WindSwept Narrows: #22 Erika & Vianne

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “Maybe you trust me at a level you didn’t have before,” Tanner suggested, his hands sliding down her back to the hem of her tunic. Warm, sure palms caressed beneath the fabric and onto the soft flesh he’d kissed the night before. Somehow he knew in that minute there would never be enough time with Vianne Summers.

  She didn’t try and argue with him. It was a better explanation for the events of the last two days than she had in her own mind. She watched his eyes darken even more when she backed out of his hold, her fingers out and gripping his belt with a tug.

  “I need a shower,” she said firmly, hazel eyes sparkling at the interest in his gaze. “And I believe in conserving water.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “So it makes sense that two people can shower for less water,” Tanner felt the grin tilting the corner of his mouth. His girl liked to play. And he was nothing if not obliging. He moved quickly, ducking beneath her hand and sweeping her into his arms, the loud squeal making him grin.

  “And why is this necessary?” Vianne let her head fall onto his shoulder. It was fast becoming evident that Tanner Clayton was a force unto his own and followed his own path.

  “I don’t like thinking my prey is going to get away.”

  “Doesn’t prey generally fight back?” She felt the floor beneath her feet, and the door behind him pushed closed. So much for an escape route.

  “Or escape,” Tanner said with a wicked grin. “Let’s get rid of this,” his hands moved swiftly, pulling the tunic over her head and aiming it at the small basket with clothes in it. He took her hands in his when they rose to cross her chest, pinning her palms against the tiles. “Ah-ah-ah…never cover up the spoils.” He watched the spark of interest in her eyes, a token squirm against his strength. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you enjoy being restrained, Vianne.”

  “That’s ridiculous. No one enjoys being restrained.” But the protest was weak at best.

  “Really?” He challenged, raising her hands above her head and switching them to one hand.

  Vianne pulled but his fingers held tight. “Tanner…”

  “Shh…I’m enjoying the view,” he drew one finger around the scallops of her bra, sliding his hand behind her and popping the small fitting. His palm moved to the front, flattened out and pressing down to the elastic waist of her leggings. He stepped back and released her fingers, his own going to the buttons of his shirt. His voice was low, gruff with strained control when he spoke. “Take your clothes off, Vianne. Slowly.”

  Vianne wasn’t sure where the urge to protest went. Maybe it was the flare in his eyes, the hunger that seemed to flash a little hotter as his eyes cruised over her. She lowered her arms, letting the miniscule piece of lace and nylon slide to one hand. She dropped it onto the counter behind her before hooking her thumbs into the elastic of her leggings.

  She kept her gaze on his face, taking in all the passion and fire in his eyes. His jaw was tense, the pulse at the side of his throat thumping rapidly as she shimmied the leggings down over her hips, leaving the pair of damp panties in place. He was very strict with his control, she thought in amazement, his hands on the buttons of his shirt and not moving.

  Vianne let the leggings fall to the floor and stepped out of them before raising her hands to his shirt. She quickly opened the buttons on his shirt and flattened her palms against his chest.

  “And what should I be doing now?”

  “Probably make sure I’m still breathing,” Tanner said softly. “Unleashed, you’re dangerous to my sanity, Vianne.”

  “Do you intend to unleash me, Tanner?” She leaned against his chest, finding far too much enjoyment in playing with him. Was there such a thing as too much? She wondered. Fire coursed through her and made her squirm when his hand rose and speared her hair. His fingers tightened and held her mouth in place for his to come down hard and hungry.

  “Not anytime soon, Vianne,” he whispered huskily against her mouth before his tongue swept in and stroked along her lips and inside to taste the passion brewing there for him. His lips moved hungrily over hers, teasing and coaxing a response until she was breathing erratically, panting and snug against him.

  His groan filled the bathroom when her hands pressed over his stomach to pull his T-shirt free.

  “You wear way too many clothes, Tanner,” Vianne pulled her mouth from his, her hands gripping the end of his shirt and pulling it up, trapping his arms above his head. She laughed softly and turned them, the tiles behind his back. “Now who’s the trapped one?”

  “Anytime you want me, sweetheart…anytime at all,” Tanner watched the laughter play in her eyes, the full small breasts just waiting for his touch. But it was her hands pressing over his chest, fingers circling the male nipples before she dragged her nails just a little sharper along his ribs to the button on his jeans.

  She liked the sharply inhaled breath when she touched him in just the right way, just the right place. The fire in his eyes heightened her arousal and sent her hips against his cock for a long, grinding minute before she stepped back and continued opening his jeans.

  She thought about their first night. He hadn’t allowed her free reign; hadn’t allowed her to play and excite him. Tonight there wasn’t any fog of champagne that shrouded their lovemaking. She had a sexy, handsome male beneath her fingertips and planned to play all night.

  “You had your turn last night, Tanner,” Vianne dropped a kiss on the flat of his stomach, swirling her tongue around his naval and sliding lower. She was bent in half, her hands gliding heavily down each of his legs before opening the jeans and pushing the sides apart.

  Why would you protest a hot woman running her hands all over your body?

  He heard the question in his mind at the same time his head thumped against the tiles behind him.

  Vianne had pressed her cheek to the hard length of him with only his boxers between them. Until she lowered the fabric and swiped her tongue over the weeping opening.

  His hands struggled with the tangled shirts over his head, tossing them to the floor before his fingers speared the silken blond curls. He separated his feet a little more, sliding down the tiles. His body froze when her mouth covered the head of his cock, hard and hungry and throbbing for her touch.

  Vianne listened to the rough, male groans as she explored the hard shaft in her hand. She let her mouth cruise along the length of him, taking in the wild tastes that made up Tanner Clayton. There was no hurry, she decided, enjoying the solid feel of him beneath her tongue. Each throbbing vein; the edge when the crown ended. She drew her tongue very slowly around the rim, stroking down and back. She swore she heard his head hit the tiles more than once.

  When she finally finished exploring, she drew him inside her mouth, taking him as far as she could and suckling, backing out and repeating. This time she was positive it was his head hitting the tiles. His hands were clenched tightly in her hair but she was pretty sure he wasn’t trying to stop her.

  She’d never gotten aroused with the intensity that she was now. Something male and erotic about Tanner brought out the pure female in her and sent her to wreak havoc on his mind and body. She knew her panties were soaked. The swollen lips of her sex rubbed against them as she knelt before him, taking him over and over as deep as she could into her mouth.

  “Vianne…baby…you gotta stop…”

  She listened to the deep, growling response when she took him a little more, suckling harder and pushing him to the edge. Her tongue swirled and teeth nibbled before sinking her mouth as far as possible. The fingers on one hand gripped the thick, pulsing base of his cock, squeezing and reaping her reward.

  Tanner’s hands tightened. He swore he intended to pull her free. He swore he intended to push her against the tiles and bury himself balls deep. But Vianne had other plans for him. He felt the small palm squeeze. Felt her tongue and teeth and lips caressing and suckling and he lost it. Completely lost the control he’d been gripping so tightly. Control he’d learned long ag
o to hold in severe check.

  Vianne held the pulsing base firmly, groaning into the throbbing eruption. She let her tongue swirl until his body relaxed, the hard shudder coursing through to his feet. She gave the semi-erect cock one last swipe of her tongue before she stood up, panties pulled down and dropped into the laundry basket.

  “I think I’ll shower now,” she whispered against his lips, kissing him softly. “You’re still wearing way too many clothes, Tanner.” She offered a sexy wink and stepped over to the glass door of the large walk-in shower. She set the temperature and realized he’d shed the remaining clothing by the time the hot steam began filling the enclosed space.

  It continued to amaze her how easily it was to shove the rest of the world aside when Tanner kissed her and touched her. Losing herself in their chatter; laughing with him as they both ended the shower covered with lather and hot water. Vianne stepped from the shower and snatched a thick bath sheet off the shelf, handing one to Tanner and relieved her knees didn’t give out beneath her.

  She’d never be able to see her shower as quite the same again, a soft sigh breaking free as she pulled a drawer open and found a comfortable pair of satiny pants and a top in deep crimson.

  Tanner came out of the bathroom, a smaller towel on his shoulders and a pair of soft cotton pants knotted at his hips. He decided to watch the satiny fabric cling and shimmer as she walked between a low, long bureau and a tall six drawer dresser. Evidently he was getting drawer status, he mused, working to keep at least a little part of his grin hidden. Empty drawers were slid closed before she looked up and saw him watching her.

  “It was part of the set,” she said with a hint of discomfort, her palms rubbing over her behind as she backed up one step for each one he took toward her. “So I moved things…for you…”

  “I get a dresser.”

  “Well…we are married…it doesn’t make sense to have two places. And living in the resort…” she shrugged, jolting slightly when the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready to kiss my wife,” Tanner finally let the grin out, the towel dropped to his shoulders and hands on her face for a fast, hard kiss. “I’ll get my bag. I’ll get the other things tomorrow. I have stuff in storage that I’ll have to make some decisions about. I’ll take you to the unit in a few days in case there’s something you might like to keep.”

  She stared, his words a confident echo inside her baffled brain. She let him go, her hand going to her chest, palm flat against her skin. It took several slow breaths before she was moving without gulping air like a fish on the beach. She glanced at the clock and wanted a bit of time online, checking in with Cailie and other correspondence. The station hadn’t been pleased with her departure, but the joy of being a correspondent gave her the freedom to choose.

  Vianne sat cross-legged on the bed with her laptop in front of her, fingers tapping while Tanner seemed quite happy making himself at home, exploring and filling drawers with things. She wasn’t sure how he kept pulling things from inside the bag and when he went outside and returned with another bag she gave a little frown that got her a lewd wink. She hastily refocused on the laptop, sending a note to the candidate’s wife for an interview appointment.

  She was fortunate in that her name opened a few doors to her that might be closed to regular reporters. Faith had sent her a response, giving her a possible scenario and it was a half way decent, if annoying possibility. That girl had an imagination that small dictatorships should seriously fear.

  Vianne sighed and leaned her elbows on her knees. It wasn’t that she was even a little bit naïve. She’d seen far too much since she was barely a teen to doubt the possibility of off-the-wall behavior like this. Compared to most, Erika’s parents were mild mannered.

  “That sounded a little sad,” Tanner lowered the book he was reading and rolled to lay on his side. One hand held his head up, the other trailed a finger down the bare expanse of thigh, to her knee and back.

  “I always, always wanted to be a reporter. Truth and honesty had so much meaning to me when I was little. I thought truth helped people,” she worked to organize the muddled thoughts inside her mind. Ordinarily she’d shrug and say it was nothing important and the men she was accustomed to would accept that and go on. Delving inside a girl’s mind, her thoughts, seemed to scare most men off. Somehow she knew Tanner wasn’t the type to settle for being shunted off a path.

  “You don’t think that way now?”

  “Now…there are so many variations of the truth. It’s really about perception, isn’t it? For whatever reason, Erika’s parents believe they’re doing what’s best. Now, for whom, is another question altogether,” her laugh was humorless. “I figured helping by reporting was less likely to get me shot at or beat up.”

  His body stiffened, remembering the marks and scars she carried. He remembered the days he’d go without much sleep when she was over in some place she shouldn’t have been, reporting one conflict or another; one disaster or another from one end of the globe to another.

  “I’ve seen your reports, Vianne,” Tanner said softly. “You spent a lot of time in places…” He stopped, his head shaking. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to speak. The anguish and fear he’d felt for her was too close to the surface.

  “Places most people would have run screaming from, Tanner,” Vianne closed programs and then the computer. “The sad thing is even here would be frightening with the wrong people running rampant,” she yawned and slid beneath the blankets. “Now maybe you see why I lived my life alone. Too many fights because of my career,” she murmured tiredly.

  “No fights here, Vianne,” he reached behind him and dimmed the light on the nightstand. He was glad she offered no resistance when he stretched out on his back and tugged her against him. His fingers slipped between hers. “And it’ll be a quiet Sunday. Good night.”

  “I’m hoping I can go interview the candidates wife and maybe even Erika’s mother tomorrow.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “Some parts of the world don’t know one day from the next,” she shrugged and relaxed against him, her head on his shoulder. “We reporters take what we can get when we can get it. G’night, Tanner.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Warmth. Very nicely warm, she mused, snuggling down a little more into the mass of blankets and pillows she favored on her bed. She’d slept too often with nothing but a blanket that the extra softness and scents were important to her when she was unconscious.

  And coffee.

  That shouldn’t be, she thought with a little frown. She faced the window, lifting her head and peering through squinting eyes into the spring mix of clouds, sunshine and spitting rain. She needed a clock on this side of the bed. With the date on it as well as the time. She let her face fall back into the pillows.

  Again with the coffee scent. She inhaled deeply, slowly taking in the scent and wishing it had caffeine infused with it.

  This side of the bed? She never slept on a side. She was a middle girl.

  Then she heard the unmistakable sound of paper being folded, arranged.

  That explained why she was on one side of her own bed. Vianne slowly pushed her hands up beneath her head, her face lifting and turning toward the sound. She hoped the sigh that broke free was silent but knew from the chuckle it wasn’t. All she could see through the blond hair falling over her eyes was a hip and expanse of flat stomach, ribs and one arm.

  Nicely tanned and muscled. And definitely an interesting addition to her mornings.

  Tanner, the female in her breathed with a hunger that she’d never played with before.

  “Fresh coffee, croissants and marmalade,” suggested the sexy dream at her side.

  “What time is it?”

  “Just before eight,” he answered easily, lifting a cup and taking a slow drink.

  Vianne groaned and let her face fall back to the pillows.

  He really had read their correspondence,
not simply skimmed it to be polite, she realized in further confusion.

  “Where’d you get those? They didn’t come from my kitchen,” she commented with a slight frown and a resolute frown. She pushed up and back, perching on her heels, two hands swept up, fingers stabbing her hair and pulling it back from her eyes.

  “No kidding,” Tanner said with a laugh. “Shopping for the kitchen is on the list for when you surface and are feeling social.”

  She blinked, taking in the uncommon, oh hell no, more like never before seen sight of a man sitting propped against the headboard, drinking coffee and reading the Sunday paper. Did people still read papers? Evidently her new husband did.

  New husband. She repeated the words, listening to their sound with a tiny whimper.

  Tanner didn’t remember a more appealing sight in his life. And there was no denying it: she was in his life and he’d fight to keep her there. Perched on her heels, sleepy, with a few freckles dotting her cheeks and shoulders; dressed in a satiny tank that slid down her arms with her nipples reacting to the chill in the room and blond hair in sexy disarray. He sighed and reached for the mug of coffee he had waiting for her to wake.

  “Thank you,” she breathed in the scent and took a sip, grateful it had cooled enough to take in a long drink. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to find yourself with a new husband. Husband. The word was so unfamiliar to her.

  Tanner barely had his mouth open when the cup was thrust back toward him. He swore he’d never seen a woman scramble to her feet in the center of the bed and make a dash for the bathroom, the sound of the slamming door next before the sigh of relief.

  He laughed and set the cup down, his head shaking as she came out. She’d scrubbed her face and he guessed it was cold water, the damp curls dragged back before she slid more sedately back into the bed.