Night Game (GhostWalkers #3)(88)
Author: Christine Feehan

“You’re something.” He drew her out of the bathroom.

The house smelled of the fresh baked bread, fried chicken, and pecan pie his grandmother had sent home with them. He hadn’t bothered with the lights, but had scattered candles all over so that the room seemed to glow. The small rustic cabin suddenly seemed more than a trapper’s cabin. It was intimate and comfortable and all too homey.

She rubbed her temples, pressing deep with her fingers. He was killing her, offering her things already out of her reach. She wanted to weep for both of them, but instead she let him seat her in the chair across from his. If she was what he really wanted, knowing she didn’t have very long, she was going to accept the gift given to her and hang on tight to him with both hands.

“You’re so lucky to have your grandmother, Raoul. She’s incredible.” She picked up her fork as he dished the food onto her plate. “She was so sweet to send a care package with us.”

“When she’s nervous, or upset, Grand-mere cooks. When I was a boy I used to smell the food long before I ever reached our cabin. We always had plenty of food.” He gestured toward all the candles. “I told her I wanted soft lights and a relaxing, soothing atmosphere for you and she gathered every candle she’d made with the right scent.”

“For me?” Flame looked around her, awed by the trouble he’d gone to. “You did all this for me?”

He grinned at her. “Well, you didn’t think I normally lit candles all over the house, did you? I only do it for you. This is used mostly as a hunting cabin now. We fish and trap and drink a lot of beer in here, but this is the first time I’ve ever done this.”

“Your grandmother didn’t happen to send another shopping bag filled with strange items, did she?” Flame asked suspiciously.

“No, cher. I was tempted to ask her, but if she wasn’t the one to buy us those toys then I’d have to explain it all and I’m not talking to Nonny about vibrating eggs.”

Flame nearly choked on her food. The towel slipped and she had to reknot it to keep it in place. Her hands trembled. Just the thought of being alone with Raoul was enough to make her happy, and that was frightening. He made her laugh with his outrageous comments. The old hunting cabin he used for fishing and trapping felt like a home with the candles and the food and Raoul sitting across from her. “You just were very lucky growing up with Nonny as your grandmother. How old were you when you went to live with her?”

He shrugged. “About seven I guess, although we stayed with her more often than not before that. Our family was very close so if we weren’t at one house, we were at the other, or sometimes we all lived together.”

“You enjoyed your childhood, didn’t you?”

He ducked his head, suddenly all too aware of the differences in their lives.

“You goof.” There was affection in her voice. “I like hearing stories of your childhood or I wouldn’t ask. I think your grandmother is one of the most awesome people I’ve ever met. She really cares, not only about you and your brothers, but her neighbors and friends. Did you see her face when Joy’s parents saw Joy alive?” She wailed, her eyes lighting up. “It was beautiful. She’s genuine, Raoul. Completely genuine.”

He reached across the small table to take her hand. “I don’t know how you turned out to be so wonderful with your background, but you have.”

She laughed. “I doubt there’s a single other person who would think that. I’m not all that nice, Raoul, and you know I’m not. I have a very low tolerance for certain things.”

“You look so beautiful with the candlelight playing over your skin. I’m getting a little uncomfortable sitting in this chair.”

She put down her fork and raised her eyebrow. “Uncomfortable?”

“Damned uncomfortable.”

“And just how are you uncomfortable?” Flame leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, looking into his eyes. She loved the way his eyes went dark with need and desire. She loved the stark hunger on his face and the raw sexuality that he exuded. Mostly she loved the way he d told her, straight out, honestly, that he wanted her.

“Im so hard, cher, I might not be able to walk.”

Laughter rose up again. Happiness. She felt it burst through her, bright and powerful, driving out worries of a future and leaving her basking in the here and now. Her heart did some fluttering and her muscles clenched in the most delicious way, but most of all, she loved him. Really loved him. And that was a priceless gift. “I’m not even wearing a knife,” she teased. “I’m not wearing anything at all but this towel.”

He groaned. “That wasn’t nice, Flame. You know I’ve been sittin’ here imagining all sorts of things and then you go and say a thing like that.”

“It’s rather obvious.”

“Knowin’ and sayin’ it aloud are two different things.”

“I want to see.”

“See?” he echoed, his voice turning hoarse. “You want to see me hard and ready for you?”

She nodded. “If I’m going to put aside the chance at this great meal for something else, I think I should see what I’m getting.”

“I’m hearing a bit of a challenge in your voice, femme. You can’t be thinkin’ I’m not up for the task?”

Flame loved him for that, the playfulness in his voice, the teasing in his eyes. He stood up, shrugging out of his shirt and she drew her breath in sharply at the sight of his chest. His hands dropped to his waistband and the air left her lungs in a rush. His body was hard, muscular and compact, and she appreciated every inch of it. He slowly pushed the jeans over his narrow h*ps so that his thick erection sprang free.

“I’m definitely up for the task, cher.” His hand circled the broad length of him.

She moistened suddenly dry lips. There was something sexy about seeing his fist wrapped intimately around his erection. “I’ll need a closer inspection.” She moved around the table, nearly mesmerized by him. His broad shoulders and beautiful male body, the flash of his white teeth when he smiled, but most of all, by his eyes and the way he looked at her.

There was raw lust. She wouldn’t deny that and in any case it simply added to her excitement. But more than that, there was love. And that was the most powerful aphrodisiac of all. Someone loved her. Not just anyone, but Raoul Fontenot. Her fingertips brushed over him, producing a visible shudder of pleasure.