Tides of Passion

by Tracy Sumner

  "We were in a chair in the dream," she whispered, a crimson blush coloring her cheeks. "I wasn't sure it was possible."

  "It's possible."

  "Have you ever?" She gestured to the chair.

  "Not in this one."

  Her eyes flared. Equal parts envy and interest. "I'm open to being tutored, if have the time."

  "I have time." He popped the snaps on the chemise, leaving the material in a silken sprawl open to her waist. Ignoring her gasp, he stayed her hands on the chair arms. Dammit, she wasn't going to direct his every move this time. She was good at orchestrating the entire process, he would give the woman that. Her blessed books had helped, he supposed.

  "Let me take my chemise off." She fought his hold, but he didn't let her win.

  He shook his head, bending to press a kiss to the underside of her breast. It had been days since he'd touched her. His hunger—and hers—could wait.

  He wanted to explore.

  "Zachariah," she said on a sigh.

  He lifted his head, arching a brow.

  "Zach." She jerked at his grasp to no avail. "Zach, please."

  He smiled, feeling wonderfully cheerful. Generous even. "Did you let him kiss you?" He intentionally directed his exhalation in the general direction of her nipple. "Touch you?"

  Dropping her head back, she rolled it wildly against the back of the chair. "Of... course... not."

  He leaned in, seizing the material in his teeth and drawing it away from her breast. His lips bumped the erect nub once, not intentionally. She moaned, but it hurt him as much as it hurt her.

  "Ohhh, you're going to tease me, I see."

  "Actually," he mumbled around the cloth, "I'm feeling rather charitable."

  She arched, sending her nipple into his chin. "How... charitable?"

  He left the cloth in a wad at the side of her breast. Moonlight glistened across a portion of her face and body, highlighting each perfect swell and valley. Her skin glowed, her hair trailing over her shoulders as she squirmed. Had he ever seen a more beautiful picture in his life?

  "What can I say, Irish? I'm open to suggestion. It has been almost seven days."

  She lifted her head, eyes dazed. "Suggestion?"

  He lingered until she shifted, her impatience building. "Anything you ask for."

  The shrewd look that crossed her face made him laugh softly. It gratified him to see that this wasn't part of her plan, even in the face of his having an erection hard enough to whittle wood with.

  "Anything?"

  "Humanly possible, that is. But I choose the speed."

  Her head flopped back. "I knew there was a catch. You'll go at a snail's pace."

  He traced the hollow beneath one of her ribs with his tongue. "Snail's are good lovers, I've heard."

  She laughed, bending with the sound, the vibration beneath his palm pleasantly gentle. "Oh, Zach, you're crazy."

  And you're crazy about me, he almost said. His lips opened to release it.

  He stared at Savannah as he rocked back on his heels. All those months since Hannah's death, he had naively imagined he no longer needed a woman's love. Did he need it after all? Could he return it might be the more crucial question?

  "Zach?"

  He blinked, pulling himself back, forcing aside the fear chilling his heart. Back arched, chemise wadded in wrinkled folds, she gazed at the ceiling, chewing on her bottom lip, concentrating, he could see.

  Her arms were motionless beneath his; she no longer struggled.

  "Take off your clothing. I want to try something I mentioned once before."

  She wanted to try something she had mentioned before? Ah, there were lots of options there.

  Wordlessly, he removed his clothing. It didn't aid his resolve that she watched him the entire time with those glowing feline eyes. Her gaze strayed below his waist and stayed there.

  "Is this something you read in one of those books?" he asked.

  A smile curved her lips. She nodded, her gaze lifting to his face.

  He held out his hand, preparing to escort her to the cot that had had clean sheets every day since Savannah arrived in town. He changed them himself, smiling with each tuck and fold as he imagined what he might do on them. Now he was going to find out.

  She shook her head and stood, dancing around his hand. "Sit."

  His brow shot up as an idea popped into his mind. A very pleasing mental picture.

  "Sit, Zach."

  With a final questioning glance, he sat.

  "Hands where I had mine, eyes closed. If you watch me, I'll get nervous and lose my train of thought."

  He knew how she felt, but he was too intrigued by what she might do to him to comment. Tipping his head back, he lowered his eyelids and relaxed his body until it slid low in the chair.

  He felt her hair first, sliding along his thigh, slick and heavy. The scent of pine drifted from it, making him think of the forest in winter. Then her lips were at his knee and rising higher. A shiver raced up his spine. You don't have to do this, he thought, but he wasn’t about to say it.

  "Hmmm, you taste like soap." She released a breathless laugh. "Clean, capable Constable Garrett."

  "Is that good?" His words were barely loud enough to be heard. He tried again, then was sorry when she halted, her breath hitting his knee.

  "With you"—she ran her tongue along the inside of his thigh, stopping to lick a scar he'd got from a swordfish on his fourteenth birthday—"it's all good."

  He let her go, too flattered to argue, too weak to resist. Why resist when he desperately wanted what she offered?

  As she got closer, mouth and hands working in tandem, stroking and kissing and scratching, he gripped the chair until the muscles in his arms bulged. When she finally touched him there, with her teeth, he gasped and buried his hand in her hair. "Holy Christ, where... did you... learn that?"

  She breathed on him, a teasing sigh that made him stiffen to a painful degree.

  Think of fishing, Zach. Sailing. That new rigging on the skiff. Anything.

  "A book," she said, lips skimming the tip of his shaft. "I read about it in a book. Is it okay so far?" Her tongue eased out, a hesitant lick.

  Sucking in a swift gulp of air, he grunted a reply, past the point of engaging in conversation. Better she understood she held a man in her hands at a time like this—and that they were helpless as babes.

  She held him captive, teasing without meaning to, going at his snail's pace despite her earlier objections. When she fumbled, he fit her hand around him and showed her how to please him. When she flicked her tongue over the ridge running along the underside, he let a harsh groan break free, to show her it was, as she said, all good.

  More than good: the best.

  His hand stayed in her hair, the other rising to join it. When she united her mouth and hand in perfect rhythm, he knew he was short on reserves.

  "Stop," he gasped, hands sliding to her shoulders and lifting. "I can't. It's too much."

  He opened his eyes in time to see her rise from between his legs. That alone was almost enough to send him over the edge. Her lashes lifted, a pleased smile spreading across her face. "You liked it?"

  "Yes," he whispered, his voice raw.

  "There's more."

  "There can be."

  "Now?" She went to move back.

  Zach shook his head and settled her astride him, arranging her legs over the sides of the chair. "I can't wait. Not this time. Not after days away from you."

  She placed her hands on his knees and leaned back, awaiting a reaction. He tried hard but must have given up something, because she laughed. "Later then."

  Hands going behind her bottom, he slid her forward until he could suck her erect nipple into his mouth. He had to touch her or die. "Can you remember the dream, Irish?"

  "Umm, oh, yes. I remember it well." She thrust her hands into his hair and held on tight. "We were in the leather... chair in the coach house. It was dark, rainy. Candles lit." Sighing and shifting on
his lap, her sex inched tantalizingly close. "I was on top. Sitting. Then moving."

  His tongue circled her areola; he bit down gently. "Like this?"

  Swaying, she rested her brow atop his head, her breasts brushing his face. "Close," she whispered in his ear. Gasping, she blew a sweet breath out. "Oh yes, that's good, Constable. Bite down a little harder."

  "This any closer, Irish?" Letting her nipple slide free, he scooted lower in the chair, bringing their hips into alignment. Hands on her bottom, he lifted. "Like this. See?"

  Her gaze met his. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed. She looked amazingly beautiful, and the tiniest bit unsure.

  A dangerous combination, he had learned.

  "Guide me," he instructed, beginning to think they'd better start this. That, or he would make a fool of himself and lose control before he even made it inside her.

  Her lashes fluttered as she looked down. She did as he asked, wrapping her hand around him and adjusting the fit. When she had it right, more by feel than sight he was sure, she sighed and sank slowly down his length, wriggling along the way. Just to drive him wild.

  Closing his eyes, he prayed for restraint, picturing every toy in Rory's room.

  "Do that thing I like again," she panted, ruining his strategy by pushing her nipple between his slightly parted lips. Sucking the taut bud into his mouth, he latched on, doing what she liked as charged. Hands on her waist, he helped her establish a maddening, steady rhythm.

  And kept her from making him climax before she did.

  She caught on quickly, locking her legs in place and hanging on to his shoulders. Doing a slow rise and fall, sliding down just before he popped out. She laughed seductively, wiggling at the bottom. "This is perfect. Oh, I can see why they put this in the book. On an early page. Better than the bed. More, oh, more leverage."

  Dear God, he wasn't going to make it long if she kept talking. "Slow down, Irish. I'm going to lose it."

  Bending, she sucked his earlobe into her mouth, swirled her tongue inside. "Lose it. I want you to. You can"—she exhaled gustily—"pay me back in other ways."

  Their last encounter in the coach house had included her first introduction to the joys of oral pleasure. Obviously, she had liked it if she was willing to go that route. "No. I couldn't leave you like this."

  Her muscles clenched around him. "I can feel every inch of you. Every glorious... inch." Her lids fluttered; her breathing escalated.

  "That's not fair," he said between clenched teeth. "And you know it."

  Pressing her lips to his, she sent her soft laugher into his mouth. The kiss grew reckless, mimicking the movement of their hips, each thrust and retreat. She teased with her tongue as his hands traveled her body, squeezing her breasts, testing their weight, thumbs working her nipples.

  "I'm wet," she whispered, drawing back to watch him with a wicked smile. Seducing by degrees. "And all because of you."

  He shut his eyes as colors flashed behind them. He couldn't think of a thing to say or do. His hand strayed below her waist to bring her closer to climax. She blocked his move, saying, "Think of yourself. Later. You can take care of me later."

  He felt his scrotum rise and tighten, felt the orgasm build as she continued to suggest and tease, murmuring in his ear.

  She'd gotten the best of him, he realized, heat flooding his body. Surrendering, he shouted and shivered and bucked, pouring into her.

  When his vision cleared and he regained the ability to carry weight on his trembling knees, he moved them to the cot and "took care of her". Tormenting until she begged for release and agreed that a snail's pace wasn't so bad after all.

  It was only after she fell asleep, her body a perfect fit against his, that he realized he had not withdrawn.

  * * *

  The sound of the lock's tumblers turning woke Zach. Groaning, he glanced up, squinting into the dazzling sunlight. His eyes adjusted slowly, his mind just behind. He recognized the weight pressing into his side at once. Savannah. It felt good to wake with her.

  But a moment later he was sorry. Once he realized where they were.

  And how much trouble they were in.

  Magnus stood in the doorway of the jail, and as Zach watched, Caleb and Caroline pushed in behind him.

  Chapter 12

  It's all right to tell a wife the brutal truth,

  but you've got to go sort of easy with your lady-love.

  ~Zoe Akins

  "I'll be damned if you and your brothers aren't good at stealing my women," Magnus snarled and took a hasty step into the office. Savannah groaned, sinking deeper into the thin mattress, remembering that the good doctor had once been engaged to Elle.

  A vase she thought held nothing but a withered carnation hit the floor, spraying glass. "I guess she wasn't so hard to steal though, Constable?"

  The man in question smoothed the blanket over her, making sure she was tucked in. Thank God he had put his pants back on last night.

  Unfortunately, she was the naked one.

  "Couldn't you have gone out of town for entertainment, Garrett? Or had Miss Connor already been put through the paces? I wondered, I have to admit."

  The cot creaked as Zach shot to his feet. "Shut your mouth, Leland, or I'll shut it for you. I would enjoy it, so don't goddamn tempt me."

  Savannah lifted the edge of the blanket and peeked out. Yes, it was Zach making those threats. Of course; it was his voice. However, even her antics had not triggered that violent a tone.

  "Don't worry, I wasn't thinking of marrying her, either. I simply would have tried to get her into the same situation you did." He chuckled darkly. "A more luxurious bed, granted, but the outcome would have been the same."

  Savannah slammed her eyes closed, knowing Zach too well. She heard the pop as his fist connected with Magnus's jaw. They rolled to the floor from the sound of it; then another crack echoed in the room before Caleb and Caroline began shouting for them to break it up.

  "Magnus, get outta here. Now, or I'm gonna have to make you. My skinny brother here might not be able to do it, but I sure can."

  Savannah peeped out in time to see Caleb shoving Magnus out the door by the scruff of his stiff collar. Turning back, he offered his brother a hand up, pulling him to his feet. Zach scowled and shook off the assistance the second he could.

  "Skinny? I ought to split your lip for that, you ungrateful son of a bitch." Zach rubbed his hand over his face with a grimace of pain, massaging his jaw.

  "Only one of us needing a busted mouth right now, Constance."

  Zach glanced back, but not long enough to catch her eye. An abbreviated grunt was his only reply.

  Caroline walked around the room, gathering clothing and boots, mostly of the feminine variety. The sympathetic smile on her face held no I-told-you-so tilt, as it could have. She had warned Savannah not to play with fire and look at the mess surrounding her because she had ignored good advice.

  Caroline entered the cell, closing the metal door behind her. Looping a sheet she'd found in the corner over the bars, she provided a means for Savannah to dress in privacy.

  Savannah's heart warmed with the gesture even as everything else felt cold as ice. "Thank you," she said, pleased to hear that her voice sounded calm. On the other side of the curtain she heard Zach ask Caleb where the fire was and why the hell they'd busted into the jail.

  "We were worried," Caroline whispered, throwing a look of caution toward the men. "No one had heard from either of you since the dance."

  "Did anyone suspect?" Savannah fastened her chemise, frowning as she noted that one metal snap was missing.

  Caroline smoothed Savannah's skirt with her hand. "I did, of course. And Magnus, perhaps." She laughed, clicking her tongue against her teeth. "Caleb wouldn't have believed Zach had bedded a woman unless he saw her tangled up with him."

  "Like he did, you mean."

  Caroline held the skirt out with a hesitant smile and a shrug. "Could be worse things that happen to a woman than marr
ying Zach Garrett."

  Savannah laced her skirt strings, straightening it as best she could in its crumpled condition. "I'm not marrying anyone, Caroline."

  "Oh, dear," Caroline murmured, frowning at the floor.

  A strong tug ripped the sheet from the bars. Savannah watched it flutter to the floor, her gaze traveling the length of material to find Zach clutching the other end. His look screamed murder and was directed at her.

  "Get that look off your face, Constable. It takes two to waltz, remember?"

  He stalked forward, grasping the bars instead of her neck, she guessed. "What do you imagine Magnus Leland is doing right now, Irish?"

  "Oh, hmmm." She tilted her head, pouting her lips and tapping a finger on them. "Having a cup of coffee at Christabel's? Or, telling everyone in town that he caught us in your office tangled up like two cats in a sack!"

  Flinging his hands from the bars, he paced to the desk and gave an already wobbly leg a swift kick. Caleb stood to the side, looking like he was trying hard not to burst into laughter.

  She turned to Zach's brother with a scowl. "What do you find so amusing about this situation, may I ask?"

  He grinned then, covering his mouth seconds too late. "My brother has returned to the world of the living, ma'am. I, for one, am a very happy fella. Magnus Leland can jump off the lighthouse landing for all I care. The Garrett family has been spinning like a top for years, and it's finally stopped at normal."

  "Shut up," she and Zach said in unison. Then they glared at each other for a long moment, wanting to share nothing right now.

  How she could find him attractive at a time like this, with his hair mussed and his face stubbled and a cross glower on his lips, she would never know. His eyes were bleary from not wearing his spectacles, and his cheeks were red from something. Maybe her kisses. He had a scratch on his neck, and his shirt lay in a wrinkled spill on his shoulders.

  Still, he looked breathtaking, enough to make her wish Caroline and Caleb would leave them to what they had found was a quite suitable cot.