Blythe stood beside the large motorcycle trying not to hyperventilate. In all the years she’d been alive, this was something she’d never done. It was dark, but very clear with stars glittering across the sky like diamonds. The moon was mostly a sliver, but a bright silver, shining down on the ocean, sending light spilling across the water.
She could see from the vantage point where he’d left his bike. The place of concealment was some distance from her actual house, in a narrow opening between two of her favorite bushes. He’d rolled it out, and she was a little shocked that the machine was much larger than she envisioned.
“Put this on.” He handed her a helmet.
“Very convenient that you have two.” That made her sound like a harpy, and she wasn’t very happy with herself for sniping at him just because she was afraid.
He didn’t say anything, but came over to her, put the helmet carefully on her head and secured it. He took his gloved hand and tucked it under her chin while he looked steadily at her. “Do you think I would ever let anything happen to you?”
She knew better. He wouldn’t. His protective gene had to be off the charts. Sighing, she shook her head. She’d asked for this. It had been her idea; now she just couldn’t be a baby about it.
“I’ve been riding a long time. I started in Russia, baby, when I was twenty-one and they released me from the school.”
She gasped. “You were there that long?”
He nodded, his face still soft with love, but his eyes had gone molten with a suppressed rage that sometimes – like now – seem to suck all the air out of the atmosphere. “The point is, I’ll always take care of you, but you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
Her chin went up. If he could spend all those years in a hellhole, she could get on the back of his motorcycle. “I want to. I really do.” She found that was the truth. She wanted to see what drew his brothers and sisters and him to the road.
She thought she understood the need for their club. It was a brotherhood. A family. They’d formed that years earlier in their prison, surrounded by criminals. They’d counted on one another and had one another’s back. Essentially, that was what a club was, a family with their own rules and codes. It was the motorcycles…
Viktor settled himself on the bike and reached out his hand to her. “Use my shoulder for balance and just step on that and swing on.”
Heart beating hard, she did as he told her, settling her body behind his. Close. Very, very close. The engine roared to life and her heart nearly stopped. Straddling the bike with the vibration of the engine between her legs and her body pressed so close to Viktor was not a good idea. He reached back, caught her hands and pulled her arms around him, so that her hands were clasped low on his body. Definitely not a good idea. Now she wasn’t worried about accidents. She was all too aware of Viktor.
She loved everything about him. His body, so strong and confident. The unexpected laughter. He was so expressionless most of the time that when he laughed, she always felt like it was such a gift. She could spend a lifetime just watching the way he moved. He seemed to flow, and he never made a sound. Like a cat. A great big lazy, dangerous jungle cat, but still that fluid motion always set her blood on fire.
She closed her eyes and put her head against his back, tense and scared, but trying not to show it. She concentrated on how he smelled and the way he felt against her. Her breasts were pressed tight to his back and moved with the motion of the bike, her nipples rubbing along the lace of her bra. She bit her lip. This might be torture.
When nothing bad happened to her, she forced her eyes open so she could look around her. They were already on Highway 1, going south. Moving fast. Her body felt stiff, muscles cramped, and she made an effort to relax. The moment she did, she felt the rhythm of his body and the motorcycle. Hers followed naturally.
She dared to lift her head and look around. She could see everything around her so easily – as if she was right in the middle of it, part of nature. The ocean gleamed like glass, light where the moon turned the water to silver and dark where that beaming light didn’t hit directly. Her body moved with the bike and with Viktor as if they were one unit together. The bike felt powerful just as Viktor did. She relaxed completely, giving herself to the experience, just as she did whenever he touched her.
His hand moved over hers, rubbing in a caress, and she wasn’t even afraid that he wasn’t holding on with both hands. Then he took his hand away and they were flying down the road so smoothly, straightening out the endless curves as if they weren’t even there. She didn’t ask where they were going because it didn’t matter. She didn’t want the ride to ever end.
They continued traveling south along Highway 1, going through Elk and then Manchester. It was a long way by car, and she’d traveled it often, but it was a completely different experience on the motorcycle. She did feel free and excited. Definitely turned on. The longer they moved as one, the more she felt part of the bike and Viktor.
She’d always loved Manchester and nearly tapped him on the shoulder to get him to stop. A secret part of her wanted to hike across the dunes, hopefully find the beach deserted and make love to her man. She didn’t say anything, mostly because she was having such a good time and didn’t want the ride to end.
Riding with Viktor made her feel part of the night. The ocean was on one side and the wild terrain on the other. They went through small towns with few houses and even fewer shops. Point Arena was the biggest, and he barely slowed as they went through it and kept going south.
She knew it took over an hour to get to where they were by car, but it hardly seemed as if time passed at all before they were past Gualala to Sea Ranch and he was slowing the motorcycle to turn onto Annapolis Road. She’d only been out that way once and then just to explore, but the river was close.
Blythe couldn’t help herself. The temptation was too much. She dropped her hands lower, sliding them over his hard belly. He’d always had a washboard stomach. She remembered lying in bed with him and just tracing all those delicious muscles. He had never understood her fascination, but he’d never minded. Her hands edged up under his jacket and she caressed his belly through her gloves and his shirt, wishing he wasn’t wearing one.
Suddenly all she could think about was Viktor, and the fire building between her legs. Her hands deliberately dropped lower, to cup his cock. She remembered every single detail of his cock. The length and girth of it. How he felt, hot and hard and velvet soft yet like steel. He didn’t stop her stroking fingers, but he did speed up just a little, and she knew the powerful engine, the caress of her hand and the press of her breasts into his back were getting to him.
She found herself smiling just for the pure joy of being alive. She hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time. Not since Viktor was with her and they spent every minute together just worshipping each other’s bodies. “Hurry,” she whispered against his back, her hand sliding over his cock, fingers molding to him, dancing and teasing. She really needed him to hurry.
Blythe recognized the river and Iron Bridge when he slowed the bike. Few people were ever there as a rule, and she doubted if anyone would be this time of night. He stopped and they just sat together staring at the river, his hand over hers, pressing her palm tight over the length of his hard cock.
She could barely breathe with wanting him. “Viktor.” His name came out with heat and need.
“I know, baby.” He tugged at her hand and indicated she get off the bike.
She wasn’t certain she could stand. It wasn’t just the long time on the back of the motorcycle; it was the need coursing through her veins. Need that had become intense hunger for him. For the taste and feel of him. She’d never forgotten the vivid details of nights and days spent making love for hours on end.
She took off the helmet and shook out her hair, trying to control her breathing. He untied a duffel bag, caught her by the hand and without a word headed down to the river. In the distance she heard the roar of bikes and that brought her up short.
“Did some of the others follow us here?”
“We’ll be alone.”
Of course they had been followed. He was Viktor – Czar. “They guard you with their lives, don’t they?” He kept walking, urgency in his long strides. That told her he was as affected by the ride and her close proximity as she had been with him.
“I’m their president.”
“You’re more than their president to them.” He always would be. She understood why now.
He dropped the bag, went down on one knee and unzipped it, yanking it open. He dragged a thick blanket out, unrolled it and threw it on the ground. “Put your hand on my shoulder, honey.”
She did, her heart pounding and her sex clenching. She needed him. Right. Now. He didn’t seem to understand the urgency of the matter, because he was fiddling with her boots. She moaned, looking at his bent head.
“It’s been five years for me, Blythe. Haven’t touched a woman. My hands are fumbling a little bit.”
“It’s been five years since I touched a man,” she admitted. She held out her hand in front of him. It was shaking. “I don’t know if I can do better.” She lifted her foot and he yanked off the boot and went to the other one. Somehow he got that off without her falling down. She was shaking so hard she had to hang on to his shoulders with both hands as he removed first one sock and then the other.
He knelt up and caught at the zipper of her jeans. “Take off your jacket, Blythe. Hurry, baby. I might explode before we get started and that would be a major blow to my pride.”
She let go of him long enough to rip off the jacket and fling it aside. It landed on her boots. He had her zipper down and caught at the waistband of her jeans, catching her lacy underwear at the same time. He slid the material over her hips, down her thighs to her calves. She had to hold on again to his shoulder while she lifted first one leg and then the other to get out of the offending material.
Her breath came in ragged pants. The burn between her legs had grown until it was a wildfire out of control. She could barely stand when he pushed her thighs apart, wedged himself between them, caught her bottom in his hands and licked up the inside of her thigh.
She gasped. “Viktor.” It wasn’t a protest. It was a demand.
“Take off your top.”
She didn’t hesitate. Not for a moment. She didn’t even care where his friends were, how close or how far. If they could see or not. She flung her T-shirt after her jacket and without being asked, undid the lacy bra so that her breasts spilled free. She needed the cool breeze on her body.
She really needed his mouth on her, but he was doing something slow and lazy with his tongue instead of getting down to business. She caught him by his hair and tugged at his head to bring him closer. “Viktor.”
“I’m remembering how much I love the taste of you. The feel of your skin. Your scent.” His voice was very soft. “Making new memories, baby.”
“Make them later,” she demanded.
He laughed and blew warm air on her, holding her still while he nuzzled. She tightened her fists in his hair in warning. She loved his laughter. Even when he was driving her mad, she loved it. Then his mouth was on her and she lost every sane thought she had. She cried out. Loud. With Viktor there was never a place for inhibitions. He just didn’t allow them. Just like that, all her walls came tumbling down, and she was once again just Blythe. All woman. His woman. And that was all that mattered to either of them.
He was relentless, his tongue stabbing deep, teasing, circling, flicking. He knew what he was doing and he did it expertly, but with so much feeling. The rush consumed her faster than she ever thought possible, she was so primed. Then he was driving her right back up, a ruthless demand in his fingers and mouth. Taking her there again before she had caught her breath.
“Viktor.” Just his name. Thinking to stop him. There was no stopping him.
He devoured her, taking his time now, slowing his attack so that the terrible sensitivity could ease enough that she could breathe. His mouth was so good. How had she lived without it? Without him? She didn’t know. She didn’t care now that he was with her. On his knees, holding her up, his mouth eating her as if she was the best treat in the world.
“I can’t. It’s coming again.” It was. A fierce coiling. So tight. A gathering that threatened to take her sanity this time.
“Let go. Give me this, baby.”
He whispered against her clit, his tongue stroking, and then he suckled, and she was lost. She screamed as wave after wave of sheer fire blazed through her. The flames raced through her body, up through her belly to her breasts, and down her thighs to her legs and toes. For a moment, spots danced before her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision while Viktor tore off his jacket and shirt, flinging them on top of her clothes and boots.
Two men rushed down the other side of the road, guns drawn, gravel flying. Both came to an abrupt halt, staring at her through the darkness. Reaper and Savage. Both shook their heads, grinned, gave her a small salute and then turned away. She watched them as they walked back up the road. Neither looked back.
She should have panicked. She should have cared. She was stark naked with a man kneeling between her legs. She was out in the open under a blanket of stars and it was the most decadent thing she could imagine. It only added to the excitement.
“Hurry, Viktor.” The fire was building all over again. She didn’t know how. He was no longer touching her, pulling off his boots and socks and then reaching for the zipper of his jeans. Still, the relentless pounding of blood in her clit continued. It had been so long. Too long. “I need you inside me right now.”
He shoved his jeans down and his cock sprang free. She inhaled sharply at the sight of him, mesmerized. Before she could stop herself she reached out and wrapped her fingers around him, going to her knees in front of him. He’d always told her his body belonged to her alone. She’d believed him the way he responded to her.
Her fist sliding over that velvety steel, she looked at his chest. She’d always loved his chest. So broad and strong, the muscles defined. Right over his heart was her tattoo. It was there, the lock wrapped with chains, razor wire and thorns from a single long-stemmed red rose, the only color on his ink. Her name was written there inside the tangle of wire, chain and thorns.
He sank to the ground on his butt, forcing her to bend forward if she wanted to keep hold of his cock, which she did. So hot. So hard. All hers. Her mouth watered. She needed to taste him. The thought added more heat pounding through her clit. Those small inner muscles clenched as her body wept for him. Was desperate for him.
She bent farther, brushing kisses along his chest, lapping at his left nipple, his belly button, tracing muscles lower leading to his groin.
“You’re not making this easy,” he said, trying to shed his jeans.
She barely heard him. Her breasts brushed over his thighs, her nipples hard peaks pushing into his skin as she licked up his shaft and her tongue danced along the crown. His cock jerked and pulsed. Pearly liquid dotted the broad head. She licked the drops off and closed her eyes, savoring his taste. She loved his taste. She always had.
His entire body shuddered as she engulfed him, drawing him deep, flicking with her tongue, using it like an exquisite weapon, suckling with strong pulls until he caught her hair in his fist and dragged her head up.
“I’m not going to last long this first time, Blythe. I want to be in you. Hands and knees, baby. I’m going to take you hard and fast and then the second time we’ll slow things down and I can look into your eyes and see you get there. I love looking at you when you come.”
She was on her hands and knees fast, turning away from him, staring out over the river, feeling the sway of her breasts, her body on fire. He knelt up behind her, his hand moving between her legs to test her readiness, although he had to know she was more than ready. She pushed back, her breath coming in ragged little pants.
“Hurry, honey,” she whispered. “You have to hurry.”
“I love that you’re always ready for me. Always as eager as I am.” He circled his shaft with his fist and tore the condom wrapper with his teeth. He rolled it on and then lodged the broad head in her entrance.
Her breath hissed out. He was so hot. She tried to push back and impale herself but he dug his fingers into her hip to hold her still.
“Careful, baby. You haven’t done this for a while. I don’t want you hurt. I’m going to go slow until I know you’re all right.”
“I won’t be all right if you don’t get on with it. I need you inside me,” she instructed, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.
He pushed in an inch and she gasped. The feeling was so good. He waited a moment for her body to adjust. “You’re tight. Scorching hot and so tight you’re practically strangling me.”
“I can feel your heart beat right through your cock,” she said, stumbling a little over the word. He’d taught her that, amused that she’d never used that word. He’d taught her a lot of things, things that at first made her blush, but then gave her so much pleasure she wanted to do them all the time.
He pushed deeper, and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped. He was full, stretching her, her tight muscles rippling around him, greedy for him, wanting to pull him deeper, wanting to milk him.
“The second I can, I’ll go to a clinic and prove to you that I’m clean and haven’t been with anyone, Blythe,” he promised, “so I don’t have to wear a glove. I know you don’t like them.”
She didn’t. She’d been the one to insist they stop using them when they were married. She wanted to feel every inch of him, just like she did now. He pushed deeper, and then surged forward, burying himself to the hilt. The breath hissed out of her in one long rush. Her body clamped down on his, holding him even tighter.
He groaned and began to move. Slow strokes that sent streaks of fire through her. He’d always hit every single important spot and he did now, so that with each surge into her, he sent ripples of pleasure bursting through her. He began to pick up the pace and she felt a sob of pure joy welling up. Making love with Viktor had always been an adventure, but it was beautiful and perfect and felt so, so good. After all the time without, it felt even better than she remembered – and she’d kept those memories close.
Even after all three times he’d made her orgasm with his mouth, she was close – so close right away. Coiling tight. Panting out demands for more. For harder. He obliged, picking up the pace, sending those fiery streaks radiating out from her center to every part of her body. The cool air kissed her hot skin, adding to her pleasure every time the breeze brushed over her.
His fingers dug into her hips and he pulled her into him as he thrust forward. Again and again. She pushed back, her breath hitching in her lungs. It was heaven. Perfection. It always was with Viktor. He moved in her like he belonged. Like they shared the same skin. Their movements were always perfectly in tune, just like they had been on his bike.
“You close?”
“So close.”
“Get there,” he demanded, his voice harsh with urgency.
She let go instantly, her muscles coiling tight around him, gripping and milking his cock. His breath slammed out of his lungs and his cock swelled and his balls drew up. Then he was emptying himself into her, filling the condom, his heart pounding right along with hers, his breath ragged and his body beginning that slow glide that she remembered he liked to do when his release was spectacular.
She went down on her elbows because she couldn’t keep herself up, but she was smiling. She didn’t think she’d ever stop. Her breathing was labored, her lungs burned for air, but nothing could stop her smile. Her body felt great. Great.
Behind her, Viktor pulled out of her, the drag over the sensitive bundle of nerves causing another ripple of pure pleasure spreading through her. He sank back, one hand still on her bare cheek, rubbing gently, lovingly. He’d always liked to touch her and apparently that hadn’t changed. Removing the condom, he knotted it and tossed it aside.
“Come here, baby,” he murmured softly, reaching for her.
They lay on their backs looking up at the sky, breathing hard, neither speaking for a long moment. Viktor moved first, wrapping her hair around his finger and tugging gently. “I love you, Blythe. So much.”
She turned her head to look at him. To look into his eyes. “I love you too.”
His smile was slow in coming, but this one reached his eyes and melted her heart. “I brought food. Wine. Everything you like.”
“When did you pack for a picnic?”
“I brought them with me to your house in the hopes I could talk you into riding with me. I changed my mind when things got intense, and then you asked me to take you on the motorcycle and our picnic was on again.”
“I’m glad I did. I loved it. You don’t have to use a condom next time. I trust you when you say you haven’t been with anyone else. I haven’t either, so we’re good.”
There was relief in his eyes, and satisfaction as well, but he didn’t say anything.
“They saw us.”
He didn’t ask whom. He knew. He grinned at her, reached out and tucked stray strands of hair behind her ear. “I know. We don’t have any modesty. I told you that. We were all naked together for years. They couldn’t care less. Did it upset you?”
She thought it should have, but the reality was it hadn’t. She didn’t know why. Because she was with Viktor and they were different together? Because his club was different? “I’d rather not make a habit of it.” Truthfully, it was because she was with Viktor and he made her forget everything but pleasure.
“I can’t promise that; they’re always going to be around.” His tone was cautious. “I could ask them…”
“Don’t worry about it.” She wasn’t. She didn’t think she was an exhibitionist, but truthfully, in the moment, she hadn’t even been embarrassed. “I want them to protect you.”
“They’ll protect you too.”
They probably would if they knew she was important to Viktor. She turned her head and pressed a kiss against his neck and then looked back up at the stars. “I loved riding the motorcycle. Thank you for taking me.”
“Do you understand now? We were locked up for so long, sometimes in the dark with no light. The air would get so stifling, so stale, we could barely breathe. We’d lie on the floor if we weren’t chained to the wall and listen to one another gasp like fish out of water in the heat, or shivering with cold in the winter. It stank of sweat, urine and feces. There was no bathroom. We had a corner of the room we went in if we could get there. Those chained to the wall couldn’t even do that. With the heat, it was unbearable. Add to that injuries, the blood from the floggings and beatings, which drew insects and rats. It was a nightmare world.”
Blythe was so horrified she couldn’t look at him. She kept staring at the stars, identifying constellations even as she listened to him, her heart beating too hard. He sounded matter-of-fact when he casually told her about pieces of his childhood, but the rage was there, swelling in him and pouring out without him seemingly aware of it.
“The first time I ever tried riding on a motorcycle, I knew I wanted to be on one for the rest of my life. The wind was in my face and I could see the open road in front of me. I’d never experienced anything like it. I was on one of the first weeklong assignments, just twenty-one. I couldn’t wait to get back and tell the others. It was the first thing I did when I was able to leave that place – buy my own motorcycle with the money I’d stolen and socked away on each of my assignments.”
He turned onto his side in order to cup her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple gently, back and forth in small caresses. He lifted his head and kissed the tattoo just under her left breast. The key. The one that could open the lock over his heart. They’d gotten the tattoos together.
“I dreamt about this. When the nightmares got too bad and I hadn’t slept for days,” he whispered against the underside of her breast. “I would lie on my bed and think about you. Every inch of you. I pushed my thumb into the center of my palm and I’d build the image of you in my mind. Then I’d start from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. I’d kiss you, remembering every detail of your mouth. Your lips and tongue. The way you taste.”
He lifted his head to kiss her. Long, slow, drugging kisses that started a slow burn. He kept kissing her, cupping her breast in his palm without moving any other part of him. It drove her mad. She wanted more. Heat spread through her veins and went straight like an arrow between her legs.
“Nothing was better than the motorcycle until I met you. You wipe that place out of my head for long periods of time. Your laughter. Your magic. This sweet, sweet body of yours.”
His sexy talk was making her burn all over again. He’d always been that way. He could make her want him with one smoldering look, and when he talked, no matter what he said, how crude he was, or where they were, he melted her inside and she craved him.
“I’d get so damned hard I’d have to start pumping my cock. Slow at first while I thought about your breasts. How much I liked sucking on your nipples. Teasing you. Driving you wild. You’re so sensitive here.”
He took his time lowering his head, his tongue tracing a circle around her left nipple and then her right one. He planted dozens of kisses over the curves of her breasts, drew letters with his tongue, pulled each soft mound into his mouth and then suckled strongly while she gasped and arched her back. The moment she went to cradle his head to her, he pulled back.
“I’d imagine you lying under me, and I’d spread your legs wide.” He shifted his body over hers and nudged her thighs apart.
She didn’t take her eyes from his face. He looked like carnal sin. So beautiful. Rising above her, his hand on her mound, thumb circling her clit. “What would you imagine?” she whispered, drinking him in.
“My mouth between your legs. Eating you until you screamed for me. I always have loved that you’re very vocal about what you want. Your pleasure. That you’re always willing to try anything once with me.”
“It’s never once,” she pointed out. “You make everything so good that once is never enough.” His fingers were in her now, curling and sweeping, stabbing deep and retreating. She wanted him again with every breath she drew.
“I wonder if those were the nights I couldn’t sleep and I’d lie awake under the fan, no clothes, my body burning for yours,” Blythe whispered, looking right into his molten eyes. Silver, like the moon. So beautiful. “I’d be so hot and it hurt between my legs, I was so empty without you. I’d push my thumb into my palm and think about you. About your body, your mouth and eyes, all your muscles that you know I love, but mostly about your cock.”
He withdrew his fingers, and she took advantage, going up on her knees. “Stand up for me, honey.”
“Anything for you, Blythe,” he said and obeyed her.
His semihard cock had grown as he’d talked to her into just plain hard. She wrapped her fingers around him. “I have a toy in the drawer by my bed.” She licked her lips, her tongue making a slow circle to moisten them in preparation.
“We’re going to be using that toy together, Blythe,” he warned in a husky growling tone that sent a shiver of desire down her spine.
“I’m okay with that. Just as long as I have you in my mouth while you’re playing.” She knelt up, caressing his shaft and heavy balls, cupping the velvet spheres and then leaning down to slowly and gently draw first one and then the other into her mouth. She licked along them and under them, and then up his shaft while his breath hissed out.
His hands went to her breasts, cupping them, thumbs gliding over her nipples, but when her mouth took him deep, he shuddered and caught her head in his hands. She never took her eyes from his. She knew what he liked. She knew he wanted to watch her. That he liked not only the feel of her mouth, but the look of her lips stretched around his girth. He always told her how much that turned him on, but more, she felt it. She always felt his response to everything she did to him. He loved it when she did this to him, and she loved doing it just as much.
His hips began to move, gently. He was always gentle when he was in her mouth; even when he went deep, he took care with her. She was never afraid. In the beginning, before she knew she could trust him absolutely, maybe then she’d panicked once or twice, but not now. Now, she could enjoy what she was doing. The heat. The velvet over steel. The scent and taste of him. How sexy he made her feel. She wondered fleetingly if the men watching over him were watching, and then Viktor groaned and she forgot everything but what she was doing.
“Can’t take much more, baby. I’ve still got that hair trigger from being without you for so long. Your mouth is fucking paradise.”
He gently pulled away from her and she couldn’t help following, licking at him like an ice-cream cone while his body shuddered with pleasure.
“Lie down. I want you under me.”
She went to her back and waited for him to blanket her. Putting her feet flat on the blanket, legs spread wide, she cradled his hips in hers. He didn’t need any other invitation. He pushed into her, groaning as her scorching heat surrounded him.
“So fucking tight, Blythe. You feel so good I’m not certain I’m going to survive this time.”
She smiled at him and lifted her hips to meet his. Her gaze never left his. He threaded the fingers of one hand through hers and held her arm stretched out above her head while she wrapped her other arm around him. His free arm locked around her hips and he lifted her into him.
They moved together, never taking their eyes from each other. She drank him in. The love on his face brought tears to her eyes. He might not show expression to others, but when they were alone like this, there could be no doubt that he was truly in love with her.
Their breathing mingled with the sound of the river, the frogs and crickets. She didn’t turn her head to see her surroundings or look up at the star-studded sky. There was only Viktor filling every one of her senses. She gave herself to him and he gave himself to her. She felt that. Knew that was what he was doing.
“You’re safe with me, Blythe,” he whispered. “I swear to you, I’m only yours. For good or bad, I’m with you.”
He’d said those words to her on the night he’d taken her to the Russian church in San Francisco. He’d meant every word. She felt the absolute sincerity surrounding her. There had been no doubt then. Why hadn’t she remembered that moment and actively searched? Asked questions? Tried to figure out what happened, especially after Lev came into their lives and she saw the mark he put on Rikki?
“Don’t. We can only go forward. Stay with me right now. Keep looking at me.”
She couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to. She knew it was her commitment to him and he would hold her to it. She wanted him, and if the past came between them sometimes, they’d both have to handle it.
They spent the night on the blanket, making love, sipping red wine. He preferred beer but he’d remembered her favorite wine and brought that instead. He brought fruit, all her favorites. Crackers and cheeses. Even honey to put on the cheese and crackers, a rare but favorite indulgence.
They talked about everything and nothing. Most of the time they made love or slept wrapped in each other’s arms.
He woke her before the sun was up. They had to get back before light. He didn’t want to chance that Evan might have sent more than one team to watch them. She didn’t mind, because she loved the way he woke her up, and she couldn’t wait to ride the motorcycle again.