Tell Me What Is Priceless (Siren Publishing Classic) (6 page)

She noted his sudden hesitation as he kept his back to her and then slid off the shorts. When Zar turned, Blaze couldn’t help but stare.

“Gruesome, isn’t it?”

“No, I was just thinking that you have a gorgeous ass. So, what happened?”

“A piece of designer sheet metal fell on me. Someone forgot to check the cable, and I was guiding the driver from the ground. The lift wire snapped, and I was pinned under it for quite a while. It was a miracle that I didn’t lose my leg. Some days it’s almost impossible for me not to limp. I have five pins holding my hip together where it was severed. As you see, we all have flaws. I also look better with my clothing on.”

“I think that scars are very sexy. You should know that from reading my books. They often show a lot of character in the person who bears them. Bad scars are not gruesome in comparison to what they represent.”

“I am impressed. Normally it turns women off. I had gangrene, and it took forever to heal. So what does it show you?”

Blaze was suddenly empowered by the knowledge that he was not perfect. The thoughts and fears that had been running through her mind suddenly seemed childish, and they disappeared as she walked closer to him. She had made a decision against all warnings of rational thought. She wanted to be with him, no matter what the outcome. Blaze knelt down to look closer at the slightly indented mark that ran across his lower stomach and down one leg. “I see an event that would have crippled most men. I see strength in the pain you must have endured. I see a man who seems more human in that he knows what vulnerability is. Did the gangrene cause the loss of muscle?”

“Yes,” he replied, intrigued by her comments and actions.

“Why didn’t you have plastic surgery if it bothers you? You can afford it.”

“Why don’t you? If your body bothers you?”

“Good question. I suppose because I fear the possible mistakes that can happen.”

“Good point. In my case, I’ve been through enough surgeries. Please stand up. I don’t like you kneeling before me. Among other things it’s really turning me on.”

Blaze stood before him. “My turn. So what do you see?” she asked, turning around before him.

“I see a radical change in your attitude. Why?”

“If I answer that, you might tell me to get dressed and take me home.”

“I doubt that. Tell me.”

“I suppose the reason I have been feeling so unsure of myself is because you seemed liked a fantasy. I write about it, but in life, I am a realist. I am middle-aged with varicose veins and cellulite. I work out when I find the time, but…I suppose the scar made you seem less intimidating.”

Zar laughed, his uncertain expression fading. “And I was thinking that you had been turned on because of my ass.”

“Well...that, too,” she replied with an embarrassed giggle. “Zar, I haven’t been naked in front of anyone but David in a long time. I just…” Blaze hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I have also not slept with a man in a long time. David was impotent after the accident. If you want the truth, the desire faded even before that. I attributed it to getting old. You made me realize that I was wrong.”

“I’m glad to hear that. If you want to know what I see when I look at you, I see your eyes. They are beautiful and filled with compassion. Your hair in the sunlight looks like webs of spun gold. You have a very nice shape, and being naked doesn’t change that. Everyone changes as they age, it doesn’t mean that you are less beautiful. As I said, everyone has flaws. Sometimes the beauty on the outside only masks the imperfections on the inside. I see the woman inside as well as the package she is in.”

Blaze smiled at him and put her hand lightly to his face. “I see something special when I look at you.”

“Really, what do you see?”

“I see a face that is rough from experience, but soft in expression. I adored your eyes when I saw them last night. I made a comment to Nan that they were beautiful and expressive. Your sandy-blond hair looks soft and windblown.” Blaze pushed her fingers up into his hair and then closed her eyes. “I feel as if I’m living out a scene in one of my books.”

Zar took her hand and kissed it, placing it back to his face. “I don’t know if I would hold a candle to Margon, but I would love to try.” He urged her into the water, supporting her in case the rocks were slippery.

Blaze moaned in pleasure. “The water is warm. I didn’t know it was a hot spring.”

“My own nature-made Jacuzzi. There is a man-made one in the house. I like it better out here. I like to lie back and listen to the calls of the birds. I love the sound of the leaves when the wind makes them rustle. I have always felt very much at peace with life out here.”

Blaze slipped on a rock and found herself unable to touch bottom. She gasped in surprise, and Zar grabbed her arms. “Are you all right? Can you swim?”

“Yes, I just figured it was shallow.”

“I should have warned you, it is deep in the center.” He moved her further over, and Blaze felt a smooth rock ledge with her hand. Zar put his palms to her waist and unexpectedly boosted her up.

She turned in the seat and smiled, suddenly feeling uneasy again. “How many women have you had in here?”

“This is my private place. I hesitate to share it. It’s been almost two years since I slept with anyone. I date a lot because a man who is often in the public eye is subject to speculation. It is wiser to keep up a good image. There is less chance of a reporter conjuring lies if the truth is more interesting.”

Zar pushed himself up on the ledge, moving a strand of wet hair from her cheek. When she didn’t pull away from the touch, he urged her to turn around. “If you let me, I give a very soothing massage.”

Blaze turned, crossing her legs to keep her balance. Zar’s fingers moved in a soft, steady flow of motion over her shoulders and slowly down her back. She found herself leaning into the touch and felt as if she were floating in a blissful dream. He continued down to her hips and then changed direction, massaging the knots from her muscles as he slid back up to her shoulders. When he moved his hand gently over her throat to her face, she turned to gaze at him. Zar drew her into a kiss, his tongue drifting to her lips as she parted them. She pulled back suddenly, taking in heavy breaths as she stared at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replied with a laugh.

“Tell me.”

“I forgot what that felt like. I have been writing about it for years, and to suddenly be kissed so intensely was very nice.”

“I guess it is like riding a bike. You haven’t forgotten anything.”

Blaze leaned back into his arms, enjoying the sensations of suddenly feeling alive. Zar didn’t push for more. He became her living chair, his arms draped over hers, his finger twined with hers.

The water around them was a cloud, and they both drifted within it for a long while.

“I’m falling asleep, Zar. This feels great, but I have to get out,” Blaze said, slipping away from him and swimming to the edge.

He watched her intently as she pushed herself from the water and stood, dripping, on the rocks.

“Well?” Blaze pulled a towel from the pack, gathering their clothing. “Are you getting out?”

“I was enjoying the view, but now that you have hidden it, I suppose.”

Blaze grinned as she flashed him by flipping the towel wide, and began to skip backward down the path.

Zar laughed, lifting himself out and picking up the pack. “Blaze, slow down. I can’t chase you. My hip won’t allow it.”

She continued to prance. “I am not exactly running. My knees won’t allow it, either. It is your job to be the great hunter and stalk me.”

“You have done a total one-eighty on me, lady. You went from reserved to downright brazen in the course of the morning. Now who is acting psychotic?” Zar followed her down the trail, trying to catch up.

“Maybe I am. Actually, I have just decided that I am tired of mourning and acting like a nun. I am also very headstrong once I make a decision. I know what I want, and I intend to go for it.”

Zar stopped her as they reached the house by grabbing her towel and holding her with it. “And what exactly do you want?”

“I want you. Be it for today or for more, which we have yet to determine. Is that insane?”

“No. I gotta go down to the bike. I’ll meet up with you in the house. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Blaze stood watching him and then went inside. Her curiosity had the better of her, and she ran for the bedroom to get a more thorough look at it. She moved into the room, feeling as if she was snooping and gave the doorway a final check for Zar before taking a closer look around. “Oh shit, I was right. There are wear marks on the bed slats. I wonder who he has been tying up?” She examined the swords, seeing the aged, detailed handcraft in the metal and in the jeweled inlays of the handgrips. “These are not replicas. What I wouldn’t give to acquire just one of these. I wonder where he got them. What the hell is that thing? It looks like a steel dildo.”

“That is exactly what it is,” Zar said in her ear.

Blaze jumped. “I didn’t hear you come in. You scared me half to death. Was I really thinking aloud? Bad habit.”

“Yes, it is. What you are looking at is really old. I found it at an estate auction a few years ago. The guy had some really odd habits, and one was collecting miscellaneous sexual gadgets. The set of thin metal plates on the wall were made for sex when the other person didn’t want to be seen. They were set into a wooden box, and the man or woman displayed their genitals for public use. I gather from what I read that there were houses where people used to gather for such private entertainment. The book was someone’s diary, and it was very interesting reading. These are a tad more recent.” He held up a small plastic bag filled with small boxes.

“I would think so. Do you have enough of them?”

Zar emptied the contents of the bag onto the bed. “I didn’t know what your preference was, so I got a few different kinds. These are ultrathin and smooth. These are ultraribbed, and this pack is thin and ribbed.”

She lifted a package with fruit displayed on the box and read aloud, “For the more delicate application of a woman’s mouth. Make the experience pleasurable for her while providing the utmost in flavorful protection.” Blaze couldn’t help herself as she burst into laughter. “I take it you enjoy blow jobs?”

Zar’s face reddened, and he snatched the box from her hand. “You can stop laughing. I wanted to be prepared.”

She hung her head, embarrassed by the bluntness of her question but unable to stop giggling.

The sound of her laughter was contagious, and Zar chuckled. “Are you a bit nervous?”

“Yes. I want this, yet I don’t know. It has been such a long time since I was in this situation. I didn’t know that they had rubbers for blow jobs.”

“It’s not called a blow job anymore. It’s called giving head. It’s something that I enjoy getting and giving in return. Right now, I want to brush your hair. It’s really snarled. Do you like a man to run his fingers through it? If so, I can’t do that the way it is now.”

“I do. I must look like hell. Definitely different than last night.”

“A little different. More natural. You look good with makeup on, but you also look good without it. You don’t think that you are pretty, do you?”

“I don’t think that I’m ugly. I’ve always considered myself sort of plain, if not a bit mousy looking. I like my hair and my eyes, but the rest of my face is in question.”

His expression turned thoughtful as he scrutinized her. “There are different degrees of beautiful. I know women who are stunning to look at, but they are ugly. With makeup on, you have a warm kind of beautiful. Your eyes are brought out by the addition. You paint your cheekbones to look higher and bolder, and it looks good. As you are now, you are no less beautiful, but your appearance is less dramatic and more inviting. Without the makeup, you almost look innocent and pouting. There is nothing plain or questionable about you. Your hair is another matter completely. I adore your hair. Now go sit down so I can brush it into something less gruesome.”

Blaze pursed her lips in mock exasperation, and Zar smiled. “Go look in the mirror if you doubt my judgment. Between the bike and the water, it’s a rat’s nest.”

“That is why I had it tied back. I forgot about it when we left the take-out restaurant.”

Zar pulled a chair up to the bed and then sat behind her, slowly picking out the tangles.

“Tell me about David.”

“What do you want to know? We met through a friend, dated for a while, and got married. He was sweet and passionately loving. Things were really good in the beginning, and I remember crying when he went out without me. I would kick myself for not going with him. As time passed, that faded. About ten years ago, we did the natural progression from an apartment to a house. It was around that time that our love life slowed substantially. I pleaded with him and cried. I talked to him about it, and I got angry about it. He just seemed to have no interest in being with me. When we did occasionally make love, it was horrid, rushed, and lacked everything that made sex special. There was maybe a vacant span of five years, and then he suddenly found renewed interest. I was so hurt from being ignored for so long that I no longer wanted him. I tried to enjoy it, but I didn’t. Then the accident happened. He was pleasant company when the pain wasn’t too bad. When the pain was bad, he was bitter and moody. I didn’t know what to say to him when he was like that. No matter what I said, it was the wrong thing. After days of being snapped at, I would get angry, and it didn’t help anything. I know what pain is. I lived wild as a teenager. Things that should have sent me to the hospital, I refused to stop for. I paid for it later when my knees collapsed. The doctor said that I had broken my kneecaps at some point, and they hadn’t healed correctly. I vaguely remember wiping out really bad on a ten-speed bike in the sand. It hurt like hell and didn’t put me down. Twenty years later I spent five months on crutches. I never got nasty to David when I was in pain. I just couldn’t understand why he felt the need to take his anger out on me. Don’t get me wrong, he never hit me or anything, but his mood swings were close to abusive on occasion. He mentally pushed me, and I pulled away from him a little bit at a time. When I got absorbed in writing, it bothered him. I preferred to live in my fantasy than to be with him. I suppose I was having an affair with my imagination. I think it made him nervous, and he became overly sweet. It was again too little and too late. It might have been better for both of us had I left him.”