Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The kiss was hot but chaste, his lips firm and smooth against hers. Nikolett wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to get closer, to deepen it.
Gus pulled back. “Lass, you’re short.”
Nikolett sputtered out a laugh.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” With a groan, he pressed his forehead to hers, and that made her heart race more than the kiss had. “Can I pick you up?”
“Yes,” she breathed, though it took all her courage to speak the word. This felt both wrong and right, her body oddly heavy and quiescent.
Gus’ hands slid down her sides until he cupped the back of her thighs. She couldn’t help, couldn’t hope to make it easier, but he lifted her, wrapping her good leg around his waist and holding her there, big hands spanning her thighs.
Nikolett braced her elbows on his shoulders, lifting herself a little until they weren’t eye to eye, but she was looking down on him.
Gus was sexy and sweet, careful and self-assured but in a reserved way.
Once again, for a moment, it was a different set of blue eyes she was looking into, and the hands on her body were much harder. Dominate. Dangerous.
Not Eric.
Gus.
Gus was here. Gus was the one holding her, his hands large and hot on her thighs, his shoulders rock-hard with muscle under the fabric of his dress shirt.
It’s not enough. He’s not enough.
Desperate to blank out that voice, she kissed him.
This time, he deepened the kiss when she parted her lips, inviting him in. His tongue swept into her mouth and she tasted the buttery caramel of the tart and the faint bite of wine.
The world spun, and a moment later, she was seated on top of a tall, chinoiserie cabinet that had them nearly eye to eye.
Gus’ hips pinned her in place, her legs spread wide. She was helpless. Trapped.
A shiver of need hardened her nipples and made her thigh muscles tremble, though the arousal felt cloudy, not as clear and bright as she was used to with…
With Eric.
Nikolett grabbed Gus’ arms, pleased by the thick, heavy muscle she felt there. He rumbled his approval, bracing one hand on the wall by her shoulder as he leaned in. His lips brushed her temple, sliding down to her ear even as his hand slid from her thigh to her knee, touching the top of the cast.
“This comes off? I figured since you have the stocking on under it…”
“Yes. There are buckles.”
Gus kissed her once, hard and fast, his hand cupping the back of her head to hold her in place. The kiss felt like a command. Stay here.
Another shiver raced down her, and her breathing was shallow with need as he once more took a knee, this time unceremoniously shoving her skirt up to her thigh to examine the cast.
Yes. Hard, hot, and fast, so I don’t have time to think.
“You kneel a lot,” she said breathlessly.
Once more an old fantasy ignited. Her the warrior queen, a loyal king kneeling at her feet, pledging to protect her at all costs.
The fantasy had been born from an amalgamation of elements from high fantasy stories found on that beloved e-reader, a quiet, desperate hope for someone to protect her, and later the folklore tales of powerful dangerous women her grandmother liked to tell.
Becoming admiral, actually being in a position of power over many dangerous warrior-like men and women had mostly killed off that fantasy for her. Life as the leader was much more personnel management than dramatic courtly love.
But right now, those images, old and worn like pages of a book, flipped through her mind. Instead of sitting on a cabinet, she was on a throne. Instead of a well-fitting dress shirt, the man kneeling before her wore armor.
“I’m too big.” He spoke in an offhanded way, clearly distracted as he examined the first buckle. “I intimidate people when I get close to them, so I kneel. Unless I want to scare them.”
That statement smacked her out of the fantasy. It also merited further examination, but he was freeing the last buckle, carefully easing the two pieces of the cast off her leg and setting it to the side.
She shivered, leg cold with the cast removed.
Gus gripped her ankle, his long fingers closing all the way around it. Nikolett swallowed hard, closing her eyes as she rested her head back against the wall. His fingers banded her ankle like a cuff, pressing firmly into her skin. Implacable and commanding.
His hot hand slid up her ankle, grip tight. Compressing, controlling. Further up—
She sucked in a breath that whined at the back of her throat, eyes popping open in pain.
Gus jerked back, arms up as if she had him at gunpoint. “Nikolett?”
The stab of pain from where his fingers had pressed into her healed-but-still-tender wound faded, but it was too late. He’d noticed her reaction.
“What did I… Did I hurt you? Was I too rough? I was trying to be gentle.”
She could explain, but she didn’t want to let go of the intimacy.
After the utter lack of feeling with Laszlo, her reaction to Gus, especially given the shockingly similar circumstances, felt too precious to risk.
Given her continued intrusive thoughts about Eric, she wasn’t going to risk losing the growing familiarity.
Rather than explain in words, which might have shifted the mood back to something neutral, she decided to show him.
Nikolett gripped the elastic top of the stocking, folding it over and then sliding it down her thigh, over her knee.
“Help me?” she asked gently, realizing that to get it off, she’d have to lean so far forward she might fall off her perch.
Gus flashed her a worried smile and reached for her leg. Gingerly, he slid the stocking down her calf exposing the bandages.
Two large bandages bracketed her calf. These were taupe rather than the clear ones Elena had used, and hid the damaged skin underneath, but the size and placement spoke to the extent of the injury.
He paused for a moment, then rolled the nylon over her ankle and off her foot. Then he cupped her heel, compressing it in his big hand in a way that made her swallow a moan.
“Ah, lass, I put my hand right on it.”
“I should have told you.”
He studied her leg. “When you broke your leg, it wasn’t just the bone?”
She shook her head. “There were cuts.” More than cuts, the pointed teeth of the bear trap had bitten deep, cutting and mangling muscle. “It’s mostly healed, but still tender.”
Gus leaned in, resting his head against her knee. “I’m sorry.”
She put a hand on Gus’ head. Instead of black hair, she imagined the head bent under her hand was blond.
Damn it.
“Don’t apologize, you didn’t hurt me.”
His head pressed harder to her knee. The fire of need that had ignited cooled into something much more tender, despite her attempt to keep the mood passionate.
He was a kind, empathetic man, who was probably seriously wondering if he wanted to get involved with a woman who got shot and poisoned and stepped on bear traps. Not that he knew any of that. All he knew was she had a broken leg and traveled with bodyguards.
She was certain that if she told him the broken leg was from a bear trap, he would run out of the suite and she wouldn’t blame him. Even the most hardened of her security officers had looked a little green during the debrief about how her leg bone snapped in the metal jaws of the trap.
“Gus.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “I think we should end the night here.” A weird combination of regret and relief passed through her as she spoke.
He looked up. “I’m sorry I pressed on your leg—”
“It’s not that. I think a kiss is enough for tonight.”
He rose, gaze tracking up her body as he stood to his full height. His hips nestled between her knees once more, and this time, he put both hands on the wall, his body caging her in place.
Her libido stirred, but the moment was gone, that heavy feeling more pronounced. He must have felt it too because he smiled down at her, sadness touching his eyes, and there was just a hint of a dimple in his cheek.
“I’d hoped to do more than just kiss you, lass.”
She raised a brow. “I was fully prepared to have sex with you.”
His eyes widened, but the smile faded as he searched her face. “Did I miss my chance?”
“No.” But she wasn’t sure that was true.
Looking up at him, she made her decision.
She wouldn’t recruit him, but she would tell both Arthur and Ricardo, the admirals of England and Castille, about him.
She’d be up front about it, say she’d met him and had even considered him as a potential spouse for herself, but realized it wasn’t her place to recruit him.
Maybe one of the other admirals would take the hint, recruit him, and then agree to allow him to enter into an arranged marriage with her.
An inter-territory arranged marriage. Usually those involved input and coordination by the fleet admiral, not just his approval at the end.
Gus cupped her neck, his big palm spanning from the top of her shoulder to her earlobe. His hand was warm and strong, and her eyes slid closed as his thumb stroked her jaw, his fingertips pressing softly against the back of her neck.
She was suddenly exhausted from the relief of having made a decision.
“Will you…let me hold you?”
Eyes heavy lidded, she looked up, into his uncertain but hopeful expression. She nodded once, and when he swung her into his arms, the world spun. She closed her eyes, leaning into him. He was warm and solid and sure while everything else seemed to tip and spin.
She kept her eyes closed as he settled on the couch, her on his lap. She should get off his lap. She should open her eyes.
But she was warm, and that heavy soft feeling was pulling her down into the dark. Nikolett tucked her head against Gus’ neck and relaxed into sleep.