Mind Game

  "I think you're right," he acknowledged without the least bit of remorse. "You've been so worried you couldn't have a life with me, but here you are and we've done fine."

  She laughed. The sound pleased him, turning him inside out, the way it always did. The air crackled. He could hear the sound mingle with her laugh, and the urge in him to have her under him, crying out his name, grew stronger. They found they fed each other sexual energy and they learned to allow it to flow over them and through them without fighting it. Utilizing it. Enjoying it.

  "I think you're leading me somewhere, Nicolas."

  "Are you accusing me of having ulterior motives?"

  Dahlia swam closer. The tips of her breasts swayed enticingly. She looked like an exotic water nymph to him, a siren calling continually. Nicolas loved to answer the call. She was calling to him now, with every movement of her body. Dahlia wasn't shy, and she wasn't in the least inhibited about lovemaking. She enjoyed his body every bit as much as he enjoyed hers and she let him know.

  He set the glass on the edge of the pool, just out of her reach. She took the bait, holding out a hand to him so he could pull her out of the water. It poured off her body, leaving behind little beads. She lay on her stomach on the thick mat he always left out for her to sun on, reaching for her drink. The action stretched her body, gave him a pleasant view of the round side of her breast and a perfect view of the inviting curve of her bottom. He leaned down lazily and lapped at the water pooling in the small of her back. His hand wandered over the feminine slope of her bottom.

  Dahlia smiled. "I love this lemonade." She shivered under his touch. His tongue dipped into the dimples on her back, his mouth wandered lower. "Hey!" It was a half-hearted protest as his teeth nipped, but she lay still, absorbing the feel of his mouth and hands as he leisurely explored her body, his teeth giving little love bites and his tongue licking along her skin. She closed her eyes and laid her head on her arm, fingers curled around the glass of lemonade.

  Nicolas massaged her legs, his fingers kneading her muscles. The sun beat down on her body and the wind touched her gently, adding to the bliss of the moment.

  "Turn over, kiciciyapi mitawa." Nicolas's voice had the husky note in it, the one she was so familiar with when he called her his heart. That single note could turn her entire body to instant liquid heat.

  She kept her eyes closed. "If I turn over, you're going to have your wicked way with me. I rather like lying here, knowing how much you want me."

  He leaned over her, kissed the nape of her neck, blazed a trail of kisses along her spine. "I'm going to have my wicked way with you no matter what."

  "Are you now?" She shifted, a slow, lazy roll over with his body over hers so that her skin rubbed against his skin. The ache in her breasts grew. The throbbing between her legs became more insistent. His shoulders were wide, blocking out the sun, his eyes black with hunger. She traced his strong jaw with loving fingers. "I have no say in this at all?"

  "None," he declared. "This is all mine." His face was close to hers, his warm breath teasing her skin. He kissed her, a long, hard kiss that told her his slow, leisurely manner was a facade. He was boiling inside, a volcanic eruption imminent. Deliberately, Dahlia trailed her fingertips over his belly. She smiled as she felt the reaction, his muscles tightening, the long thick length of him hardening even more against her thigh.

  He pushed her hands away from him, took her glass of lemonade from her, tilting the glass so that the ice-cold contents splashed on her stomach and raced to her belly button. Immediately he followed the path of the liquid, his tongue swirling over her bare skin, lapping at the underside of her breast, along her ribs, teasing her stomach and navel until her hips writhed beneath him.

  His arm clamped over her thighs. "Don't move. I just want to indulge myself."

  Dahlia lay back, her arms stretched over her head, her body open to his exploration. She loved him in this mood. "Go ahead, who am I to stop your fun."

  He pulled her thighs apart and pushed his hand into her heat. He was a little rough, his hands hard as they massaged her thighs and his fingers pushed through her wet folds, but her body and her heart always wanted more.

  She could taste her own sexual excitement, lying there open to him in the sun, an offering to him as his tongue made a foray lower, teasing her, taunting her, claiming her body for his own. He always made her feel as if she belonged to him. As if he belonged to her. She shivered as his tongue plunged deep and he held her helpless under his larger, stronger body. He always made her feel safe and excited rather than vulnerable.

  He lapped at her, licking her as if she were filled with honey and he needed every drop just to live. A sound escaped her throat. She tried to push into his hungry mouth, but his arm was clamped hard around her thighs, making it impossible. His teeth scraped at the tender flesh just inside her thigh. He lifted her hips, dragged her to him, allowing his sexual appetite to increase. The energy flowed around them, massed between them.

  Dahlia recognized it, embraced it, allowing it to take her over, swamp her with the same driving obsession of hunger. Her breasts ached until she cupped them, wanting to relieve the ache. Instantly he pulled her hands away from her body and took possession of her breasts, claiming her for his own. He suckled strongly, the rhythm in time with his fingers as they drove in and out of her, going deep, pushing her needs higher and higher.

  Excitement flushed her body, made her so wet and welcoming she could barely keep from screaming. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she tried to tug, to bring him over her, to make him enter her. "I want you so much, Nicolas, hurry up."

  Her breathless gasps only fueled the fire raging in him. Elusive Dahlia. She refused to commit to him. It made him crazy sometimes. He wanted to bind her to him, even if all he had was the sexual firestorm neither could ever sufficiently put out. She moved under him like so much heated silk. She tasted of honey and strawberry. She matched his every sexual hunger, never denied him anything. Yet he always felt her slipping away from him.

  He lifted his head to look at her face. The sexual need was etched there, just as he knew it was on his face. "Marry me, Dahlia. Stay with me forever."

  She stilled beneath his hands, his mouth. He couldn't believe the plea had slipped out when he knew she wasn't ready. He lowered his mouth to her breast, lapping at her nipple, suckling there, while his fingers pushed deeper into her body.

  Dahlia's gaze was on the flames dancing around the pool. They tried to save their hottest lovemaking for outdoors, near the water where they knew it was safer. "Are you certain, Nicolas?"

  He went just as still, lifting his head to look down at her. Shocked. Hope was a terrible thing, pushing its way into his heart and soul. "You know I love you, Dahlia. I never want to be without you."

  "What if we can't ever have a family?" She pushed her hips against his plunging fingers, wanting him inside of her. Desperate for his invasion.

  "We'll be our own family." His heart was pounding, his body nearly exploding.

  She squirmed against his hand. "Once you're inside me, I'll give you my answer."

  He didn't wait. There was no waiting, if he didn't take her right then, he might lose all control. He caught her hips and dragged her to him, her legs around him, so that he could plunge into her tight, wet channel. He drove in deep and hard, his hands clamped on her ankles, forcing her legs to wrap around his waist. There was little give in the mat and he could lever himself above her, thrusting with long, deep strokes. He was instantly lost in the inferno of her body. Sanity always went out the window when he was thrusting into her, when she was lifting her hips to meet the impact of his, when she opened herself more, determined to take all of him.

  He loved her like this, her face turned up to his, her breasts swaying with the jolting impact of their union. She was so beautiful. So real. Her muscles clenched around him, squeezing and gripping until he thought he'd go out of his mind. He heard his mind screaming at her, chanting over and over. Say yes,
say you want me the same way. He couldn't speak, couldn't get a word out when she was milking his body of every drop of pleasure from his toes to the top of his head.

  Dahlia's body moved in perfect rhythm with his. He surrounded her, battered at her, loved her. She craved him in the same way he craved her. Not just his body, as beautiful as it was, but the two sides of his nature, wild and rough and gentle and tender. He was rough now, his hands hard, fingers biting into her as the energy swelled with the ferocity of their lovemaking. She matched him, her nails biting deep, her cries for more, always more. She drove him with the same wild hunger as he drove her.

  She felt her climax building and building, pushing past pleasure until it was close to pain. Then she was gripping him hard, taking him with her over the edge so they tumbled together. She screamed her answer, the breath exploding out of her as her body rocked with her orgasm. Sparks showered down over the pool, a spectacular display of fireworks. The embers fell hissing into the water. They lay together in silence listening to the crackle of the dancing flames and just smiled at one another.

  When he could breathe again, when his heart stopped pounding, Nicolas leaned down to press a kiss into her navel. "You said yes." He whispered the words against her belly, not looking at her. Just waiting.

  Her fingers clutched his hair. "Surely you aren't going to hold me to it when you were clearly using unethical means of persuasion." There was teasing laughter in her voice. Contentment. Purring.

  Nicolas kissed his way up to her breast. "Of course I am. I'm that kind of man."

  "Well then, I guess you're stuck with me."

  Nicolas kept his head down. He didn't dare look at her when his heart was overwhelmed with joy. Emotions with Dahlia were always amplified. Always intense. "I guess I am." His voice was husky, but it worked. "I love you, Dahlia. You won't be sorry."

  Her laughter vibrated around him. "I'm not worried about me."

  He kissed her because he had to. They shared the last of the lemonade and lay side by side, relaxing in the sun. He kept his hand on her. "I thought we could visit Lily next week. She's been so anxious, and I hate to keep putting her off." He made it casual, but he felt her stiffen beneath his palm.

  "I don't know." That was all she said, but he heard the fear in her voice.

  "Ryland said if we don't go there soon, Lily and Ryland will be coming here. It means so much to her, Dahlia, and she can start you on all the exercises she has us doing daily to strengthen our barriers."

  "You can teach me the exercises," she pointed out.

  "True, but she can come up with ones specifically designed to keep energy at bay." He had no idea if Lily could really do that, but he thought there was a good chance that she could.

  "All right. I'll go. But if I burn down her house and disgrace you in front of your friend Ryland and all the GhostWalkers, you still have to marry me."

  She had her face turned away from him, but he knew, in spite of her teasing tone, she was voicing a real fear.

  He moved over the top of her again, pinning her small, fragile body beneath him. Framing her face with his hands, he took possession of her mouth. He could never get enough of kissing her. His tongue forced her lips apart and swept inside, staking his claim, pouring his love into her mouth, down her throat, into her body. "That's a promise," he agreed sincerely.

  "I can't do this, Nicolas," Dahlia said.

  She was so pale Nicolas was certain she was going to faint. He brought the car to a halt just outside the gates to the huge estate and leaned out the window to key in the proper code.

  Dahlia had one hand on the door handle, ready to jump. She looked at him, her eyes huge. "Really, Nicolas, I can't. Let's go before someone sees we're here."

  Nicolas waved to the security camera, knowing Arly, Lily's security man, would have already spotted them, identified them, and taken down the license number on the car. The gates swung open slowly, and Dahlia held her breath until he thought she was going to pass out.

  "I've never seen you like this, Dahlia." He put his hand over hers to calm her. "Lily has waited and waited to meet you. She was going to come to us, and she would have, but you said you wanted to come back here, to see what you could remember." He kept his voice very soothing.

  "I know. I just never thought I'd feel this way." She caught at his fingers and squeezed hard. "I can barely breathe."

  Dahlia looked around her at the lush grounds with rolling lawns and flowers of every color rioting for space. She had believed she would remember the house, the grounds, yet she didn't remember any of it. She could only sit, trembling, waiting to see Lily. Waiting to believe Lily was real and not a figment of her childhood imagination, born out of desperation and need for one person to love her in her life. If Lily rejected her, turned away from her, Dahlia wasn't certain she would survive it.

  As the car moved up the long drive, she could see a woman standing on the steps of the huge, sprawling mansion. The house belonged in Europe with its enormous design and many wings. Dahlia watched as the woman shaded her eyes and clutched at the man standing close to her. He put his arm around her.

  "That's Lily, isn't it?" Lily. She was beautiful and very real. Dahlia hardly recognized her own voice. She held Nicolas's hand tighter.

  "Yes, with her husband, Ryland." Nicolas wanted to gather Dahlia in his arms and hold her to him. She was trembling with excitement, gripping his hand and he could see her pulse pounding frantically in her neck. She was very pale, her eyes enormous, almost too big for her face. "Tekihila, my love, she'll love you. How could she not?" Dahlia still didn't believe herself lovable. He could see the hesitation in her gaze every time she looked at him. Her confidence in their relationship had grown over the two weeks he'd kept her to himself at his home, but coming to Lily's house had shaken her.

  He stopped the car, barely getting it in park before Lily rushed down the stairs toward them.

  "She's limping," Dahlia said.

  "An accident, when she was a child," Nicolas answered. "During an experiment."

  It was the right thing to say to propel Dahlia out of the car and into Lily's arms. Nicolas slipped from the car and took Ryland's outstretched hand. Ryland tugged and gave him a warrior's embrace, releasing him abruptly.

  "She's been on pins and needles all morning," Ryland reported. "I've never seen her like this. She even gave the staff orders left and right. That's never done."

  "Dahlia's the same. I didn't think we'd make it here. She's a bundle of nerves. She's very afraid she might hurt someone or at the least, start a fire."

  "Believe me, Lily could care less. I think Dahlia's like a long-lost sister to her."

  "Dahlia feels the same way," Nicolas said. "Any news on Trevor Billings? Has the NCIS finished their investigation? The admiral came out a couple of weeks ago, but we haven't heard since."

  Ryland shook his head. "Not completely. Billings has been arrested, and, of course, banned from Lombard Inc. Lombard is denying any knowledge of the things he was doing and they're still investigating. Their lawyers dropped him like a hot potato. They want the company to come out of this squeaky-clean."

  "It's possible they didn't know anything at all about what he was doing," Nicolas pointed out.

  "Possible, but not probable that someone at the top didn't have a clue," Ryland said. "In any case, it isn't our problem." He put his arm around Lily, a signal for an introduction.

  Lily pulled herself out of Dahlia's arms, tears running down her face. "Dahlia, this is my husband, Ryland Miller. He's a GhostWalker as well."

  Ryland ignored Dahlia's outstretched hand and pulled her into his arms, giving her a hard, welcoming hug, completely ignoring her slight hesitation. "It's great to finally meet the woman who conquered Nicolas."

  That made Dahlia laugh. "Is that what I've done?"

  "He says so," Ryland said, gently wiping the tears from Lily's face and leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth.

  That small gesture won Dahlia's heart. She couldn't
stop staring at Lily, at the beloved face, the eyes she remembered. And Lily was looking at her the same way.

  Nicolas swept his arm around Dahlia's waist. "You know you have."

  "Are you ready to go in the house, Dahlia?" Lily asked uncertainly. "I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with. We're very good at guarding emotions, so we can keep you from overload, but facing the house may be too much."

  Dahlia shook her head. "I thought I'd remember so much more. Nothing looks familiar to me."

  Lily took Dahlia's hand. "The room will. The moment I found his hidden laboratory, I recognized our rooms. I hadn't even remembered until that moment. I don't want you to feel alone and violated and confused the way I did. I want to be with you, if you don't mind."

  "I came to see you, Lily. I came to terms with my past a long time ago." Dahlia wasn't certain if that were completely true. She wanted it to be. Now that Lily was standing in front of her, she wasn't certain she wanted to confront her past. She had a future. She still had one foot out the door, and thought of her relationship with Nicolas as tentative, but she knew he was fully committed and would do his best to help her. She thought having Nicolas would be enough. Now she wanted a family. She wanted to be part of something, and the GhostWalkers were welcoming her, treating her as a valued member. And there was Lily. Wonderful Lily.

  "Have you spoken to Jesse Calhoun?" Lily asked as they turned to go into the house together.

  Dahlia ignored the sudden tripping of her heart. "Yes, several times. He's very upbeat. He told me he's always written songs and plans to continue with that. He mentioned something about owning a radio station in his home-town. He's going back there as soon as the hospital allows him to go. He didn't tell me, but the director said he wouldn't walk again."

  "I've spoken with him several times, and I've already begun working with him on building barriers in his mind." Lily sighed. "It's such a tragedy. Jesse is a good man. Ryland and I spent a great deal of time with him. He just doesn't let anything get him down. I know he'll come through this, but it's sad."