inviting mouth, then moved slowly back to meet his brown eyes. Grinning mischievously, she said, “You’ve only found half of them.”
“Is that a challenge, Victoria?”
She let him wait for a heartbeat. “Yes.”
With a throaty chuckle, Jacob captured her mouth. She threaded her fingers behind his neck, returning his kiss eagerly. Even when he stood to move her farther onto the bed, she wouldn’t release her hold on his mouth. She wanted to taste him, feel him, and she was too far gone to care about the consequences. He did things to her body that made it impossible to use her brain. Crawling beside her, his urgent kisses pressed her against the mattress. She felt the beginnings of her descent to a place where only his touch mattered, where only the feel of his body existed, where fear no longer had a place.
Propped on one elbow, he ran his hand over her stomach until his fingers played with the loop holding her sash in place. A gentle tug pulled the sash loose, revealing a fourth knife.
“That one was easy,” she said, as he pulled the knife from its sheath at her waistband.
“So the last two are more difficult to find?” He twisted the dagger around until he held the blade’s point.
“Um hum.”
A wicked glint sparkled in his eyes, as he said, “Good,” and tossed the knife over her head.
She turned her head to see the dirk stuck firmly into the wardrobe, hilt quivering from the impact. “You’re good at that,” she said, astonished.
“That’s not the only thing I’m good at.”
She met his devouring kiss with a shocked gasp.
Working her fingers into the mass of his thick, dark hair, she urged his mouth closer, reveling in the taste of his kiss, the feel of his tongue dancing against hers, the not unpleasant rub of beard stubble against her skin. Her trembling insides turned to a quivering tension, echoing the dart’s hilt. Anticipation pulsed heat across her thighs and clenched at the virgin area between her legs.
His fingers traced a path down her neck and across her chest to hook the top button of her shirt. She gasped against his mouth as he deftly popped open the shirt’s first two buttons and ran his fingers across the soft area between her breasts. Pulling back slightly, he looked at her, his eyes wide.
“I would have bet money one of those last two blades was here,” he said, drawing patterns on the inner curves of her breasts.
“You forget,” she whispered, “I spent most of my time dressed as a boy. Boys don’t use breast daggers.”
“Of course. But you’re not really a boy.”
He firmly squeezed her breast to emphasize his point, forcing a low moan past her lips.
He took his time, kissing and teasing her until her nipples were tight pebbles beneath his experienced touch. She’d never realized her breasts could be so sensitive. The flick of his tongue against her skin made her moan. He kept his gaze on her face
, the desire in his expression intensifying her pleasure. She wasn’t sure how much more of his teasing she could take, but she knew she didn’t want him to stop.
Brushing his lips playfully against hers, he breathed, “Where shall we look next?”
As his mouth descended once more to suck and kiss her aching breasts, he popped open the remaining buttons on her shirt, and slid his hand across her bare abdomen to the waistband of her breeches. She gasped as fire laced between her legs. “There aren’t any knives there,” she panted.
Jacob jerked open the laces holding her breeches closed and said, “I know.”
“I thought you were supposed to be hunting for the last two daggers.” Her voice came out in a quiet moan as his hand moved beneath the confines of her breeches.
“Oh, I’ll find them. Eventually.”
“Wait, Jacob,” she choked, taking hold of his questing hand. “I…you should know…I mean…this is my…”
He placed one finger across her lips. “Shh, little thief. I already know. This is your first time.”
“You can tell?”
With an embarrassed grimace, he said, “Well, not all of those rumors were complete exaggerations.”
Vic bit her bottom lip as she studied his handsome face, then grinned impishly. “Good.”
A rumbling groan preceded his hungry kiss. But as his hand moved back down her stomach, she stopped him again. “Find the others first,” she challenged.
“Hmmm.”
His gaze traveled the length of her body, his expression thoughtful. He stood, still staring at her, and removed his own shirt to reveal the deep cut muscles of his torso. She studied every line of his chest in hungry anticipation, anxious to explore those taut muscles and taste his suntanned skin. She wondered if the rest of him tasted as good as his lips.
Where her feet hung over the edge of the bed, he pulled off her boots. “Five,” he said triumphantly, as her second calf dagger was revealed. He removed the knife and tossed it carelessly onto his night table. Then, with exquisitely slow movements, he removed both scabbards.
“One left,” she breathed as he crawled back onto the bed, this time laying his body atop hers. Her fingers sought the smooth, hard muscles of his chest and shoulders as he covered her face and neck with hot kisses.
In a single fluid movement, Jacob rolled to his back, pulling her on top of him. His hands wandered up her spine under the loose material of her shirt. Vic pressed her bare breasts against him, no longer interested in waiting for him to discover the sixth knife. The feel of his strong male body, hot and close to her naked skin, left her restless and needy. She rubbed against him like a cat, savoring each new, tantalizing sensation.
She was so lost in the feel of his skin against hers, in the heat shooting through her body, that she didn’t notice when his hands pulled her shirt down over her shoulders.
With a conquering shout, he growled, “Six!”
He slid the neck dagger out of its guard and tossed it back over his head. Vic lifted her head. The second dagger had hit the wardrobe within inches of the first. Her eyes widened as she looked back down at him. “Wow.”
His chuckle sped the already throbbing pulse of her blood. In seconds, he removed her shirt, the shoulder harness of her last knife, and the scabbard fastened to her wrist. She felt a renewed urgency as he rolled her onto her back again. His caressing hands touched off ripples of pleasure she didn’t know possible.
When he removed their last remaining garments and lay atop her, she was nearly mad from desire. A longing unlike any she’d ever felt coursed through her core. The feel of his erection pressed hard against her thigh only heightened her body’s cry.
Again she was amazed at the contained strength in his powerful limbs. The same desperate need that filled her also coursed beneath his smooth skin. She could feel it in the flexing bunch of his muscles as her hands scored him and the heat pulsing from his body into hers. Yet his touch was gentle, careful. He didn’t rush to fill her, but continued to tease and taunt her body pushing her beyond the realm of thought.
Just when she knew she could take no more, he moved between her thighs to fill her. The ripping of her virgin skin passed with only a flickering of realization, the briefest sting of pain. A last remaining coherent thought reminded her that it should have hurt more, but she was far past caring. Only the press of Jacob’s body, the steadily increasing rhythm of their lovemaking found room in her mind. She held him tight, digging her fingers into his shoulders and panting his name.
He brought them both to a pinnacle of urgency, then pressure exploded into shards of exquisite pleasure very close to pain. Through the blinding force of her climax, she heard him call her name, and the last fear she’d hidden behind her desire fled before her happiness. He wasn’t thinking of Lady Tiya. His passions were for Victoria.
Long minutes passed before her breathing returned to normal. Jacob continued to kiss and pet her, matching the slowing rhythm of his breathing to hers. When she shivered, he rolled off of her and tugged up the rumpled quilt to cover their cooling bodies. Hugging her into the comfortable curve of his arm, he held her close. She nestled her head on the swell of his chest, tracing her fingertips along his smoothly muscled skin.
“How do you feel?” he whispered into her hair.
“Like a fat cat lying in the sun next to a big bowl of cream,” she sighed. His chuckle vibrated across her cheek. She looked up to meet his twinkling gaze. “Why didn’t that hurt more?”
“Because, Victoria, I’m also very good at what I do.”
She giggled and settled her cheek back on his chest, feeling safe and wholly sated. Her drowsy contentment sent her mind wandering over the events that had brought her to Jacob Marin’s bed. When she thought back to her most recent conversation with Ren, she began to giggle again.
“What’s so funny, little thief?”
“I was just remembering something a friend said to me tonight. He told me to stay standing.” She looked up, grinning at the slight frown between his brows. “I’m not standing now, am I?”
“No,” he said, “but we can try that next if you like.”
“Jacob,” she said in mock offense. Then quite seriously she asked, “Can you do that?”
His hands tightened around her back as he grinned. “I can do lots of things, Victoria.”
He kissed away her shocked gasp.
“What does that mean? ‘Stay standing’.”
“Basically, it means stay alive. Don’t let anyone lay you down permanently.”
“Good phrase. Very good advice.”
A wholly inappropriate rush of pleasure tickled her stomach at the serious, intent look he gave her. This time, she kissed away his worry.
“Say,” he pulled back an inch, “what happened to that velvet dress?”
“It’s in a safe spot. Why?”
“I really like that dress on you, Victoria. I don’t suppose I could talk you into wearing it here again?”
“Mmmm. Maybe with a little persuasion.”
His answering kiss began the process of persuasion.
Chapter Nine
That night, Vic slept deeper than she had in years. When her eyes fluttered open, light flooded the room through the balcony doors. And she remembered where she was.
Her body felt the aftereffects of her night of lovemaking as a dull, yet pleasant throbbing. Her lips felt swollen, her nipples sore, and the area between her legs tender. All things considered, she thought with a lazy yawn, she could get used to waking up like this.
The bed was empty. For several minutes, she simply cuddled beneath the quilt and watched the sun pour across the wooden floor. Then she turned over and sat up. Glancing around the room, she noticed the obvious absence of her clothes. When Jacob walked in, she was sitting at the head of the bed frowning at the floor.
“I’m pretty sure I was dressed when I came here last night,” she said to his cat’s grin.
“You were.” He nodded, sauntering to
the bed.
“I’m also pretty sure I didn’t bother putting them away last night.”
“No. You didn’t.” He sat beside her and kissed her swollen lips.
“Why do you look so guilty?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“Do I?”
“Yes, you do. What did you do with my clothing, Jacob?”
“I want you to stay here today,” he said, changing the subject. “You’ll be safe from Charlie’s men.” He played with a tendril of her hair, not quite meeting her gaze.
“I can’t stay here all day.”
“Why not?”
“You have to work.” She nodded to the gold-edged, green tunic and brown leather pants he wore, the uniform of a King’s Own.
“So?”
“So…you won’t be here. I’ll starve. I can’t very well walk down to the royal kitchens for a snack. Especially if you don’t produce my clothes.”
“Are you hungry?” He stood and disappeared into the sitting room.
“Jacob…”
He strolled back with a tray of breakfast breads, fruit, a steaming pot of coffee and two cups. “Breakfast,” he announced, setting the tray on his nightstand.
That was when she noticed her knives were also missing. “Where are my daggers?”
“Safe. Coffee?”
“Jacob, what are you doing?”
“Pouring you coffee.”
Her impatience turned into a giggle. “You’re a rotten man, Jacob Marin.”
“That’s not what you said last night.” He cast her a knowing look.
“I was delirious. If I’d been in my right mind, I would never have…”
“Never have what?”
She looked into his roguish smile and gave in. “Never mind. I would have anyway. Now, where are my clothes?”
“Safe. Hidden.”
“Why did you hide my clothes? I’m going to get cold when I climb out from under this blanket.”
“So stay in bed.”
“All day?” Her voice rose to an unusually high squeak. Was he crazy?
“There are worse ways to spend the day.”
“Jacob!” She flashed him her most pleading expression.