by Cherry Adair
It would be nice to get out of the rain. Perhaps have a hot shower. She closed her eyes as instructed. She felt Simon’s heat all the way down her front, although they weren’t touching. Little tingles of electrical current arched between their bodies. Pheromones. Animal attraction. Whatever it was sparking between them made Kess want to melt against his body and nuzzle her face into his neck.
“Did the guy get lucky?” There was a smell about him. Not soapy or shampoo-ish. She couldn’t even describe it, and she could usually describe anything. It was her job. “Are you kidding me?” Fresh. Clean. Male. If she could bottle this scent, she’d make a fortune and wouldn’t have to worry about her reputation.
Thinking back, she remembered the Central Motel and Peter Silverman’s bike. She’d really been that innocent. “No. I just wanted to ride his Harley. He thought a quickie at his uncle’s motel out in College Park would be an equitable payment.” Even at seventeen she’d understood the exchange rate the moment Peter had presented it. If it had just been an expectation, she’d have walked off in a huff, not broken the guy’s jaw. But he hadn’t asked, or hinted. He’d tried to rape her.
She’d walked all the way to Hartsfield International before finding a cab to get her back home. Then filed charges when her temper had cooled enough to call the police. It was a lesson well learned.
The air suddenly smelled like…the ocean? Kess blinked open her eyes.
Gone was the cramped two-bit motel; in its place was a spacious cabana on a beach. Sheer drapes billowed gently in the balmy breeze wafting through the large open windows that overlooked a turquoise sea and a long expanse of sugary sand. Palm trees added their subtle music of rustling fronds to the sound of the gently lapping surf. Gulls swooped and cried as they wheeled in a cloudless robin’s egg blue sky. Enchanted, Kess turned in a circle.
Simon was magic.
The room was all white, no color other than the sea and sky viewed through the window and a colorful mound of fruit in a clear glass bowl on a whitewashed table. The center of the room was dominated by the biggest bed she’d ever seen. Her heart skipped.
“Did you kill him?” Simon asked behind her. He didn’t sound as though he cared if she had.
Kess trailed her fingers over the round table holding the fruit bowl. “What?” she asked absently. The painted wood felt cool and smooth under her fingertips. It was real. Solid. She turned to face him. Who was this man? What was this man? A frisson of excitement made her blood race effervescently through her body as her eyes locked with the deep green of his. Magician or hypnotist. Whatever, whoever he was, he made her skin tingle and her blood pound through her veins. She stepped into the square of buttery sunlight separating them on the bleached wood floor.
“No,” she said, her voice thick and husky as she took another step. Her entire body was aware that he was watching her mouth as she spoke. “Of course not. But I did hit him hard enough with his own motorcycle helmet to knock him out and break his jaw.”
They met in the middle of sunlight. Simon cupped her cheek with a cool, strong hand. A hand with calluses and small white scars across his fingers. “What put you off?” His breath fanned her face. “The crappy motel, or the guy?” His fingers slid over her skin to comb through her hair, making goose bumps of desire roughen her skin.
Kess lifted her face, sliding her arms around his waist. She held onto his shirt at the small of his back as their wet clothing caused a delicious friction on her nipples. “The crappy guy.”
Simon brushed his mouth over hers. “I have a Harley.”
“A real one?” Kess’s lips wanted to cling, and she fisted the back of his shirt to bring him closer. His erection brushed the juncture of her thighs.
He brought his other hand up and brushed the corner of her mouth with a gentle thumb. “Yeah. I’ll let you ride it anytime.”
She opened her mouth slightly, licking the edge of his thumb. Simon’s pupils dilated, dragging in the light until they were the color of a black forest. Could he hear how fast her heart was beating? It sounded deafening to her own ears.
“What color is it?”
A muscle jerked in his cheek. “Any damn color you want.”
Kess’s laugh sounded breathless. She felt breathless, and giddy, and spellbound. “Why did I know you’d say that?”
His fingers curled in her hair as if he had to hold on to her to remain in control of his own strong urges. “Even if you say no.” Simon trailed his lips across her cheek, then brushed them across each eye. “The sheets—” he kissed her lid, “are clean—” he brushed her other lid, “and the room stays.”
Kess spread her hand up his back. His skin beneath the wet shirt was on fire, hot and smooth under her palms. “I’m not saying no.” She reached up and nipped him on the hard edge of his jaw with her teeth and he gave a muffled groan as he pulled her hard against him.
Kess felt as though she were melting inside. Fast-moving lava flowed through her veins, her entire body one giant pulse, throbbing and beating like a tribal drum. “Do I have time for a quick shower first?”
He lifted her in his arms. “You have time for a quick shower in between.”
Simon carried her easily, placing her in the center of the big bed as if she were made of spun glass. “I’m not going to break, you know.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down next to her, and he laughed, a full-out roar of laughter that made her laugh with him.
He rolled over, then braced a hand on either side of her head. “No slow seduction?” he asked, amusement and something else in those deep fathomless green eyes.
Kess’s smile faded because her heart ached in a good way when she looked at him. Her blood sang through her veins at the heated, feral gleam in his eyes as he looked at her. “Yes,” she murmured, touching her fingertips to the lingering smile on his mouth. “How about fifty-fifty?”
He pushed strands of hair off her face, his touch light, but weighted with intention. “Is there any other way?”
“Probably.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his face down. His response—hungry and greedy—mirrored her own desire. Kess slid her tongue along his, tasting his urgency. She kissed him with everything in her, wanting to know this man as she had no other.
She had a million questions. Wasn’t sure she’d like any of the answers. But right now, here in his magical white room on the beach, the only answers she needed were in the brush of his hands and the curve of his smile. She didn’t think he smiled that much, and knowing that he did so for her tangled her up with the dozen other emotions tripping over her heart.
“I love the taste of you,” he whispered thickly against her mouth just before he kissed her again with a fierceness that made her fingers tighten in his hair. The very rawness of his kiss brought out something wildly female in her. Kess rolled on top of him as they kissed. He was warm and solid beneath her, his erection blatantly obvious in the prison of his jeans, but she felt no urgency to take him inside her body. Not yet.
She wanted to taste him all over, she wanted him to taste her. “How long do we have?”
There were flickering lights in the room, she noticed vaguely. Tiny pinpoints of clear white illuminated dust dancing in the air around them. How odd.
She closed her eyes and trailed her lips along the hard bone of his jaw. His skin felt hot and bristly under her mouth. The smell of him, male, musk, magic, made her body burn.
He stroked his hand around the back of her neck, his touch electric. As she kissed a trail up his throat to his ear his fingers tightened in response. “As long as we need.”
She couldn’t even dredge up a smile because her entire body was ratcheting up just in anticipation. “This could take a while.” She pressed her thigh gently against the bulge between his legs, and his body jerked in response.
The skin tightened over his cheekbones and his eyes absorbed the light as he looked up at her. “Oh, yeah.” He fisted his hand in her hair and brought her mouth back down to h
is. Then kissed her again until every pore in her body wanted him. Mine. Mine. Mine, this man belonged to her, not some imaginary Stepford wife. She was real, as was her passion. Surely Simon would feel and sense the difference between his ideal woman and the reality of the primal need they shared for each other.
She flattened her body on top of his, stretching out over him like a blanket. With a low murmur against her cheek he wrapped his arm around her, letting her direct the kiss. One large masculine hand cupped the back of her head, the other slid down to caress her bottom.
God, she loved kissing him. Hot and slow. Just the way she liked it. Kissing Simon was a full-body contact sport. Kess felt insanely euphoric as they made love with their mouths. Her breasts pressed against the hard plane of his chest, her nipples, hard and sensitive, ached for his touch. She needed his hands on her.
Both his hands moved to meet on the hem of her T-shirt. The air felt cool on her overheated skin as he drew the fabric up her body. Kess reluctantly dragged her mouth away from his as he tugged the shirt up and over her head. Simon closed his eyes as if in pain, then Kess felt his fingers unerringly on the clasp of her bra.
“I’ve never seen anything this beautiful in my life,” Simon said, filling his hands with her breasts as she arched her back to give him full access. Of course in doing so she ground her pelvis against the hard ridge under her, making them both suck in a sharp breath.
Her nipples, grateful for his touch, were so hard that contact with his slightly callused fingers made Kess moan low in her throat. She skimmed her hand between their bodies, trying to touch him, but they might as well have been glued at the groin because a bit of paper wouldn’t have fit between their bodies. She desperately needed to feel his skin against hers. “Could we pause half a second to get nake—”
Simon slid her body up his in one smooth move that placed her breasts directly over his avid mouth. Kess bracketed his hips with her knees as his lips closed around one nipple, hot and wet. He sucked until her body arched. “Oh, God—yes. Just like—ah…that.” When her brain could function well enough to let her move, she slid her hands under his T-shirt. His stomach was rock-hard and ridged with muscle. His skin felt like hot satin under her hands. She trailed her fingers lightly up the line of crisp dark hair bisecting his abs, following it as it widened to cover his chest.
Her hands shook as she dragged his T-shirt over his head. Kess hated breaking the contact his mouth had on her breast, but the urgency driving her needed them both naked. Now.
His chest was broad and tanned, his nipples small dark buds amid the dark hair. She groaned his name, bending her head to taste him. Salty male. His taste and the smell of his skin were an aphrodisiac that easily fogged her brain. “Clothes. Off,” she begged, tearing at the button front of his jeans with fingers made clumsy by lust. The tiny lights spun and glittered around them like fireflies on speed.
“Off. Off. Off,” Kess chanted, as Simon pushed her useless fingers aside and did the job himself. His penis sprang free, long and hard, and her body literally contracted at the sight of him. “Oh, God—hurry, please, Simon—”
For a dizzying moment she thought she was hallucinating as all of a sudden they were skin to skin. Their clothes nowhere in sight.
She laughed, half relief, half disbelief. “Explain…that…” Throwing a leg over his hip, Kess impaled herself. “Later,” the last word came out as a sigh as she slid down on him, her palms braced on his shoulders.
His hands settled on her hips as she started to move. “Have your wicked way with me. I’m putty in your hands.”
“There’s—not—a—damn—thing—soft about you, Blackthorne with an…”
The climax came at her so fast she barely had time to suck in a shuddering breath.
Dazed, her breath sawing in and out as if she’d just climbed Everest, Kess collapsed on Simon’s chest. Still joined, their damp skin stuck together as they gasped for air.
She suddenly noticed that it had gone from day to night without warning. Soft moonlight made a coverlet over their naked bodies as they lay facing each other, arms and legs entwined. Simon brushed Kess’s fiery hair over her shoulder, then stroked a lazy hand down her arm. Her skin felt warm and silky smooth, and although they’d made love, and he’d touched her all over, he couldn’t prevent him self from caressing her now.
He had the weirdest sensation in his chest. A feeling of fullness. Of—God. He couldn’t begin to describe it. He gave up and stopped trying. Kess rested her hand over his heart, lazily playing with the hair on his chest. “This might be a good time to explain how you do what you do.”
He loved the way her eyes lost focus when she looked at him. Loved the way the soft gray darkened to charcoal as if she could read what he was thinking. Not hard to do since he’d had the quickest sexual recovery he could remember since he was a fifteen-year-old with an unquenchable libido. Ten minutes after a mind-blowing climax, and he was hard again.
“Why don’t I show you?” he murmured, cupping the satiny weight of her breast, before trailing his fingers over her hip. Stroking his hand down her thigh, he repositioned her leg over his hip to gain access to her damp heat.
“This wasn’t exactly what I meant by tell me,” she muttered with a small unconvincing frown.
“Complaining?” He slipped inside her.
“Not at all—Could you—Yes.”
He brought his fingers between their bodies. “Here?”
“Hmm.”
“How about here—Jesus, sweetheart. I’ll go off like a rocket if you t—” She moved against him with purpose, her expression adorably intent. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you?”
Her lashes flickered up when she looked at him. “Living dangerously is my middle name.”
“I thought it was Scarlett,” he said through gritted teeth as the orgasm raced from his toes to the base of his brain like a comet.
“You have a good memory.”
His brain went blank as they climaxed together with muscle-clenching intensity.
Maybe they slept. Maybe they were unconscious. God only knew. Simon felt as though every bone in his body had been somehow transformed into overcooked pasta. Pasta had never felt so good. Jesus. Any more of this and they’d kill each other.
“How’re you doing?” he asked, shifting her limp body over his so he could touch her all over with out moving. Even his lips were relaxed.
“Fantastic,” she said cheerfully, sounding wide-awake and ready to talk.
He almost groaned. A couple of hours’ sleep right now sounded like sheer, fucking heaven. She had ridden him hard and put him away wet. Making love with Kess was a combination of teeth-gritting pleasure and acrobatics. His lips twitched. If she was interested, and she most assuredly was, Kess touched, tasted, bit, or licked. Clearly she enjoyed sex, and nothing was out of bounds.
She waved a languid hand in the general direction of the room. Since her face was buried in his neck at the time, he figured she was multitasking. He felt the light flutter of her eyelashes against his jaw. “Is this real or an illusion?”
He knew she wasn’t talking about the phenomenal sex. “It’s real.”
“Where are we?” she asked, shifting to lean on her elbow. Seeing her plump breasts swinging free, nipples tight peaks just waiting for his touch, he stroked a finger down the gentle slope and touched the nipple with the edge of his nail. She sucked in a sharp breath and batted his hand away.
“Still at the crappy motel.” He brought his hand back to her breast, trailing his fingers along her soft skin. “I just brought paradise to us.” She was as close to paradise as Simon would ever get. God, she was responsive.
She walked two fingers down his chest. “Could someone else see it if they walked in?”
“I have a protection shield around the place, so no,” he said, disappointed when she didn’t continue heading south. He didn’t think he had another erection in him, but a few more minutes of her touching him, and he thought he might v
ery well surprise himself. What the hell had she just asked—Oh, yeah. “But if that shield collapsed, then yeah.”
Kess sat up cross-legged on the bed, pulling a pillow onto her lap, resting her elbows on it and covering his favorite bits. “Tell me how you do it,” she demanded. “Is it some clever spy stuff connected with the work you do for T-FLAC?”
“The organization has a paranormal division,” he said carefully, watching her face for any sign of horror, or worse, fear. There was neither. She was intrigued and totally engrossed in what he was saying.
“Paranormal? Like ghosts.” She touched his forearm. “You’re pretty solid for a ghost. Are you an alien?” Even the idea that he might be an extraterrestrial, which amused the hell out of him, didn’t faze her.
Simon smiled. “No. I’m a wizard.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows went up. “Like Merlin? Were you born that way or did someone cast a spell on you?”
He should’ve known nothing like a little magic would derail her interest. He reached out to brush her knee, unable to keep his hands off her. “As a matter of fact, yes. I was born this way.”
“That is amazingly cool. Are there other wizards about?”
“Millions of us.”
Her eyes, one of her best features, after her hair, her breasts, her—lit up. How could ordinary gray be so warm? So filled with light and energy and a sheer love of life? Kess’s entire attention was focused on him. Interest in what he was telling her made her face glow. “Really? Do they all work for T-FLAC?”
“Want something to drink?”
She shook her head, then changed her mind. “Sure. Fresh squeezed lemona—” A glass filled with crushed ice and citrus-scented liquid materialized in her hand. “Okay. That was show-offy, but damn cool.” She brought the glass to her lips. “A bit more sugar?” she requested with a smile that showcased her crooked eyetooth and made her eyes sparkle. She tried the drink again. “Perfect. So do they all work for T-FLAC?”
“No. Just a few hundred of us.” He took the glass and sipped. Not bad. He handed it back to her. “And not all of us are good guys. Make no mistake, there are evil wizards out there by the thousands. Good, bad, and everything in between. Just like any other group of people.” Noek Joubert for one.