Key Of Valor - Key Trilogy 3 Part 63

She closed the lid, and put aside the vague guilt of peeking into personal s.p.a.ces as she opened the first drawer.

It was a silverware drawer, lined in deep burgundy velvet. She lifted out a spoon, turned it under the light. It looked old to her, like something that had been used for generations and kept polished and ready.

Perfect for Thanksgiving, she decided, and filed that away as she went carefully through each slot.

She found china in the base of the buffet, an elegant white on white. As she searched she began mentally setting the holiday table with the dishes and bowls, the platters and stemware she found stored in sideboards and servers.

She sighed over linens and damask and a set of bone-white napkin rings. But she found no key.

She was shaking out books in the library when the clock on the mantel chimed one. Enough, she told herself. Enough for one night. She wasn't going to let herself get discouraged.

The fact was, she realized as she switched off the lamps, she didn'tfeel discouraged. More, she felt on the verge of something. As if she'd made some turn, or crested a hill. Maybe it wasn't the last leg, she thought as she started upstairs. But she was focused on the goal now.

She checked on Simon, going in automatically to tuck him in. Moe lifted his head from the foot of the bed where he stretched out, scented her and gave one halfhearted slap of his tail before starting to snore again.

The puppy was snoozing with his head on the pillow beside Simon's. She supposed she should discourage that sort of thing, but she honestly couldn't see why.

They looked so cozy there together. Harmless and unharmed. If Simon was part of it, as Malory believed, then maybe the key was here, in this room where he was sleeping.

For a moment she sat on the edge of the bed, her hand idly stroking his back.

The light from the last quarter of the moon filtered through the window and washed pale light over her son's face. There was still light, she told herself, so there was still hope. She was holding on to it.

She rose and slipped quietly out of the room.

She glanced toward Brad's door. For what was left of the night, she would hold on to to him as well.

She went to her own room first and selected lotions and scents to prepare herself for him. She might not be able to give him all he wanted, or seemed to want, but she could give him this.

They could give each other this.

It pleased her to ma.s.sage fragrant lotion over her skin, to imagine his hands and mouth trailing over her. It pleased her to feel completely like a woman again. Not just a person, not just a mother, but a woman who could give and take from a man.

There was a knowledge here she hadn't felt as a girl, a yearning and a confidence she felt with no one else.

Wearing only a robe, she carried a white candle that wafted the scent of night-blooming jasmine over the air.

She didn't knock, but eased silently into the dark of his room, across the thin silver stream of moonlight that drifted through the open curtains.

She hadn't come inside this room before, and wondered if he would know, as she did, that this was another step for her. She saw the gleam of wood from the curved foot- and headboards, felt the soft brush of the rug under her bare feet.

She opened her robe, let herself tingle at the sensation of it falling away to pool at her feet. Carefully, she set the candle on the nightstand, lifted the covers, and slid into bed beside him.

She'd never watched him sleep before, she realized, and wanting to, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the shadow and light. She liked the way his hair fell over his forehead, and the fact that he looked no less powerfully handsome at rest than he did alert.

This time, Prince Charming would get the awakening treatment.

Interesting, she thought as she traced a finger lightly over his shoulder. She'd never seduced a man out of sleep before. It was a heady proposition and gave her, at least for the moment, complete control.

Should it be fast and hot and shocking? Slow and dreamy and romantic? Should it be sweet or smoky? It was for her to decide, her to create. And her, ultimately, to give.

Easing the covers down, she s.h.i.+fted to range herself above him and held on to that secret erotic charge another moment before she began to use her mouth. Began to use her hands.

Slowly, she thought, slowly to tease him out of sleep and prolong this fascinating interlude. His skin was warm and smooth, his body hard and firm. And she could feast freely.

He dreamed of her, gliding out of forest shadows, with her body slim and free. Dreamed of her low laugh as she turned toward him, then away, as her fingers trailed over his cheek. As she lured him to follow her into the forest, where the moonlight-dappled ground was blanketed with flowers.

She lay back on that sea of blooms. Her arms, gleaming like gold dust in the scattered light, lifted.

Her lips met his, then drew away again to leave him with one tantalizing taste.

He awoke in stages, craving more. And found her.

Her mouth was on his again, and as she sighed his name, her breath became his breath. And when his caught on a moan, he all but drowned in the scent of her.

"There you are," she whispered and caught his chin lightly in her teeth. "I've been taking horrible advantage of you."

"You've got ten years to stop that, or I'm calling the cops."

Playfully now, she sc.r.a.ped her nails down his belly, and m.u.f.fled a giggle when he bit off an oath. "Ssh. We have to be quiet. I don't want Simon to hear us."

"Right. Don't want him to know we're in here having fun." His mind was still scrambling, but he could see her face clearly enough, and the surprise that flashed over it. "He happened to mention it."

"Oh, G.o.d." She had to press her lips together and plaster a hand over them to stifle her chuckle. "Oh, my G.o.d."

"Ssh." Brad reminded her, and rolled over until he pressed her into the mattress. "Now where were we?"

"I was sneaking into your bed in the middle of the night and waking you up."

"Oh, yeah, I really liked that part." His grin was quick. "I'm awake now," he said and slid down to take her breast into his mouth.

A fireball of heat burst in her belly. "I'll say."

She arched, riding up on the joy of it, before she rolled over again. "But I don't think I was quite finished."

They grappled, burying themselves under the blankets, tangling in them. Struggling with laughter, biting back gasps, they tormented each other. Pleasured each other until bodies were damp and quaking, until the playful became the intense.

They rose up together, kneeling on the tumbled bed, locked tight. Breath heaving, she bowed back, an erotic bridge, and locked her legs around him.

In the thin light of the last quarter of the moon, they joined. They completed. Fluidly, she came back to him, pressed heart to heart, mouth to mouth, so they were wrapped together as they emptied.

"Don't let go." She burrowed into his shoulder. "Don't let go yet."

"I'm never going to let go." All but delirious, he ran his lips over her hair, her cheek. "I love you, Zoe. You know it. You love me. I can see it. Why won't you say it?"

"Bradley." Why shouldn't she say it, and d.a.m.n all the consequences? Why shouldn't she take what she so desperately wanted? She turned her head, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder.

And saw, in the fading moonlight, the portrait that hung over the bedroom mantel.