Steele Warming Up


Laura tapped at the keys of her computer.  She’d developed a certain respect for the machine and certainly enjoyed reaping the benefits of the information she could extract at will.  The challenge of coaxing pertinent details also kept her mind off her partner.

They’d become lovers last night.  Dinner and a movie had turned into a make-out session that evolved into something entirely different.  As hard as she tried to keep from thinking of it, the scene was stuck on repeat in her head.  In reality, it had been more nerve-racking than wonderful.  For two people who had waited an eternity for that moment, the whole experience had seemed rushed and awkward, rather like two fumbling teenagers than the experienced adults they were.  Remington had done his best to keep the mood relaxed, but she’d been jumpy and sorely out of practice.    Afterward, she’d slept in fits and spurts beside Remington.  She’d fled gratefully to her loft early this morning to shower and change for work.

Damn, damn, damn.  Keep your mind on the case, Holt.  But she was mortified, knowing her own hesitancy and nervousness had been at the heart of the matter--again.  She hadn’t seen him yet at the agency and wondered what to do when he arrived.  

Then she heard him carol his usual “Morning, morning, morning” to Mildred through the door.  She stiffened, waiting for him to come in.  He did.  

“Good morning, Miss Holt.”  Remington shut the door behind him.  For a minute he searched her face, then--apparently satisfied by whatever he found there--he rounded the desk and kissed her lightly on the lips.  That mere brush of mouths had her nerves sparking.  She jerked her hands against the keyboard in reflex.    

“Hmm.”  He smacked his lips comically and leaned on the corner of her desk.  “That’ll have to do for the moment.”  

Laura started to smile, but Mildred beeped her line. 

“Miss Holt, is Mr. Steele with you?” she asked after Laura punched the button to put her on speaker phone.

Remington grinned widely, and Laura rolled her eyes at him.  “He’s here.”

“What can I do for you this lovely morning, Mildred?”  His eyes twinkled at Laura.

“A young woman is here, asking for you … or for Douglas Quintaine … I should say.”

He sat up straight, all humor vanishing.  “What is the lady’s name?”

“Gabriella Fazioli.”

Remington blanched.  “Yes, Ms. Krebs.  I’ll be out in a moment.”  He clicked the speaker phone off.  

“Douglas Quintaine … isn’t that one of your passport names?” Laura asked.

“It was … until Scotland Yard confiscated it.  Gabriella is an….”  His voice trailed off.  

Laura sighed.  And some things never change.  “An old girlfriend?”

“Something like that.”  He sat motionless with his eyes closed for a moment, then swore under his breath and yanked the gold band off his little finger.  He took Laura’s left hand and, after another brief hesitation, slid it over her third finger.  “Don’t lose this. Give me two minutes, and then come in my office.”  

“I trust you’ll have an explanation later.”  She arched a brow at him.  The ring felt like a lead weight.

“I suspect you won’t need one.”  He kissed her fingertips and disappeared through their connecting door.  

Laura stared at the ring.  She’d asked about it any number of times, but Remington had sidestepped her questions with his usual creativity.  All she knew is that it was one of the few possessions he prized.  A quick peek inside revealed an unblemished surface.  Damn.  No inscriptions for a clue.  She slipped it on again, judged the two minutes had passed and walked through the door.  

Remington looked up as Laura opened the door, his expression grateful as she caught her first sight of the woman standing three feet away from him with her arms crossed and wearing a sulky pout.  Why do they always have to be stunning?  And tall?  The extraordinarily beautiful brunette, very much in line with Mr. Steele’s usual taste in woman, wore elegant clothing and accessories.  Damn and damn again.

“Ah, Laura, this is Gabriella Fazioli, an old friend from Venice.”  He made a point of crossing over and putting his hand to his “wife’s” waist.  “Gabriella, my wife and partner, Laura.”  

Gabriella gave her a swift perusal from hairline to toenails.  Her voice was thick with an Italian accent, and she did not appear happy.  “So this is the woman who captured Quinn.”  

“I seem to hear variations on that theme rather frequently.”  Laura played along, holding out her hand. The other woman pressed it in a token handshake and let go.  

“Quinn made it quite clear that he wasn’t interested in permanent liaisons or anything of the sort.  I’m rather vexed to discover he’s changed his mind.” Gabriella slid a narrow-eyed glance at Remington, then dropped her gaze to Laura’s left hand.  What she saw must have shocked her because her head snapped back to Laura’s face, then to Remington’s again.  “Apparently, he loves you a great deal.”  

Laura smiled when his fingers jerked against her waist--then smiled wider as she decided to needle her devious partner.  “Yes, he does.”

He shifted, sliding her hand into his where he could brush a kiss across her knuckles.  Laura caught her breath as she realized he was acknowledging the truth of her declaration.  His blue eyes shone, and he flicked her an arch of his right brow.  

But she didn’t forget they had an audience and turned back to Gabriella.  

The brunette glowered in annoyance.  “It seems I’ve come on a fool’s errand, then,” she muttered.  Gabriella held out an imperious hand to Remington, who bussed the air just above her fingers before releasing it.  “Just one question.  Why, Quinn?”

Remington leaned against his desk and put his hands in his pockets.  His eyes moved from Gabriella to Laura and back.  A slow smile lit up his face.  “Do I need to answer?”

“And thus the mighty have fallen,” she murmured.  “I suppose I must wish you well, Quinn.  I suspect you won’t be coming back to Monaco.”

“Only for amusement,” he agreed.

“Since that is why you were there in the first place, that’s rather ambiguous,” Gabriella retorted.  

Laura laughed outright.  “Is there any other way to describe him?”

The Italian woman nodded slowly.  “Perhaps you do know him, then.”    

Laura glanced at her partner and decided to let both of them off the hook.  “Ms. Fazioli, it’s been nice to meet you.  I have a client I need to meet in a few minutes.”  She winked at Remington and clasped hands with the other woman once more before exiting the room.  

She returned to her computer work, toying absentmindedly with the gold ring while she hunted for information.  Fifteen minutes later, Remington strolled into her office carrying a cup of tea.

“Bribery?” she asked.

He set it on her desk.  “Perhaps.  Or a thank you.”

“For what?”  She turned in her chair to face him.  He looked … surprised.  

“For not being angry.”

Laura crossed her arms in irritation.  Why did he always assume the worst from her?  Was she really that bad?  “Why should I be angry?  She’s a beautiful woman who recognizes something in you, and she’s gracious enough to bow out when someone else is on stage.  What is there not to like?”

Remington blew out his breath.  “I know you hate secrets and anything that has to do with my past.”

“Was she a secret?”

“Not really.”

“Then I can’t be upset about it, can I?  What did she want?”  I’ve already got it figured out, but let’s see if you’ll tell me the truth, Mr. Steele.

He pulled out a toothpick from his pocket and nibbled.  “She heard I was doing well.”  

“And--"

“And she wanted a protector.”  

That was the conclusion Laura had drawn.  “Had you been one to her in the past?”

Remington snorted.  “No.  I was never that reliable.  We shared creature comforts from time to time; that is all.”

Laura was amused to hear a touch of Italian ringing through his voice as he reflected.  “But she liked you.  She still does.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, she felt more than a touch of sadness for the woman.  “I see.”

“You see what?”

“She likes you a great deal.  And probably could have loved you with very little encouragement.  She hoped.”

He nodded.  “You’re very perceptive sometimes, Miss Holt.”  He pulled the toothpick out of his mouth and leaned over to touch his lips to her temple.  

“So, why did you give me your ring?  You could have asked me to wear the wedding band I always wear when we’re undercover.”  

Remington crossed his arms and leaned against her file cabinet, chewing on the wooden pick again.  “It’s a long story.”

Laura propped her feet on her desk and flipped her wrist over.  “We’ve got time.  The party doesn’t start until seven.”  

He furrowed his brow.  “No time at all like the present to go over our plan for the evening.”

She snorted and pulled the ring from her finger.  “Now that annoys me.”  She dropped it into his hand.  

“Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”  Deliberately, she returned to punching keys on her computer.  After a few moments, he left without saying a word.  



He avoided her for the rest of the afternoon, but not by escaping the agency.  Instead, he closeted himself in his office until ten after six when he appeared in Laura’s doorway.  She had already changed her clothes and reviewed the blueprints one last time.  When he opened the door, she saw he had dressed for the occasion.  

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, searching his face for answers and not getting any.  “Of course.  Do you want the blueprints?”

“I’ll look them over in the car, but I think I’ve got it.”  He looked as if he wanted to say something but rolled up the plans instead and snapped a rubber band around the middle.  

Laura halted the Rabbit in a small parking lot along Via Marina, ignoring the lovely sunset streaking over the horizon.  She made sure her keys were stashed under the fender of the car so she didn’t risk losing them on their foray.

Remington Steele Investigations had been hired to recover a stolen jade figurine before their dubious host could sell it.  She and Remington had spent the previous week tracking it.  They had spent a small fortune in bribes and tips to locate it.  Now, they had a short but viable window of opportunity to retrieve it.  The pair strolled along the Channel Walk, pretending to be lovers as they made their own interpretation of day and night.  Laura wore a white backless halter top embellished with silver sequins, simple white linen slacks and matching heels.  Remington had on a black silk button down shirt and fine cotton slacks.  Only Laura knew that he’d carefully chosen the ensemble to be both fashionable and discreet.  He wore no jewelry, and the soft-soled shoes were better suited for the dance floor than a party.  

It hadn’t taken but a moment for them to flirt their way aboard as the party grew raucous; then they split up to do their jobs.

While Laura played lookout, Remington disappeared below to retrieve the figurine from their host’s quarters.  She stayed alert, watching for anyone heading to the lower cabin.  Confident in her partner’s abilities, she physically relaxed--shooting a halfhearted smile and shaking a head to ward off a potential suitor.  Watching the activity aboard the pretty yacht, she estimated they had only a quarter hour before it sailed from the marina.  Neither she nor Mr. Steele had any interest in being aboard when the figurine was missed.  According to the information they’d uncovered, the finger-long jade statue would be sold tonight as the yacht sailed into international waters.

From the shadows, Remington stepped up behind her.  She was sure he touched two fingers to her bare waist for no other reason than he could.  His voice was soft and clipped.  “Done.”  

As usual, a rush of pleasure streaked through her that only came from a plan in perfect execution, but she suppressed the feeling to focus on his words.  

“There are two boats headed our way, and the engines are firing up.  I think we need to make our exit, Miss Holt.”  At that moment, the deckhands loosened the moorings, and the yacht eased out of the slip.

“Damn.  I wasn’t planning to swim back to the car,” Laura whispered as she did her best to ignore the heat from his hand.  

“Neither was I.  How do you want to do this?”

She squinted.  “It’s dark enough.  We’ll have to get off while we’re still in the channel.”  The boat made a slow turn toward the sea and picked up steam.  

Remington peered into the twilight.  “Two hundred feet or so to the shoreline.  The water’s cold, Laura.”  His gaze skimmed down her scanty attire.  

Looking down into the dark water, she mentally braced herself.  “We won’t be long, especially if we can go in near where we parked.”  

“Then let’s move, Miss Holt.  We’ll go over the rail.  It’s low enough here that we won’t be seen.”  

Trusting his instincts, she eased back into the shadows.  When no one’s head was turned their way, she slipped over the edge and clung to the rail beside him.  Together, they dropped into the water, going in with hardly a splash.  

Laura shoved off the hull of the boat to give herself an extra burst of speed to get past the yacht’s wake.  She sensed Remington more than she saw him as he shadowed her to the shoreline of rocks that marked the edge of the channel.  The short swim seemed longer in the cold water, but she forced her mind away from it and kept moving until the slope came up beneath her feet.

Barnacles covered the slippery rocks.  She set her hands down carefully as she used them to pull her into shore.  The adrenaline from her quick dash off the ship flowed away, leaving her shivering as the iciness of the water penetrated under her skin.  She started to climb when Remington tugged her back down.  

“Not yet,” he whispered.  “Leisure boat to the north, coming our way.  When it passes, we’ll go.  Your white clothes are too easy to see in the dark.  Try to stay under me.”

Turning her head, she saw the small vessel.  She nodded in agreement, slid lower into the water and tried not to think about tingles in her feet and hands.  Remington curled one arm under her breasts and leaned into her, warming her bare back with his chest.  “Another two minutes and we’re clear,” he said in her ear, his breath a hot contrast to their surroundings.   

“Another two minutes and I’m going to be frozen,” she complained before mashing her lips together to keep her teeth from chattering.  

“While that top is extraordinarily flattering to your figure, you didn’t exactly dress for the occasion.”

“You think?” she shot back sotto voce.  “Try swimming with these damned heels.”

“Why didn’t you kick them off?”

“Because I wore ones with ankle straps, and I’d have to unbuckle them.”

“Don’t take them off now.  The barnacles will slice your feet to ribbons.”

“What does it matter?  I can’t feel them anyway.”

“Your feet?”

“What else?”  She shivered violently, once.  The whispered exchange had served as a distraction, but now the icy water claimed her attention again.  Remington shifted, pressing as close as possible without smashing her into the sharp barnacles.  With one hand, he reached out to chafe her fingers holding onto the shells.  

In what could only be described as an aberration, she closed her eyes to focus exclusively on the feel of his skin as a distraction from the cold water.  He tangled his fingers in hers--rubbing, stroking, curving his large hand over the fist of her smaller one until a modicum of warmth soaked in.  Changing sides, he did the same with the other hand.  The silk from his shirt provided only a thin barrier between his chest and her back.  Heat danced between them.  

“Keep flexing your fingers and toes so we can climb out in a moment,” he reminded her.  His calm voice brought her back to reality as the waves slapped the rocks under her.  Unable to speak without her teeth chattering, she only nodded as they floated in the water while the pleasure boat cruised past.

When it disappeared into a trio of blinking lights, Remington swam forward.  Cursing at the thin soles of his shoes that provided little protection from the jagged shells, he found his own purchase and gave Laura a helping hand as she rose from the water.  Together, they climbed over the rocks to reach the sidewalk above.

“Look at it this way, Laura; we were saved the walk back to the Rabbit,” Remington quipped.  The white car looked heavenly in its parking spot only a few yards away.  While she shivered in the cool night air, he slid his hands under the front bumper to retrieve the car keys.

Once inside, she fumbled for the switch to the heater and curled up in a tight ball on the passenger seat as she waited for it to come on.  Salt water dripped down her back in icy trails where her hair hung in limp ropes.  Remington reached over and put a hand on her cheek. 

“Bloody hell, Laura, you’re turning into an icicle.”  He revved the engine to warm it faster before shifting into reverse.

“Thank you for that ob-ob-servation.  I mi-might remind you that you have a couple of extra la-layers of clothing on.  I-I was supposed to be going to a party, not f-for a swim.”  She huddled for a moment before she remembered what they had come to do.  “Do-do you still have it?”

“Have what?  The jade?  Of course.”  He frowned at her and reached over to catch one of her hands in his.  He blew on her palm to warm it.  She curled her fingers as shivers that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold raced down her forearm.  Seeing her reaction, he grinned and pressed a kiss onto the heart line.  “Warming up?”

She yanked her hand out of his.  “Not that way.”

“Pity.  I rather enjoyed that.”

Laura shivered all the way to Remington’s condo.  They hadn’t really discussed plans for the evening.  She was still miffed he’d dodged her question that morning.  The vague thought that she could drop him off before heading home had been scrapped.  At the moment, all she cared about was getting warm.  Mr. Steele would have to give up a shirt for the evening because she wasn’t driving soaking wet for another twenty minutes to get to her place.  As cold as her feet were, she wasn’t sure if she could work the pedals.  He must have had the same idea because he parked the Rabbit next to the Auburn in the garage and escorted her to the elevator.  As the car carried them upward, he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back. 

“Miss Holt, I don’t recall you ever taking a chill quite like this.”  

“I d-don’t usually go swimming in M-May without a wetsuit.”  Mentally, she lambasted herself for choosing such a provocative outfit.  In addition to blending with the wilder party guests, she’d thought to annoy Remington with it.  While the former worked, the latter hadn’t.  He’d merely noted her clothing with the comment that he hoped she wouldn’t be too cool in the evening air.  With her back covered only by two thin straps and the halter top hardly more than a sheer covering in front, she had been cold long before jumping into the water.  

Not too bright, Laura.  See what happens when you don’t keep your mind on the case?  But the way his hands caressed up and down her spine intruded on her personal lecture.  She squirmed a little as the friction created heat in its wake.  When the doors opened, he kept one hand on the middle of her back as they entered his flat.  

Remington didn’t stop there.  He steered her straight into his bathroom and cranked the shower on full hot.  With a smidgen of jealously over the water tank that apparently held more than a thimble of hot water like the one in her loft, Laura wistfully stared at the steam that curled out of the door in under a minute.  He shoved her in.   

“Wha--" she protested with a shriek.

“Get warm.  Your clothes are wet anyway, so warm up before you try to take them off.  I’ll get something from my closet for you to wear.”  

Too happy to argue, she huddled under the spray until her muscles unclenched and her feet began to tingle.  It was only then she remembered the silly heels.  She knelt down to try to unbuckle the straps, but her fingers wouldn’t work the wet leather.  

“Damn!” she said a little louder than she intended.

“What is it?”

Laura jumped a little as she straightened again.  She didn’t know Remington was still in the bathroom.  “I, uh, can’t loosen the straps to my shoes.”  

“Ah.  I believe I can offer you assistance.”  The shower door opened, revealing that Remington had stripped off his wet shirt and shoes.  The sight of his bare chest with tight whorls of hair stuck to his wet, taut skin had her sucking in her breath and backing into the far corner.  Recollections of his body moving in and over hers only heightened her instant craving for him.

They stood that way, frozen, until Remington grinned.  “If you won’t come to me, Laura, I’ll have to come to you.”  He eased inside the shower stall, taking momentary advantage of the hot water by rinsing off his hair and face before going to one knee.  It was a tight fit that way.  His head nestled into her thighs as he bent to inspect the buckle of her shoe.  Laura knew her imagination was working overtime again; she was convinced she could feel the tickling of his hair through her thin slacks.  At least one part of her was heating up with heady speed.

But he couldn’t pull the strap free either and rose again.  She was certain he meant to annoy her when he stole a breathless kiss before vanishing out the door.  “I’ll be back,” he said flash of teeth.  

Laura flexed her fingers and rocked on her toes to get the pins-and-needles sensation in her feet to stop.  To distract herself, she snatched his shampoo from its perch and squeezed out a dollop to wash the salt from her hair.  It took three washings before her hair felt soft and supple again.  After the last thorough rinse, she opened her eyes to find Remington staring at her from the open door holding his pocket knife.  

“Planning to reenact Psycho?” she quipped.  He stared blankly at her for a moment before glancing down at his hand.  

The sultry smile that broke free from her lips came from pure feminine delight at Remington’s stunned expression.  In her mind’s eye, she envisioned what she must look like: dark ropes of wet auburn hair on freckled skin, the halter top clinging wetly to her nipples and breasts riding up as she washed her hair--all while wearing a pair of white heels and linen slacks that clung to her hips and calves.  

Hot blue eyes met hers, and she held her breath as he eased inside the shower again, kneeling as he'd done earlier.  With gentle, swift strokes, he slid his knife under the leather and sliced through one strap, then the other, while the water rained down on his head.  He eased the shoes from her feet, rubbing each one as he did so.  

“Oh, Lord, that feels incredible,” she moaned.  In her opinion, one of Remington’s best qualities had a great deal to do with his foot massages.  

He looked up, square into her exposed belly button.  Obviously mesmerized by the view, he brought one hand up to touch.  His finger hovered over the bare dimple, and Laura tried not to suck in her breath.  The quick pants she took made her dizzy.  

Then he must have thought better of it because he shook his head as he drew his fingers away to scoop water out of his hair.  

But Laura had other things on her mind.  She brought a hand to his head, stroking his hair as only a lover would. 

Remington looked up sharply.  Astonished, he asked, “Miss Holt?”

“My feet thank you,” she teased.

Looking embarrassed, he stood up and glanced to the door as he felt for the handle.  

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t go.”  Laura laid a palm against his cheek so that he would turn to look at her.  He turned around again, his expression completely baffled.  She made her intentions extraordinarily clear by dropping that hand to skim the hard lines of his collarbone.  Then she closed in.  

At first he resembled the jade statue they had recovered while she traced lips across his jaw, then moved in to taste his mouth.  Her hands drifted from his shoulders to chest, to belly and back again--sliding along the hard planes of his body with fingers that delicately caressed and teased.  

He was still for so long that she began thinking she’d make an enormous mistake.  Perhaps last night had killed off his attraction to her once and for all.  

Then he stirred.  She found herself cornered in the shower stall with one of his arms braced against the wall and the other behind her head as he fairly ravaged her mouth.  His tongue touched hers, dancing for a moment before swirling in to complete the shocking kiss.  Then again, perhaps he still has a thing for me.

She’d learned a great deal about kisses from him over the years.  His could be anything from friendly to sweetly possessive, to a sharing of mutual passion.  Now, she discovered the harder edge of them as he took his pleasure of her mouth, leaving her aching and demanding more.  She pushed away from the wall to take what she wanted--somewhat ruthlessly when she thought about it--but he only sealed his body to hers and gave it back again.  

They broke away simultaneously to pant for a moment and stare in wonder at the other.  Laura wiped the water from her face and arched her brows in a challenge.  Reaching behind her, she yanked at the bottom string of her halter top, loosening it completely.  Then, with one forearm, she lifted her hair from her neck.  With the other, she began drawing the ribbon from the neck of her halter top, watching his reaction all the while.  

With every centimeter she pulled, Remington’s face changed--shifting from dazed anticipation to a gleam that Laura clearly read as an answer to her challenge.  

As the knot pulled free, he stopped her.  “You’re sure?”

“I thought you needed deeds, not words, Mr. Steele?”  She let the top fall to the floor, leaving her as bare as he above the waist.  

“Miss Holt, in this case, I think you’ve admirably demonstrated your intent.”  Nonetheless, a few more moments passed before he used his fingertips to trace from her throat to her navel.  Water ran down the path he created.  

She closed the distance between them, pressing against him, forcing him to the shower wall.  The spray rained down her back as she touched him without reservation.  Shoulder to fingertip, throat to belly, Laura explored his lean form with all the thoroughness of the detective she was.  This was what she’d missed last night.  She’d been so caught up in her own embarrassment that she hadn’t taken the time to investigate all the nuances of him.  Stupid girl.  At the moment, she didn’t give a damn what he thought about her.  She was too intent on stroking that firm, smooth skin over hardened muscles that flexed as she touched.  

“Good Lord, woman.  I’m going to have to go take another dive in the marina if you keep this up.”  His voice sounded hoarse.

Taking the hint, Laura gently turned him so that he faced the wall.  With her breasts teasing his back, she reached around to unfasten his slacks, a rather difficult task given the soaked fabric and the bulge underneath.  The pants fell to the floor, leaving Remington clad in only a pair of black briefs.  She palmed a buttock through the fabric before sliding a hand inside where the muscle tautened at her touch. 

“Silk, Mr. Steele?  How decadent,” she noted as he kicked the clothing to the side.  

“Only the best, Miss Holt.”  His labored breathing gave her an indication of what she would find when she slid her hand around to the front--which she did as she nudged him around to face her again.  

Closing a hand around his shaft--which jumped at her touch--she leaned up to capture his mouth with her own.  She savored and explored both.  Remington brought his hands to her back, alternatively fisting in her hair and splaying them out as she stroked his length.  Without warning, she pulled away, lowering to her knees to taste all of him.  

She had forgotten this part of sex, the delight of bringing exquisite pleasure to her partner--to hear him groan and feel his hands clutch at her hair while she suckled the cap of his shaft.  When she ran her tongue along the bottom rim and each bulging vein on either side, he groaned her name, and she felt the answering response in her core.   

“Laura--“  He tried to urge her up again, but she had her own mission.  Light fingers raked along his buttocks and thighs, skimming up the inside to play with his sacs before moving to grasp the base of his erection.  With greed, she took him inside her mouth again.  His fingers tangled in her hair.  A thrill shot through her as she realized he was trying not to clutch at her head and force her into a rhythm.  

So instead, she found that cadence herself, suckling and swallowing until he shouted her name again and again.  She stayed there, tasting his flavor until he flinched from the suddenly too-sensitive touch.  She sat back on her heels and leaned into the spray of the shower for a mouthful of water as Remington slid to the floor of the shower in a daze.  

She grinned as she straddled him to make room for his long legs.  

He reached for her with both hands, bringing her face to his for one of those sweetly possessive kisses she adored.  The spray from the water plastered between her shoulders.  His hands began stroking her neck and along her shoulders and down to her hips.  

“You’re incredible, Laura.  In a thousand fantasies, I never expected to go first.”  The smile that appeared was genuinely astonished--and impressed?  

Laura only returned the smile and brought her thumb up to stroke his bottom lip.  “I think I went first last night.”

He nipped the fleshy pad lightly.  “Last night doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”  Not that I don’t agree ... .

But he didn’t answer her question.  “My turn, Laura.”

And she was quite willing to let it slide.  “I do believe in equality, Mr. Steele.”  

“Excellent notion, Miss Holt.”  He grinned and dove in, closing his mouth about a perky nipple.  He traced the dusky circle with his tongue before flicking tip to tip.  Laura shoved a hand against the wall behind him to keep her balance.  Remington took it as an invitation to draw her peak fully into his mouth, coaxing, suckling and circling until she writhed from the sensation.  

She hadn’t allowed him to do this last night--terrified of that Laura coming out to play.  But that Laura had already kicked her brain to the side and was urging him on with small moans.  

She shook as he switched breasts.  While his mouth played, his hands tugged the button free on her slacks and loosed them so they fell about her hips.  He fondled her buttocks, caressing and teasing the cleft before dragging his fingers along her waistline and returning to pluck at the tip of her other breast.  If Laura still had the ability to think, she might have tried to move them to the bedroom, or at least the shower floor, but whatever functioning synapses she had left were fully occupied with the titillation of her senses.  Hot water, teasing fingers, laving tongue--not to mention the thoroughly masculine body ensconced underneath her at the moment--all served to dazzle her thoroughly.

Then he urged her to stand.  She staggered upward, and he rose to his knees to tug her wet slacks away, leaving her nude under the water spray.  She stared at Remington, who seemed to be mesmerized again by the view.

With a quick glance at her face to make certain she was still game, he parted her cleft with a single finger.  She tried not to moan, but a small one slipped out anyway.  

“Like that?”

“Perhaps.”  

“Talk to me.  Tell me what you like.”  He found her center and leaned in to tease with his tongue.  Standing as she was, he couldn’t expose her fully.  Instead, the quick, darting flicks to her clit jolted her body with electric shocks.  

“That.  Definitely that.”  Her voice was breathy and short.

For the next few minutes, Remington had her at his mercy.  His long, clever fingers alternated between sliding deep into her sheath and teasing her damp folds while his mouth did equally clever things that only ended when she screamed out her climax.  

He held her firmly about the hips until she slid limply to straddle his lap again on the floor of the shower--only this time, she rested a forehead on his shoulder while she shuddered.  He stroked her back lightly while the water drenched both of them.  

When she had her breath, she reached up and turned off the water.  “I think I’m wet enough, Mr. Steele.”

“Yes, I imagine you are.”  He gave her a roguish grin, and she rolled her eyes in response.  He helped her to her feet while he scrambled up.  A quick pass with the towel took each of them from dripping to merely damp, then Remington pulled the one Laura had in her hands and tossed it to the side.  

He swept her into his arms.  “That was no more than an appetizer, Miss Holt.”  

“No?”  Delight made her grin.  This was much more like it.

“Now we should prepare to feast splendidly for the evening.”  

Laura squeaked as he carried her to the kitchen instead of the bedroom.  “Mr. Steele!”

“Food, my dear lady.  Fuel for the fire.  I haven’t eaten since lunch.”  He deposited her on the kitchen counter while he pulled out various ingredients from the refrigerator and set a pot of water to boil.  

“But I’m--“

“Nude?”  He handed her a long carrot.  “Nibble on that.”  Then he took it back.  “Perhaps not.   You don’t need any ideas.”

Laura snorted and snatched it out of his hand.  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  She bit down on it, laughing when he winced comically.  

Remington dumped a handful of pasta into boiling water.  While Laura watched in fascination, he created an alfredo sauce that had her taste buds salivating.  

“Where did you learn to cook?”

“Daniel has a fair hand.  I picked it up here and there.”  

She nodded, remembering Daniel teaching her mother how to make a soufflé years ago.  “So why didn’t you become a chef?”

“I worked in a kitchen just long enough to know I don’t want to work that hard.  The pace is fabulous; the pay is lousy, and the hours don’t appeal.”

“That’s a pretty good argument.”  

“Hmm.”  He eyeballed his stash of wine in the bottom of his refrigerator before settling on a crisp Spanish white.  

When the pasta finished boiling, Remington drained the fettuccini and tossed it with the cheese sauce before dishing up a good portion into a single bowl and dropping a spoon and fork into it.  He handed it and the bottle of wine to Laura, then picked up two glasses with his fingers and scooped Laura up in his arms to carry her and the food into the bedroom.  

She raised her brows.  “I could have walked.”  

“Not this time, Miss Holt.  Try for a bit of romance.  You might like it.”  He set her on the bed.  Taking the wine, he splashed a good amount into the glasses and set the bottle on his side table.  Then he stretched out so the bowl of pasta sat between them and expertly twirled the fettuccini, giving her the first bite.  

Creamy sauce mingled with the wine she’d sipped earlier, and Laura closed her eyes in delight.  "Incredible.  I watched you make it and haven’t a clue how you did it.”

Pleased with her compliment, he took a bite, then fed her another one.  When he set the fork down to sip his wine, Laura picked it up and twirled the pasta, loading it just as well as he had earlier.  She fed him, and his blue eyes deepened with emotion.

“I won a bet.  A woman had me in her sights, and the wagers had it that she would have me at her beck and call.  No, it wasn’t Gabriella although she was in that circle, so she knew of the bet.  The woman was determined and quite lovely.  I had escorted her on a number of occasions and enjoyed her company.”  He sipped his wine.  “I liked her.  She had a backbone.”

“But none of that mattered because someone wagered on it,” Laura guessed.

“None of it mattered because she upped the ante.”

Laura cocked her head.  “She must not have known you very well.”

“She thought she did.  She’d hoped to back me into a corner.  If I won the bet, I would lose her.  She made that perfectly clear.  If she won, I’d have to make a declaration of some sort of permanency.  She gave me a month.”  

“And you walked away without a backward look.”  

“Aye.  That I did.  Gabriella was with me when I collected my winnings.  We happened upon a street jeweler who had set up a stall near the casino.”  Remington shrugged.  “I bought the ring as a reminder … .” he trailed off again.  

Laura finished, “--that no matter your circumstances, you cannot be bought, bribed or coerced into going against your principles.”  

Remington leaned over to set the wine and remains of the pasta on the side table.  He rolled back over to glide his fingers along the curve of her face.  “I don’t have many principles, Laura.  Some might say I don’t have any.”  

Laura smiled and rose over him, straddling him once more.  “Oh, I don’t know; you have one or two.”

He caught her hips and eased her down before pillowing his head on his hands.  “I’ve never promised what I couldn’t give, Laura.”

“I know.  Which says a great deal about the position you’re in at the moment.”  She cupped his cheek and nuzzled his neck on the other side, savoring his scent.  He was already hardening beneath her.  She rocked, letting him slide between her folds.  

He pretended nonchalance.  “Caught that, did you?”

She feathered kisses across his throat before answering.  “I’m a detective.  I’m good at that kind of thing.”  

“Yes.  You seem to have a knack for it.”  He inhaled sharply as she continued to rock, then sank down to take him inside.  His blue eyes blanked and drifted to half-mast, making Laura smile.  She rose and fell above him, watching his face as emotion warred with sensation in his expressions.  

When he realized what she was doing, he leaned up on an elbow to pull her to him.  The kiss they shared was long, hot and powerful.  Laura felt the jolt of it, felt it spread like heat lightning through her limbs and stab into her center.  Unconsciously, she shifted to take him deeper and harder--until, breathless, she tore her mouth from his and shuddered as her world splintered apart.  

He was there, rolling with her until he hovered above her.  He pulled back, letting the head of his shaft hover at her entrance.  With small movements, he teased her into climbing upward again.  This time Laura grasped his hair and head, fastening her mouth to his until he broke, plunging without control into
her body.  She echoed his motion, taking him where he wanted to go, where she wanted him to be--then she heard him say only “Laura.”  

She flew with him, spiraling upward until they touched the heavens, her body arching as if in flight.  Then they fell, landing in a tangle of arms and legs impossible to sort out--nor did they care.   

Like a cat in the afternoon sun, Laura stretched once in the heat, then curled up against Remington.  


*****


Remington held Laura against his side, still not quite believing the turn of events of the day.  The previous evening had been a ... well ... a disaster.  Just as their relationship had bumped along in fits and spurts, so had their first chance at lovemaking.  He hadn’t been entirely certain Laura hadn’t simply played along.  

He stroked her shoulder before cupping it, hugging him to her.  Laura responded by sliding her leg across his, further taking possession of him.  

Amused at the thought, Remington knew that Laura hadn’t ever laid claim to him--not in public, nor in private.  He wondered if that would change now that they shared a bed.  No, I think not.  It would take clever persistence on his part to elicit that sort of response.  

Then Laura moved again, her dark eyes opening and her face creasing into a smile.  She sat up in a feline stretch while he let his fingers skim down her trim stomach.  She gave him a startled smile over her shoulder.  

“What is it, Laura?”

“This might be too soon.  Or it might be long overdue.  I love you.”  

And with that, she irrevocably claimed him as hers.  While he fumbled for the right response, she reached over and closed his mouth.  

“I think I want a long, hot bath.  Care to join me?”


17 December 2009
edited 11 August 2010

Steele Holting On

Steele Holting On