Chapter Twenty-Seven

Blake took a deep breath and eased the tension out of his shoulders. He glanced at his companion as the train pulled into Stuttgart. “See? I told you you could figure out the train schedule.” He squeezed her hand and smiled.

“I guess you were right.” She flashed her megawatt grin at him, and his chest tightened.

He wasn’t sure what the hell had happened back with the goats, had yet to figure out why she’d freaked, although it was likely from shock or something. She seemed better now. “You really are beautiful when you smile.” The words flowed out of him smoothly, as naturally as if he’d uttered them forever.

“Thank you.” She tilted her head to one side. “Your smile isn’t so bad, either.”

People rushed past them, and for the first time in forever, Blake didn’t want to hurry, didn’t want to rush to the next stop, the next destination. No. Instead, he wanted time to slow down, stand still, even. Because tonight was it. Their last night together.

His chest tightened even more. Probably indigestion from the pizza they’d had before they’d boarded the train from France.

“Oh,” she said as she bumped into him. “Sorry. I tripped.”

“No worries. I’m tougher than I look.” At least, physically he was.

He pointed toward King’s Square and the crowd of people sitting on blankets and enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. “There’s supposed to be some sort of concert tonight.”

“You mean, like what’s advertised on that huge billboard at the corner?”

“Oh, you can read. I forgot that.”

She shrugged. “It’s a tough skill, but I somehow mastered it.”

Their shared laughter, her smile, the easygoing vibe they shared—this was the stuff he’d remember from their time together. This was what he’d have, and it’d be enough.

…

They slowly wandered through Stuttgart toward the hotel, and a sense of the inevitable swamped over Zandra. One night. One last night together.

She sucked in a deep breath then held it a moment before breathing out. After the incident at the goat farm, their unspoken truce was welcomed, the afternoon more enjoyable than she’d thought possible.

In less than twenty-four hours, she’d be on a flight to Seattle—without Blake.

He silently opened the door to their room and followed her in. Less than twenty-four hours and then they’d be back to…what, exactly? Could one go back to being acquaintances after what they’d shared?

She had to be reasonable about all this, had to know that what they’d shared might be special, but it certainly wasn’t worth torpedoing her whole life for. She’d just won her freedom, for heaven’s sake, and it sucked that she’d had to remind herself of that more and more these days.

The door shut behind them as she pushed her backpack off her shoulders. No matter what happened tomorrow, there was still what was left of tonight, and she was going to make the most of it. She turned to find Blake’s gaze trained on her as he slid his backpack to the floor.

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, but he kept his gaze firmly trained on hers. “Now what?”

“That depends,” he said, stepping toward her.

“On?”

“Where this is going.” He cocked his head to one side, a question in his eyes, one that she knew she should walk away from, but…

She kicked her shoes off. “I think we both know where this is going.”

A small smile touched his mouth. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.” She’d reached him by then and dropped her gaze to his mouth. “Are you sure? Because I’d hate for you to have regrets later.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “A very wise woman once told me that life’s too short to have regrets.”

“Is that so? Well,” she said, reaching a hand out and tracing her fingers over the front of his T-shirt with the outline of a skull printed on it. “She’s right, you know. Life is too short to have regrets.”

It was true. Which was why she’d take this time with Blake for what it was: laughter and tenderness and pleasure. She lifted her head and stared into his captivating eyes.

For the rest of her life, she’d remember his eyes, the way they revealed only what he wanted her to see. Like now. There was lust in there, all right, but this time it was mixed with something more powerful, something that played in concert with the hands that cupped her face, stroking softly, slowly, like he, too, was savoring the contact.

He lowered his head, nuzzled her nose briefly, then pulled back long enough to capture her gaze once more. “I’m going to make sure you won’t regret anything tonight.”

“Promises, promises.” She gasped when he licked along her jawline, made his way to her neck, and when he reached it, she couldn’t stop the stuttered breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Her pulse quickened, the heat between them building in waves, each one more potent as he held her against him with one arm and lightly dragged a hand down to the valley between her breasts. “I’ve been thinking about these all day.” He caressed the crest of one breast before moving to the other. “The way they move when you laugh or take a deep breath,” he whispered against the pulse at her throat.

“Oh.” She shuddered in another breath at his words, at the way he flicked his thumb over the sensitive tip of one breast, then the other, her senses tuned in to Blake. Only Blake and the delicious way he brought her body to life.

When he stopped and pulled back, her scrambled brain screamed a protest, her body at a loss for his heat, his touch. “Blake?” He didn’t answer, and a moment later, her world turned on its axis, tilting her so she reached her arms around his neck for support.

“Yes?” He nipped leisurely kisses across her chin and carried her across the room, strolling past the old sofa and scuffed-up coffee table, past the TV stand that divided the sitting area from the bed like he had all the time in the world.

The bed shifted with his weight, and he laid her down, not breaking the kiss. The kiss. The mind-numbing way his mouth explored hers, tasting and teasing until she captured his tongue and gently sucked, heard his deep intake of breath. Good. Maybe now she stood a chance of giving as good as she got.

Still, Zandra concentrated on the feel of him on her, of the way his mouth explored hers, at the slight weight of his body as he pulled at the hem of her shirt and quickly stripped it off of her. Somewhere through the haze, her lack of clothing against his fully clothed body registered—just like the layers that hid him from her, layers she was determined to peel back, even if just for tonight.

She eased her fingers underneath the hem of his T-shirt and up his tight abs until she felt the thin mat of hair that covered his chest. He pulled back and groaned when she brushed a hand over his nipple. “What’s the matter, Blake? Can’t take as good as you give?”

His eyes burned her with that familiar lust, tempting her and issuing a warning at the same time. “Game on.”

His mouth crushed down on hers, plunging her into a place where she had one foot in fantasy while a part of her fought to stay in reality, a place of pleasure versus a place of logic and reasoning. But who said logic and reasoning should have a place in this moment?

Zandra pulled back just long enough to pull Blake’s shirt over his head, the skull printed on it replaced with the permanent one on his chest. She eased her fingers over it. “You never did tell me what it is about you and skulls.”

“It’s just a reminder that life’s got an end date, so I need to live while I can.”

She swallowed. “I believe that, too.” That was exactly why, past tonight, she could afford no more distractions. She lifted her gaze to his and smiled. “I think we need to keep this party going.”

Before long, the pile of clothes on the floor grew until all that she wore was a skimpy pair of panties.

“Better?” he asked with a lazy smile on his face.

She raised up onto one elbow and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Getting there.” She took his hand and led it to the small space between them and the scrap of black lace she wore. “I think you forgot a piece.”

“Actually, I like to think of it as heightening the anticipation.” He lowered his head and captured a thick nipple.

She moaned as want and need swirled into a mass so large it couldn’t be ignored. “Blake.” She uttered his name on a breathless sigh, desire surging through her in less time than she could process what was happening, how he owned her body, and how she wouldn’t want it any other way.

And that’s when Zandra knew the truth. Tonight, she was exactly where she belonged.