Viking Ecstasy (20 page)

T
anaka forced herself to keep her gaze high, so that she would only look into Tabor's eyes. Still, her eyes would not follow the direction of her better judgment, and she could not help noticing once again the breadth of his massive chest or the way his pectorals were so perfectly formed. He was like a sculpture made by a woman artist who had let her sense of perfection be her guide, not that of her mortal, flawed model.

She noticed the white scar on his left biceps where Ingmar's arrow had struck. The arm was strong once again, but Tanaka asked, "How is your arm? Is it giving you any pain?"

"My arm is not the issue," Tabor replied, understanding Tanaka's sudden and perhaps unintentional subject change. "Your beauty is the subject. Considering its importance, I think we should give it our complete attention."

Tanaka promised herself that soon — sometime soon — she would confront Tabor and make him decide exactly what plans he had for her in his future. But for now, there was only the night, themselves, and whatever feelings and pleasures they were able to share.

His body was still wet from the bath. Tanaka watched small streams run from his long, blond hair onto his shoulders, continuing downward over his chest. When her gaze pulled upward again to his eyes, he was smiling sensually. He was a man accustomed to women finding his body beautiful.

His confidence annoyed Tanaka.

"Are you always so sure of everything?" she asked when he placed his hands upon her shoulders.

"I know what I know," he replied with pure Viking logic. "I believe what I believe. There are many things I do not know and do not believe, and those things do not concern me."

She felt him easing his fingers beneath the neckline of her silk robe. If she did not stop him soon, she would not be able to stop him at all; and though she had dreamed many times of sharing this moment with Tabor, this was not the way she had imagined it.

"You say that I am beautiful," Tanaka continued, never letting her eyes stray far from Tabor's. She trembled, still aware of Tabor's naked body. "Is Lysetta beautiful?"

Tabor's eyebrows raised slightly as he gazed down at Tanaka. He pushed the silk aside enough to show her collarbone, which suddenly seemed the most sensual part of her body, making him realize how much he had hungered for Tanaka's return while he'd allowed his eyes to take in the nubile servants.

"Well?" Tanaka repeated, wanting an answer. If a look at Lysetta's breasts had caused Tabor's excitement, then Tanaka didn't want him to touch her. She would not be a substitute for another woman.

"Is she beautiful? Yes, of course she is. I would be lying if I told you she wasn't," Tabor answered.

Tanaka wished that just once he would lie to her. She hadn't really wanted the truth. She wanted a sweet lie that would bolster her confidence.

"Is she beautiful in the same way you are?" Tabor continued. "No. Is her beauty comparable to yours? Not in the least." With the pad of his right thumb, he brushed Tanaka's lips, making her feel as if she'd just been kissed. "Hers is a harsh, angry, manipulative beauty. You can see that behind her eyes, where her lies and deceit fester like wounds. Her body and her beauty are weapons, and she uses them skillfully in her war."

Through her silk robe, Tabor cupped the underside of Tanaka's breast, running his thumb across the nipple to make it erect. The contact was shocking in its intensity, and Tanaka's knees trembled, her lashes fluttering briefly against her cheeks. She made no move to push Tabor's hand from her, and she did not allow her gaze to stray. She struggled to pretend to be unaffected by his touch.

"She is beautiful, but she does not have breasts like these," Tabor continued, his thumb brushing back and forth across the tip of Tanaka's breast, the touch of silk heightening her pleasure. "These are the most beautiful breasts in the world. . . . but then, you've known that all along. You don't need me to tell you that."

Yes, I want you to tell me!
Tanaka thought frantically, afraid that Tabor would stop. He was shamelessly appealing to her vanity, and she was accepting the praise. Perhaps later she would regret it . . . much, much later.

"I have watched you tremble when we are together," Tabor continued, his voice deep, sensual. He moved closer to Tanaka so that she was forced to tilt her head far back on her shoulders to look up into his eyes. To see you respond to me, to my touch, is what gives me my greatest pleasure."

Tanaka asked herself how any woman could deny such a man as this. The tone of his voice, the words he spoke, the friction of his thumb touching her nipple through the silk robe — all of it was done with practiced skill. She didn't want to think about whom Tabor had practiced with before he met her. That didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was with her now, and he would please her and show her ecstasy.

"Tabor. ... I should be angry with you — "

"But you're not," he said, cutting her off, a touch of levity in his tone. "We've done enough fighting with one another and with all the others. . . . now is the time for peace."

The word peace sounded odd coming from a Viking warrior. She realized then that there were a thousand things about Tabor that she did not know. She had thought him incapable of understanding her insecurities, and then he destroyed her myth by showing her how sensitive he was to her needs. She had thought him a man who loved violence and lived for war, yet he talked now of putting an end to the fighting and accepting peace.

"You mystify me," she whispered, her bones melting as Tabor's thumb continued its tantalizing strokes.

"Me? I am a simple man. You. . . . you're the mystifying one. You're a high priestess. You are so different from any other woman I have ever known."

When he spoke those words, Tanaka became afraid that Tabor would not like the changes she'd made in herself. The Scandinavian women did not shave themselves. Would it bother him that she had? Would she now be ugly to him? She wished that it were darker in the room so that he could not see her well.

"What is wrong?" Tabor asked.

"Sometimes, I wish you would not be able to see inside me as easily as you do."

"The more I see of you, the more I desire you."

Tanaka at last let her gaze dip down, and when she did, she saw the extent of Tabor's passion for her. She trembled, thrilled with the effect she had on this warrior and a little frightened of the power that she unleashed in him.

When Tabor reached for her, Tanaka melted into his arms. He held her tight and she parted her lips, waiting that eternity of a single second before his mouth closed down over hers. She felt him pressing hard against her stomach, searing her flesh through the silk of her robe.

"Tabor. ... I can never stay angry with you," Tanaka whispered when the kiss finally ended. Her arms were locked around his neck to pull him down so that they could kiss, but as she looked into his fierce blue gaze, her hands strayed to his shoulders to feel the steely muscles that rippled beneath the surface of the smooth, pale skin.

"Do not even try, priestess," Tabor said, amusement and passion twinkling in his eyes.

He started to pick Tanaka up, taking her into his arms, but she stopped him, twisting out of his grasp. Though it never failed to arouse her when Tabor lifted her into his arms, she wanted to be more in control this night, to act rather than be acted upon.

In a conversational tone, as though her body were not on fire with hunger for the Viking, Tanaka took

Tabor's hand and said, "Tell me, do you like my home?" She led him across the room to the mattress. Tabor did not answer her. "I suspect you will find that many things are different here than in your homeland. Our customs, our way of doing things, our dress and manner. . ."

She pushed against his chest, forcing Tabor to sit. He slipped further onto the mattress, his body gloriously naked, his mind enviously at ease. He stretched out, resting on an elbow to look at Tanaka, and she wondered if she would ever be as comfortable completely naked with him as he was with her.

"Thank you," Tanaka said. With just his eyes, Tabor asked a silent question. "For making me believe that I'm beautiful," she answered. "Sometimes, I'm afraid that my skin is too dark for you, or . . ."

She let the words die away as she loosened the sash around her waist. Her robe was simple but elegant. Made of fine silk, it had billowing sleeves and wrapped loosely around her body. With a shrug of her shoulders, she let the robe fall to the floor. The immediate intake of breath she heard worried Tanaka, and she kept her gaze down, somewhat afraid of what she would see if she looked into Tabor's eyes.

"You don't approve." Tanaka crossed her hands over herself.

Tabor moved quickly, pulling his knees beneath himself, crawling across the mattress until he knelt before Tanaka. He was aware that the cultural differences between what he knew and what Tanaka expected of herself were enormous. He reached out and ran his palm lightly along the outside of Tanaka's thigh. The flesh was firm and smooth, freshly shaven and waxed. Tabor's blood began to burn in his veins.

"You don't approve," Tanaka said again, self-conscious.

She tried to kneel, to get down on the mattress with Tabor, but this time he was the one who stopped her.

"No," he said in that commanding tone that brooked no rebuttal. "Stand."

Tanaka remained standing, her hands folded one over the other, as if she could hide behind them. When Tabor took her wrists in his hands, she resisted, afraid their differences in what constituted cleanliness and beauty would be a chasm Tabor could not bridge.

"You mustn't hide from me," Tabor whispered, gently but insistently pulling at Tanaka's wrists, forcing her hands away from her body.

Tanaka blushed crimson. Tabor's response was proof of his acceptance.

"Why?" Tabor asked, lightly bringing his fingertips to Tanaka's smooth mons, touching her light as a feather.

"It is our way," she answered. "It displeases you?"

In answer, she felt Tabor's large, powerful hands cup her buttocks, then his lips, warm and moist, kissing her down low. His tongue injected wet, heated ecstasy straight into her veins.

She gasped loudly, tossing her hips backward, away from the contact. But Tabor was strong —much stronger than Tanaka, and infinitely more determined. He held her fast, his long, powerful fingers burying into the tender flesh of her buttocks, his serpentine tongue flashing across her sensitive orifice. She pushed her fingers into his hair, forcing his head away from her.

Tabor was looking up at her when Tanaka's vision at last cleared. There was that twinkle in his bright eyes that she had seen so many times before that whispered of unimaginable ecstasies, unspeakable pleasures that would be shared if only Tanaka would trust him and follow his lead.

"For now, please don't," Tanaka whispered, still keeping Tabor's hair entwined in her fingers, forcing his head away from her. She knew she could not hope to stop Tabor, but perhaps it would be possible to delay him slightly.

"Why?" he asked, his hands still warm and strong against Tanaka's buttocks, forcing her to strain to keep some distance between them. "You enjoy it; I enjoy it. Why deny that which we enjoy?"

"Because. . . . because I want to make you happy," Tanaka said. She was once again irked with Tabor that his commanding nature made it practically impossible for him to allow anyone, even her in this most intimate circumstance, to be in control for even brief moments.

But Tabor released his hold on Tanaka, and she took her hands from his hair. He reclined on the bed, his head on one of the numerous pillows. Tanaka knelt at his hip, ignoring the most obvious sign of Tabor's desire for her.

She placed her hand lightly upon his chest and smiled down at him. "I brought you back to life when we were on the boat," she said softly, her hand roaming over his chest. Would she ever tire of feeling these powerful muscles? "Now let me take care of you once again. This palace is my home. I love being here, and I owe you my life for bringing me here."

"You owe me nothing," Tabor whispered. He laced his fingers behind his head, appearing calm and unconcerned, with one aroused exception which thrust upward impatiently, thickly engorged. "You saved my life, and now you say I've saved your life. We owe each other nothing."

"We owe each other everything," Tanaka contradicted.

Tabor's eyes narrowed as he contemplated what she had said. Every time he was sure he understood all there was to know about her, she threw something at him that forced him to reevaluate.

Even now, it was still difficult for Tanaka to look straight into Tabor's eyes for very long. They were so unflinching, as though they saw everything and were surprised by nothing. Tiny fears, little more than pinpricks of sensation in the deepest part of Tanaka's soul, flared and were extinguished within her.

Let this night be one of magic.
Tanaka thought as she watched her hand moving over Tabor's chest.
Now that I am home, let me show labor the beauty and splendor of my homeland.

But hardly had this thought entered Tanaka's head when she realized that if she were home, then Tabor was far from home. No matter how much desire they shared, they could never both be home simultaneously.

Tanaka banished the thoughts. There would be time enough to worry later. This would be the only time that she would be able to share with Tabor his first night in her palace. From behind the mattress, on the floor, Tanaka produced a small, exquisitely painted container. She removed the stopper and poured a small amount of the thick, clear liquid into her palm.

"What is that?" Tabor asked.

"A balm," Tanaka replied.

She rubbed her hands together, heating the liquid. Glancing down Tabor's body, she was pleased to see that he had relaxed. She knew how hot his passion could burn, and she wanted this evening to be a long, slow exploration of the senses, not a meteoric inferno.

"What is it for?"

"It is for you," she said in a sultry purr.

The balm's actual purpose was for women after shaving, though its secondary purposes were well known in the amorous aristocracy. She took him into her hand, and he came to life, quickly regaining stature.

"Does it feel good?" she asked.

"Whenever you touch me, it feels good."

Tanaka chuckled throatily. As her small hand worked along the length of him, testing and exploring, touching sometimes very lightly and at other times with firm confidence, she could see the strain beginning to show on Tabor's features. She saw it first in the corners of his eyes; and if she had not known him as well as she did, she would not have been entirely certain that she pleased him at all. The pinched look showed more plainly in his eyes, and finally the strain of controlling himself showed in his lips, which were pressed into a thin line of self-control.

"Exactly how long do you think you can continue like this without turning me into a madman?" Tabor asked finally.

"Quite some time, actually," Tanaka replied with conversational composure. "So many times since we've been together you've sent me spiraling into the heavens, it seems to me only fair that I torture you with similar means ... if I can."

For a moment, Tabor watched as Tanaka's breasts swayed tautly from side to side as she pleasured him. A low, rumbling sound of passion erupted from deep within his broad chest, and he closed his eyes, forcing himself to think of anything but the small hand that touched him with consummate, erotic skill.

It was easier, Tabor noted, to control himself when he was not looking at Tanaka. She was too beautiful, her visual charms too undeniable, for him to remain idle and calm while she touched him, kneeling naked at his hip.

"Don't look away," Tanaka whispered, forcing Tabor back to the present. "I want you to watch me," she whispered. She wanted him thinking of her, the memory of Lysetta still too fresh in her mind. "I want you thinking of me . . . only of me and no one else . . . ever."

"How could I ever think of another?" Tabor asked.

He felt himself losing control, but it did not bother him. He watched as Tanaka took him in both hands, touching him, heightening his excitement so that he felt all-powerful, as though his passion could go on endlessly. He let his gaze follow the curve of Tanaka's back, the delicate line of her buttocks, the tight, straight line of thigh, and the curve of her exquisite breasts. When at last he looked straight into her eyes again, he saw a new confidence behind those ebony eyes that was as exciting as it was shocking.

"Remember how you've teased me?" she asked.

Tabor nodded. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. This Egyptian high priestess was turning the tables on him, and he felt powerless against his desire for her. No woman had ever captivated him so thoroughly, so completely. Despite his best intentions, he was unable to keep his eyes open.

Just let him try to forget me!
Tanaka thought defiantly, challenging whatever differences there were that would ever separate them.
Just let him try to think of another woman when he's with me!