Love Of A Lifetime

by Murphy, Riley

  “Don’t you ever say what?”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, don’t you ever say it? All I hear from you is excuse me or come again?” He pointed at her. “The latter of which I want both of us to do. Maybe right now, even.”

  She flopped over on her tummy, leaning up on both elbows and laughed. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not changing the subject so fast. I want to know why I eventually wasn’t complaining.”

  He sat up and rested his massive back against the headboard. Once again swallowing up nearly half the width of it before he admitted with a totally mock and sorrowful sigh, “There may have been a hiccup or two during those first few days.”

  She stared up and when it became obvious he wasn’t going to elaborate on the subject, she pushed, “What kind of ‘hiccups’?”

  His expression was a cross between a wince and a grimace. “You were headstrong back then. You wouldn’t listen to reason and you were so determined to escape me that I had no choice, really. I was forced to be creative.”

  The guy was probably great at poker because, for the life of her, she couldn’t read the suddenly blank look on his face. Not good. “How creative?”

  “By today’s standards? Not very, in fact—”

  “How creative?” she repeated, making a mental note to self to listen to him carefully as he liked to talk his way around a subject when that subject was one he didn’t want to discuss.

  He leaned over and smoothed the sheet across her back. “Nothing too terrible. I kept you naked for a brief time. Mistakenly, I thought this would be enough to deter you from running away. It wasn’t. So I tied you up.” He fell back against the headboard and it rattled. “You really hated that,” he sighed, the wistful sound indicating that he hadn’t, “and when I let you loose on the sixth night, so that you could dine with me, you stabbed me.” Only his eyes moved when he looked at her right after he announced this event, as if he were waiting for her to sympathize or something. If he was, he was bound to be disappointed.

  “Well, if I did, then I’m sure you deserved it.”

  “Perhaps.” There was a sexy undercurrent in his tone. “Do you want to know what I did to you for doing that to me?”

  She knew she would really regret this, but her whispered response seemed to fall unbidden from her lips, “Yes.”

  “I taught you how to be a woman. My woman.”

  When he turned his full attention on her she got breathless and the sound of her heart beat pounding wildly in her ears had her imagination running in overtime, trying to imagine what being his woman for good really meant.

  “You were so damned obedient after your first taste of pleasure. On your knees before me, eager and offering your mouth for my pleasure. Giving me all that I demanded. Then, later that night, you climbed into bed and waited for me, trembling at my slightest touch. Spreading your legs in silken invitation. Hoping that I would once again wrench those little sighs from you and make your insides quiver and weep. Do you know how powerful that made me feel?”

  She blinked and licked her rapidly drying lips. Breaking eye contact with him, she cleared her throat. “So that was the, ah, first night...the first time that...?”

  “That I took your innocence? No,” Jack breathed and reached for her. He pulled the sheet from her and threw it aside, as he came down next to her. He was almost rough as he repositioned her, until the length of her back was plastered against his heated front. Shifting, he maneuvered her so that her bared bottom nestled right up against his lap. Jamming her into his growing hardness while he growled in her ear, “That night, because you pushed me beyond a reasonable measure, I sought to punish you. I held you much like this,” he squeezed her for emphasis. “I used the blood from my stab wound when it ran sticky and hot from my body and I made you slick and wet with it, right here.”

  His voice was soft and seductive now, causing Finley to close her eyes and shiver as he reached down and parted her intimately with the side of his hand. Boldly he stroke the small cleft of her bottom, as he whispered, “I spread these heated cheeks and dripped the blood from my wound upon you. This eased my initial entry before I gently slid my full length up in you. I took my time, babe. Reveling in all that I heard from you. Your shallow breath raspy while the very air you needed to breathe, caught and quaked anxiously in your throat, but you didn’t deny me. God, you were so small and tight.” He drew in a husky breath close to her ear, like he was reliving the moment. And when he blew it out across her skin she trembled and her insides melted. “I was seeking to humble you, blue eyes, and show you who was boss. I never suspected you’d actually enjoy my roughness. Imagine my delighted surprise, when you not only let me, but you came hot and fierce, that tight little ring strangling the base of my cock, squeezing and contracting, until I couldn’t help myself. I exploded up inside you.” He kissed her temple, cheek and then rubbed his chin over her shoulder. “That was all there was of that night, sweetheart. For it was many nights later, when you told me you loved me, that I took your maidenhead, then your heart and soul.”

  It was Finley’s turn to whisper, while she attempted to calm her galloping pulse, “Will it always be like this?”

  Clearly he understood her question as he answered, “Your body is making sure you give me what your mind cannot. Instinctively, it’s compensating so that you won’t turn me away.”

  Her eyes closed and she sighed, “Never.”

  “The desire is so intense. Your body knows it has to be this way for me. It feels it here.” He dragged his strong hand over her belly, sliding downward to cup her sex. The power that vibrated from him to her made her shake and had her secretly wishing he’d do more to her than just hold her like this. “Do you feel it?”

  She didn’t dare speak. She wasn’t even sure she could when she nodded.

  “Very good and,” he let go and brought his hand up her body, using the backs of his knuckles to caress her. Stopping against the edge of one of her breasts, he brushed his curled fingers back and forth and said, “here as well.” Just when she thought she’d cry out and beg him to do more, he stretched his hand, splaying it over her chest, pushing it higher, and slowly higher still until it fit around the curve of her neck. Instantly finding her pulse point, he stroked it and breathed, “But especially here, mia lei. This part of you will never deny me.”

  Through half closed lids he watched as she arched back, tempting him in an instinctive offer and giving him unrestrictive access. He’d known, the moment he touched her there, she’d be lost and now that she was, he wasn’t about to deny either of them this delicious pleasure. But it was dangerous for him. With each physical sharing, they became more connected. What would she do this time when she learned the truth? She’d found a way in their last lifetime to escape the pain of betrayal, but sadly, that option wasn’t open to him. How would he be able to exist without her…again? So many long and lonely years.

  “Tell me you love me,” he gruffly ordered against her neck. He licked and laved her expectant flesh and demanded, “Say it.”

  “Yes—Quinn, I love—” That was all she managed to get out, before he curled down and opened his mouth, latching onto her throat to suck heavily upon the tender skin where it beat and hummed. God, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He pushed and punctured and sank into her flesh until she nearly came off the bed with the force he used. He drew out her blood, drinking and ferociously draining her delicate vein as he growled low and fierce in his need to possess her. Now.

  He tore at his leathers, pulling them down while he moved to straddle her. His mouth never broke from his lethal hold as he sucked hard and relentlessly went after her, ramming himself into her—claiming his territory, again and again. It was vile and selfish. Dangerous and satisfying as he made her scream and then cry, and when she went breathless in his arms he breathed for her until she begged, wanting and needing him to do more. And he did.

  By the time he was done with her, he was sure she barely had the strength to
move. She didn’t even try to and that had him worried. “Did I hurt you, babe?”

  “No,” she said in a sigh. “I’m just tired. So tired...”

  He gently eased off her. Leaning to one side, he brushed a tendril of damp hair from her cheek. “You rest for a while. I’ll get us some dinner. And maybe after that you’d like a bath?”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. God, how he’d missed that smile. “That sounds nice. I’ll just rest for now.”

  Once he got up, he adjusted the covers and tucked them around her exhausted form. That’s when he noticed how sallow her complexion was. Damn, it had been too long. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands or his mouth off her. This wasn’t good but, he reminded himself, that it was the plan.

  He sighed and pulled the beaded tieback away from tapestry curtain, loosening the fabric so it framed the top edge of the bed. Adjusting until the fire’s shine no longer touched her face as she slept in deepened shadows. Leaning down, he opened the nightstand drawer and checked his watch. It was 5:30. Well, the night was young yet. He’d give her time to rest while he figured out dinner and then? Then, they’d talk about Quinn.

  Chapter Six

  Jack left Finley sleeping peacefully and went to check on dinner. He was so preoccupied with everything, he’d forgotten his shirt and when he spotted the room at the end of the hall aglow like a tree on Christmas morning, he halted and took stock of his appearance. Going around bare-chested was one thing, but unlaced pants, another.

  Quickly he plucked up the leather strips and tied them when he heard Wooly, his longtime cook, but mostly friend, whistling a familiar tune. He knew what that meant as he entered the kitchen under the huge stone and brick archway. Food. Sure enough, Wooly was there stirring a steaming pot on the oven. “Is that beef stew?”

  “Yep. I figured it was the best idea, given the snow and the unpredictable nature of the night. Speaking of unpredictable, I heard them at the door earlier.” He laid the spoon across the top of the pot, before he turned and scowled. “I wouldn’t have answered it.”

  Jack headed to the large stainless steel island in the center of the room. Dragging a heavy metal stool out from underneath the counter, he straddled it. “I had to. You closed off all the rooms and with those bolted tight, the knocking echoed straight to the master bedroom. It sounded like a death knell coming right from the bowels of hell.”

  “Yeah and you’re welcome.” Wooly took a cleaver out of the drawer and tossed it to clatter on the island between them. Then he stalked to the sub-zero refrigerator and pulled out a bunch of carrots. With them in hand he came back to the island, but before he put them down he wagged them in Jack’s direction. “She’s fast. Didn’t we learn that the hard way that one time?”

  “She’s not going anywhere. It’s the twenty-first century. Things are more civilized. We’re more civilized.”

  He dropped the carrots, picked up the cleaver and chopped off the lacey green stalks in one swift but violent motion.

  Jack didn’t even blink. He knew his old friend had quite the flare for the dramatics, so he simply waited for Wooly’s Oscar-worthy moment to arrive. It was bound to be good as he was holding back to build tension.

  “This society becoming more civilized is dangerous.” He pointed with the cleaver. “Funny that we have nary a glitch with things in all those uncivilized years and then that last time? Disaster. You know what I say?”

  Jack sure did. Here came the lofty conspiracy theories Wooly was famous for.

  “I say more civilized equals more progress and progress—”

  Jack held up his hand and tilted his head. “You’re not going to be stealing Albert’s quote again, are you?”

  “His quote? Einstein got it from me. I was the one,” he waved the cleaver around so fast, Jack winced, realizing too late that he should have waited for Wooly to ditch the knife before he called him on this, “who said technological progress is like an axe in the hands of a pathological criminal. Me, not him.”

  “Did you take your Saint John’s Wort this morning?”

  Wooly’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed the bunch of carrots and started chopping them like a crazy person, so clearly he hadn’t. Over the crack of metal meeting metal and the occasional thump of a piece of carrot flying off the counter and hitting the cabinets or floor, he growled, “Don’t you patronize me. We can’t let what happened last time ever happen again. Never. Never again.” He stopped chopping and stared at the mess he’d made. Without looking up, he whispered, “I don’t think I could take it.”

  Jack knew what his friend was saying. That last time, each of them had not only lost her, but once she was gone from Jack too soon, they’d lost him as well. He’d gone a little mad in his grief and everyone suffered because of it.

  “I know.”

  Wooly looked up. “How did things go? Is she receptive?”

  “I think so. It’s hard to say.”

  He dropped the cleaver and made a big show of taking down a colander from the overhead rack. With two swipes he had all the carrot bits off the counter and collected in the perforated bowl to be washed. “That’s because you used your tricky wiles on her. I told you not to do that before you claimed her. There’s no telling how it will affect things going forward.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “And where have I heard that before?”

  Jack growled and held off the urge he had to lunge across the island and shake his friend. He didn’t like to be reminded about something he didn’t understand and couldn’t change, no matter how hard he wanted to do both those things. “Careful.”

  Wooly nodded. “This goes beyond you and her now. I’m on edge is all.”

  “We all are. I’m doing my best, but…” He looked away, hating to admit to the weakness. “Certain things, despite how hard I try, are beyond my control.”

  “What’s that you say?”

  Jack let out a deep breath and then turned back. There was no point trying to hide the truth. “I was a hot mess with her. One minute normal and the next Casanova on steroids. I’m hoping now that I’ve connected with her this will straighten itself out.”

  Wooly didn’t say anything as he went to the sink to rinse the carrots and the silence that stretched between them was worse than any drama his friend could have dished out.

  “There,” he said pushing the vegetables into the pot, “this will be ready in an hour.”

  “Wooly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “She doesn’t remember much. Although,” he paused and leaned down to pluck up a stray carrot that was on the floor. Righting himself, he tossed the orange bit in the air a few times and then caught it, as he recalled how she’d whispered the name, Quinn. Could that mean...? “She may know more now. We’ll have to wait and see, once she wakes up.”

  His old friend put both hands down on the island and scowled so hard his bushy brows connected in one line over his eyes, looking like a furry snake. “Tell me she remembers taking her own life at least.”

  “No.” Jack threw the carrot so hard against the counter it bounced off and sailed past Wooly’s right ear like a bullet.

  The vegetable missile didn’t even faze the guy. “And you didn’t tell her?”

  He shook his head.

  His friend’s whistle was long and low. “Ah, I see the quandary. If you tell her that in her last lifetime she chose to carve some permanent bracelets around her wrists, you’d have to tell her the why of it, eh? Or does she at least know that much of the sad tale?”

  “No, she doesn’t. Not yet, but she will soon.” Too soon he was thinking, when Wooly’s next words interrupted his thoughts. Ideas about all that could go wrong when she eventually recalled.

  “Maybe you should start by telling her the prophecy. She’s a smart and courageous gal. Maybe that’ll be enough.”

  “Yes, maybe.” Jack had already thought about this possible tactic. Would it matter to her? He just didn’t know anymore.

  “This is
the night,” Wooly reminded.

  “I know. Damn, you’re as bad as the group at the door.” He stood and stretched his back saying, “I’m taking care of that.”

  Wooly tilted his head back, no doubt trying to make eye contact, but Jack was afraid if he met the shorter man’s gaze Wooly would read the uncertainty he was attempting to fight off. “Taking care of it? You mean as in you made the decision for her?”

  Jack didn’t deny it. He couldn’t because he had.

  “Jesus, boy, that’s a helluva risk you’re taking.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, stemming the desire to rip some of strands out as that truth sank in. “Hopefully it will pay off.”

  “Or, she could wind up hating you for—”

  “Well, at the moment, she doesn’t hate me. So I can’t squander this kind of an opportunity. With each joining we’re one step closer to fulfilling the prophecy.”

  Wooly whistled again. Only this time it sounded like, ‘boy, this is awful’. “I’d hate to be in your shoes when she finds out what you’ve done. Good thing I made stew. She’ll have a hard time stabbing you this lifetime with only a spoon.” He shook his head and turned to see to the contents in the pot as he muttered, almost to himself, “I guess I better forgo the butter knives for the biscuits.”

  Jack had just reached the brick archway when Wooly’s next words caused him to stop and spin around.

  “We had another visitor today.”

  “Who?”

  “He was at the window. He started making noise when the van took off down the drive.”

  “Fuck.” This was all Jack needed. “Did you let him in?”

  “Of course. I couldn’t have him waking the dead.”

  That’s when Jack remembered the unholy cry he and Finley were treated to earlier in the study. He should have known. “Where is he?”

  “Locked in the sewing room with her jacket and boots.”

  Jack nodded and let out a relieved breath. “Good thinking. I have enough of a mess to sift through without—”