Magic

by Tami Hoag

  Tonight she had chosen the burgundy dress without a thought about her mother. She had chosen it because she wanted to feel special and feminine and alluring. She had laid it out on her bed before her bath, and when she had returned, there had been a white rose lying on it.

  “How did you know that was the perfect thing to say?” she murmured, settling her hip more comfortably against the desk.

  “I’m psychic,” Bryan admitted with a smile. “I’ll go out on a limb and say that you’re probably a vision out of that dress as well.”

  His voice was dark with desire. The rich quality of it stroked her senses like the caress of the silk she wore.

  “Have you been spying on me in the bathtub?” she asked, conjuring up a teasing note to cut through her own sudden rush of yearning.

  “Not exactly,” Bryan mumbled cryptically. He fixed his gaze on the steaming cup she held, breathing deep of the aroma and sighing in appreciation. “Coffee.”

  “Would you like a cup? I’ll go back to the kitchen-”

  “Don’t bother,” he said, not wanting to lose sight of her. “Just let me have a sip of yours.”

  Warmth curled inside Rachel as if he had just made a terribly erotic suggestion. She bit the inside of her lip and offered him the mug, sucking in a breath when his fingertips brushed hers. Her senses were so heightened, the slightest glance or touch from him set her nerves sizzling. She had spent her entire time in the bathtub reliving the few kisses they had shared and imagining what it would be like to make love with him, fantasizing until she had hardly been able to stand the brush of the washcloth against her skin.

  She had come to a decision about Bryan, about the desire that burned inside her. She had a long, hard road ahead of her. Her future didn’t look particularly bright, but for the present she had Bryan. She would have been a fool not to take what happiness she could while she had the chance.

  Bryan looked up at her, his blue eyes sharp with awareness. He could sense the shift in Rachel’s feelings toward him. They had been changing gradually, constantly, since they’d met, but tonight she had taken a giant step in his direction. He wasn’t sure what had pushed her over the edge in his favor, but he wasn’t inclined to question his good fortune either. He was a conscientious man, but he was a man first. A man with needs.

  It was a cold, rainy night. The kind of night a man wanted to spend curled up in bed with the lady of his heart, making love to her until they both drifted off into exhausted deep. He hadn’t been able to get that image out of his head all evening. Nor had he been able to stop picturing her in the bathtub, sliding a bar of scented soap over her slick skin. That image still seemed particularly strong. He could see the gleam of light on her wet skin. He could smell the soap. Even now the vision played through his mind, and heat coiled in his belly.

  Never taking his eyes from Rachel’s, he sipped at the coffee and set the cup aside. Her eyes darkened from violet to deep purple, and a flush crept along under the surface of her fair skin.

  “You must be cold,” he murmured, pushing himself up from his chair. He pulled his tuxedo jacket off and draped it around her shoulders before she could object. In a move he’d perfected as a teenager, he let one arm slide down her back and fastened his hand on the curve of her hip as he herded her toward the love seat.

  Rachel gave him a look. “That’s an old trick, Hennessy.”

  “I’m an old guy,” he quipped, and then winced. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. You may not have noticed.”

  “I’m not concerned. You seem able-bodied to me.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, gritting his teeth at the surge of anticipation that stirred in his loins.

  “But I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?” Rachel said softly, lowering her gaze in genuine shyness as they settled on the love seat.

  Bryan was so stunned, he felt as if he’d taken a punch to the gut. He hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. The sight of the firelight glowing on her face nearly made him forget what it was he’d meant to ask. Holy Mike, she was lovely, and, unless he’d completely lost his ability to read women, she wanted him. After all the fighting she’d done against the attraction that pulled between them, she was admitting she wanted him. Wasn’t she?

  “Rachel,” he began, his voice low and hoarse, “just what are you saying?”

  She made a little face. “I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to say it. You’re a perceptive man-can’t you figure it out?”

  “Yes, I guess what I need to know is why.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes.”

  Rachel looked toward the fire, her expression pensive. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was in love with him. Not when she knew what they could have was only temporary. Not when she wasn’t certain of his feelings for her. He had mentioned love in passing that morning, but that didn’t mean anything. In her meager experience, love was a word some men tossed around too casually. And Bryan was by nature so openly giving of himself, she might have been reading too much into his attitude toward her. She suspected he had strong feelings for her. She knew he wanted her. But love…

  Besides, it was so soon. They had known each other such a short time, he was liable to think she’s lost her mind if she told him she was falling in love with him.

  But none of that seemed to matter. What was left of her mind had made itself up as she’d stood in the shadows of the maze, watching Bryan comfort her mother. It had all struck her with a force so powerful, she’d nearly fallen to her knees. She loved him. There was no future in it, but that didn’t seem important now. As she’d stood there, watching her mother cry, she had realized just how suddenly tomorrow could slip away.

  Over the past five years she had told herself that one day she would return and make things right between herself and Addie. One day. Tomorrow. Now tomorrow had come and it was too late, and all those days that could have been were nothing more than wishes that would never come true. She didn’t need any more regrets haunting her life. She would take what Bryan could give her now, love him while she could, and deal with the consequences later.

  She turned back to him with pleading in her eyes. “Bryan, please don’t-”

  “Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips as he leaned close. A soft, secretive smile curved his mouth, and his blue eyes shone like lapis lazuli. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”

  He lowered his mouth then, and kissed her slowly, sweetly, deeply. It was a kiss not of possession, but of sharing. It was a kiss that stirred the hunger in them both and sparked the desires banked inside them to flare into full flame. Questions and motives slipped away, were burned away by needs. He needed to love her. She needed to feel his strong arms around her.

  Bryan slipped his coat from Rachel’s shoulders and spread it out on the rug in front of the fire. Kneeling there, he reached a hand up to her in invitation. She smiled as she settled her hand in his and joined him on the floor.

  “This is romantic,” she whispered, cuddling against him knee to knee, thigh to thigh, happy just to be close to him.

  He brushed her long hair back, baring one shoulder. “Romantic, hell,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to nibble kisses along the creamy line of flesh. The ache in his groin made him pause to grit his teeth, and he shook his head in amazement. He was as eager as an untried kid. He chuckled and nipped at her chin. “I’m just afraid you’d change your mind on the way upstairs.”

  Rachel laughed softly, marveling at this man’s ability to lighten her mood. Even now, when she was trembling with nervous anticipation, Bryan was able to tease a giggle out of her. It was one of the things she loved most about him.

  She raised her hands and tugged loose the bow tie that perched crookedly on the collar of his shirt. Her fingers moved down the neatly pleated shirtfront, revealing a V of hard flesh where the snowy white fabric parted and fell away from the contours of his chest. He held still as she peeled the garmen
t back from his broad shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind him.

  She paused a moment to simply look at him, to drink in the sight of his solid chest and the ridged muscles of his belly. Firelight caught in the curls scattered across his chest, turning them gold. Her breath caught as her gaze rested on the small brown mole above his left nipple. Somehow she had known it would be there, but she had no time to wonder how, because Bryan was reaching for her.

  His thumbs hooked under the loose straps of her gown and drew them down over her shoulders. He traced his fingertips along the line of the bodice, gently pulling it down, slowly uncovering her. Her small, full breasts plumped themselves into his hands as the dress slipped away, her nipples tightening instantly as his thumbs brushed across them. The gown pooled at her knees in a wine-colored drift studded with sparkling black stars.

  “So lovely,” he whispered, gazing at her in open admiration. “So soft.”

  He drew his hands downward, following the indentation of her slender waist and the outward slope of her hips, drawing her lace panties down as his exploration moved on to her thighs. Rachel struggled for air as his fingers traced delicate patterns on the satin-soft skin on the inside of her legs. She moaned and bit her lip as he delved into the tender warmth between them, his fingers parting the feminine petals and stroking the aching bud hidden there.

  Heat flared through her hotter than the flames that lit their makeshift bed. She leaned into him, gasping at the feel of his flesh against hers, her feminine softness against the hard contours of his masculine body. It was wonderful. It was like coming back to a place she belonged. She rubbed herself against him in a sinuous caress, her hands sliding up his arms to knead the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, then brought her hands forward, pulling his glasses off and setting them aside on the low butler’s table.

  “You don’t need these to see, do you?”

  “That’s okay,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her ear. “I’m good with my hands.”

  Rachel’s giggle turned to a sensuous purr as his big hands slid down her back to cup her buttocks, his fingers kneading her flesh in a way that made her breath flutter in her throat. “So I noticed.”

  He pulled her hard against him then, letting her feel the strength of his arousal as he took her mouth once more. This kiss was hotter and wilder than the last, hinting at the passion he was struggling to keep in check. His tongue stroked over hers, teasing, tasting, claiming possession.

  Rachel pulled her mouth from his and dragged her lips down the strong column of his neck to his chest. Her tongue darted out to tease one flat brown nipple. His flesh beaded into a tight knot; Rachel impulsively took it into her mouth and sucked on it gently, excitement shooting through her when Bryan groaned in appreciation.

  She had never felt so uninhibited with a man. She had expected to feel shy with Bryan; instead, she felt strong and right and so very turned on. She wanted him with an intensity she had never known. She wanted to please him in ways she had never dreamed of. The desire swept through her, overwhelming her normally practical, sensible self, and she let go of that drab cloak of responsibility like a butterfly shedding its cocoon.

  Her kisses followed the faint line of downy hair that bisected Bryan’s flat abdomen as her hands undid the front of his trousers. Her tongue dipped into his navel. She lowered his trousers and briefs in one motion and another hot flame of desire coursed through her as she revealed his manhood.

  He was eager for her. She brushed her thumb across the velvet flesh, drawing another groan from him.

  Bryan’s control broke with a snap that was almost audible. In the next instant, Rachel found herself on her back, staring up at him as he peeled away the last of her clothes. He stood and shucked his pants. Notes flew from the pockets like confetti as he flung the trousers aside.

  He settled himself beside her then, his gaze flowing over her with a heat that seemed scorching in its intensity, and his hand followed the path his gaze had burned along her skin. He caressed her breasts with exquisite care, teasing them to a sensitivity that was nearly unbearable. Only when she began to beg him did he lower his head and take one taut peak into his mouth. At the same instant he swept a hand down over her quivering belly to the apex of her thighs and eased a finger inside her.

  Rachel’s hips leapt off the floor, arching into his touch in rhythm to the tug of his mouth on her breast. She moaned, but didn’t recognize the sound as her own. The sensations building inside her were incredible and overwhelming as they intensified. The coil of desire tightened in her belly with each hard pull of his mouth on her nipple, with each deep stroke of his finger. When his thumb moved to rub against her most sensitive flesh, she was certain she would explode, but still the feelings built. She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged, frantic in a way she had never experienced.

  “Bryan, please,” she said with a gasp. “I want more. I want all of you. Please.”

  He needed no more invitation than that. His own body, so long denied, was screaming for release. He knelt between her parted thighs, struggling to draw breath as he looked down at her. She was everything a man wanted in the woman he loved-open to him, eager for him, her hips arched up toward him in invitation. Grinding his teeth, he fought for some measure of control, reached for her hand, and closed it around his throbbing shaft.

  “Guide me, Rachel,” he whispered.

  He kissed her as she led him into her body, his tongue delving into the dark warmth of her mouth as his maleness slid into the tight warmth of her womanhood. He groaned as she took him into her measure by measure, her breath catching at each small thrust until he was fully embedded inside her.

  Again Rachel felt that sense of coming home, which seemed odd considering she was on the verge of shattering into a million shards. She thought she should have been terrified, teetering on the brink of something she knew instinctively would be overwhelming, but she wasn’t. With Bryan she felt safe. He would be there to catch her. He would be there to gather the pieces together again. He might not be there over the long haul, but he was there now. Oh, was he there now!

  “Oh, Bryan,” she moaned in rapture, rolling her hips into his. “You’re so…”

  “I know,” he managed to say through his teeth, gasping as her body tightened around him. “Am I too…?”

  “No. It’s wonderful.” Oh, so wonderful. But it was nothing compared to what she felt when he began to move.

  He eased nearly out of her, then thrust deep and hard. His chest heaved like a bellows as he levered himself above her on his arms and repeated the process. Sweat beaded on his forehead and chest as he struggled with the effort to hold back. It had been so long, and he wanted her so badly. He could feel his climax rushing toward him like a freight train. He eased out of her again and reached between them as he began what he knew would be his final thrust, teasing her already sensitive flesh as he buried himself inside her.

  Rachel bit her lip, fighting back the cry of completion as her hips strained upward against his and he took her over the brink. The explosion that rocked her went on and on. Her consciousness dimmed as she clutched at Bryan’s back. He had collapsed against her, spent, and she hung on to him as the sensation of floating filled her with a sweet golden bliss.

  This was making love. This was magic.

  Magic, she mused, a tender smile curving her lips. Maybe there was such a thing after all.

  Bryan rolled onto his back, holding Rachel to him so that she ended up sprawled on his chest. Their bodies were still joined, and he savored every aftershock of the shattering climax she had experienced. He ran a hand over the pale silken curtain of her hair.

  “I’d break into song, but I think I’m beyond words,” he murmured.

  He pressed a kiss to her temple and hugged her tight, a fierce sense of rightness surging through him. Fear came close on its heels. He felt so certain about this love growing within him for Rachel, but did Rachel feel that way ab
out him? Had she merely given in to the feelings overwhelming her? After the day she’d had with Addie and with the prospective buyers for the house, had she simply not possessed the strength to fight the attraction? Or had she needed a chance to escape it all for a few glorious moments? Perhaps the thing that frightened him most was that he wasn’t so sure he cared what her motives had been. The love he felt for her was growing so that he was ready to accept her on whatever terms she wanted.

  The seed of love was there in her heart. He knew that. Or was it just what he wanted to believe?

  “Rachel,” he murmured, his heart pounding. “If you’re going to regret this, tell me now.”

  Rachel lifted her head, brushing her hair back behind one ear. She stared down at him, her heart aching at the vulnerability she saw in his eyes. “No,” she whispered. “No regrets. I have too many of them already. I don’t regret making love with you, Bryan.”

  She regretted that it wouldn’t last. She regretted that her future wouldn’t include him and his crazy magic tricks and his contagious optimism. But she wouldn’t regret anything that passed between them. She would take what time she had with Bryan and make the most of it, and she would cherish the memories afterward, but she wouldn’t regret a minute of it.

  Bryan looked up into her dark eyes and smiled sadly. It didn’t take a mind reader to see what she was thinking. He barely had to make use of his special gift, the gift that had slowly been returning to him in the time since he’d met Rachel and become a part of her life. She still didn’t believe in the magic they shared, but she would. Come hell or high water, she would. He would see to it.

  “What?” she asked, startled by the sudden fierceness of his expression.

  “I was just thinking,” he said, willing himself to relax. He pulled Rachel’s head down to his chest and stroked her hair as he might stroke a cat, rhythmically, absently, soothingly as he dredged up the courage to tell her what was in his heart.

  “The first time I went to bed with a woman after my wife died I went into the bathroom afterward and threw up for half an hour. She was a nice lady, a colleague of mine, pretty. She… expressed an interest, and I… needed to.” He forced the words out, still uncomfortable with the memory. “It seemed harmless enough. We were taking care of each other’s needs. But when it was over, I felt so empty and so disgusted with myself, it literally made me sick. I told her I had the flu, but she knew better. I decided then and there that there wasn’t going to be a next time until I could honestly call it making love.”