“I don’t know how much time we’ll have before the muck hits the motor, but since we can’t do anything until we know more, either of what they’re up to or how to stop them for good . . . I’d rather spend my time with you,” he admitted plainly, searching her brown eyes. “I don’t know why it’s you, but I know it’s you, Rexei.”
“You know it’s me . . . what?” she asked, unsure what he meant.
He gave her a lopsided smile somewhat reminiscent of Marta. “I know it’s you I want in my life . . . and in my bed. For more than just sleeping. Still willing to head to Big Momma’s?”
She blushed and ducked her head, then nodded. Eyes bright, she smiled and helped him to his feet. “You, me . . . and elderberry jelly.”
Grinning, he let her pull him out of the talker-box room.
THIRTEEN
Rexei wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of small.”
Alonnen rolled his eyes. “You don’t need that much.”
“Well, I thought it’d be a lot larger,” she protested, holding up the little jar of elderberry jelly, one barely half the size of her fist. The oil lamps lighting the brothel room—fourth floor, instead of third this time, but still a corner room—shone through both the glass of the jar and the deep purplish red preserves inside, but there was barely half a cup’s worth. “For that much silver, I’d expect a full pint, is all I’m saying.”
“Can you honestly eat an entire pint of elderberry jelly in a single sitting?” he challenged her. He reached for the jar, only to have her pull away. Undaunted, he cupped her arm instead, but she didn’t move far. Moving up behind her, Alonnen wrapped his arms around her sweater-clad chest. “Well, can you?”
“With a big enough stack of toasted bread? Maaaybe,” Rexei teased. Setting the jelly back down next to the other jar, she picked it up and squinted at the label. This jar had a rippled outside texture and a smooth oval for the glued-on label, which simply said, Pomade. The translucent white contents were a mystery. “What’s this one for?”
“Well, after you’ve had your elderberry jelly mess, and we’ve had a chance to clean up in that nice big copper tub . . . I was hoping we could . . . you know,” he coaxed, sliding one hand down to cup her backside.
She considered his words, conflicted. Alonnen was a good man, smart, funny, handsome, and appealing in many ways. He had a lot of love to give, from what Rexei had seen. In fact, she was sure he would make a wonderful parent. However . . . “Um . . . I’m not ready to be a mum. And the potion isn’t one hundred percent perfect.”
“It’s not for that,” he told her. She gave him a confused look. Plucking the jar from her fingers with one hand, he slid the fingers of the other down between her nethercheeks and spoke bluntly over her little squeak of surprise. “Pomade is used to grease the bottom for pistoning. I’d hope to be a good father, and I’m sure you’d be a good mother, but neither of us is in a position at this point in our lives where creating a child is a wise option.”
“Ah. Right. And using the back door for pistoning avoids that as a complication,” she agreed, remembering all the lurid gossip she’d listened to over the years in her guise as a boy. The fingers between her nethercurves had been a bit of a surprise at first, but . . . were kind of exciting now. Rexei had heard it was enjoyable for both genders, though apparently it took a bit more preparation and effort than the baby-making route. And he’s willing to be careful, and I know he cares enough to make sure I’d enjoy it . . . A thrill of excitement wormed its way past her trepidation. “Okay . . . we’ll do it.”
Alonnen squeezed her waist and nibbled on the side of her neck in gratitude. “As much as I enjoy fondling and being fondled,” he murmured, tracing a little circle on her skin with the tip of his long nose, “I also want to do much more with you.”
Part of her was nervous at the thought of all they were about to do. Part was curious. The greatest part of Rexei’s feelings, though, was very glad she was here in this room with him. Alonnen. Setting down the pomade jar, she turned in his arms, looped her own around his shoulders, and . . . they bumped noses awkwardly.
He ducked his head at the collision, mumbling an apology. Smiling, Rexei kissed the “offending” appendage. Several times, too, so that he knew she didn’t care his nose was a bit longer than most. In fact, she peppered it with pecking kisses until he laughed and pulled back.
“Enough—enough! Leave my nose alone, woman, or I’ll attack you with it!” Alonnen mock threatened, though it was spoiled by his grin.
Giggling, Rexei covered her mouth with both hands; giggling was a girlish thing, a habit she had mostly broken over the years. But the way he smiled at her, warm and accepting this side of her, all of her, made her relax. “And how would you attack me with it? I’ll grant you it’s long and sharp at the tip, but it’s still made of flesh.”
About to reply, Alonnen paused, thought, smirked, and stepped back, releasing her. Lifting his hands to his knitted top, he pulled it over his head. “Here, first get yourself naked,” he said. “I’ll do the same. Then I’ll show you how a nose is used—a Tallnose nose,” he amended, “in lovemaking. It’s a skill not every man can train, you know, as most just don’t have the proper appendage.”
The way he lifted his head, tilting it in arrogant nasal display, made her giggle again. The way he stripped off the rest of the layers concealing his chest made her cover her blush and cover her mouth. That hid most of the smile she simply could not stop from spreading across her lips the moment he bared his winter-pale skin.
“Come on,” he ordered her, flipping a hand at her own garments. “Off with all of it! Not unless you want them stained with elderberry jelly.”
“Uh, no.” Focusing on her own clothes, Rexei worked to remove them in the face of her growing nervousness. She glanced at Alonnen. He stripped in a matter-of-fact manner and dropped his clothes onto one of the chairs next to the little table, completely unashamed of his nudity. It made her realize just how comfortable she was with him, given his visible comfortableness with her. “Right.”
Moving over to the lounging couch, she stripped off her clothes and piled them on the cushions. Everything came off easily, except her breast bindings. The material had tangled somehow; between that and the cool draft she could feel against her naked hips, she was even more anxious to get it off.
“Shh, shh, I’ve got it. A few loose threads got bound up in the knot,” Alonnen explained, soothing her. His fingers took over from hers on her left side, then he helped her unwind the long strip of linen. He let her drop the wadded material on the couch, but did not touch her. Instead, he merely observed, “You have a very cute bottom. You also have wider hips than one would think.”
“It’s, uh, the baggy tunics and sweaters and shirts I wear,” Rexei said. Her skin itched, as it always did upon removing the wrappings. Normally she scrubbed at her skin for a minute or so to rid it of the sensation, but with him right behind her . . . The itch didn’t go away. It grew, making her shift her weight and grimace.
“Is something wrong?” Alonnen asked.
“Ugh!” Giving in to her greatest urge, Rexei scrubbed her hands over her modest curves, scratching and rubbing at the reddish lines formed by the wrinkles in her breast-bindings. “So itchy!”