Michael and Nikita lay on their backs in the high grass at the top of the hill. If they wanted to, they could see forever. It lay just beyond the chateau. But instead, they lay dreaming, looking up at the sky, watching the clouds drift by. Arms entwined, they wondered aloud about this cloud...and that cloud....
"Are you asleep, doucette?"
"No...I’m enjoying the show the sky is putting on, just for us, Michael...."
He turned, just enough so he could kiss the corner of her eye. "It’s pretty, doucette, but not half as pretty as you."
She smiled slowly, the light of his life. She brought her light into the darkness that once surrounded his soul, and he was healed. She was his miracle.
He stroked the side of her face with maddening precision, his touch automatically sending a frisson of excitement through her. "Kiss me..." she entreated in a whisper.
"I did...I will." He kissed her thoroughly, and she sighed contentedly. "I could live forever on just one of your kisses."
He shook his head, bending his head to claim her mouth yet one more time. "Never just one, doucette. There must always be more."
She giggled happily. "If you are a god," she said, pausing to glance surreptitiously at Michael from beneath long silky blonde lashes. "I command you to shape that cloud right there," she said, pointing to a huge, fluffy mass of white far over their heads, "into a...unicorn!" She exclaimed the last word triumphantly, her grin infectious, looking for all the world like one of their children.
"I’m not a god, Kita, I’m just the man who loves you more than life itself." Michael’s eyes glowed warmly, twin emerald embers fervently seeking their sapphire mates.
This time, she kissed him, unable to resist the magnetic pull of their love. "I love you, Michael."
She snuggled closer into his embrace, and he tucked her head under his chin. He was sleepy, but he didn’t want to waste a minute of this morning sleeping. "I love you so much, my brave heart."
"You always know the right thing to say, Michael."
He kissed her tenderly, his lips leaving hers ever so reluctantly. "You inspire me, doucette."
She raised herself up eagerly, leaning on his chest. "Mmm...I like the sound of that." Abruptly falling onto her back again, Nikita laughed softly. "I love drowsing in the grass like this, Michael...almost better than making love."
Michael chuckled. "I’ll have to refresh your memory then."
"No, I remember every single detail. It was so...intense. But so beautiful."
He traced the shape of her eyebrow with his thumb, unable to keep his hands off her. "It was," he agreed.
She reached out, touching his lips with her finger. "Sometimes there is such an ache inside of me...that only you can help."
He kissed her fingertips. "I know...it’s the same for me, Kita."
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled playfully. "I talked to Walter yesterday."
She waited expectantly. "How is he?"
"Over the moon. He’s madly in love with his new wife, but...he managed to spare some time to start the renovations on his and Declan’s rooms." He kissed Nikita on the nose. "He thinks he can finish them before we come back at the end of the summer."
Nikita threw her arms around Michael’s neck and kissed him enthusiastically. "That’s wonderful. I wonder what’s getting him so motivated."
"Lust, probably," said Michael with a knowing smile.
She swatted Michael playfully with her hand and he captured it with his, kissing the palm that faced him. "And? I just know you have other news?"
He smiled. She knew him so well. It was startling sometimes to be so easily read, he who was so used to being misunderstood. "Madeline’s baby is getting big. But as much as she would love to join us, Neil can’t get away from the practice right now."
Nikita looked disappointed. "Aw, Michael, she could come up here on her own."
"You want her to take a month-old baby on a long journey like this? Alone?" Nikita closed her eyes, understanding what Michael was saying, but it didn’t hurt any less.
Strumming his fingers along her hairline, he smiled wistfully at his wife. "I wouldn’t want you to do it, if it were us."
She kissed him, her fingers sliding partway into his hair, his wonderful, cinnamon-colored hair. Hair that lightened every day that he was outside. Already acquiring a light tan, his skin now threw his light eyes into startling contrast. He was so incredibly beautiful, her husband. She felt intensely possessive of him suddenly, not wishing to share him with anyone right now, including the children. This was their time.
"You miss her. I know." Michael intuited her thoughts and feelings with an ease that scared her sometimes. But she wouldn’t have him any other way.
"Yeah...but it’s okay. By the time we get back home, Justin will be almost four months old."
"So what are we going to do this summer? Besides build, and paint, and plant?"
Michael looked so bemused, Nikita wanted to know what he was thinking. "You have an idea?"
He suddenly blushed. "I always have ideas, doucette."
"Besides those, Michael," she laughed gaily, feeling more free now than when they first escaped Section. Freedom was such a relative term.
"Well..." He looked down at their joined hands, his eyes growing serious for a moment. "You said you wanted to have another child..." he told her, his voice husky with unspoken emotion.
"Michael!" she nearly shrieked in his ear, her hands clumsily seeking his face, her lips almost missing his mouth. "I can’t believe you’ve actually been thinking about this."
He glanced at her, almost shyly, still finding it hard to express his innermost feelings. "Kita...I love the thought of my child growing inside of you. I can’t tell you exactly how that feels to me, I don’t even know if there are enough words. When you were pregnant before..." His eyes darkened, and suddenly he was almost tearful. "You were so beautiful..."
She knew instinctively not to interrupt. Michael was not often given to confiding his deepest thoughts, and she didn’t want to miss a single one.
"You’re always beautiful, of course," he qualified. "But your light glowed even brighter...and your light is what takes away the darkness in me, doucette."
She kissed him, despite her earlier decision not to interrupt, and he clung to her mouth for several moments, a few tears escaping his eye to touch her cheek. "I love you," he whispered, clearly a bit overcome by his admission.
"If you stopped taking the pills right now..." he paused significantly, daring to meet her eyes. "You could be pregnant by fall."
She wrapped her arms around her husband, her dark knight, transfixed by the light in his eyes. "You mean that?"
He nodded silently. Just the thought of giving her another child made him feel weak. It was a feeling he guarded so close to his heart, he’d never shared it with anyone, not even her. But he thought she knew. Somehow, she always knew.
"The twins will be two after Christmas. I know it would be hard for you, being pregnant with two toddlers underfoot, but--"
She stopped him right there, her fingers resting lightly against his mouth. "I would love it, and you know it."
"So would I," he whispered against her fingertips. "Sometimes...I want it so badly...I don’t even know where the feeling comes from..."
"You had only your sister growing up, Michael?"
"Yes. After our parents died, I raised Rose. She was so young, she needed so much."
"You were more father than brother to her." Nikita understood instantly the relationship Michael forged in those early years with his sister.
He nodded slowly, seemingly lost in thought. "She was all I had, Kita. There was no one else. Only Rene." A single tear traced its way down his face. "God, Rene. He took care of Rose when I was arrested and sent to prison."
"It was the least he could do, Michael. It wasn’t your fault you got swept away. You were young, a college student, full of idealism. He exploited you for his own ends."
Michael’s eyes looked haunted, his expression tragic. "No. I was looking for something. I didn’t even know what it was. I thought I’d found it, but--I was wrong. He took care of Rose after I "died", Kita. Surely that was worth one insignificant life like mine."
She grabbed Michael by the shoulders and gently shook him. "No, Michael! Your life could never be insignificant! Not to me, not even to Rene!"
Michael wept openly, and she cradled him in her arms. "He said I had no honor, Ki-ta. He was right."
"No, no, Michael, he was wrong. You do have honor. You’re my dark knight, remember?" She kissed his hair as he continued to cry softly, his tears soaking the base of her throat, where he’d buried his face against her neck.
"Mon chevalier sombre..." she whispered into his hair, her lips feeling the silken texture.
Several minutes passed. He wasn’t asleep. He felt safe in her arms. Like she did, when she lay her head against his heart. "Ever since Rene...died," he said quickly, glossing over the fact that Nikita was forced to shoot him, due to his own inability to do this, "I’ve been collecting family..."
"You think the two things are related?"
He smiled faintly, his white teeth showing brightly against the slowly deepening tan of his skin. "Maybe...a psychiatrist would know that better than me."
"Well," she said, sitting up, re-arranging Michael until his head rested comfortably in her lap. She twisted a fine blade of grass under his nose, almost tickling him in the process. "We’ve got a wonderful family now, Michael."
He looked up at her, eyes shining vividly green. "So do we have room for one more, doucette?"
"Never just one, Michael. There must always be more," she said, echoing what he’d said earlier.
His eyes slid over her face lovingly. "We should start now, doucette. We need the practice."
She kissed him, her long blonde hair now loose from its confining braid, trailing along the side of his face. "We made such beautiful babies the first time, love, how could we possibly improve on that?"
He pulled her down to him, kissing her back with an almost ferocious intensity. Sliding a hand down the back of her neck, Michael abruptly gentled his mouth on hers. "We can only try."
After Michael helped Nikita seat herself on the horse, he led the animal slowly down the hillside towards the chateau. Settled into her place atop the beautiful mare, she felt like Lady Godiva, her long blond hair flowing freely down her back. Sitting astride the horse made Nikita’s skirt rise alarmingly high, but Michael didn’t seem to mind, occasionally dropping back from his place at the horse’s head to give her long legs a rub.
He chuckled to himself. "You could always ride sidesaddle, Kita."
"I don’t think so, Michael. I’m relatively new to this sort of thing, and I’d just as soon not go flying over his head, if you don’t mind."
He laughed. "Her, Kita. It’s a mare."
"Well, how would I know? I don’t know anything about riding, Michael."
Michael grinned mischievously, his green eyes glinting in the sunlight. "That’s true, Kita, but you can’t tell me you don’t know anything about biology."
The next time he dropped back to touch her leg, she was waiting for him. She gave a fierce tug on his wrist, and he used her surprisingly strong grip to vault himself into the saddle behind her, stealing the reins from her within moments of landing. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the nape of her neck. "You have to get up pretty early in the morning to beat me, my Kita."
She leaned over her shoulder and kissed him on the mouth. "I did."
He leaned his forehead on hers, looking straight into her deep blue eyes. "So you did." He slid his mouth along her cheek, nibbling at her jawline until she giggled. "Want to do this again next week?"
She smiled enigmatically. "What do you think, Michael?"
"I think you’d better turn around before I give you something else to think about, doucette."
***
Michael watched the twins begin their riding lessons. Faith, little adventurer that she was, was determined to master the horse. Unfortunately for her, the horse had other ideas. Declan held the little girl onto the horse. For this series of lessons, Declan was using an English saddle as well as a bridle with a bit. He would take no chances with the children.
Faith played with the horse’s mane as he ambled back and forth in the paddock area. Her Daddy was watching. She wanted to make him proud of her. She wasn’t jealous of her brother. Much.
Declan slowed the horse’s walk slightly, watching Faith carefully. "You know what your problem is, princess? You’ve got no knees!" He laughed, knowing that eventually Faith would grow big enough to control the horse with her legs, and specifically, her knees.
Faith frowned at Declan, unsure of his meaning. Did she have no knees? What were knees? She looked over at her father, calling out almost tearfully, "Daddy! Fee gots no knees!"
Michael strode over to Faith’s horse and pulled back on the bridle. "It’s okay, Fee. You’re just a little girl."
Faith took serious exception to that characterization, especially since she felt it involved losing face in front of her brother. "Daddy!" she yelled, outraged that she didn’t have these knees that were apparently more valuable than she’d thought.
Chris chortled happily, sitting on the sidelines while Faith was taking her lesson. He clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Fee! No knees!" Never mind that Chris didn’t know what a knee was either. He was just glad that it was something his sister didn’t have.
When Michael admonished his son with a brief warning glance, Chris immediately silenced himself. He loved the Daddy. He wanted the Daddy all to himself sometimes. He didn’t want Faith to go away, he just wished she didn’t always claim all the attention. Suddenly anxious about what might happen, Chris began sucking his thumb.
Faith shouted at her brother, "Baby! Baby!", for sucking his thumb, and Chris began to yowl, upset that his sister was humiliating him in front of his father. Torn between chastising Faith and comforting Chris, Michael did the only thing he could. He told Declan the riding lessons were over for the day.
***
Nikita brushed her hair out, the shining mass trailing down her back, almost to her waist again. "So tell me how you solved the problem between Faith and Chris, Michael, I’m listening."
Michael sighed. "I didn’t. You know how Faith gets, Kita. She’s too competitive with her brother."
"Are you saying you don’t think girls should be independent?"
Michael held up his hands in a gesture of submission. "Not at all, Kita. But Faith wants all the attention, all the time. She needs to learn to share."
"Michael, children this age don’t know how to share."
"That may be, Kita, but she really hurts Chris when she calls him a baby for sucking his thumb."
"It’s just sibling rivalry, Michael."
"Well, I don’t like it."
All at once, Nikita felt a glimmer of understanding begin to take hold in her mind. "Michael...when you were a child, did you suck your thumb?"
"I don’t remember, Kita." That was the end of that subject. Michael was putting all his "Do not trespass" signs up.
She took another tack. "Michael, was your father proud of you?"
"For what, Kita?"
"For anything, Michael."
He started to shake his head, then he said hoarsely, "I don’t know. Why would he be?"
She shrugged. "A more important question might be, Why wouldn’t he be?"
"Papa was a hard man to please..." Michael said faintly. Nikita crossed the room to him, putting down her brush to hug Michael. She framed his face with her hands and kissed him.
"Michael...I don’t know anything about the man or your childhood, but I know one thing. If he could see you now, see what a beautiful man you’ve grown into, see what a beautiful family you have...he couldn’t help but be as proud of you as I am."
Nikita could have wept at the look that brought to Michael’s face. She knew he always tortured himself for not being good enough. She just didn’t know what the source of the negative self-image was. Now she had a pretty good idea.
"Michael..." she said huskily, weaving her hands through his hair. "You are such a good father. Faith will grow out of this phase. And Chris will survive this, as long as you keep telling him how much you love him."
"I do, Kita. I love both of them so much." He closed his eyes finally, holding her tight against him.
"I know, love." She moved away slowly, gently tugging on his hand. "Come to bed."
***
He lay on his side, facing his wife, a slight smile curving the ends of his mouth upwards. "What?" queried Nikita, regarding him fondly.
"You take such good care of me, doucette."
She reached out and touched his lips with her fingertip, and he kissed it tenderly. "Even when I don’t know what I need, you know..."
She couldn’t smile. She was too moved to smile. "Oh, Michael...sometimes I think God lets me have a tiny glimpse of what you’re like inside...and all the rest is just...love."
He trailed kisses down her neck to her chest and stopped, nestling his head there, against her heart. "It’s always about love."
The absence of noise was wrong. All wrong. The kids were at that stage where when you didn’t hear them, they were up to something.
It was very early morning. The kids weren’t in the adjoining room, but the bedroom door was unlocked. Damn, he’d been so tired last night, he must have forgotten to lock it. Michael pulled on a pair of jeans, not stopping to put on a shirt, and trod barefoot downstairs.
"Faith! Chris!"
Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. Oh, my God. The kitchen was covered in white powder. Every pot and every pan had been pulled from the cupboards and cabinets and now lay on the floor. He stared at the two responsible and slumped weakly against the door.
"What am I supposed to do with you two?"
He wasn’t angry. He was just speechless. With laughter.
Faith held out her grubby white hands to her father. "Daddy! See?"
"Um, yes, Fee, Daddy sees. Um...what are you making?"
There was a large pile of the white powder in the center of the room, which Michael assumed was Faith’s creation. He put out a cautious finger and tasted the white powder. It was flour. Thank God.
Faith was a long time answering her father, but she finally replied, "Bekfas, Daddy."
He blinked. "Bekfas? Bekfas...ohhh, breakfast?"
Faith nodded. "Bekfas for Daddy."
He couldn’t help but smile. "No bekfas for Mommy?"
"Unca Dec make."
"Uncle Dec is going to have a heart attack when he sees what you’ve done to the kitchen, petite." Michael looked around the room. No Chris.
"By the way, where is your brother?"
"Chris bad. Bad Chris."
Michael looked vaguely alarmed. Faith thought that Chris did something bad? His heart stopped in his chest.
"Faith, where’s Chris?" he asked, a little more sharply than he’d intended.
Faith looked startled, then started to wail anxiously. He knelt down on the dusty floor before his daughter. "Ssh, Fee, I’m not mad, see? I’m not mad," he kept repeating as he tried to calm her down. Michael picked her up and held her. She rested her head on her father’s chest, sniffling the entire time, but immediately reassured by her father’s attention.
"Fee, where’s Chris?" he asked very softly, praying that Faith knew the answer and that the answer was something he could stand to hear.
"Out."
Michael jumped to his feet, Faith in his arms. "What do you mean, out?" he said in a deceptively soft voice, trying not to scare her again. Inside, he was terrified.
"Out. See horsies." Faith pointed to the outside door. It was partly open.
Michael turned, trying to figure out where to put Faith while he searched for Chris. It was so unlike him not to know exactly what to do. He bolted upstairs, waking Nikita. Nikita barely had a chance to hold onto Faith before Michael was gone.
Nikita stared at her daughter. "Faith, you’re covered from head to toe in powder. What were you doing?"
"Make bekfas. Daddy." Faith looked quite content in Nikita’s arms.
"Ohhh." Nikita smiled, imagining that the kitchen was in a deplorable state, and Michael was trying to salvage things before Declan saw the damage.
"Where’s Chris, sweetie?"
"Chris out. See horsies." Faith pronounced carefully, remembering her father’s reaction to that statement.
Nikita paled. Oh, my God. Chris.
***
Chris giggled as he approached the paddock, where two horses stood, casually surveying their surroundings. Luckily for him, the paddock gate was locked. Equally luckily for him, his father was right behind him.
Michael scooped Chris up and held him, much too tightly, from the sound of Chris’ protests. "Oh, God, Chris. Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me? You can’t go outside without me or Mommy! Do you understand?"
Chris regarded his father tearfully. "Daddy mad?"
"No, Chris. You’re a good boy. But what you did was very, very bad. Dangerous. You made Daddy worry." He hugged Chris close to his heart.
Chris reached out with a tiny finger and touched Michael’s cheek, which was now wet with tears. "Daddy cry?"
He cradled his son’s head against his chest, kissing his hair, so like his wife’s. "Daddy just doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’re very special, Chris," he whispered. You have no idea how special.
Chris wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck. "Love Daddy."
Michael struggled in vain to control his emotions. "I love you, too, Chris." He kissed his son’s cheek. "Always remember that."
***
When Nikita finished throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she grabbed Faith and headed downstairs at a clip that rivaled Michael’s earlier dash. Yanking open the front door, she suddenly found herself face-to-face with Michael and Chris.
Immediately sensing Michael’s distress, she worried aloud about Chris’ well-being. But Michael hastily reassured Nikita that Chris was all right. He explained what happened, from the time he found Faith to the moment he found Chris.
"Oh, Michael. They’re so little yet, but they’re so quick. We could lose them so easily."
Michael opened his arms to Nikita, inviting her and Faith into his embrace, while maintaining a careful hold on Chris. "Hey," he said softly, "come here, my two best girls."
He kissed Nikita lightly, noting the fresh tears she was trying to hide. He whispered to her, "Let’s try not to scare them any more than we already have, Kita."
"But--"
He placed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "What could have happened...didn’t. That’s all that matters, doucette."
He hugged all of them, knowing that particular fear, that fear of losing one of those he loved so desperately, would never leave him. "That’s all that ever matters."
"Bloody Hell, Sey! How did we manage to sleep through the whole mess?" Declan raked both hands through his long red hair, completely dislodging the bandana wrapped around his ponytail. He didn’t even notice. He was more than upset. He was blaming himself as usual. But Declan was nothing if not impartial. He blamed Birkoff as well. After all, they were together. The least he could do was to shoulder his half of the blame.
Birkoff looked like he was going to cry. At least, it wasn’t Faith whose life had been placed in jeopardy. He thanked God for that. It would break his heart if something untoward happened to the little fairy princess who was fast showing signs of out-Nikita-ing Nikita. Not that he wanted anything bad to happen to little Chris. But there was something ultimately defenseless about the little girl that got to Birkoff’s heart. Chris was Michael’s son. Enough said.
Still a near-miss was a near-miss. Birkoff edged as close as he dared to Declan, but Declan’s hands were flying wildly here and there, gesturing as he spoke. Frankly, Birkoff didn’t give much for his chances of not being knocked out if he made the mistake of approaching Declan in this state.
"I always wake up early, Sey. Always."
"You were tired, Declan. You’re entitled to sleep in once in a while." Birkoff didn’t always understand Declan’s need to blame himself for things that were beyond his control. But he imagined it had something to do with the huge amount of guilt Declan carried, even now. That was Section for you. How many lives had been ruined by its hulking great Section machinery?
"Yeah, but why was I tired, Sey? Cause I was--" Declan colored furiously, lowering his voice to a whisper only Birkoff could hear. "Out playing around with you the other night."
Birkoff blushed, then his eyes flashed angrily. "Now you’re blaming me? Maybe you need to put yourself on a leash, Declan. No one forced you to--" He lowered his voice in a similar fashion, so he could not be overheard. "sleep with me."
Declan looked tortured for a brief moment. "I can’t even claim I regret it, Sey. You’ve never been that assertive before." He reached out and touched Birkoff’s cheek. "Dammit, I loved it, and you know it. So don’t argue with me. Just agree with me, and we can be done with the whole incident."
"I would if I knew what you want me to agree with you about, Declan. That it was our fault that Chris nearly made it into the paddock and could have been trampled to death by the horses?"
This time it was Declan’s turn to look tearful. "If anything ever happened to those kids, Sey, I swear I’d shoot myself."
Birkoff grabbed Declan’s hands and held them tightly in his grip. "Declan, accidents happen. You can’t watch them twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. No one could. Not even you."
Birkoff looked around. No one was nearby. He leaned into Declan’s body and kissed him. "I love you, Declan. The reality is, nobody got hurt. Except you. Cause you can’t forgive yourself. But it has to stop. Cause now you’re hurting me."
Declan looked stricken. "How am I hurting you?"
Birkoff stroked Declan’s cheek with his fingertips. "Cause I love you, and anything that hurts you, hurts me," he whispered.
Declan shifted uneasily. "I don’t want that, Sey."
"I know you don’t, Dec. Cause you love me, too." Birkoff stated this with such assurance, Declan was proud of how far he’d come in their relationship.
Declan relaxed, letting go of a long, deep exhalation. "I do, Sey," he agreed, nodding.
"Now for the hard part...who the bloody hell is going to clean up this mess?"
***
They were still standing there surveying the damage to the kitchen when Nikita arrived, Michael in tow with the two children. Michael nudged Faith with his knee. "Faith..." he warned.
"Sorry, Unca Dec." Faith looked appropriately contrite. In fact, she didn’t really understand what all the fuss was about. It was just white powder. It was fun to play with. Didn’t grown-ups ever feel like playing?
Declan knelt at Faith’s level and gave her a big hug. "It’s okay, princess. As long as you and your brother are all right. No harm done."
Faith wondered about that. Was Chris all right? He went out to see the horsies? Was that a bad thing? She sensed that maybe it was. The Daddy was awful upset. He had red eyes when he came back with Chris.
Chris himself seemed curiously oblivious to whatever undercurrents were making their way through the room. His Daddy loved him, and he got an extra hug and a kiss from Mommy, too. All things considered, Chris thought he’d had a pretty good morning.
Declan straightened and went back to assessing the actual damage to the kitchen. Nothing really. Just cosmetic work. Strictly physical labor. He sighed, thinking it was better to get started sooner rather than later.
Nikita reached out and put a hand on Declan’s shoulder. "This wasn’t your fault, Declan. We’ll clean it up."
"Who’s we?" asked Declan cautiously.
"Me and Michael."
Michael blinked. He didn’t recall volunteering for kitchen duty, but his wife seemed to have other ideas.
Nikita ran her fingers through the smooth white powder. She was a sensual person, and she loved different textures. This one had distinct possibilities. She put her finger in her mouth and looked at Michael. Significantly.
Michael’s eyes darkened in automatic response to Nikita’s unspoken invitation. He barely moved his head, but she understood his silent agreement.
Michael cleared his throat, looking at Birkoff. Birkoff almost blushed, but caught himself. He was getting used to the way things worked in the Samuelle household. He took Faith by the hand and tickled Declan’s back. Declan looked startled. "What?"
Birkoff said, "We’re all going upstairs to watch Power Rangers." He smiled innocently at Declan, trying not to notice that Nikita was almost climbing into Michael’s jeans pockets.
Declan wasn’t swift enough on the uptake. "Power Rangers? I don’t think that show’s on anymore."
Birkoff almost laughed at how dense Declan was being. It was usually the other way around. "Then we’ll find some other show to watch, won’t we?"
Nikita wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist, plunging both hands inside his jeans pockets. She thought she could hold out until Birkoff got the twins upstairs, but it was going to be difficult. She had the strongest urge to make love to her husband right then and there, and now that they were not using birth control, she felt positively abandoned.
Birkoff all but dragged Declan out of the kitchen, Chris and Faith giggling at the way their uncles were acting. They never even noticed leaving Mommy and Daddy behind. Which was a good thing.
Mommy was manhandling Daddy.
"Ki-ta...what’s gotten into you?"
"You...I hope." Nikita wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist and slid her hands into his back pockets. She held her face up expectantly for his kiss, and she didn’t have too long to wait. He stared at her mouth for a few seconds before claiming it with considerable fervor. Nudging her mouth open with his tongue, he gently pulled at her lower lip.
Breathless, he stopped and looked at his wife. "What are we doing?"
"Playing..." Nikita giggled merrily. "With each other...." she whispered.
Michael gave her a crooked smile. "Here?"
"Definitely here." She turned around and grabbed a handful of flour, pouring it slowly through her fingers. "Ah, that feels so good."
He blinked. "Well...I don’t think it would do much for me, doucette."
All at once, she pulled her T-shirt up and over her head, exposing her breasts. Tossing her T-shirt onto the floor, she picked up another handful of the flour, sifting it gently through her fingers, but this time, letting it trickle across her breasts. Now coated in white, she offered herself to Michael. "Is this better?"
He reached out a finger and touched her breast. It felt silky smooth to the touch, even more so because of the texture of the flour. His green eyes suddenly blazed with a fierce emerald light as they feasted upon her body. "How long do you think they’ll stay upstairs, Kita?"
She kissed his ear. "Until we tell them to come down."
He grinned against her cheek. "That’s a dangerous thing to say to a man in my condition, Kita."
"And what condition is that, Michael?"
"I’m in dire need."
"Do I have what you need?" She licked the side of his face, and he chuckled.
"Oh, yes."
He backed her into the kitchen table, still cluttered with dishes from Faith’s experiment at making breakfast. She moaned against his mouth, and she opened for him, allowing him to settle gently in between her legs. Both still clothed, for the most part, Nikita didn’t think it would take long for her to climax. Then she could slow things down and savor her husband’s responsive lovemaking.
He lifted her up and onto the table, pushing the dishes out of the way with a loud clatter. "Michael!" she exclaimed. She honestly hadn’t seen him this aroused since...yesterday. She laughed softly to herself. Frustrated by the clothing that still separated their bodies, she peeled off her jeans slowly, leaving only a pair of sheer white lace panties.
She assumed that she was successful in arousing Michael because he slid one hand down the side of her panties and ripped them away in one tug. He still wore no shirt from his earlier foray into the paddock. Nikita’s eager hands unsnapped his jeans, and he stepped out of them a second later, kicking them away. He wasn’t wearing underwear.
He lay her down on the table, such a mischievous look on his face, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to. Smiling enigmatically, he licked his fingers before gently touching her groin. He filled a cup with water from the tap and slowly poured it over Nikita’s already overheated body. The water mixed with the flour on her breasts, turning it into a thin paste. His smile grew wider.
"Michael, what are you doing?"
"Fingerpainting." And he was. The consistency of the flour and water concoction was just right for fingerpainting. He swirled the paste over her breasts, paying special attention to the way her nipples stood up, their points harder and sharper than he’d ever seen them.
"You like this, doucette?" He rubbed a little harder over her right breast, and she groaned.
Feeling slightly frustrated, she arched her back, pushing her breast into his cupped hand. "You want more?"
"More, yes...please..." His mouth replaced his hands and he suckled at her breasts, none too gently. She started to climax at once, bucking her hips off the table, and he slid his hand between her legs to make sure she climaxed completely. "Ohhh...mmm...Michael! You made me go without you."
"Just this time, doucette. Just so you can last."
Stretching with feline grace, she waited for the total possession he promised her. He pulled her up to his chest, kissing her greedily, his mouth plundering her treasure repeatedly. Raking his fingernails down her back, he could still feel the sensitive after-shocks running through her lower body, not unlike lightning.
Pulling her even closer to the edge of the table, he spread her legs for his entry. She was so hot under his hand, he needed nothing further to make their bodies one. He gasped when he filled her, he was so deep inside her, he never wanted to come out. He stopped himself from stroking her, waiting for the right moment to begin. In the meantime, he kissed her, over and over, until her mouth was swollen.
"Am I hurting you, doucette?"
"Please don’t stop," she breathed against his mouth.
He pulled her closer, feeling how completely they fit together, like two pieces of the same puzzle. He buried his face in her neck, starting the rhythm that would bring them even closer together. His green eyes slid shut, but she knew what she would see if they were open. Her own love reflected back to her from those mysterious eyes.
"Mi-chael!" She moaned into his mouth, knowing that no matter how long he stroked, it could never be enough. She would never get tired of his kisses, his caresses, or this, his body completing hers in a way that no one else could.
He rocked against her, this time with such force, she had difficulty staying on the table. Sensing this, Michael settled deeply inside her and pulled her legs around his waist. Now they could rock together until their hearts cried out their satisfaction.
His hair curling in wet tendrils along his neck, Michael ground himself against her groin. She clutched at his back, and he swallowed her gasp of pleasure, continuing to stroke inside her until he climaxed himself. His climax came with such intensity, he shuddered silently, unwilling to dissipate a single drop of energy in groaning his completion.
"Oh, my God," he said, when he was finally able to speak.
"My sentiments exactly," Nikita agreed.