He stopped, puzzled. Was there a hole in—
Sweet heaven. Designed for easy access.
His turn to groan, as she had, but not for the same reason. He knelt behind her, lifted the small square of material and took his fill of the sight. Black sequins lined either side of her sex, her lush pink lips protruding from the neat gap in the fabric. Jonas pressed her legs farther apart, then counted slowly to three, letting her wonder what he was going to do, letting the breeze blow over her, making the light brown hair between her legs quiver.
Silently, he moved in. His tongue found her first. She gasped, her knees buckling before she recovered and leaned forward to give him better access. He tasted her greedily, steadying her hips with his hands. She was soft, sweet, her labia yielding and stretching under his tongue. A breeze blew around them, carrying the smell of the charcoal fire mixed with coming rain.
Eagerly he turned her toward him so he could find her clitoris with his lips, wanting her as hot and ready as he was. Wanting her to let go completely, to beg for his cock inside her. He wanted her to acknowledge in some way that she was as far gone as he was, that she could no longer fight the power of what lay between them. That what lay between them might be...important.
“Stop. Queen’s...orders.” She barely got the phrase out. “This isn’t the plan.”
“No more plan. Just you and me.” He kept at her, using his lips to paint her, his tongue to thrust up inside, loving her taste, her smell, the promise of what they could do together tonight.
Without the costume.
He tried to ease the panties down, surprised when she grabbed them to keep them on. Okay. The gold band would go, then. He dragged it down around her waist so he could touch her breasts, admire their shape, taste the pink nipples that drew him to his feet.
She was gasping, her body trembling. “You’re not— I was supposed to—”
He lifted his mouth from her breast, took her shoulders and pulled her close to kiss her fiercely.
She stiffened; her hands pushed weakly against his chest. He persisted, wanting her more than he’d ever wanted a woman, wanting to break through the barriers she put up, to get to the inner truth of her. He kissed her insistently, seductively, willing her to break, to show how much she wanted him back.
Finally she relaxed against him, parted her lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. Jonas’s heart swelled with male triumph. He was going to take her right here, against the railing through the slit in her extraordinary panties. He retrieved a condom from his back pocket and shoved down his shorts and boxers with the same hand.
“What are you doing?” She spoke against his mouth with more alarm than he thought necessary.
“Condom.”
“No. No sex.”
He stopped kissing her, incredulous and angry. Another barrier? “What’s up?”
“Sex is...not part of the—”
“So?” He snorted. “Because some ancient relative didn’t, we can’t? This is the twenty-first century.”
“No, that has nothing to—”
“Is this part of some other manipulation, Allie? Because I’m not into power games.”
“Stop. Jonas, calm down.” She was clearly distressed. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, taking a breath. Still on testosterone overload. He needed his brain to work here.
“Okay. Sorry. I should have just asked what the problem was. Is it some health issue?”
“No.” She looked horrified. “I’m clean.”
“Then what? You gave me every reason to think—” He tightened his lips. He was upset, but so was she. He needed to think about something more than the erection that would probably never go down. “Just talk to me, Allie. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow. I have a job interview in the afternoon.”
“Okay.” Luckily—since the testosterone-controlled part of him immediately wanted to ask what the hell that had to do with not having sex—his gentler side gained control of his speech. “That’s great. What’s the position?”
“Pretty much what I’ve been doing.” She made a face. “But it’s a good company. And it’s a job.”
He waited, stunned that they were having this discussion right now, hoping it was not due to more female logic he wouldn’t understand. “Congratulations.”
“So...I’ll be back right before you leave. We’ll barely see each other again.”
He touched her face and smoothed her worried brow, vastly relieved. She didn’t want just one night with him. He didn’t want that, either. “I was already planning to come back up next weekend. We’ll see each other again.”
“Oh.”
His relief faded, undone by her lack of enthusiasm. “That’s a bad thing?”
“No. No.” She pulled back, clearly exasperated. “I’m messing this up.”
“Just say it. Whatever it is. You’re not that interested, you’re seeing someone, you’re married, you’re gay, you’re into fish, you’re into gay fish—”
“Stop!” She was giggling now, looking up at him through her Egyptian makeup, the black sequined headdress glittering. A wave of passion and tenderness swept over him. Yes, too much too soon, but he couldn’t help himself.
He pulled off her headdress and dived his hands into her hair, loosening the pins, making them scatter. Her hair tumbled down and he brought her face to his. “We don’t have to make love, Allie. But I want to understand. If it’s not that we’d only have one night, what is it?”
“I just...” She inhaled and exhaled quickly, eyes down. “Panicked. I’m not Josephine. I’m...this is turning into something I didn’t expect.”
“Like...there’s emotion involved?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “You think Cleopatra admits to that kind of vulnerability?”
“Hmm.” A slow grin spread his mouth. “I don’t want to feel anything for you, either.”
“Well, good. That’s two of us.”
“So.” He took her shoulders gently. “Now there’s no problem. Neither of us wants to feel anything, so we just won’t. It’s all good.”
“You―” she couldn’t suppress another giggle, poking him accusingly in the chest “―are just trying to get back into my loincloth.”