by Rena Marks
His blue eyes sharpened with interest.
“You’re not Mike,” he pointed out.
“No. I’m—”
“Sara.”
Both were startled by his answer. How had he known?
He smiled gently. “You’re the newest employee there. The only one I haven’t yet met.”
He took the bags from her and brushed the bare skin of her arm with his. Electric awareness tingled from the contact and her breathing deepened while her blood pumped faster.
“In here,” he instructed, leading the way. Obviously he didn’t have the same feeling she was having trouble recovering from.
Beauregard Pierson couldn’t seem to stop his heart from jumping. It was Seraphina. Just like the old witch had said, he’d recognize her anywhere. She’d be born every lifetime with that deep red hair, the milk-white creamy complexion perfectly foiled by the penetrating brown eyes.
He had found her. Before Aric. He knew it was her and even though he remembered her with another body, the similarities were there. He looked forward to exploring this body, her scent, her curves. He wanted to know what made her gasp, arch, plead.
And what would send her hurtling over the edge.
Beau set the bags on the table and turned to face her. “Please stay for dinner.”
She seemed stunned into silence for a moment, shocked at the abruptness of his request. Almost as if she didn’t get asked out very often. That was hard to believe—she was just as beautiful now as she had been before.
“I have other plans,” she said.
His heart raced as if consumed with jealousy, but he forced a smile. Then his expression cleared as he reached out, because he simply couldn’t help himself. His thumb touched gently along the path of her jaw line, curving up to the prominent cheekbones. Lightly he caressed the cream of her skin, feeling the silky softness beneath his finger.
“A rain check?” he asked.
Sara nodded, just once, seeming bemused by his touch on her cheek. He understood exactly. He wanted the touch as much as she.
Her small pink tongue snaked out to wet her lips. Beau watched, mesmerized.
His hand rested on the back of her neck, his thumb still stretched out and stroking along her jaw. Would she run if he pulled her to him? If he gently twined that pink tongue with his?
She hadn’t protested yet. He took that as encouragement and gave a small, gentle tug. She didn’t resist, but stepped closer, briefly unbalanced.
Her hands splayed out, bracing herself against his naked chest. His muscles twitched beneath her fingers, eagerly expecting more. His eyes were locked on hers, watching, waiting. Wanting.
He dipped his head and deftly pressed his lips to hers. Sensation exploded.
He opened his mouth at the same time she did, as if to gasp for air and their tongues met, rubbing velvety strokes, giving and taking a pleasure so intense it was almost pain.
He groaned at the sweetness of her mouth and she gasped in surprise at his. He tasted…familiar. She knew how to kiss him, knew what he liked.
She also knew the pleasure he was capable of bringing her. That was a benefit of being psychic.
Sara was the one to take the next step. Breaking the kiss, she lowered her lips to his nipple, making him arch slightly as she gently scraped her teeth over him. Her fingers pressed against his abdomen, making him suck in his breath. Did he wonder how low she’d go this first time?
She raised her face for more kisses and he ground his mouth to hers, exploring her fully and letting her know how demanding he could be. He pulled her up against him, as if wanting her to feel the need that bulged between them.
It didn’t scare her. Instead, the small, eager fingers dipped into the waistband of his sweats and sought the hard muscle beneath.
He thought he’d die from the sheer pleasure of it when her hand enclosed him fully. Then she stroked, slowly, as if memorizing the feel of the silky skin over the tempting hardness that would stroke every nerve deep inside her. Her touch encouraged him to grow harder still, so hard he thought he’d explode.
He tongued the small lobe of her ear and pulled his own sweats down far enough to watch her stroke his body. He stood proud and erect, tiny droplets of moisture on the head.
“Ohmigod,” she whispered. “I don’t even know you.”
“You have my name, address and phone number, Angel. And you’re about to get to know me real well.”
He picked her up. She was tiny and weighed nearly nothing. He bounded up the stairs quickly with her, looking hungrily into her eyes, not about to let her back out. Not now. It was too late.
The master bedroom was at the top of the stairs, with his bed the size of most people’s entire bedrooms. He laid her upon it gently and then deftly began unbuttoning her blouse.
Sara never broke eye contact with him, watching even when he separated the two halves of her blouse and stared at the lush bounty before him.
With shaking hands, he unclasped the front of her bra and cupped the weight of a breast in his palm. Pale skin tipped with pink. Strawberries and cream and he dipped his head. A hot, wet tongue swept across her pebble-hard nipple.
He took it into his mouth. He suckled at the tip of her breast. The pull rooted itself deep in her groin, extending out and up through the heat of his mouth.
“The other one, too,” she said, while caressing his well-shaped head. Geez, she was shameless. She didn’t know why she was allowing herself to act this way, to be so brazen, for it wasn’t like her at all. But her body, her desires, her needs, had taken on a life of their own with this man.
He released her breast and turned his attention to its twin. The same, lavish licking hardened the pink nub and then he sucked it into his mouth.
“Oh God, you feel good,” she moaned. “I can’t believe I’m having sex with you.”
“Believe it, baby,” he rasped against her breast, his breath blowing over her wet skin and then began kissing a trail down the center of her body to her navel.
His tongue lightly encircled her belly button. The flat abdomen below it quivered ever so slightly.
In one fell swoop, he pulled her jeans off her body, taking her panties with them. Spreading her thighs, he stared at the view splayed out before him.
She was luscious.
Curvaceous hips and a tiny waist, smooth sleek skin and golden red hair. Just as before.
“I can’t tell you how much I want you,” he muttered hoarsely.
He stared at the tuft of light hair that furred her delights. A tiny, neat landing strip that aimed down between her legs, hiding her cleft from his gaze.
“Bend your knees,” he rasped.
Sara obeyed and it opened her to his view.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, reaching out and running a finger along her sensitive slit.
She shivered, her breasts heaving. She was hot and wet and ready to jump him if he didn’t hurry.
He brought that finger moist with nectar up to his lips and sucked it as she watched, her eyes darkening.
Then he inserted it into her opening and she moaned, the warmth from his mouth still on his finger deep inside her.
She was so hot she thought she’d explode. “Please,” she begged.
“What is it, Sara? What is it you want?” he asked as he grabbed a condom from the bedside table. Tearing the packet open, he rolled it on, never hesitating in the intimate act.
She half sat and pushed him down onto the bed. She rolled on top of him, grinding her body intimately against his. His hands were busy squeezing the globes of her buttocks and she knew she was too close to the edge. Grabbing his hands, she brought them up over his head, locking their arms up and pressed her breasts to his magnificent chest, echoing the movements of the woman in her psychic dream.
His blue eyes flashed amber when she pushed his hands up, but the look was gone when she lowered her mouth to his.
Why the sudden, out-of-character aggression for her? Sara thought. She must h
ave still been hot from the psychic episode. That was it. That was why she mimicked the position from her mind tryst. But the sensations that she was feeling with Beau were so similar to the ones with the stranger in her dreams.
It didn’t take much of a pelvic tilt to lock him into her body. And it didn’t take any thrusting to make her moan as her body climaxed around his wide, thick girth.
She was dimly aware of his orgasm as he thrust upward just once and came with a groan. Then her quivering flesh gripped his tightly, soothing him while he recovered.
She released his arms and he wrapped them around her, holding her close and then caressing her lightly.
“That was incredible,” he said, stroking her back with soothing, long strokes. “If a little quick. Next time we’ll go slower.”
“Wasn’t bad at all,” she agreed. Now that the lust was sated, she was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable lying in the afterglow with a stranger, even one as stunning as Beau.
“When will I see you again?” he asked.
“I, uh, I don’t know. I have plans tonight and I work tomorrow afternoon.”
“How about dinner tomorrow, Sara? We can talk, get to know each other.”
She raised her head to look into his blue eyes. He seemed sincere, but if he was just after sex, it was her own fault. “Okay, that would be good.”
She looked down at her watch and jumped up from the bed.
Grabbing her jeans, she jumped into them as he watched. “I have to go. I’m still on the clock.”
She buttoned her blouse, hurriedly and then hopped around until she found her left shoe.
Beau rose from the tumbled bedsheets, casually removing his condom with heavy-lidded eyes.
He grabbed the back of her neck and brought her to him, then kissed her very gently.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.
She gave a shy smile and he pulled his sweats back on to walk her downstairs.
She realized that she’d had an actual, real nooner at lunch and still had to return to work.
Chapter Two
“Sara, you look lovely,” Aric said.
He bent and kissed her cheek. His nostrils flared ever so slightly. He caught a whiff of…Beauregard. It couldn’t be, not that bastard.
He’d found Sara in the span of a few hours since Aric had seen her last.
“Have a good day at work?” he inquired lightly.
Sara blushed, a telltale giveaway.
“Fine. Not a big deal,” she said, but her eyes belied her words.
Aric sniffed a bit deeper, discreetly. Sara took a step back, as if appalled. He smiled easily, until she returned the smile on her own.
He’d smelled what he was searching for. The scent of body fluids.
Jealousy ripped through his soul. Red-hot rage filled his face before it was masked for her benefit. He turned a perfectly normal expression to her, his voice evenly toned if a bit chilled.
“Please, come into the music room and meet my friends Raphael and Francesca.”
Aric took her arm and they walked through the high-ceilinged hallways. Expensive curtains hung from the windows and the floors were polished marble, so shiny it reflected their footsteps.
He leaned in to whisper in her ear confidingly. “The story is, you and I have been dating for about six months. You’re crazy in love with me.”
“I am?”
“Naturally,” he said, allowing one eyebrow to rise majestically.
Sara relaxed against him and allowed herself to be led into the next room.
“Rafe. Francesca. This is Sara.”
Both people in the room stood, their faces eerily intent. On her. As if they hardly breathed while they studied her.
Sara never felt so awkward in her life. Just what had Aric told them about her? She dipped her head, trying to break the heavy silence. “How do you do?”
For a brief moment, no one answered her. Then the woman spoke first. She stood and looked nearly regal as she did so. Her coloring was strange, pale features framed by black hair in lush waves and deep blue eyes. They looked haunted and deeply pained as they stared at her, as if the woman had longed to be introduced to a girlfriend of Aric’s.
“You are absolutely gorgeous,” Francesca said at last.
Taken aback, Sara responded with her first instinctual thought. The truth. “As are you.”
The comment seemed to please the woman and her eyes lost some of the shadows they carried.
Raphael stepped toward Sara, so she offered her hand. He turned it palm up so that her wrist was exposed. His touch was warm and she was suddenly aware of her own blood that rushed beneath the thin skinned surface. He slowly bent and kissed her wrist and a little jolt of awareness pushed through her body. It tightened things low and intimate inside her and she fought to control her breath.
It was quick, almost as if it never happened.
He hovered over her wrist. His hair was a deep blue-black, the perfect match with Francesca. He was a very striking man, his light olive skin tone contrasting with white teeth and piercing onyx eyes.
“Sara, it is my pleasure. I feel as if we know you already,” he said, frowning at Francesca as if she didn’t do enough to put Sara at ease.
Francesca looked guilty, before she looked downward, hiding the emotion in her eyes.
The oddest feeling hit Sara in the gut. A tender, make-everything-better feeling she’d never felt before. She took a step toward the gorgeous woman and touched her arm, making her look up.
Sara smiled unreservedly at her, her only intent to see the lovely blue eyes sparkle as they should. Francesca gave her a wobbly smile in return, before Aric interrupted huskily with the news that dinner was prepared.
They adjourned to the dining room and Sara fought to not stare at the opulence of the room. Much like Beauregard Pierson’s home, Aric tended to favor antiques. Expensive crystal cut glassware and real silverware adorned the table.
Once Raphael and Francesca finally stopped staring, it was actually a pleasant meal.
“You prepared this yourself?” Francesca asked Aric, disbelief in her sultry voice.
Aric looked intimately at Sara. “Sara helped,” he said, as if speaking to only her.
He was so handsome with his dark hair and pale green eyes, the sexy stubble on his jaw adding a carefree look. She could easily fall for him.
Trying to distract herself, she posed another question to Raphael and Francesca. “Where do you two live?”
“Right now we live in Romania, but we visit with Aric for a month three or four times a year. Sometimes it feels as if we live here.”
“Your English is very good. Just a trace of an accent.”
“Thank you. We’ve studied English for many, many years. We love going to the theaters and ballets, practicing and perfecting it as much as we can. So how about you? Where did you grow up?”
“I just moved here last fall.” Sara shrugged.
“No family? Friends?” Francesca asked.
“I’m a loner. No siblings, my parents passed on years ago. And I have no really close friends.”
“Why not?”
“Like I said, I’m a loner.” Sara could have told them she was an outcast because of her psychic abilities. She could have told them she avoided romantic relationships because she tended to attract or breed violence in men, but she really enjoyed the couple. She didn’t want to make them immediately wary of her.
“Well, we shall have to be your friends, then,” Raphael said, as he caressed Francesca’s hands.
“I’d like that,” Sara murmured.
“It seems a shame to cut this evening short, but we have tickets tonight to the theater,” Francesca said, with a quick glance at her watch, “so we should get moving. Never have I been so ready to forego plans, Sara.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Sara said, “but no way will you skip out on your scheduled evening.”
“Perhaps we can get together again during this month?” Fran
cesca asked, looking to Aric.
“I’m sure we can arrange something,” Aric said smoothly.
They rose and Sara and Aric escorted the couple to the front door.
Francesca kissed Aric lightly on the lips and turned to Sara. Gently, the other woman kissed her cheek and told her she was glad Aric found her.
Although it was a normal comment, especially since Francesca thought they were a couple, Sara found it a little bit odd. As though there was more to it than what she heard. It was the weird psychic sensing, sometimes she couldn’t control it.
Raphael took her hand and kissed it. Once again Sara found a sizzle rushing through her bloodstream. It was different this time, though. This time, it was clearly defined as desire. Hot and heavy liquid heat hit her middle and lowered, melting her core.
He looked up at her, eyes soft and stunned amazement hit Sara’s midsection.
He knew.
She stared at him while they made their goodbyes. The front door closed behind them and Aric smiled. “That went well. I think I satisfied them for a bit.”
Sara returned his smile. “I’ll help you clean up.”
“You don’t have to. Come sit with me, let me enjoy you before I return you to your home.”
He pulled gently on her hand and walked her to the sitting room. She sat on the loveseat, expecting him to take the chair across from her. Instead, he sat next to her and took her small hand in his. Slowly, his thumb traced circles on her wrist. While it wasn’t the side that Raphael had kissed, she was surprised to feel warmth begin to tingle once again from that spot. A magical warmth, invading her veins and running through her extremities.
“Sara, I’d like to see you again.”
“I’d like that too, Aric.”
“Tomorrow lunch?”
She’d had a dinner date with Aric tonight. And she had one planned with Beau for tomorrow. Did she dare to try to see both men? How could she feel such a connection to each one of them, when they were so very different? Did she dare try to juggle both? She simply couldn’t resist seeing where the dating would take her, so she nodded.