Edge of Darkness

by Cherry Adair

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist as he positioned himself at the heart of her desperate need. Sweat trickled down his temples, and the muscles in his arms, braced on either side of her head, flexed. Observing the taut tendons in his neck, and the tempo of his heart, she knew he was using every ounce of control in his body not to end this erotic dance that had them both on a razor’s edge.

  Serena tilted her hips, locking her ankles around his waist. With merely the press of his penis against her entrance she could already feel powerful ripples surging deep inside. She clenched her teeth against the powerful internal clenching and stopped moving. “We’ll be lucky if I last f-five.”

  “Four.” The cords in his neck strained as he held them both still, their breathing ragged, their hearts manic.

  “Thr—”

  He drove hard and deep, at the same time crushing her mouth beneath his. Before he could begin a rhythmic thrust, her body went rigid and she tightened around him. Her orgasm speared through her, sharp and unbearably sweet. A hot rush of blinding pleasure that had her shuddering and sobbing as her entire body clenched beneath his. Every muscle and tendon, every nerve ending participated.

  He shifted, and she moaned a protest, but he just made soothing noises as he placed her knees over his shoulders and shifted his weight. Serena cried out as he started thrusting. Harder and faster in a rhythm guaranteed to drive her mindless.

  Her head thrashed on the pillow.

  “Look at me,” he rasped, his body moving faster and faster. “See what you do to me.”

  Mesmerized by the tension in his face, Serena’s eyes met his. God he looked fierce, almost feral as his dark blue eyes locked on hers as he continued that frantic rhythm. She couldn’t look away. His cheekbones seemed carved of stone, his jaw rigid. The tendons in his neck stood out in sharp relief.

  Impossibly she felt the clawing need building again.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice a growl. “Come with me.”

  She couldn’t tell where his body started and hers ended. Vision blurred, heart beating like a jackhammer, she cried out his name as she came hard.

  Arching back, he made a raw sound as his hips jerked and thrust with his own powerful climax. He collapsed on top of her.

  Completely spent, Duncan heavy between her thighs, Serena lay gasping for air, incapable of moving. Every muscle in her boneless body felt like sun-heated liquid.

  When she woke later it was fully dark, and the enormous velvety bowl of the sky was filled with a scattering of brilliant white stars. Beautiful. The sound of the waves on the beach was louder, and the breeze a little cooler. She nuzzled her face into the crisp hair on Duncan’s warm chest. He was lightly stroking her hip.

  If she could bottle the smell of him, she’d be a billionaire. She’d usually never even noticed one way or the other how a man smelled. But with Duncan there was some pheromone thing going, and just the masculine scent of his skin made her hot.

  She yawned. “Did I sleep long?”

  His fingers traced the crease between her torso and thigh. “About an hour.”

  “Hmm.” She explored the hard planes of his chest with her mouth. His skin was warm, and tasted deliciously salty. “Did you?”

  “Too busy.”

  She smiled as her lips encountered his nipple. “Doing what?” Gently she ran her tongue over the hard bud.

  “Counting your freckles.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Three thousand, two hundred—”

  Serena closed her teeth not so gently around his aroused nipple. His body went rigid.

  “Jesus. Do you always wake up horny?”

  “I don’t know,” she kissed her way up his throat. “I’ve never woken up with you before. Complaining?” she whispered against his mouth.

  “I was thinking about a swim.”

  “Liar. Besides, I can’t swim.”

  “Of course you can. I used to lust after you every Wednesday afternoon in the summer when we had swim practice.”

  “You lusted after me? Really?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Did you ever see me wet?”

  “Now?”

  She smacked his traveling hand. Not too hard. She was very wet. “At school. No, you didn’t, because I can’t swim. I’d change with the others and then hang back. I can’t stand deep water. Have a phobia in fact.”

  He sat up on his elbow. “Your power to call is water.”

  She rolled aside, pulling her hair out from beneath her shoulders. “Which certainly makes my aversion to it problematic at times,” she told him dryly.

  “Tell me about that day. And as I know how much you enjoy confrontation, it’ll be easier for you to tell me if you’re not trying to read every nuance of my expression.”

  Her eyes widened slightly, because she was thinking the same thing.

  “All families have skeletons,” he said against her hair. “But opening the closet doors and letting them out is usually the best way to exorcise the ghosts. There’s nothing you could say that would shock or repel me, I promise.”

  “Stop feeling sorry for me, damn it.”

  “I feel that eight-year-old’s pain. Finish it,” he instructed.

  Duncan pulled her against his chest and closed his arms around her. Serena found herself surrounded by him. She didn’t even bother trying to resist. God, it felt good secured against the hard pack of his chest, listening to the even rhythm of his breathing. His hold felt safe, unthreatening, and the steady beat of his heart helped her own slow down a little. So much easier to talk without looking at the accusation and pity she knew would be clear in his eyes as she told the story.

  She closed her eyes. “That whole vacation I kept telling them I was excited about going away to boarding school because I—I knew that’s what they wanted to hear. But I was scared. I’d never been away from them for more than a couple of nights. And the thought of being separated from them terrified me.

  “I didn’t want to leave my friends. I didn’t want to be away from my parents for months at a time. We were very close, and I didn’t understand why they needed to be free to travel for the Foundation.”

  “You were just a kid. It’s hard for kids to understand when a parent disappears for months at a time.” His voice reverberated through her body. “Believe me, I know. My father lived in Scotland, my mother in Montana. We hardly ever saw him. Hell, we barely saw her. Even though we lived under the same roof, she was mentally in Scotland with my father most of the time. Keep going until you’re finished.”

  Easier said than done. “The summer cruise was Henry and Martha’s idea. They knew how much I loved the yacht, they also knew I hadn’t learned to swim yet. They had no children of their own, and besides spoiling me rotten, they were caring godparents and knew how much I loved being with my parents. So the vacation was cleverly multipurpose.”

  “Then they also knew Ian Campbell,” he murmured noncommittally.

  “And Rita. And before you ask, or make a snide comment, I didn’t meet Ian until years after his wife’s death. Not until Henry introduced us, when I went to work for the Foundation.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask.”

  “Yes you were. Everybody does.”

  Duncan knew she was right. She stiffened against him, braced for ugliness. His chest ached for her pain. Ached for his own, realizing that she expected the worst of him. Shit. The years of antagonism were coming back to bite him in the ass.

  He knew the hostile press her May/ December romance with Campbell had generated. And that was before the sons had their own vicious go at her. Ian Campbell was dead, and interrogating Serena would serve absolutely no purpose.

  “You loved him.”

  She lifted her head to look up at him, eyes narrowed as if she expected the words to be a trick. “Yes I did. Very much.”

  “Then use that as a shield against the bullshit accusations,” he told her quietly. “Finish telling me about that last day. All of it
.” When she hesitated, almost straining to extricate herself from his arms, Duncan said softly. “Don’t fight me, Fury.”

  He’d seen Serena in a temper. He’d seen her pissed off. He’d seen her laugh until she cried. But he’d never seen her cry. Everything in him knew she was on the verge of breaking down, but she was hanging on by her fingernails.

  She’d hate herself for crying in front of him. She’d consider that a weakness. She didn’t know that if she cried, she’d realize that she was his weakness. He tangled his fingers in the silk of her hair, and exerted just enough pressure to bring her head back to his chest. He knew damn well that if she didn’t want to be right where she was, he’d be doused with water, and she’d be across the bed pointing the fire hose.

  He stroked her bright hair, enjoying the fragrant strands sifting between his fingers. “What happened next?”

  “For the entire trip I alternated between begging and bargaining. I wanted them to want to be with me.” After a moment she relaxed enough to slip her arms about his waist and fist the back of his shirt as she rested her head in the curve of his shoulder. Her fiery hair brushed his lips and smelled of wild jasmine.

  “We’d been sailing around with no particular ports in mind, just the three of us, for two weeks. I knew, and dreaded, that eventually the vacation would end, and I’d be sent away.

  “We still had one more day and night before we had to head back in. My mother was doing everything she could to make every moment special. But to me they were our last moments, and I was getting more and more resentful that they were going to ship me off,” she said, a poignant hitch in her voice.

  “That last day was perfect. Not a cloud in the sky. My dad dropped anchor in a little cove, and the three of us went snorkeling and had a picnic on the beach. I knew I was being a brat, but I kept begging them to let me stay with them. I could get a tutor. I could go to local schools. I could—God. I offered them bargains and blackmail and tears.

  “I remember that sunset. Pinks and lavender and soft orange streaked the sky, without a hint of a breeze. When we climbed back on board later that night, we were all too upset to enjoy it. My mother had strung little twinkle lights in the rigging, and they r-reflected in the almost mirror-calm water as we set sail back to our port.” Serena’s voice hitched, and she held her breath for a few heartbeats until she could marshal her emotions.

  “She prepared my favorite foods to eat out on deck under the stars. The last supper. I was too upset to eat. By that point, I was all bargained out. I begged and cried. My mom—my mom hated seeing me that upset. But they weren’t going to relent. Finally my father started yelling back. Told me to stop spoiling our last evening together with my attitude. That they knew what was best for me and it was about time for me to stop pouting and accept their decision. It was nonnegotiable. The decision was made. They weren’t going to change their minds, and that was final.

  “I’d been carrying on for days. But that last night it sank in. Knowing that nothing was going to sway them—I went—” She lifted her head, and pulled away to look at him, one hand spread on his chest for balance.

  “Oh, God, Duncan,” she whispered starkly. “I went ballistic. Totally out of control. My powers were strong even at that age, and in the space of a second, a storm erupted, a blinding sheet of rain poured from the sky. Then a hurricane-force wind ripped through the sails and an enormous rogue wave swamped us. The boat capsized. They drowned. I didn’t. My—my temper killed them.”

  He cradled her hot face in his hands, hurting for her. “It was a tragic accident. You were just a kid.” He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Nobody could ever blame a child for not understanding the strength of her powers. C’mon, Serena. You’re an incredibly bright woman. With all the interaction you’ve had with kids over the years, kids in the worst possible human condition, you know they aren’t mini-adults. Impulse control takes years to develop in a normal child. Someone with your strong powers probably had an even harder time trying to harness your abilities. It was an accident, sweetheart. You’d never intentionally harm another person. It isn’t part of who you are.”

  Closing his eyes against her pain, Duncan brushed her trembling mouth with his. Her lips clung, and he stroked his tongue across the seam. Serena’s hands slid up his chest, the cadence of breath changed subtly to a sigh as she circled his neck with her arms and welcomed him inside.

  He kissed her tenderly, loving the way she participated without shyness. Loving the taste of her. The texture of the inside of her mouth. Hot and sweet and Serena. Not vulnerable, but strong and confident, despite reliving the childhood horror.

  He lifted his head, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Let me help you forget.” He offered a small memory loss. A magical patch to her pain. “Or let me at least help lessen it.”

  Her fingers tightened on the back of his neck, drawing his mouth back to hers. “I don’t want to f-forget.”

  “Then tell me what I can do to take away the pain.”

  Ah, Jesus. He recognized the challenge in her beautiful eyes. He was so screwed.

  “Make love to me, Duncan.” Openmouthed, she kissed him. She was glad she’d told him, but she didn’t want to talk anymore.

  The taste of him was intoxicating. Apparently it didn’t matter how many times they kissed, Serena had the same reaction. He set her blood on fire, and made her breathless with wanting him.

  He started to pull away, but she made soothing noises and twisted her fingers in his hair, drawing him back again to her eager mouth. He wanted to talk. She didn’t. She traced the smile on his lips with the tip of her tongue while she slid her hand down his belly. Wrapping her fingers around the hard, satiny length of him, she thrilled when he shuddered at her touch.

  He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, and she parted her legs for him as he reciprocated. “God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against her lips.

  She was also wet and exquisitely tender, but his touch was gentle as he explored the slick folds. Serena murmured her pleasure, tightening her hold around his penis as her own pleasure mounted.

  Would she ever get enough of him? She didn’t want to answer that question. Not even in her wildest fantasies had she conjured up this level of need. She’d never imagined this kind of saturating pleasure, this high tension level of pure damn-the-world, all-encompassing lust. Not even in her most carnal, erotic fantasies.

  Her brain disengaged as Duncan slid two fingers inside her. It felt like heaven and ratcheted up her desire several more, impossible, notches. “Don’t. Don’t. Don’t,” she chanted against his mouth, not wanting to come without him. Her body tightened inexorably. And so did her fingers.

  Duncan chuckled against her lips. “Don’t break that off, sweetheart. We’re going to need it. I need to be inside you.”

  She moaned as he withdrew his hand, she was so close…

  The next minute she found herself straddling his hips. “You’re in charge,” he said smiling up at her, his fingers tightening on her hips.

  Serena sucked in a quivering breath and braced her hands on his chest. “As it should be.” She impaled herself on his stiffened length. “My turn to drive you mad.” She rose a little, then slid back down. The sensation was breath-stealingly exquisite.

  “What a way to—Jesus, Fury—go.”

  She wanted it to last and last, but the waves of pleasure were impossible to resist, and they crashed together in a mind-blowing orgasm that left them both limp, sweaty, and satiated.

  Serena collapsed on his chest, burying her face against his damp neck. She felt the manic pounding of his heart against her breast. It matched the pounding of her own rapid heartbeat perfectly.

  Duncan smoothed his hand down her back. “Had enough?”

  God. Yes. Exhausted, out of breath, and boneless, it took energy, but she managed to put some bite in her voice. “Nuh-uh. You?”

  He started to laugh. “You know, if we keep this one-upmanship thing going, we’
re going to kill each other, don’t you?”

  Satiated, she pushed his damp hair off his forehead, surprised that she still had enough strength to lift her hand. “Hmm. But what a way to g—”

  Still smiling, Duncan waited for her to finish the sentence. Instead he heard a faint—he chuckled—snore. “Serena?” When she didn’t answer, he materialized a light cotton sheet, covering their sweat-dampened bodies. Shifting her into a more comfortable position against him, Duncan rested his face against her silky hair.

  Oh, yeah. He was so screwed.

  “I hate hospitals, don’t you?” Serena said as they walked down the long corridor to Henry’s room, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor. The soft fragrance of jasmine drifted from her swinging hair, blocking out the stink of antiseptic and illness.

  “I’ve been in too many to care one way or the other.” He repositioned the coat he was carrying over what was becoming a permanent condition caused by her nearness, her fragrance, and the soft curve of her cheek. Christ, this thing was powerful. And at the moment, damned inconvenient.

  “I’ll bet you have. If you insist on beating people up and shooting at them, it’s only logical they’d retaliate,” she told him unsympathetically.

  His lips twitched at her prissy tone. “Well, there is that.” The memory of her naked superimposed itself over the Serena the Morning After. Her hair, in a ponytail that swung against her back as she walked, was both seductive and sweetly innocent. She was casually dressed in jeans, boots, and a fluffy, mango-colored sweater, a thick brown coat over her arm. She was going directly from Germany to Schpotistan. And despite her being covered practically from head to toe, Duncan wanted her again, with an urgency that was starting to scare the crap out of him. He’d never craved a woman as he craved Serena. His brain was consumed with her.

  He reminded himself that they weren’t kids anymore. They were thirty-three now. Single. Available. And God only knew—willing. But every instinct in his body urged him to run, as far and fast as possible.