“Let me see the note,” she asked.
He handed her the note, then scooted backward so that he lay on one side of the bed, if there could actually be sides in a bed this small. He folded his arms up behind his head. In this position, his feet hung off the bed past his ankles.
She still wore the men’s clothing he’d given her, and he tried not to let his eyes linger on the way the suspenders cupped her breasts, or the way her hips and bottom seemed even rounder in those pants. Her hair bound up in that cap gave him a clear view of her tender throat.
“Virgin’s rock, I don’t know what to make of that,” she muttered. She turned to hand the note back to him. Her head cocked to one side. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”
He patted the empty portion next to him. “There’s plenty of room.”
She snorted. “For elves, perhaps, but not for grown people.”
“We might have to snuggle.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
The edge of her lips curled, but she did not fully smile. “You are incorrigible.”
There was a long pause as she eyed him warily. She glanced at the bed, then finally resigned herself to lying next to him. He busied himself by reading the riddle again and again. Or rather he simply stared at the note pretending to read while she settled her warm, luscious body next to his.
Once she stopped moving, he rolled over and braced his arms on either side of her so that he leaned above her body. She looked up at him with molten amber-colored eyes. Her lips parted in a protest, but she said nothing.
He moved even closer, putting no more than a breath of distance between their mouths. Her eyes widened, then fluttered closed as she waited for him to kiss her. But he did not. She wanted him, too. Satisfaction surged through him.
“I’ve thought about that night on the train again and again,” he said.
She said nothing in response, but made no move to retreat.
“I know you have, too,” he ventured. He lowered himself onto her. They were fully clothed; still, he could feel her soft curves below him.
He kissed her. Not a slow, gentle, romantic kiss intended to seduce, but rather one full of the pent-up passion and desire he’d felt since the moment he set eyes on her. She didn’t shy away from his advances. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back.
He moved against her, his erection rubbing against the juncture of her thighs. Her legs parted, pressing him closer to her. She kissed him more deeply.
With one hand, he reached up and cupped her right breast. Her nipple pressed hard against the fabric of her shirt, and he stroked it with his palm. She arched beneath him, pressing herself into him.
Damn, but he wanted her. As he’d never wanted another woman. He tugged on her shirt, pulling it up from beneath her waistband, and then slid his hand up to touch her bare breast. He rocked against her again, feeling more like a boy touching a girl for the first time than the man he was now. His fingers fumbled across the buttons on her shirt, but he managed to get it unfastened.
Her breasts were perfect. Round and pert with dark rose-colored areolas. He dipped his mouth to one, covering the tip. She cried out. Her nails dug into his arms. He laved kisses from one breast to the other and all in between. Her soft, olive-colored skin was warm beneath his lips, simply delicious under his tongue.
“Wait,” she whispered.
He stilled, listening for her next words. Her eyes met his.
“I can’t.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” But her words died out.
He rolled off her. Lying on his side, he stared at the wall. He was not above seducing a woman into his bed, but he would not take what was not freely offered.
“I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want to,” she said with a humorless laugh. “But I just can’t. You make me want more,” she said quietly, her words trailing off.
Max didn’t say anything else. He wanted more, too. More touching, more kissing, more passion. But he didn’t think that’s what she’d meant. He couldn’t offer her anything more than an affair.
He got up from the bed and made his way to the small window. The first hint of morning peeked out from the horizon in a soft golden glow. There was nothing to say, nothing more to discuss. She could rest, and in the meantime, he would try to decipher the riddle to figure out where they would go next.
He found a chair behind the dressing screen and pulled it out beside the fire. Sabine rolled over to face away from him, but said nothing. With no cover and the way her legs curled up, those trousers molded to her backside, leaving nothing to his imagination.
For more than an hour, he sat in that plain wooden chair.At the Virgin’s rock, the dove bathes where the ancients found tranquility. He read it again and again. The fire in the hearth died down to a handful of embers. A chill settled on the room. He didn’t know if Sabine had fallen asleep or just lay there in silence.
He leaned the chair back against the wall, pulling the two front legs off the floor. Virgin’s rock. Bathes. Weapons did not bathe, though. Perhaps it was the site of a previous battle, a stream where warriors would have washed their swords. But what did that have to do with tranquility? What if they meant bath as in a Roman bath? Then how did Virgin’s rock fit in?
Damnation!