They ate as the snow continued falling. Switching on a small flat screen in the corner of the breakfast nook, Ty went through the channels until landing on a local station with a breaking news weather alert. Getting snow pounded was still gonna happen, but now they were saying the winds and the chill factor might also be a problem.
A gust outside rattled the windows. Random thought—thank God she wasn’t also taking care of a pet. Having to walk a dog right about now would suck big time.
She scooted off the bench her new brother-in-law built-in to the nook and stood up. Even though it was the same house she remembered from her whole life, he’d made subtle changes—not just for comfort but practicality too. This window seating resembled the original upstairs in the master suite. It was a clever tie-in and unless you knew the nook seating was new, you’d assume it had always been part of the design.
Her snowstorm roommate said nothing. He simply looked at her, read what she was doing and followed along. In this case, she was clearing the table and cleaning up. They worked in silent tandem, relying on shrugs, hand motions and head gestures for communication. Before long, the kitchen was tidy once more.
Ty motioned to the bakery box, wagged his brows and canted his head—the universal sign of asking for permission. Not talking was getting old but she’d been adamant about not getting into it with him, so now she was stuck in a foolish pantomime.
Shrugging to indicate she didn’t care, Charlie threw the dishtowel in her hand onto the counter at the sink and got the hell out of there. In the living room, she knelt in front of the fireplace, opened the safety screen and poked the burning logs. A shower of red sparks shot up the chimney.
The heat coming from the hearth warmed her front. It reminded her of being pressed against Ty and how their connected bodies flared with heat. The explosion of sparks was another reminder. Of other things. Carnal things. The kind of stuff her mind wouldn’t let go of.
What was she doing? Jeez. It seemed like every thought she had was in some way about Ty. She wanted him. But did she want him just for the thrill his body gave? Or was it more?
They’d done the physical thing. She thought they were building a connection emotionally. She’d been wrong. So where did that leave her?
She reached for the half moon hanging in the middle of her chest. When Ty confided in her about his friend’s horrible death and how that single event changed the trajectory of his life, she felt his pain. Felt the anguish and confusion. Charlie very much doubted he’d ever been that open with anyone—even his brother.
That’s what really confused her. His candor. The way he shared his hurt. Why her if all he was doing was going through the motions of getting laid. It didn’t make sense.
Did she think about turning the tables on him? Taking what her body desperately craved? Sex without emotion. Yikes. She shivered. She couldn’t see herself like that. Her sisters didn’t sleep around just for the sake of the intimate gratification, so why would she?
Have you seen that body? her conscience snickered. That’s why you’re thinking about it.
And then there was that.
“I’m going to move some more firewood onto the patio.”
She jumped when his voice—deep and seductive—interrupted her wayward thoughts. A tremendous gust of wind whooshed past the house making the windows vibrate. The lights flickered. They looked at each other for a few seconds and then Charlie grabbed another log to throw on the fire and Ty headed toward the mud room.
It was going to be a long night.
Cal was aware of ‘tessa watching from a kitchen window as he stacked half a cord of logs onto an eight-foot rack with a cover that’d help the wood stay dry. Jax thought of everything. Or fuck. Maybe the rack and cover were Brynn’s idea. Wouldn’t surprise him at all. These Wilde women were something. He knew from talking with Professor Wilde that Brynn was quite proud of how well she managed the snowblower. Cal didn’t fully appreciate what that meant till he dragged the behemoth machine out of the shed.
The last of the wood was piled and covered right about the time the biting cold and furious winds made him into a human icicle. This weather was brutal, man. He was gonna have to update his wardrobe in favor of warmth ‘cause the shit he had on wasn’t working. Fucking cheap ass flannel. What he needed was some mountain man lumberjack stuff. Manly man gear—if he was gonna survive.
A howling squall of snow and wind battered the house. The lights did more than flicker this time—they dipped low, arced a few times and slowly came back to full power. All of a sudden a tremendous cracking noise got his attention. He grabbed the flashlight and shone it out into the back of the clearing around the yard. A rather huge limb was down, blanketed in the heavy wet snow.
They were in for a bumpy ride. He flicked off the flashlight and turned to give ‘tessa a thumbs up for reassurance. She looked more than a little worried.
Dragging a heavy canvas carrier with five substantial logs inside, he stomped his boots as clean as he could and lugged his burden to the fireplace. She was on him in a heartbeat.
“Take that stupid jacket off,” she snapped. “Next time you go out, wear one of Jax’s parkas would you? Shit, Ty.”
She was rubbing a kitchen towel on his head, a reminder that he’d been snow covered. Her hands were everywhere. Drying his hair. Unzipping the leather jacket. Tearing it down his arms. She muttered and tsk’d the whole time.
“Upstairs. Now,” she barked when he was free of the jacket. “You’re soaked, you idiot. Get changed. Everything. Take all this wet stuff off and build on some warm layers before you get sick. Hurry.”
He had to laugh. Had to salute her with a mocking snicker. Had to say “Yes, ma’am.” What a time for his dick to wake up and join the frozen party. He’d been pretty sure his balls were gonna take hours to thaw out.
“I filled a couple of thermos’s with coffee and hot chocolate and buried ‘em in a stack of towels to contain the heat. What’s your pleasure? I’ll have it hot and ready when you come back.”
What’s his pleasure? Hot and ready? She was messing with him, right? The artless expression told him she wasn’t. Cal’s desire for the guileless blonde intensified a thousand times.
“Caffeine for later,” he grunted. “Hot chocolate after I change.”
Not trusting himself to say any more, he took the stairs two at a time and went in search of his duffle.
WRINGING HER HANDS, CHARLIE PACED back and forth in front of the big bay window in the living room. The storm was incredibly bad and the news people were already calling it one for the record books. The system stalled right over them and spared New York and Philadelphia from much more than a light coating. Fantastic. Snowbound in the middle of nowhere with a sexy man and a growing lack of common sense.
At least the power was still on. She glanced at the side table where their phones were charging. Something about seeing Ty’s phone with the black case right next to hers held Charlie’s attention. Maybe it was the snarky and hilarious bright pink case emblazoned with a Barbie silhouette and the word Bitch, or maybe it was that the two pieces of tech just looked comfortable together.
Hurrying to the kitchen, she made fast and short work of heating the hot chocolate, ladling up two big mugsful and a dish piled with fresh whipped cream. The whipped cream was practically the best part—especially because she made it from scratch. God bless Brynn for having all the best kitchen toys.
In the living room, she set the tray of drinks down and started throwing sofa cushions, throw blankets and side pillows into a pile in front of the fireplace. They used to do this as girls when they visited Wilde House. She and her sisters. Pillow forts in the living room. Good times.
The third step from the top creaked when a foot stepped on it. She looked toward the stairs and followed Ty’s progress. First, just his legs were visible. Then his mid-section, torso, shoulders and finally his head. He looked yummy. And rugged. And every inch a man. Charlie’s mouth watered and she swallowed.
>
He made his way toward her. She froze. He moved with a predatory grace that emptied her brain and sent fire bolts of desire to her center.
At least he had the sense to trade the wet jeans and flannel for a long sleeve T and pair of dark green sweats that said Crepuscolo down one leg. She frowned at the reminder.
“Are you insane?” she ground out. She was referring to his audacity for reminding her of the very thing that drove them apart but instead, nodded at his bare feet. “Haven’t you ever heard of socks?”
His grunt, a mock outrage struck, her as all kinds of funny especially when he retorted with a pithy comment. “Oh, you mean foot prisons? YOU are nagging ME about foot prisons? Love the slippers, by the way.”
She had to cover her mouth to cover the ridiculous smile. He remembered about the foot prisons and he liked her squidgy unicorns. Would it be wrong to jump on and shimmy up his body like it was that damn rope she had to climb in gym class?
The lights flickered. “Better fire up those candles now, babe.”
Right, right. The candles. She pointed at the nest she was building. “Set this up and get comfy. I’ll take care of the candles. Hot chocolate on the tray.”
Before she got the big candle in the deep hurricane lit, the power went out. Of course. Why the hell not? The second the house plunged into darkness, he was up and standing next to her. “Careful ‘tessa. Let me help you.”
Laughing in his face wasn’t really an option. She knew her way around the house with her eyes closed but she couldn’t squash his manly concern. It was kind of cute.
Leading her to the lair of soft cushions, Charlie’s fertile imagination had a field day. He was so thoughtful and solicitous—exactly the way Jax behaved around her pregnant sister. This was a preview of what Ty would be like as an expectant father.
Warning! Warning! Banish all such thoughts, starting with calling him Ty. It wasn’t his name. Imaging him as a daddy-in-waiting made Charlie snatch her hand back and drop to the floor with an angry grunt. There was a battle raging inside her. A biological stand-off between sense and hormones.
He crouched before the hearth and checked things out. She wanted to clock him with the big heavy spoon sticking out of the whipped cream. Handling a fireplace was kid stuff compared to her mad skills at building an outdoor fire from scratch—including, but not limited to, carving out a fire pit. There was no doubt she could teach him a thing or two.
Scooping a big glob of topping onto each mug, she grated a hunk of chocolate for decoration and handed his off.
“Not quite Italian style cioccolata calda but the fresh whipped cream makes up for it.”
He took an initial sip. His brows shot up. Surprise, definitely. Delight, she hoped. He went back in for a second gulp. His eyes were full of warmth when he looked at her.
She almost fell into her mug with laughter. The frothy cream gave him an adorable white mustache. Plunking her cup onto the tray, she giggled and leaned into him. “Come here you big lug.” She snickered and swiped her fingers across his top lip—then licking the cream away she’d scooped.
“Let me help,” he chuckled, taking her hand and drawing her thumb into his mouth. “Mmm,” he grunted. “Good.”
She could feel his tongue swirling around her thumb. Her mouth opened—she panted slightly, her eyes riveted on what he was doing.
“Your turn,” he drawled. She shook her head. Huh? What? He was holding her mug up. Oh. He wanted her to drink.
Accepting the heavy mug, she tipped it up and took a satisfying draw of the delicious sweet beverage. Mmm. Old school hot chocolate. No frills. Just warm, sweet and delicious. A happy sigh mixed with her “ahhh” as she finished.
He removed the mug from her hand, said, “You left some for me.” And pulled her mouth to his.
When he claimed her lips … there was nothing. Just nothing but the way they kissed. He inhaled her breath. She drowned in his. He nibbled each corner. Sucked her bottom lip till she moaned. Pulling away was never an option.
The darkened house, roaring fire—even the few candles she’d lit and scattered around the downstairs—all of it created an enchantment, a moment out of time. She felt encased in twinkling fairy motes of seductive sorcery—drifting—falling. Charlie clung to the only solid thing she found. Him.
Their endless kiss was tender and sweet. She got drunk on the dangerous allure of his mouth pressed to hers. He never demanded which only made her more responsive. Her entire body prickled and throbbed when his big hand slid beneath her hair and grasped the nape of her neck.
The claiming came far too easily—too naturally. She could act cool and snotty around him till the cows wandered home, but it was all for show. Exterior camouflage, disguising a desperate and absolute need.
Half-dazed and more confused than she remembered ever being, when he kissed their lips slowly apart and drew back it was startling to see she was half across his lap, crushed against his chest and with one of her hands twitching in his hair.
So much emotion came crashing in she trembled from the sheer force of things she couldn’t begin to name. It was more than want. More than desire. Somehow, and she didn’t question why, he was imprinted on her heart. A feeling of peace overtook Charlie, knowing all her emotions and feelings—the happy and the sad found a safe home inside him. This man was her echo.
Without warning, her bottom lip quivered. Tears, hot and unwanted, filled her eyes until they spilled over like a waterfall and poured down her cheeks. Why did it have to be him?
Because he knows who you are.
“Don’t cry, baby girl.” His murmur was heavy with emotion. Trembling fingers wiped away her tears.
Oh dammit. Why did he have to call her that? And why did he have to look at her with tears of his own sparkling in his eyes?
She struggled for air and choked on a half-sob. Clutching his shirt, she pushed against his chest so he’d back off. It was just too much. Too damn much.
“I can’t do this with you,” she whispered miserably.
The regret in his eyes was unmistakable. So was the understanding. She wished he would go all caveman and try to force the issue. Would give her an out. Something else she could blame him for. But he didn’t.
He eased off and gave Charlie a chance to sit up. Probably woulda helped a whole hell of a lot if she’d moved off his lap. Now, however, wasn’t the time to examine why she didn’t.
In a voice heavy with emotion, he murmured, “I don’t want you to get hurt, but—”
“I already did,” she bit out.
He flinched, ever so slightly, and nodded solemnly. He also came back at her with an immediate response.
“She knew you were there, Tesoro. Crepuscolo set the whole thing up. It was a last-ditch attempt to keep me in the circus. They figured my quitting was because of you. If they eliminated the distraction, I’d be their cash cow again.”
Sounded like something a corporate giant with an eye on the bottom line would do. But he was leaving something out. Something she couldn’t ignore or get over.
“You slept with that horrible woman.” Charlie really wished she hadn’t sounded like a kid whining about the last cookie being eaten.
He shook his head—one of those “fuck-my-life” motions that ended with a curt nod, acknowledging the truth.
“I did. And I wish it didn’t make me look like a fucking pig. I won’t lie to you. But, Tesoro,” he paused and frowned. “How can I explain these things? It was nothing. Meant nothing and was a long time ago. Claudia Gianelli is a skilled succubus. She’s in it for the power. The control. She’d fuck the devil if there were something in it for her.”
Not squirming wasn’t an option. She didn’t want to talk about this. Especially not in the dark and not when she couldn’t run away when her feelings got messy. She was pouting and knew it but was unable to react any other way.
“That bitch called me a plaything. Said you wanted a threesome.”
He laughed. She almost slugged him.
/>
“Do I strike you as a man who shares? Think about it.”
“Yeah, well,” she sniffed in pithy affront. “Don’t play me. All guys want stuff like that.”
“That’s probably true. Until the right woman comes along. The one no man in his right mind would allow another person, man or woman, to use for the sake of gratification.”
“What the hell does that mean? Did you work up those words thinking that’s all it’d take to make nice?”
She was yelling. He was trying not to smile. What the hell?
“And oh,” she yelped when another thought burst free in her head. “Not only did you sleep with that bitch, I now have the visual of her with your, well … you know. In her damn mouth! You wouldn’t let me but you certainly let her!”
“Excuse me,” he drawled.
Wait a minute. Was that his hand drawing circles on her ass?
“My dick was most definitely not in her mouth. And I would have thrown her ugly ass across the room before it got that far. Blame what you saw on the sweats. Damn things are too easy to pull down. Two seconds later babe and you woulda come upon a totally different scene.”
Seriously? Her face scrunched up and she stared at him. “Did you just blame some sweat pants for what happened? What about the whole dick in the mouth and how that was a no for me but a yes for her thing? What’ve you got to say about that? Huh? Huh?” She poked him in the chest with her finger as emphasis.
Oh, he was most definitely taking liberties with her bottom.
“Again, babe. My dick was nowhere near her mouth. And for the record, me keeping that wicked tongue of yours away from my junk was one hundred percent, head-up-my-ass gentleman.” He shrugged. “Kind of figured taking your virginity was enough.”
Oh. Well. She hadn’t expected to hear anything like that. But still …
“And unless I imagined it, you got me back. Made quite a point and proved me right about that talented mouth you’re using to bitch at me.”
She gasped, huffed and shoved at his chest. “I am not bitching at you.”
Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) Page 30