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Marie aka mnreign
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Date Posted: 07:21:15 02/10/02 Sun
In reply to:
Marie aka mnreign
's message, "Downtime, Sometime NC17 Ch 1-6" on 07:16:13 02/10/02 Sun
7.
"Ni-ki-ta, that's enough," Michael protested. His hands gripped the steering wheel, as he attempted to concentrate on his driving. Thankfully, the traffic was clearing as they continued on their way.
"I don't think so," Nikita responded with a throaty chuckle. She could see the increasing tightness in his jeans. "I'm not stopping until you tell me where we're going."
"M....." Michael mumbled incoherently.
"What was that, Michael? I don't think I could quite make that out. Was that a destination or a just a general comment?" Nikita could not resist teasing him, with words or actions, now that she had him captive, so to speak.
Michael cut his eyes toward her. The blank stare was attempted, but failed as her hand continued to fondle his thigh and threatened to slide higher, he shuddered.
"Like that, Michael?" she teased. "I guess you did," she said softly to herself.
"Yes. Just not now. We're late," he added cryptically.
"Late?" she exclaimed. "Late for what?" Nikita was perplexed. It was too early for lunch... unless he were the snack.
"You'll see soon enough, Ni-ki-ta," he teased, drawing out the syllables of her name.
Nikita snatched her hand away from his thigh and folded her arms in an attitude of pique. "I will punish you for this. I will make you pay, see if I don't."
Michael turned his head toward her and smiled.
It was a dazzling sight, one she'd seen too few times. She'd never seen it in Section One. He would’ve had to beat off the female operatives with a stick, if he'd ever used it there. As it was, the female ops tended to stay away from him, but their respect for Michael’s position did not stop the incessant discussions about him and his reputed prowess as a Valentine Op. Only one green operative named Sally had had the nerve to ask Nikita how good he really was. Luckily, it had been one of Nikita's good days, and Sally had only received a very stern look and no other response.
Nikita was aware that rogue copies of the Armel tapes had circulated rapidly around Section, increasing Michael's reputation and allure. She, too, had been the recipient of many speculative glances from both male and female ops, as well.
"Have you decided to behave?" he asked, his voice as soft as a caress.
Nikita's radiant smile spread across her face as she looked away from him and smugly pretended to study the scenery. "I guess I'll have to. I was afraid you were going to wreck the car."
Their teasing interplay had distracted her from their location. Now that she had a chance to re-orient to her surroundings, she could see that they were on the edge of the city. Semi-industrial sites were everywhere, and Nikita gasped as Michael executed a left turn into a private airport. "Michael?"
"Soon." Michael drove expertly toward a glistening white hangar. Avion Aire was emblazoned on the side of a small Lear Jet that sat waiting on the tarmac, engines revving.
******
8.
The crisp blue of the azure sky was reflected perfectly in Nikita’s eyes, as Michael led her up the short flight of steps to the private jet. She was truly surprised, and she showed it with widened eyes and lips that parted with expectation as he seated her in the cabin.
Nikita strained to hear as he spoke with the pilot. Not a word. Damn the man! Soft-spoken by habit, Michael had never needed to raise his voice in order to command the respect of fellow operatives. Well, he’d had to raise his voice with her, but that was more to get her attention than anything. Now intentionally, Michael’s conversation with the pilot was impossible to hear. How much longer was he going to keep her in suspense?
Michael returned to sit beside her. “Ready?” he asked with a teasing grin that made the angular planes of his face less severe.
“No, not until you tell me where, Michael,” she replied jutting her chin at him in feigned defiance. Then she turned to him and began to undress him with her eyes.
Michael smiled. “A room ... somewhere warm,” he said cryptically, taking her hand in his. “That’s the only clue I’ll give you.” Michael’s crystal green eyes watched her expressive face as disbelief vied with excitement in rapid succession.
“But I don’t have anything to wear.”
Michael rolled his eyes in mock dismay. “I knew you’d say that.”
Nikita began to sputter. “Well, I’m glad I’m so predictable, but it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t bring any clothes at all, much less suited for uh, did you say a warm climate?” Men simply had no comprehension of the proprieties, and apparently, Michael was no different in that regard. Another thought, a naughty one, occurred to her. “Unless you don’t mean for me to be dressed at all?” she asked with a rising inflection and a seductive smile.
Michael took Nikita’s hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. “Clothes have been arranged, but you don’t have to wear them, if you don’t want to.”
His breath was warm against her hand, and it sent delicious sensations up her arm and traveled simultaneously to the pit of her lower abdomen where desired flamed with an ever increasing intensity.
“What do you say?” he asked.
Nikita’s arms went around his neck. “What do I say? I say, Mile High Club.” She fastened her lips on his and gave him a searing kiss, allowing one hand to slip to his waist band and start fumbling with his belt.
“Ni-ki-ta, the plane is taking off. You have to fasten your seat belt.” He began, attempting to regain control of the situation, or at least himself.
“Now, ordinarily I would concur, but Nikita, the pilot is right there,” Michael protested vainly, motioning toward the front of the plane.
Nikita began to giggle. “He has on earphones, and he has to fly the plane. I think he’s going to be too busy to pay attention to us.” Nikita continued to attack Michael’s belt. She could feel his determination weaken in inverse proportion to the strengthening of his arousal.
“I’m glad I wore a skirt,” she managed to say between kissing and nibbling. Nikita could feel Michael begin to shudder. His eyes glittered like green jade polished to a high sheen. She would have him.
“I am, too,” he managed to say as strategic articles of clothing began to be re-arranged by an insistent blonde.
******
9.
Need had overcome caution. Passion had suffused both their bodies with the warmth they’d both desired. The twenty degree temperatures of fifteen minutes before were long forgotten. Breathless, the two lovers clung together, arm in arm, Nikita partially-astride Michael, trying not to disturb the pilot, who more than likely had enough common sense not to turn his head in an attempt to pass the time of day with his passengers.
“Oh, Michael. Oh god.” Nikita whispered, her body growing rigid as she was wracked by waves of pleasure. Climaxing discreetly was a difficult feat, to say the least. Michael attempted to solve the problem by covering her mouth with his, but his own burgeoning climax was already in progress.
Nikita, barely aware of her surroundings, heard him give a nearly inaudible gasp, as he held her more tightly than before. Perspiration beaded his forehead, and he trembled with the exertion it took not to cry aloud. Nikita, easing down from her heights, kissed Michael’s forehead and tasted the salty tang of his skin. Tears came to her eyes as she looked into his and saw the love and raw emotion that he could never truly hide from her. She ran her fingers through his wavy hair, luxuriating in the feel and texture of it.
“You need a comb, “ she said tenderly as she continued to kiss his eyelids, then his high cheekbones and lastly his love swollen lips. She nibbled at his lower lip. “Are you all right?” she asked, pulling away.
In response, Michael, unable to speak, cradled her face between his hands and pulled her lips to his again and kissed her deeply, his tongue searching for hers, demanding more of her. Michael’s free hand caressed her breast beneath her sweater, causing her to gasp with renewed desire. Nikita felt as if he were searing her very soul with his passion, and she could only respond in kind.
An hour later, the two lovers presented a more sedate picture. Clothing had been buttoned and zipped. It was then that Michael remembered the wine that he had ordered to be chilled, along with the strawberries and fudge sauce. It was no wonder that he had forgotten. Nikita’s aggressive side never failed to excite him to the point where everything else was immaterial.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked softly. His own mouth was dry as a dessert, but his hunger was only for her.
“Does Sahara mean anything to you?” she asked saucily, looking around.
Michael gave a start. Nikita had read his thoughts exactly, and not for the first time either. He smiled. “Yes.” Michael walked to the small refrigerator and removed the chilling wine and strawberries. “I’m afraid the sauce is not sauce anymore. It’s fudge.” Michael took two champagne flutes and poured two glasses of the bubbling, sparkling white wine.
Eagerly, Nikita accepted the glass of wine that Michael offered and took a long swallow.
“Careful, Nikita. You know how wine affects you,” Michael warned with a grin.
“It doesn’t affect me half as much as you do, Michael.” Nikita’s voice grew husky with emotion, and her eyes again shimmered with tears. She reached toward him, as if to stroke his face, then grinned and made a dive for a fat juicy strawberry, which she promptly popped into her mouth.
“Mmm. Almost as much as this does. Michael, these strawberries are fabulous. Here have one.” Michael’s mouth opened in surprise. Nikita took advantage and fed him one of the luscious fruits from her teeth. Their lips met once again as they ‘battled’ over the strawberry. It would be difficult to say which of them won or lost that battle.
********
10.
“M’sieur Therrien, we are on approach. Please fasten your seat belts.”
“Merci,” Michael responded as he began to disentangle himself from his sleeping partner. “Nikita,” he said softly, kissing her awake. “We’re about to land.”
Suddenly alert, Nikita stretched her neck to look out the window. “We are? Where are we, Michael? Did I fall as asleep?” She asked with a wide yawn as she tried to stretch the kinks from her body.
“For a few minutes,” he replied, stroking the hair from her face. He could not keep his hands from touching her. All the times he’d stood with hands folded, all the times he’d given her no response but a blank stare had been torture for him. He could not see her without wanting to touch her, kiss her ripe luscious mouth, or wipe the angry tears from her eyes.... tears that had been put there because of something he’d done or not done, more likely. Nikita was his drug. He could not have too much of her, but he was unable to visualize ever having and sharing a life with her. Indeed, it was beyond his ability to imagine that they would have the opportunity to enjoy long, rich lives, not as Section operatives. He’d lost so much already.
Nikita saw the look of sadness and pain cross his face. “Michael, what’s wrong?” she asked, gazing into his jade green eyes.
“Nothing, I’m sorry.” Michael shook his head and attempted a half smile.
“No, you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Talk to me, Michael. Don’t shut me out. I know you have to shut me out sometimes.... in Section, but not here, not now.”
Nikita’s acceptance of his role in manipulating her for missions cut him like a knife and hurt him more than any exhibition of anger could have. Her purity, her compassion--she had them in abundance, but he refused to accept the absolution she offered so willingly. He shut his eyes, trying to think what he could say to defuse her concern. Surprised, he felt her lips on his, pliant and giving. He surrendered to her loving kiss, returning it in full measure.
The plane jarred as it landed. Nikita sighed and pulled away. “It’s all right, Michael. I understand. So much has happened. The future is uncertain, I know,” she said, nodding her head.
Michael took Nikita’s hand and pressed a kiss into the palm. Nikita was such an enigma. Aggressive, sensual, tender... and she could literally read his mind and emotions, when she chose, but there had been other times when she’d been seemingly clueless as to how he felt about her. That was his fault, of course. He could not blame her for the cruel attempts to crush her humanity, and he could not crush her compassion without destroying himself. It was that simple and that complicated.
The plane taxied to a stop.
“Let’s go,” he said, pulling her to her feet and toward pilot standing at the open door.
“I hope you enjoyed your flight, M’sieur, Madame,” the pilot said with a very straight face.
Giggles erupted from Nikita’s throat. “Very much, thank you!” Nikita saw her new surroundings for the first time. “Where are we?” she asked, looking in amazement at the bright warm sunshine and palm trees at the far edge of the airport.
“Monaco, Madame. Bôn chance at the gaming tables,” the pilot offered with a smile. Michael nodded and shook the pilot’s hand, giving him a large tip as he did.
Nikita and Michael descended to the tarmac. Nikita took a deep breath, whirled and hugged him. “Monaco, the Riviera. God, Michael, it’s so beautiful!”
Nikita’s childlike abandon, gladdened Michael’s heart and lifted, if only for a time, some of its burdens. “You’re all I can see, Nikita, and you are beautiful,” he said in a voice roughened with emotion as they walked arm in arm to the waiting limo.
******
. NOTE TO SAVVY WORLD TRAVELERS: After doing a little research, I find that Monaco has no airport, and the closest one is in Nice, but since I’ve already had them land in ‘Monaco,’ I will continue with that inaccuracy. Sorry, no time for ‘luv’ in the limousine like there would have been had I done my research first.
11.
“Don’t we have to go through customs, Michael?” Nikita asked as the limousine left airport. “I mean this isn’t a mission. We’re just tourists, right?”
Michael grinned, “It’s been taken care of, and no, it’s not a mission.”
Nikita draped her arms around Michael’s neck and said, “Well, then I’d say we should settle down to enjoying this limousine ride.” She began placing little kisses about his cheeks.
Michael emitted a small laugh, (yes, he did!) “Nikita, there isn’t time for ‘that.’ Monaco is a very small principality. We will be at our hotel in five minutes.”
“Five minutes?”
Michael looked into Nikita’s dazzling aquamarine eyes. “Oui. The Hotel de Paris is located on Place du Casino, in the heart of Monte Carlo. We’re almost there. Look,” he pointed out the window. “There is the Rock, Old Monaco. That’s where Prince Rainier lives.”
Nikita giggled, “You sound like a tour guide Michael. I can’t believe we’re here together, alone and away from Section One, and you’re wasting time trying to educate me. I don’t care if we don’t see anything out side our room. I want to....”
Michael quieted her with a kiss. “I know what you want, Nikita. There will be time for ‘everything.’” Nikita, in her present state of mind, affected Michael like the finest champagne full of sparkling bubbles that rushed to his head leaving him more than a little breathless. “We’ll go to the beach, gamble, dine, gamble, drink, uh--am I omitting something?” He grinned at the look of dismay that crossed Nikita’s face.
“I’ll say you’re forgetting something,” Nikita said, assuming an attitude of pretended indignation.
“Alone in a room with you... never.” Michael said. “There will only be one thing on my mind... you.” It was nearly impossible to keep her from his mind when they were at Section One. He was always aware of her presence, as if they were psychically linked. He supposed it had something to do with pheromones, but he always seemed to know when she was or was not in Section.
“Show me, Michael.” Nikita closed her eyes as she nestled in his arms.
Michael moaned. Nikita’s throaty, sensual voice had the power to excite him. He had to face it. Everything about Nikita had the power to excite him in the right circumstances. The heaviness in his groin was evidence that her magic was still at work. Michael kissed her fingertips, then slowly moved her hand down his chest to the area below his belt. “There, evidence enough?” he asked her hoarsely.
“Mmm. I guess.” Nikita giggled, as she gave him a sensual caress. “Oh, my. Look it’s huge!”
“Nikita!”
“The statue, Michael. Look at the statue.”
The limo had stopped in front of the Hotel de Paris. “Oh, you mean the equestrian statue of Louis XIV. It’s very famous,” Michael said, slipping into tour guide mode.
Nikita arched an eyebrow. “What did you think I meant, Michael?” she asked, caressing him again.
Michael pushed Nikita’s hand away. “You have to stop that... for now, anyway.”
“For now,” she grinned.
********
12.
Registration had gone smoothly, and Nikita looked about with awe at the immense Belle-Epoch style hotel. The massive marble columns, lush greenery, and extremely well-heeled patrons that floated throughout the hotel made her feel like she was in a fairy tale. Oh, she'd been in a palace or two, but missions didn't count. She was here in a beautiful, romantic hotel... with Michael, and that was all that counted.
Michael's hand was placed protectively in the small of her back. They were led to the ornate, old-fashioned elevators by the bell hop who had procured their luggage from the back of the limousine. Nikita wondered what was in the luggage. As far as she knew, she had the clothes on her back. Curiosity was beginning to gnaw at her. How had Michael arranged all this in such a short time?
The bellhop unlocked the door to their.... suite. It was a suite, not merely a room with a bed, although that would have been fine. Furnished in a soft pastel monochromatic color scheme of aqua, the room's appointments were elegant. The room was paneled in white with ornate gilded moldings. French doors opened on a small balcony, overlooking the Mediterranean. Yes, she was Cinderella. She turned to her handsome prince, who was in the process of closing the door to their suite. "Michael, it's beautiful. This is heaven." She spun around in joyous abandon.
"Then this is where you belong, ma ange blanche," Michael replied, dropping into his native tongue, as he gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed.
The bed was covered in a down-filled comforter, which was stripped away in one swift motion. Michael lay beside her, “Ma coeur. Tu es tres belle,” he murmured in her ear, leaving a trail of maddening kisses down her neck and shoulder. Nikita had a vague idea of his meaning, more than vague. They were words of love, even if her French was inadequate for an exact translation.
“Too many clothes,” she managed to say, ripping at his shirt. Buttons began to fly about the room to be lost forever.
“Nikita, we have time. Be patient.” Slowly and methodically, he unbuttoned her silk blouse revealing a lacy confection that was almost a bra. He buried his face between her breasts, then moved to tease the straps off her shoulders with his teeth. A quick movement in back, and Nikita’s beauty was revealed. Modest in size, but perfect in symmetry and style. The rose-tipped nipples had already tightened into tiny nubs. He divested her of her jeans in a similar exquisite maneuver, using his teeth to ease down the zipper.
Nikita’s heart hammered in a staccato beat. The more he touched her, the more pronounced the rhythm. Then his mouth was on hers, his hands cupped her breasts, stroked her abdomen. He caused havoc with her nervous system. Something still was not right, but for the life of her, she could not think what it was. His mouth was devouring hers, his tongue swept and battled with hers, for her soul or so it seemed.
“Michael, now,” she urged, grasping his... jeans. He was still wearing his jeans! She began tugging desperately at his belt. She wanted to feel all of him next to her. He never stopped kissing her as he stripped from his jeans. His manhood sprang free, and she heard him moan as its warm length nestled against her flat abdomen. Finally, no more barriers, they were skin to skin... and heart to heart.
Michael parted her thighs with his knee, and felt to see if she were ready for him. “Yes, now,” she urged, guiding him to her feminine core. Every sensation in her body was centered in that core. Every nerve ending cried for his touch.
Finesse and skill were mere tools for the expression of their passion. It was a torturous and wondrous blending of male and female, yin and yang, night and day. From the most primal expression of animality to the most spiritual of pleasures, they experienced them as they wrestled, thrust and loved. Sensation banished their cares and memories until there was only one exultant cry from both. First they were two, then they were one.
13.
Michael awakened to find Nikita unpacking-- in the nude. She made an entrancing sight. He watched her hold a long white beaded gown against her body, as she checked the effect in the mirror. He had requested several selections from a certain French boutique, so that she might have a choice. He continued to watch her through half-closed eyelids, not wanting to interrupt her fashion parade. She was so lovely, it hurt. He wished he had a lifetime with which to shower her with presents and love, instead of a mere forty-eight hours.
Nikita caught a movement in the mirror and realized he was awake. She whirled, "Ah ha! Caught you watching me, didn't I?" she said in a voice made seductive by the aftermath of passion.
"Guilty," he said, unable to keep his eyes from her long legs and beautiful rose-tipped breasts as she sashayed about the room.
Nikita carefully laid a midnight blue gown across a chair, then flung herself onto the bed. "When did you find time to do all this? How did you know my size?"
"Computers, and I have certain resources," he replied, and money, he added to himself. All it took was money and a little time to think about what she would enjoy doing, besides the obvious.
Michael leaned on his elbow and asked, "What do you want to do now? Would you like go to the beach and get some sun? I've rented a cabana for us."
"And just what does one do in a cabana, Michael?" she teased.
“One changes, one has sun screen applied. There are all sorts of things one can do in a cabana, Nikita.” Michael arched an eyebrow, drinking her beauty with his eyes.
Nikita rolled from the bed, wrapping a sheet around her, and wandered onto the balcony. She looked at the beach scene below and exclaimed, "Michael, it's a topless beach!"
"Of course," Michael said with a grin before adding, "there's plenty of sun screen....SPF 45."
"You expect me to take my top off, Michael?" she asked, pretending to be astonished.
Michael joined her on the balcony. He took her hand and pulled her back into their suite. "You don't have to, Nikita," he said softly.
"You want me to, though, don't you. Come on, admit it," she teased, as she allowed him to take control.
"Well, when in Rome... or Monaco..." he replied with a grin. Michael thought Nikita would shuck her top at the first opportunity, or at least she would once she was on the beach and grew accustomed to the idea. Europeans did not place much importance on keeping the female breast covered, but he would never force her to do anything that made her uncomfortable... away from Section One, that is.
Nikita came to stand with her body close to his. Her roseate nipples puckered as they brushed his chest, and she slipped her arms around his neck. She rubbed her naked body against his. He could feel her pelvic bones as they jutted from her taut abdomen, and he could feel her nest of blonde curls brush against his arousal. She was intoxicating, vibrant and totally female. She made his head whirl, his heart race, and his lungs burn with the need to breathe. He cupped her buttocks with shaking hands and pulled her closer still.
“Don’t you want to get some sun,” he asked, his voice so soft it became a whisper. She was driving him wild, with her need for him. He felt he might burst from the mere excitation of being near her. His desire for her was so intense, he could not restrain his body from shivering.
“Come here, cabana boy,” Nikita said softly, pulling him toward the bed. “I need some sun screen applied.” Nikita lay upon the wide bed and unabashedly opened herself to him. He felt as if his heart would stop.
“Ahh,” Michael uttered incoherently as he sank into her warmth and took her... took them both... to ecstasy. It was a union, sublime and mystical, as only two who are meant for each other can experience.
********
14.
A sweet and untroubled sleep overtook them. Exhausted from their efforts of trying to compress a lifetime of loving and longing into forty-eight hours. Arms, legs entwined. It was impossible to tell where one of them began and the other ended. Physically, they breathed as one. Emotionally, bonded as never before.
When Michael awoke, he listened to the soft music of Nikita’s breathing at his side, in his arms. Her body was warm, pliant, yet toned and a perfect match to his own. He took in her scent, always fresh and clean with a hint of something he could only name as essence of Nikita.
If only... there were so many if onlies that it hurt Michael to put them into thought. Starting with if only they were free to spend their lives together, ending with if only he’d not been forced to ruin two innocent lives with his deceptions. He didn’t want to think of Adam and Elena now, not here, with Nikita lying in his arms, but he could not escape the fact that the one love precluded the expression of the other. Adam and Elena were lost to him forever, but Nikita was not.
Michael was not settling for love with Nikita because he could no longer be Elena’s husband. It was more the other way around. Elena had been his refuge from Section One. He had come to love her for her sweetness and gentle nature, and in turn she had worshipped the man she thought he was.
Initially, Nikita had kept him sane in Section One, while conversely driving him crazy at the same time. Stubborn, temperamental, scared, she was unaware of the beauty and goodness that she generously shared with everyone she met. Section One no longer clicked along at the same frenetic, uncaring pace. Nikita’s interjection into the Section equation had left it off kilter, and the equation no longer progressed to its natural solution in the same way it had before. Whether by accident or design, Section One had recruited an innocent instead of a cold-blooded killer in the blonde beauty that lay in his arms.
If only she could be free of Section, of the lies and manipulations, of him. He had let her go once, but she had come back because of him. They had not been able to sever the bond, nor had Section. Only death could separate them, and death was always an imminent possibility in their line of work. It was too real a possibility to imagine, his being without her. He’d suffered too many losses in his lifetime. He didn’t know if he could survive the loss of his soul mate.
Until now, Adam’s loss had been the worst. Worse than losing his parents, his old life, Simone or even a semi-normal life with Elena, for Adam had been his heart and his future. A gift of life and claim on the future.. his love for Adam was immutable and unending.
He had wanted to die those first weeks after the successful end of the Vacek mission had separated him from his only child. He'd been careless, neglectful of his own safety, and distraught. Nikita had saved him in more ways than one. First of all, she had remained his friend. His four years of deception had not crushed her feelings for him. Once Nikita had realized the depth of Section One's control over his life, it had forged a deeper bond of understanding between them. She finally understood that in spite of his higher rank, he was still as much a pawn for Section’s manipulations as she had been. She had guarded him when he would not take the simplest of precautions to protect himself. He wasn't sure when he'd first become aware of her extracurricular sessions outside his loft. It was more that he sensed her being near him.
Nikita's being taken by Mihai Brevich had served as the stimulus to shake him from the depression that had sapped his energy and soul. He wondered if Nikita had been aware of the mission’s ultimate profile. Had Operations simply gambled on his response and his arriving in time to save her? Would Nikita have willingly gambled her life to save his? She probably would have, but Michael doubted that Operations had taken that factor into consideration. Once again, Operations would have decided that Nikita didn’t ‘need to know’ and made a perfect pawn.
Michael watched Nikita sleep. She slept deeply and soundly like a child, molded to his side. He wished he could express the love he felt for her. The words had never been spoken between them. Until lately, he had not been free to say them, and he still felt that she deserved so much more than his love. But love her he did. He knew she would awaken eventually, and he knew he had to banish any trace of his post-coital angst. He wanted nothing to cast a shadow over this time with her. This might be the only time they would have like this. He wanted her to enjoy it, revel in it, and forget Section One, if only for a day or two.
He felt Nikita shift into a lighter stage of sleep. She began to move closer to him, if possible. Her eyelids fluttered. A barely audible sigh escaped her lovely mouth. He stroked her eyelids with a gentle movement of his thumb and traced the angle of her sculptured cheekbones. Her eyelids fluttered open.
“Wha--, M-Michael,” she looked about in momentary confusion. “I forgot where I was. Is this for real?”
“Oui. You’re here with me, ma chère,” he murmured as he began to nibble her delicate ear lobes. “It is very real.” Michael only knew one way to banish his pain. Nikita was more than an antidote, she was his heart and soul, and losing himself in her was the sheerest heaven he knew.
*********
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