Stone Guardian

by Maeve Greyson

  With a possessive growl, Torin cupped her breasts between his hands, sucking in a deep satisfied breath as he circled her nipples with his thumbs. Pressing Emma’s aching breasts together, he lowered his head and suckled them both at the same time.

  Sparks of ecstasy shot through her body as he pulled her nipples deep into his warm, wet mouth. Emma arched her back and locked her legs around him, pulling his hardened body against her. A moan shuddered from the depths of her pleasure. A delicious ache peaked and exploded as she anchored her fingers in his hair and clenched his head to her breasts. It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t be able to make her come so fast when he wasn’t even inside her.

  Inside her. Emma’s mind whirled faster than the tingling orgasm rippling through her flesh. Was she really going to have unprotected sex with a man she hardly knew? Her body thrummed, pulsing with the luscious echo of the fading orgasm while at the same time heating up for the next round. Her sex-starved libido roared in protest. “He’s perfectly healthy!” The pent-up beast shoved her logical conscience against the brittle bars of her celibacy and tightened a chokehold around its throat. “You’ve been on the pill nearly half your life and hell’s bells, when was the last time we felt this damn good?”

  Emma shifted her hips, sucking in a hitching breath as her thighs clenched around the hard muscular heat of Torin’s flexing torso. A seductive thrust of his hips pushed her over the edge. To hell with it. She’d get some condoms tomorrow.

  Torin met her gaze with a knowing smile, then lowered his head and resumed licking slow teasing circles down the planes of her stomach. He yanked apart her jeans and pulled them down her hips, oblivious to the zipper holding them together. He ran his tongue along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh as he slid her pants the rest of the way off and tossed them to the floor.

  “You’re kind of rough on clothes, aren’t you?” Emma gasped as he stepped between her bare, quivering thighs.

  “Do ye mind?” Torin asked, tracing a teasing finger along the creamy white skin just above the curly nest of reddish hair hiding the treasure he sought.

  Emma swallowed hard, barely able to answer as he slowly lowered his head. “Not a bit,” she choked out as he claimed her body with his mouth and dipped into her with an exploring tongue. Arching back, she laced both hands tighter in his hair, silently urging him to dive deeper, suckle her flesh harder. As he slid a finger into her depths, she shrieked when her body shattered into a series of blissful, mind-numbing spasms. Lord have mercy! Were those stars in the darkness behind her eyelids? Her pounding heartbeat roared like the drumming waves of the ocean in her ears. Emma stiffened. An unreasonable fear surged through her. She hated the sound of that damn water.

  “Forget,” Torin whispered as he covered her body and pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ll not ever let the water take ye, little Emma. I swear I’ll always keep ye safe.”

  Emma shuddered beneath his touch. Eyes still shut, she searched for the rasp of his deep voice beyond the sound of roaring water rushing through her head. She raked her nails down his back and pulled him deeper into her body. She needed him to make her forget. She just needed to feel.

  “Forget,” Torin repeated as he shoved into her depths. With purposeful care, he settled deep within her, easing the length of his swollen shaft into her eager embrace as though she were an inexperienced virgin.

  “Make me forget,” Emma rasped, arching her pelvis into his. “Please.” She pulled him harder against her body. She wanted him to pound the memories from her, needed him to hammer the fear out of her soul.

  Reading her need, Torin slid out then drove back in, clutching her legs tensed against his chest. With a victorious groan, he increased the momentum and hammered into the task. Emma welcomed the glorious oblivion promised in every slamming thrust.

  Emma clutched his body, crying out his name as she exploded beneath Torin’s delicious assault. Shuddering beneath him, her flesh thrummed with satisfaction as Torin roared his release in an ancient tongue. Pressing her face against his shoulder, Emma smiled as she closed her eyes. She had no idea what he’d just said but she bet it meant something good.

  Chapter Twenty

  The muffled growl of her empty stomach rumbled up between them. “Sorry.” Emma giggled. “But I’m absolutely starving.” Painfully starving. She hadn’t had anything but coffee the entire day. As if to punctuate the truth of this statement, her stomach gurgled another even louder protest as she struggled to rise from the bed.

  Torin pulled her back against his chest. “So, yer saying I’m not enough to sate ye?”

  “Believe me. There are parts of my body that are so sated, they think they’ve died and gone to heaven.” Emma turned and kissed the end of his nose before slipping out from under his arm. She avoided the emotions simmering in his stare. A sudden shyness butterflied through her body. “Really…I’m hungry. Don’t you want something to eat too?”

  Torin shrugged as he rolled to his side. “Since the Cailleach awakened me from my sleep, food hasna seemed verra important.” Stretching across the bed, he nabbed the belt loop of the jeans she’d just slid up her hips and pulled her back down beside him. He brushed the back of his fingers along the curve of her cheek. A sad but thoughtful look stole across his face. “At long last, I think I may have finally found everything I ever needed right here.”

  How could he say that? A chaos of emotions swarmed within her as she felt herself drowning in the depths of his watchful gaze. Emma hadn’t anticipated a confession of heartfelt sentiment after just one mind-boggling, body-melding encounter. They knew very little about each other and what she did know about Torin scared the living hell out of her. Pressing a silencing finger against his lips, she stammered a whispered plea. “P-please, Torin. Please slow down. We’re just getting started.”

  Torin closed his eyes and brushed a light kiss across the tips of her fingers. “‘Tis all right, Emma. I’ll do m’best to never ask more than yer prepared to give.”

  In a quiet voice that sounded much calmer than she felt, Emma kissed the end of his nose again and mumbled a heartfelt, “Thank you.” Gently pulling away from him, she scooted off the edge of the bed. She couldn’t face the emotions churning in the depths of that steel-gray gaze. Even the cloudiness tainting his injured eye seemed somehow less severe, giving her a startling glimpse into the man Torin was. His quiet determination sparked with fiery glints of emotion. Come to think of it, Torin reminded her of the dark obelisks where she’d found him: steadfast, strong, and mysterious.

  She cleared her throat as she fidgeted with smoothing a shirt across her still rumbling belly. “I’m going to heat up some of Moira’s leftover stew and maybe nuke some hot dogs. Will that be okay?”

  Torin froze in mid-stretch. His lips curled back with a sneer of disgust. “Dogs? Are circumstances so harsh in this time that ye’ve taken to eating dogs?”

  Emma bit her lip and held her breath. She didn’t dare allow herself the pleasure of releasing the nervous giggles threatening to bubble to the surface. It was kind of funny that she had the capability to shock him just as much as he shocked her. “I promise, Torin, the meat doesn’t come from dogs. It’s bits of beef and pork rolled into a tube. Sometimes, they’re even filled with turkey or chicken. I’m not sure why they’re called hot dogs. It’s what they’ve always been called.”

  His pained expression relaxed into one of dubious agreement as he slid from the bed. “Hmpf. I’m still none too certain about this form of meat. But I’ll build up the fire inside yer stove so ye can cook these hot dogs and the stew.”

  Emma scrubbed a hand across her face and clamped her mouth shut against another fit of giggles. Poor Torin. The man certainly had some catching up to do. “I really appreciate your wanting to help, but the stove’s gas. All I have to do is turn a knob and I’ll have a fire. I can heat the food with it or with the microwave.” She struggled to keep her mind on the food. Torin’s long, muscular flank reminded her of the delightful use they�
��d found for the kitchen counter. A use that proved much more enjoyable than food preparation. “Why don’t you get dressed while I go…uhm…get the kitchen sorted out.” That is, if she could walk and her thighs would stop quivering as if they consisted of heated jelly.

  Torin fixed her with a wicked grin, rolling his shoulders as he flexed his perfectly sculpted buttocks. “I can help ye in that kitchen, lass.”

  “No! You stay here and get dressed. Or if you want to take a shower, the bathroom is over there.” Emma nodded toward a small room adjoining the bedroom as she backed toward the door. The heat in her body was nearing the point of spontaneous combustion. She had to get away from the temptation moving toward her. “Don’t you dare come into the kitchen like that or we’ll never get anything to eat.”

  Scooting out the door, she pulled it closed behind her. She couldn’t resist smiling at the deep rumbling burst of amusement echoing from the other side. Torin’s laugh warmed through her like a sip of robust brandy. With a sharp intake of breath, she shook herself free of the mesmerizing sound. It was just one night between two desperate souls. He’d move on soon and so would she.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Emma snorted at what she thought might be a very bad Gaelic expletive exploding from behind the closed bathroom door. “Are you all right?” She waited, head bent close to the door.

  Silence. A hard thud. Then the whooshing sound of a stronger stream of running water as it spouted from the showerhead. “I’m fine.” Torin barked. “Ye didna tell me this vile machine would scald the hide off me arse.”

  Whoops. Emma shuddered and tiptoed back to the kitchen. Apparently, she didn’t need to take anything for granted with Torin. He must’ve learned the hard way that there was both a hot and a cold water handle.

  Pulling open the refrigerator door, she paused and stared at the package of hot dogs sitting on the shelf. A pang of guilt shoved aside the hunger rumbling in her belly. She’d just had unprotected sex with a man she hardly knew. Her medically trained, no-nonsense conscience shook an accusing finger in her face. How many times had she lectured teenagers about the dangers of unprotected sex?

  Emma grabbed the cellophane wrapped package of meat and slammed shut the refrigerator door. Drumming her fingers on the countertop, she stared at the freshly painted bathroom door hiding the slightly off-tune, singing man from view. Yes. She’d had unprotected sex. And well. Damn, it had been good.

  Her tapping fingers bumped against her cell phone lying on the counter. That’s what she needed to do. She’d call Moira and ask her where she could find the nearest drugstore. Eying the steam creeping out from the bottom of the bathroom door, Emma licked her lips. Moira would know where she could find the nearest place that might have condoms, preferably one that delivered.

  Emma punched Moira’s number and plucked at the plastic wrapped around the hot dogs as the call rang through. “Come on, Moira. Answer the phone. I need to talk to you before my object of interest emerges from his ablutions.”

  “Hello?”

  “Moira. Hi. It’s Emma Maxwell. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?” Emma frowned at the stubborn cellophane wrap as she tried to shake loose the wieners.

  “Not at all, dear. Alfred and I were just watching a bit of telly. What can I do for ye? Ye are all right, are ye not?”

  “Oh, I’m just fine.” “You’re a helluva lot better than fine,” her wicked libido whispered in the other ear. Emma cleared her throat and bounced the hot dogs free of the wrap, jumping to catch them with her free hand before they rolled off the counter. “I was just wondering if you could tell me where I could find the nearest drugstore.” Emma paused. “One that delivers.”

  “Drugstore?” Moira’s voice took on a worried tone. “Do ye mean a chemist’s shop? Are ye feeling unwell again? Dr. Mac told me how pale ye were and that ye ached down to your very bones.”

  Great. Moira and Alex had been chatting about her. And chemist’s shop? Emma frowned into the phone. Maybe that’s how they usually referred to pharmacies here. “I’m fine, Moira. I just kind of discovered…” Emma paused again. How the hell was she going to phrase this? She’d just met the kindly older woman. She didn’t want Moira to think she jumped in bed with every muscular tattooed Scot that came along. “I…um…found out that I need some personal supplies.” Emma coughed. “If you know what I mean.”

  “Ahhh.” Then the distinct sound of heels clicking on tile flooring echoed through the phone. Emma could almost see Moira nodding in understanding while she waddled into another room out of earshot of husband Alfred. “I understand. Feminine supplies. If ye call the shop just off Cromwell St., I believe they’ll deliver whatever ye need for a verra reasonable fee.”

  Emma’s heart lifted. “That’s just perfect, Moira—”

  “And be certain to ask for Flora. She’s m’sister and she’ll ensure the delivery boy doesna think he can dawdle along the way.”

  Emma’s heart fell. Moira’s sister. Great. Emma was going to call Moira’s sister and ask them to deliver the biggest package of condoms the store carried. That would go over like a turd in a punch bowl. Flora would probably break her neck getting back to the phone to call and report to friendly, sweet, old-fashioned Moira that the lovely young doctor from the United States had somebody in her bed and they were exhausting the island’s supply of condoms. Just great.

  “Dr. Em, are ye there?”

  Moira’s concerned voice broke through Emma’s internal turmoil. “I’m here, Moira.” Emma gulped in a fortifying breath, glanced again at the steaming bathroom door and covered her eyes with her free hand. “You wouldn’t happen to have that number, would you?”

  Emma repeated the number over in her head while she fished a pen and notepad out of her bag. Jotting down the numbers, she heard the creak of the bathroom door and glanced up just in time to see Torin’s glistening buttocks disappear into the bedroom.

  Emma swallowed hard as her lower extremities flared to white-hot attention. Yep. Moira’s sister or no Moira’s sister. She had to get those condoms—just in case Torin stayed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The bit of meat called a hot dog wasn’t half bad—as long as it truly wasn’t dog. Torin eyed the pinkish chunk peeping out from the bun as he rolled the first taste around in his mouth. With a shrug, he shoved the other half of the cheese-slathered morsel into his mouth. But then again, ’twas no’ as good as a plate of roasted fowl and a chunk of freshly baked brown bread. Torin glanced toward the gleaming black box sitting on the counter. What strange things this time held. Stirring a spoon through the bowl of stew on his plate, Torin watched the steam rise from the rich soup. “What magic makes the box heat the food? Do ye release the box’s energy by twisting that silver knob?”

  Emma glanced toward the microwave and shrugged. “I’m not quite sure how to explain it. It’s atomic motion stirring the molecules of the food. The faster they’re agitated, the hotter the food becomes.”

  Torin stared at the food then glanced back to Emma. Her soft, full lips ripped his attention away from the strange explanation when they formed the most delicious looking pucker while she blew on her own steaming spoonful of stew. His body immediately thrummed to attention. Lore. He forced himself to lean back in the chair instead of pulling her across the table and revisiting the sweetness of that luscious mouth. Shaking himself out of the erotic reverie, Torin turned his attention back to his bowl. What the hell had the woman just said about something stirring the food to make it hot? “I dinna understand. There is no fire or magic to warm the food?”

  A sympathetic smile tugged at the corner of Emma’s tempting mouth. “I don’t understand it myself, Torin. I just know when I turn the knob it works.”

  That made him feel a bit better but uneasiness still stirred within him. This world had changed in so many ways. The strange silver spout in the wall that spewed either scalding hot water or an icy cold stream depending on how much the white handles twisted against the pipes. A hor
seless carriage that jarred a man’s body with such evil magic that the strongest warrior would retch. And now a strange box that took raw food and transformed it into steaming hotness within the blink of an eye. And all with the simple twist of a silver knob. Madness. Sheer and utter madness.

  Torin didn’t belong here. He had to convince Emma to help him reseal the portal so the Cailleach would grant him passage to the next realm and allow him to join his clan. This place and time held nothing but confusion for him. His time in this reality had passed long ago. So much confusion. So many unknowns.

  Torin stole another glance across the table, distracted for a moment from his thoughts by the tempting curve of Emma’s breasts straining against the thin material of her shirt. And what about her? Torin swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his mouth. Now that he’d discovered the pleasures of her touch—and so much more, how could he bear to leave Emma behind? Torin pushed away from the table. Maybe if he turned away from the woman who’d just set his soul on fire, he could push that unpleasant question out of his mind.

  “You can’t be finished. You haven’t even tried your stew.” Emma crumbled a handful of crackers into her bowl and added more shredded cheese atop the steaming chunks of meat and vegetables.

  Torin waved off her words with a vague flick of his wrist. “The links of meat will do me.” Torin circled the room, glancing back at Emma as she dug into her food. She’d never leave this world, forsake her sister or abandon the place where she healed the children. He shook his head, sucking in a deep breath from between clenched teeth. He knew in his heart, she’d never relinquish this place without a fight—her loyalty was part of her charm. How could he convince her to come with him and explore the wondrous powers awaiting her discovery? How could he show her she didn’t belong in this place any more than he did?

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Emma grabbed her napkin off the table and patted it across her chin. “Have I got food on my face?”