Jumping in Puddles

by Barbara Elsborg

  “I only do one style. I used to cut my brothers’ hair. You did want a Mohawk?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Just a trim, right? You have lovely hair. It’s so soft and silky and dark. No gray at all.”

  He could feel the locks falling onto his shoulders and chest, and resisted looking at how much she was cutting off. He held still when she combed his hair down over his forehead and trimmed above his eyes, but he could feel her breathing on his face. So could his cock.

  “How many brothers do you have?” he asked.

  “Two and one sister. I’m the oldest.”

  “Are your parents still living?”

  “Yes. My brothers have their own places. Pixie and I live at home.”

  “Pixie?”

  “Priscilla, but she hates that. I’m Eleanor, but I’ve always been Ellie. I don’t mind if I’m called Eleanor, but if anyone calls my sister Priscilla…” She made a shuddering sound.

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “London. Near Kew Gardens.”

  When Ellie started to brush the hair from his shoulders, he allowed a low groan to escape, and suddenly her hand was gone.

  “All done,” she said, and he opened his eyes.

  He flicked away the hairs from his chest and shook them from his head. When he turned, Ellie’s face was flushed. Jago reached for his shirt, and while his back was toward her, he grinned. He wasn’t the only one whose body hummed with desire.

  “Check all the hair’s off my back; otherwise, I’ll be itching through dinner.” Touch me.

  She stepped forward and blew on him. “All gone.”

  Jago laughed and tugged his shirt down. “Come on. Sing for your supper. While I cook the fish, you can look at my mother’s jewelry.”

  Ellie pushed open the door, and Jago followed.

  “Go to the kitchen and I’ll get the pieces,” he said.

  His heart lightened as he went upstairs two at a time. If she’d been up to no good, wouldn’t she have wanted to know where he kept the jewels?

  The answer was in a floor safe in the bedroom his parents had used. He dropped off the scissors and comb in his room, pulled on a clean shirt, and smiled at the rather good haircut Ellie had given him before he slipped down the corridor to the grand bedroom. There was a technique for lifting the section of the floor in front of the fireplace. Jago pried it up to expose the safe, twisted the dial to the correct numbers, and levered up the door.

  The bag of jewels was the only thing in there. All the important documents relating to the house were held by a lawyer. Jago put everything back as he’d found it and took the green velvet bag downstairs.

  Ellie was sitting at the table when he went in. It looked as though she was doing sums.

  “What are you up to?” Jago asked.

  “Trying to work out the quantity of strawberries needed.”

  Jago put the bag in front of her. “My mother’s jewels. Don’t get too excited. I already know they’re not worth a fortune.”

  He didn’t miss Ellie’s fingers trembling as she pulled open the drawstring, and his heart sank.

  He kept an eye on her as he took the wine and the salmon from the fridge. Why did she look disappointed? Not as valuable as she expected? He poured two glasses of wine and cooked the fish.

  “This ring’s nice if you’re into bling,” Ellie said. “Marquise-shape diamond, three carats. E color. Little rubies around the edge. Ten thousand pounds.”

  His mother’s engagement ring. The one he’d given Marianne. Fortunately she’d given it back.

  Ellie rattled through the other pieces, and Jago wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or not that she appeared to know what she was talking about. The prices she quoted were in line with the insurance assessment.

  When he turned, she’d put everything back in the bag. Shit. Now he had to manufacture a reason to check it was all there.

  Jago tipped up the bag. “What should I sell?”

  “There’s nothing here that’s worth appreciably more than any other piece. Go for the one you dislike the most.”

  “I don’t like any of it.”

  She shrugged. “Then sell it all. You’re not going to wear it. Whoever you mar— Well, I’d sell it all. I’ve got contacts in Hatton Garden. My friend Bernie would love to sell this for you.”

  Christ. Am I going to read something into everything she says? Jago scooped it all into the bag. “I’ll put this back in my room. Keep an eye on the fish.”

  “Not in your room. It’s not safe there. Put it back where you got it from.”

  He felt as chilled as if he’d walked into a freezer, and turned to look at her. “How did you know it wasn’t in my room?”

  “Because I tidied, remember? You have no secrets from me, and that box of condoms is past its sell-by date.”

  He gaped at her.

  “Lucky I’m on the pill.” She grinned.

  When he stood there like a block of wood, her smiled faded. “Ah, sorry. I just…sorry.”

  Jago hurried upstairs to return the bag to the safe. He didn’t trust her, but for the moment, he didn’t care. His cock was trying to escape his pants and wave a flag, his mind a few steps behind. As he put the boards in place and stood, his head emptied of everything but the thought of sex—soon. He wasn’t counting how long it had been, because it was too depressing, but it had been a long time.

  His attention was caught by movement on the drive, and he shifted to the window to see Ellie walking away, her shoulders down.

  “Shit.”

  Chapter Ten

  Idiot, idiot, idiot. Ellie repeated the word as she walked down the drive. Disappointment sat on one shoulder like an overweight devil, while the angel on the other left her in the lurch. She’d wanted the jewels to be the Kewen, and they weren’t. She suspected Jago had tipped out the bag to check she hadn’t pocketed anything. Great. And the comment about the condoms and being on the pill had been a huge mistake. Akin to sticking a sign on her head saying I’M EASY when she was anything but. She’d made herself sound experienced when she wasn’t. She wasn’t on the pill. It said in the book no human could make a faerie pregnant.

  “Ellie!”

  She ignored Jago and kept going. She’d stay until after the garden party and then leave.

  Without the Kewen? Her father’s disappointed face flashed into her head. She groaned and turned round.

  Jago came running up, bewilderment written all over his face. “What’s wrong?”

  The pain in her chest ensured no words would come out without tears. She bit her lip.

  “No, no, no,” he said quietly. “Let’s rewind.” He kissed her, a sweet, fast brush of the lips.

  She knew for both their sakes she ought to keep walking, but she couldn’t. Jago was used to getting his own way, and really, she wanted this as much as he did. She surprised him and herself by holding his neck and kissing him hard. I don’t want to lose you. The words echoed in her head as his tongue speared her mouth.

  His hands slid to her butt and squeezed, and Ellie jerked her hips against his, felt the hard length of his cock, and as he stroked and kneaded her backside, she kissed him harder. His fingers edged under her dress, and she wanted them between her legs, inside her, making her come. She ground herself against him.

  “Jesus, Ellie.”

  The scent of him inflamed her, his taste made her head spin, his kisses sent her heart rate off the scale. His fingers slid inside the back of her panties. Anyone coming up the drive would see.

  “Oh God, not out here,” he muttered and pulled her dress over her bottom. He lowered his head and kissed along the line of her lips. “You make me unable to think. I don’t know why you ran away, but I don’t want you to leave. Something special is happening here. Don’t you feel it?”

  Yes, but…

  He let her go and stared at her. “I can’t make you stay, but I hope you will.”

  Oh God, don’t trust me. Tell me to go.

  “Com
e and eat?” he asked.

  I need the Kewen. She nodded and walked back toward the house at his side. The Kewen isn’t why I’m walking back. Ellie gulped.

  “We can eat outside,” he said. “I’ve set a table.”

  She brushed her fingers against his and heard the breath catch in his throat. Jago wrapped his hand around hers, and heat spread through her, up her arm, and around her body like an electric surge.

  “Denzel and I used to ride these griffins,” he said as they drew level with the steps. “If you look at the base of the tails, he chiseled out our initials. I was caned for that.”

  Ellie frowned. “Didn’t your father believe you?”

  “I didn’t tell him it wasn’t me. I wanted Denzel to. By the time he did, I’d already been beaten. My father gave me another five strokes for not telling him it was my brother.”

  “Did it scar you for life?” she asked.

  “Don’t know. You’ll have to check my butt.”

  She laughed. They walked through the hall to the kitchen. He handed her the salad and the bottle of wine, while he carried the fish, two glasses, and a bowl holding dark berries. Outside on the patio, the table had been laid and tea lights were burning.

  “This looks lovely,” she said.

  “Not as lovely as you,” Jago whispered.

  He topped up the wine and put the bottle on the floor.

  Ellie hadn’t realized how hungry she was. “The salmon is delicious. And the salad. From the garden?”

  “Yes. But this is the pinnacle of my culinary skills.”

  “What made you want to be a doctor? Apart from loving science and wanting to help people.”

  Jago mock-scowled. “Aren’t I allowed to say that? I think it was partly a desire for control and to be honest, power as well, the way I could use my knowledge and skill and even my instincts to tackle disease, injury, or some strange syndrome. It’s a huge rush being able to make a difference to someone’s life.” He exhaled. “I liked that at the end of the day a person got better, maybe even survived because of something I’d done or diagnosed. It made me feel good.”

  “And not so good when people didn’t get better.”

  “If you can’t deal with the bad days, you have no place being a doctor.”

  “Will you go back to it?”

  “I want to. I miss it, but I need to sort Sharwood out first.”

  “You should put a time limit on that. The house is going to require rolling restoration forever. There’s always something that’ll need doing.”

  “That’s true.”

  “What made you want to study hematology?”

  “Henry tell you?”

  She nodded.

  “An unhealthy teenage obsession with Dracula.”

  Ellie laughed.

  “More wine?” he asked.

  “Thank you.”

  Jago poured more, then lifted the plates and salad bowl off the table and put the bowl of tayberries in the middle. Ellie looked for the biggest, picked it up, and held it out. He leaned forward and plucked it from her hold with his teeth. The juice from the ripe berry stained her fingers, and as Ellie brought her hand to her mouth, Jago caught her wrist and tugged it to his. He might just as well have licked between her legs. The muscles of her sex clenched, and she swallowed hard.

  They took turns putting berries in each other’s mouth, took turns licking each other’s fingers, and Ellie’s heart pounded so hard she could feel it all over her body. They never stopped looking into each other’s eyes. Ellie didn’t think she’d even blinked. It was running out of berries that brought them back to reality.

  “They were delicious,” she said.

  “I’ve more inside. Want to come and play?” His lips quirked in a smile. “Play and come?”

  Ellie sighed. “Too late.”

  Jago groaned. “Not again?”

  She grinned. “Only kidding.”

  He rose to his feet and pulled her to hers. “My room. Now. Run.”

  “What about the plates and—”

  “Run. One, two…”

  Ellie ran, lust corkscrewing her stomach. “Hide and seek. Count to a hundred.”

  “No way. Ten and I’m coming. Three, four…”

  She bolted for the door, ran down the corridor to the stairs, and Jago caught her halfway up. He grabbed her foot and pulled her down but twisted so she landed on him. Ellie smiled and lowered her head. His mouth yielded instantly to hers, and she slipped her tongue between his lips. Jago groaned into her throat and wrapped his arms around her as she slid her hands under his neck to hold his head. They kissed until her head fogged, kissed until they ran out of air, kissed until they heard a loud wolf whistle.

  Ellie tried to throw herself off him, but Jago pulled her back.

  “Don’t. I need you right where you are,” he whispered.

  “Don’t mind me,” said Baxter as he climbed past. “But here’s a hint from one with experience. Much more comfortable in a bed.”

  Ellie wasn’t sure how they made it to Jago’s room. It was a blurred journey on which she seemed to be half carried as they continued kissing. They stumbled and slipped and collided with banisters, doors, walls until there was suddenly nothing at Ellie’s back, and she fell into space.

  Jago saved her from hitting the floor, kicked his door shut from a supine position and still kissed her. Every time he touched her, it felt as if he’d set off a firecracker that jumped and fizzed all over her body before it finally exploded in her pelvis.

  He broke off to utter two words, “Ellie, Ellie,” and then he kissed her again, one hand creeping under the hem of her dress, his fingers stroking her thigh.

  They rolled across the bedroom floor, taking turns to be on top, and Jago kissed her so hard and so long that she imagined herself melting through the floorboards. He lifted her onto the bed, kissed her again, and they lay facing each other, panting heavily, his hand high on her thigh, his fingers dancing, and her hand against his heart.

  “Why did you leave?” he whispered. “When I saw you walking down the drive, I…”

  “I was scared.”

  “I’d never hurt you.”

  They were going to hurt each other, but that was the future, and this was now. She locked away the instructions of her parents, locked away what she’d thought she believed, and jumped in with both feet. She unfastened the buttons on his shirt and watched the way his eyes darkened, listened to the hitch in his breathing as she slipped her fingers onto his chest and worked her way down. She took her time exploring his soft, warm skin, skimming hard muscles and rounded pecs, the ridges and valleys of his sculpted body. While Jago’s fingers tackled the zipper at the back of her dress, she ran her teeth along his chin and licked down his throat, smiling as his Adam’s apple shifted under her mouth.

  When her lips settled on a tight, dark nipple and sucked, Jago gave a loud groan that rumbled through her. The tiny nub hardened under her tongue as she flicked and licked and teased. And as her own arousal grew, Ellie found herself writhing against him, her legs either side of one of his, rubbing herself on his thigh, wanting to come. Now.

  “Ellie, if you want to wear this dress again, I need help. I can’t get this zipper undone.”

  Laughing, she rolled off him and off the bed. She unfastened the tiny clip at the back of her dress and then tugged at the zipper. Jago lay on his back, shirt open, his hand massaging his crotch as he stared straight at her. Ellie pulled the zipper all the way down and shimmied out of the dress. Jago froze. Guess he likes black underwear.

  “Christ, Ellie. Maybe I’d better pay a quick trip to the bathroom, because you’re not going to be impressed by my staying power.”

  “Don’t move,” she said and bent to unfasten her sandals.

  “I daren’t. Oh Christ, that bra is see-through, and you’re going to fall out of it any second.”

  Ellie giggled as she kicked off her sandals. She stepped to the bed, unfastened his shoes, and tossed them aside. When sh
e slid her hands up the inside the legs of his pants, and ran her thumbs up his shins, Jago sucked in a ragged breath. His calves tensed under her fingers.

  “That’s all of me stiff now,” he said with a sigh. “Better check I’m not dead.”

  Ellie pulled down his socks and then peeled them from his feet. One sock had a red-banded top saying Monday; the other blue one said Sunday.

  “The machine ate Thursdays.” Jago raised one eyebrow. “Talking of eating.” He leaned up and reached for her, but Ellie dodged back.

  “Told you not to move,” she said.

  Jago flopped back. She crawled up the bed, her knees planted either side of his legs, then spread her hand over the large bulge in his pants and gently squeezed.

  “Shiiiiit. Ellie, you can’t play with me. I’m too close.” He lifted her hand away. “I swear I’ll get better at this. I mean I usually am much better. Not that I do this a lot—oh fuck—you know what I mean. I only have to look at you to short circuit my brain. It’s as if I’m sitting in a sports car about to put my foot on the accelerator. I’ll either race straight over the speed limit in a couple of seconds or stall before I even move.”

  She laughed. “How many times a night can you come?”

  “I’ve no idea. Not as many as I’d like. Nowhere near as many as you.”

  She unfastened the button on his pants, pulled down the zipper, and eased his pants and boxers off together. Oh my God. He looks so beautiful. He was long, lean, and muscular, his sharp hip bones framing a long, thick cock that currently reared up over his belly. She might have had his cock in her mouth, but she’d not really been able to look at it before. The dark crest glistened with precum, swollen veins tracing the length down to heavy balls drawn up tight beneath.

  “Arrghh. You can’t even look at me. Really. Stare at something other than my dick. My surfboard. That’s really interesting. Or the squint.”

  “Squint?”

  “The little window looking down onto the baron’s hall. You go and take a look through that while I deal with this mounting problem, and then I’ll be able to think straight.”