Jewel of Atlantis by Gena Showalter

not the least disgusted by the supposedly ashy fumes.
    “I’m waiting for some type of explanation, Smoky Smokerson.”
    “People seem to enjoy them, that’s all. And as for the waterbed, well, I’d like to know how it feels to lie on a bed of liquid and never sink.”
    “They’re hell on the back.”
    “Who says I’d be sleeping?” she said primly.
    He snorted, and she had to curb the urge to kick him. Did he think she couldn’t tempt a man? That she couldn’t seduce one into loving her body madly and passionately?
    “My guess, Prudence, is that you’d be bundled up in a neck-to-ankle body stocking, complete with chastity belt and semiautomatic trained on any man stupid enough to try and get into your panties.”
    “That’s not true! I’d have a lover with me. And we’d be naked,” she added with a defensive edge.
    “Would you now?” He drawled the words slowly, dragging out each syllable, making her feel achy inside. “And what would the two of you be doing, being naked and all?”
    She knew Gray liked to linger over a woman’s body, taking his time and learning every nuance, every scent. Gods knew how many times she’d seen him do it, wishing it were her he was pleasuring. She drew on that knowledge now, the only sensual knowledge she possessed.
    Trying for a casual tone, she said, “I’d caress my hands over his chest and back, of course, while he kissed me. With tongue. His fingers would slide between my legs, sinking inside me, moving in and out while I arched my hips. And I’d be so, so wet. And when I screamed his name, begging him to fuck me—”
    “Did you just drop the F bomb?” he asked, incredulous, cutting her off.
    “Yes. He’d lick my breasts, sucking my nipples into his mouth, and impale me with his thick, hard penis. I would wrap my legs—”
    “That’s enough!” Gray’s body couldn’t take much more. He was rock hard and tense, ready to explode. Just from her words. When had that ever happened? He cleared his throat and flopped to his back. “Christ, I get the picture. And I’m seriously considering renaming you Blaze Champagne.”
    There, she thought smugly. Now he’d never again call her Prudence or assume she wouldn’t know what to do with a man in bed. “What kind of name is Blaze Champagne?” She already knew the answer. She wanted him to say it, though, to hear the words aloud.
    “The naughty kind reserved for porn stars, that’s what. Fuck me, indeed.”
    A wide smile lifted her lips. “Have I offended your innocent ears? If so, you can just fuck off, Mr. Monk. ” Being naughty was more fun than she ever could have imagined. She hadn’t felt so lighthearted in—ever.
    “Jesus. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
    “My mother’s dead.” She said it simply, merely stating a fact.
    “God, Jewel, I’m sorry.” Contrite, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her forearm, squeezing gently. The heat of his grip banished any lingering cold caused by the wind. “I never would have said that if I’d known.”
    “It happened so long ago, I barely remember her.”
    “Still, I shouldn’t have said it and I’m sorry.”
    His hand left her, and she heard the zip of his bag, a rustle of movement, a crack—almost like glass breaking. A golden glow of light erupted, surrounding them in a luminescent halo. Gray held a long, thin tube, she saw, eyelids closing to half-mast to dim the bright rays.
    “What is that?” The object fascinated her, as she’d never seen its like. It looked as if he were holding pure fire in his hands.
    “It’s got a technical name, but I just call it a glow stick.” Gray’s gaze met hers, and he claimed her fascination. The cloth he’d worn on his head had slipped off, so his pale hair was plastered to his scalp. Streaks of green and black paint remained on his cheeks, but most of it had washed away.
    Droplets of water trickled from his forehead to his nose, then onto the leaves. His lashes were black and