Sully shrugged as she stepped toward the living room. “Four, maybe five years.”
He reached out and clasped her arm, halting her. His ears popped, and the hairs rose on his arms and the back of his neck as their magical fields collided once again, awakening and enhancing his senses. He blinked, then swallowed, trying to ignore the physical sensations bombarding his body. He wanted to understand—no, needed to understand why a witch, why Sully, would bury herself in a place where she couldn’t use her powers.
“Why?” he asked hoarsely.
She hesitated, and he wasn’t sure if she realized her slow shift toward him. “I needed to,” she said to him. “I needed...space.”
It was that line. I need space. It’s not you, it’s me...he’d heard it a dozen times, and used it himself at least a dozen more. Realization, swift and unavoidable, hit him. “Who was he?” he asked. He slid his hand down her arm and loosely grasped her hand. It was meant to be comforting. Friendly. But her smooth skin beneath his touch was distracting.
She lifted her shoulders in a casual, dismissive gesture. “He was nobody important.”
“He must have been, for you to hide yourself here for four, five years,” he pointed out. He slid his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand, enjoying the feel of her silken skin.
She frowned up at him, her blue eyes darkening. “I’m not hiding, Dave.” She gave a slight shake of her head in denial. Her gaze drifted to his chest, then down to where their hands joined.
His eyebrows rose, and he shifted toward her. “Oh, really? From what I can tell, you’re the only witch in this area—”
“You can’t know that for sure. This is null territory,” she interrupted. “You could have a whole coven here, and they wouldn’t be able to practice or reveal their talents. We wouldn’t even know.”
“Is that why you’re here? To conceal your talents?”
“I—” her gaze dropped to his lips, and then she met his gaze again. “I’m not concealing my talents,” she said in a near whisper. Her breath hitched, then released in the sexiest sigh, the sound curling down deep inside him, flooding him with a molten desire that had him hardening in his jeans.
How could she make that sound so damn suggestive? So hot? He tried to focus on the conversation, but felt he was losing that battle fast. “Are you sure?” He stepped closer, and brought her hand up to rest against his chest.
She swallowed, and he smiled when he heard the audible gulp. He slid his other hand beneath her braid, cupping the back of her neck. He could see her nipples tighten against the cotton of her camisole, knew he wasn’t the only one affected by this attraction, this fascination between them.
“Show me,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of her jaw. He inhaled, and her scent, roses, vanilla and sunshine, hit him like a drug.
She rested her hand on his waist for a moment, her eyes dark with confusion. “Show you what?”
“Show me you, Sully,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her neck. She angled her head to the side, exposing more of her neck.
“What—what you see is what you get,” she murmured, then moaned when his lips found that delicious indent between her neck and collarbone.
His hand slid from where it cupped her head down her back, and he halted when he found her belt with the concealed sheaths, and the blades they contained. His lips curved against her skin. “Oh, I think there is more to you than meets the eye,” he murmured, then raked his teeth gently against her shoulder.
She trembled, a slight quivering that set off an answering throb deep inside him, hardening his cock. She slid her arms up over his chest to twine around his neck, her nails raking through his short hair. Her fingers clenched in his hair, pulling his head back up.
“I’ll show you me if you show me you,” she whispered, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
Chapter 14
Sully parted her lips against his, and was rewarded when his tongue slid inside to tangle with hers. His arms enveloped hers, pressing her against his body. She could feel the strength of those arms, those muscles, against the sides of her breasts, could feel the hardness of his chest and hips against her, and could feel the throbbing hard length of him against her stomach.
She could sense his curiosity, his tenderness, as well as the tidal wave of desire and arousal. He’d asked her about her shields. Suggested she was hiding. With Dave, though, there was no hiding. There was no defense against his overwhelming presence, with feeling, and there was no way she could fight the burning attraction she felt for this man. It was hot, it was immediate and it was undeniable. And she didn’t want to hide anymore.
Her hands trailed down the column of his neck, tracing the breadth of those massive shoulders, and trailing over the soft fabric of his T-shirt. She angled her head, and he deepened the kiss, sucking and nipping with a skill that had her desire pooling in her panties as she arched against him.
“Oh, sweetness,” he moaned, kissing his way to her jaw and down her neck. Her head leaned back, and he pulled her tighter against him, leaning forward so that her world tilted. His hands slid down and cupped her butt, and he picked her up, turning to seat her on the kitchen counter.
Her legs wound around his hips, pulling him into the cradle of her groin, and she moaned when she felt him, hot and hard, against her. She tugged at the hem of his T-shirt, and he leaned back, hips still pressed to hers, and helped her pull the garment over his head. Her eyes widened at having his chest so close, and for a moment she was content to place her palms against his warm skin. The mark over his heart looked almost healed, and she traced it very gently.
“So much pain,” she murmured.
He winked, grinning as he ducked his head. “Nah, just a tickle.” He took her lips in a hard kiss. His hands played briefly over her shoulders before hooking the thin straps of her cami and tugging them slowly down her arms.
She shrugged out of the straps, sighing when he dragged her against him, her breasts mashed against him, and they both moaned. He kissed her shoulder, nipping at her gently, and she shuddered, her breasts swelling at the sharp but seductive sensation. She dragged her nails down his back as he kissed and licked his way across her chest while he slid his hand under her long skirt, dragging the fabric up her legs. She trembled as his hand skimmed over her knee, gliding up her thigh. Liquid heat pooled between her legs, and her pulse thudded in her ears.
He got to midthigh, then halted. He lifted his head, eyebrows raised. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he gasped, before taking her lips again. He fumbled with the leather strap of the sheath she’d strapped to her leg, and she laughed breathlessly.
“Sorry, I forgot that one.”
He undid the tie, and she shuddered at the caress of leather against her sensitive skin when he tugged it away from her. He placed the sheath, with her custom-made push-dagger on the bench beside them. He chuckled.
“You are so dangerous,” he murmured, gazing into her eyes, his hands rising to cradle her jaw. There was a humor, but there was also warmth, admiration and a little concern, all bombarding her with his touch.
She looked up at him, feeling the answering smile on her lips. “You have no idea,” she whispered, then took his lips.
He sighed against her mouth, their tongues tangling. He lowered a hand to her chest, and she gasped, arching her back when he covered her breast with his warm palm. He pressed back, their hips rubbing against each other, and she could feel his hardness, separated by the folds of her skirt and the denim of his jeans.
Heat. Desire. Tight arousal. It hit her, and she wasn’t sure if it was him, or her, or that they were just so perfectly in sync.
Panting, she reached for his belt, and within seconds she’d undone it, as well as his button fly. His hands gripped her body as she reached inside his jeans, and her lips curved against his when her fingers slid beneath his boxe
r briefs and found him.
He growled softly, and she gasped when he pinched her nipple, just enough to make her tremble with delight. It was as though the floodgates opened. She pushed at his jeans. He tugged at her skirt, and she felt his fingers slide under her panties, felt the brief tug of the cotton as the fabric gave, and then she moaned when she felt those fingers against her, then inside her.
He groaned, then took her lips in a kiss so carnal it stole her breath. He played with her, strummed her, and she shook as she used her feet to shove his jeans down his legs. She gasped when she felt the tension coil inside her. Her nipples tightened, as his tongue slid against hers, his fingers moving with ease inside her, and then his thumb found that secret little pleasure nub, and everything tightened, tightened, tightened, until she exploded. Sensations, so sharp, so crystalized, cascaded over her. He positioned himself between her legs and entered her smoothly.
She tore her lips away from his, crying out with the pleasure as he thrust. Over and over, the waves of intense bliss crashed. Swirls of colors, sparks, everything was exploding—around her, inside her, until he finally groaned his release, his head back, the cords of his neck standing out as he found his own pleasure inside her.
He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her up tight against him, chest to chest, heart to heart, as their panting subsided. He hugged her, and she could feel him. Inside her, around her, it was all warmth and tenderness, an intimate gentleness with the steel edge of determined protectiveness.
She’d never felt safer.
* * *
Dave blinked. Hair. Honey-gold hair. All over his face. He brushed it away, blinking some more, then shifted, drawing his thigh up against the warm curves enfolded in his arms.
Sully.
His eyes opened.
Sully. They’d made fireworks last night. He’d seen them. Lots of pops of colors, sparks... While he wasn’t shy with women, and thought he could hold his own in the sack, he’d never quite experienced fireworks before with a woman.
He lifted his head slightly, shaking away the last of the tendrils that seemed to want to cling to him. She was asleep in his arms, her back to his chest, her butt resting—he sucked in a breath. Damn, she felt good in his arms.
They were on the foldout sofa, and sunlight streamed in through the bay windows. They’d tried to make it to her bed, but somehow got distracted.
Very distracted. Twice.
His lips curved, and he dipped his head to press a kiss to her neck. She sighed and smiled as she scooted closer. Her stomach growled, and Dave chuckled as he caressed the curve of her hip.
She turned in his arms, her eyes opening, and he pressed a kiss to her lips. “Good morning,” he murmured.
She smiled. “Good mor—” she yawned, then blinked “—morning.”
“Feel like pancakes?” He was ravenous, and her stomach was making all sorts of hungry noises.
She grinned. “Are you cooking?”
“Yep,” he said, and gave her another long kiss. When he drew back she sighed and stretched, then nodded.
“Sure, pancakes sound wonderful.”
Dave reached for his sunglasses and slid them on, then rolled off the foldout sofa and snagged up his boxer briefs, hopping into them as he walked through to the kitchen. Within minutes he had a pancake mix going—they were his specialty—and started to set up the counter for breakfast.
Sully walked in. She was wearing his T-shirt, the navy blue bringing out the blue of her eyes. Her hair was a tussled tangle, her features soft and relaxed. The shirt hit her midthigh, and he paused for a moment, taking his fill of her. She had the longest, sexiest legs he could ever remember seeing in a woman.
He watched as she crossed to the fridge and leaned in to grab the juice, the T-shirt riding up a little to expose a hint of butt cheek. He swallowed. She was a beautiful woman. He glanced back down at his pancakes. They were bubbling. He flipped them, his gaze briefly diverting back to the domestic, disheveled goddess behind him, and was pleasantly surprised when the pancakes landed back in the pan.
He smiled as he got the plates ready for serving. They didn’t converse as she got glasses and poured the juice. They worked alongside each other in companionable silence, and he smiled when she caressed his back as she passed. He pulled her back for a kiss, enjoying the feel of her against him, so scantily clad in his T-shirt. The pancake batter in the pan popped and fizzed, and he drew back, winking at Sully’s grin as she backed away toward the pantry. This felt...nice. Normal. But a normal he’d never had before. A cozy kitchen, a sexy woman with a heart of gold and a body built for sin. He could get used to this.
He halted midscoop of the pancake. What?
He could not get used to this. He had a job that translated to here today, gone tomorrow. He had a home and business in Irondell, and a task that meant the Ancestors would always take priority in his life. There was no room for a woman, for a relationship, no matter how tempting playing house could be.
He flipped the pancake onto a plate and poured a ladleful of batter into the pan. Sully started to hum as she moved around the kitchen, and he saw her place a bottle of maple syrup on the kitchen counter, along with a basket of strawberries. She even did a cute little dance move when she thought he wasn’t watching.
He focused on the pan, watching as the air bubbles popped on the mix. He liked this. He really liked this. It was so tempting, just to reach out and kiss her again, feed her strawberries in an indulgent, dreamy little episode of domestic codependency.
And that scared the ever-lovin’ crap out of him.
He quickly served up the last of the pancakes. His job—his calling—wasn’t something he could just walk away from. He figured once a Witch Hunter, always a Witch Hunter. Everyone assumed his tattoo parlor in Irondell was his main focus, but they were wrong. It was the sideline, the business that bubbled along when he wasn’t hunting witches. Eventually, though, his luck would run out. Somewhere along the line, he’d face a witch who was faster, stronger, more powerful...and it would be he crossing to the Other Realm. And another Witch Hunter would be assigned the hit and carry on the duties.
This moment, this side trip down fantasy lane, was exactly that—a fantasy. And he didn’t do fantasy. He didn’t drift away on daydreams, wishing for what couldn’t possibly be. What he did—well, it was a special low, dealing with the excrement of the witch world, but damn it, it was necessary, and he believed in it, believed in the necessity, and that the bad was done for the greater good. He shouldn’t be here, cooking breakfast and stealing kisses. This fantasy, this illusion of a different life, was a recipe for a whole world of hurt—at his hands.
“Wow, they look great,” Sully said, eyes widening when she saw the stack of pancakes. She smiled as she sat on the stool. “I’m famished.”
He gave her a small smile as he sat down next to her. He picked up his cutlery, but sat for a moment, eyeing the food on his plate. He’d lost his appetite.
Sully frowned. “What’s wrong?” She eyed the pancakes suspiciously. “What did you to them?”
His lips quirked. “They’re fine. Tuck in.” He cut out a bit of pancake and popped it into his mouth, his gaze resting briefly on the woman next to him. Sully deserved to be someone’s priority. Not someone’s booty call, not someone’s “between jobs”, but someone’s first, last and always. He’d eventually hurt her. He’d let her down when he’d have to pursue another witch over spending time with her. Or worse, what he did for the Ancestors could wind up hurting her.
He stabbed more pancake onto his fork and shoved it in his mouth. Damn. This sucked. Domestic bliss was obviously some sort of weird mind-meld crap designed to make you assess your life decisions and cry.
Sully eyed him closely as she chewed, then swallowed. “Is everything all right, Dave?”
“It’s fine,” he said, then put his cutlery down on the plate
. “No. No, it’s not fine.” He turned to look at her. “You and I—we shouldn’t have...done. What we did. That.” He gestured to the kitchen counter, and then the living room.
Sully’s cheeks heated, and she glanced down at her plate. “Oh.” She frowned. “You didn’t...enjoy it?” She blinked, then waved her hand. “Don’t answer that.”
His eyes widened. “We did it three times. Yeah. I enjoyed it. A lot.” Too much. “We just...shouldn’t have.”
Sully kept her gaze steadfastly on the glass of juice as she reached for it. “I see,” she said. Her voice was low. Calm. Like, dead calm. He glanced at her. Her lips were pursed. Just a little, but that cute crooked little pout of hers was just a little more pronounced.
“No, I don’t think you do, Sully. I have—”
“A job to do,” she interrupted. She nodded. “I get it.” She rose from her stool and placed her plate on the bench with just a little too much force.
“This—” he gestured to the kitchen, to her. “I can’t do this. And I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Because of your job,” she said, and folded her arms as she leaned against the doorjamb. “How does sex with me interfere with your job, exactly?” She tilted her head, and although her expression was curious, he could see the darkening anger in her eyes.
Sex. She’d called it sex. They’d made fireworks. It had been more than just sex. Hadn’t it? Dave forced himself to focus on the question, and not the quiver of uncertainty that perhaps he was the only one who’d felt the impact of what they’d done, the magical coalescence of their power...
“I need to track down a killer,” he told her solemnly. “I’m here having breakfast with you, when I should be out hunting that witch.” He rose from his stool and leaned his palms on the counter—the counter where they’d first made incredible, firework-inducing love.
Witch Hunter Page 15