“In the what?”
But he just shook his head. “I can’t let you be in pain, okay?”
She didn’t know what to say. His words implied there was a lot more going on here between them. “I’ll pay for the repairs on that room.”
He scoffed. “You’ll do no such thing. It’s not your fault this happened.”
She nodded. “It is. Trust me. It’s not my first fire.”
“Then you trust me when I say there is no way I’d take your money. All that stuff is replaceable. You, however, are not. So I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I’m more than okay, thanks to you.” She looked down at her arms. “Why did you bother with all these when you can heal like that?”
He opened his mouth and shut it and she could see that he was torn about something. “The healing stuff doesn’t always work and when it does, it works weird.” He looked down at his hands, which didn’t look as bad as they had after he’d done the head wash.
Maybe he was telling her the truth, that it was different when he wasn’t actually trying to break a hex. She could only hope. “We should go see how bad the room is.”
He shook his head. “Not yet. J’ai peur que tu vas attraper du mal—I’m afraid you’ll get hurt. Let’s let it air out in there first. Some of the smoke from those burned herbs could be toxic.” He turned her arms, looking them over. “This doesn’t look too bad.”
“It’s not,” she said softly, loving the feel of his fingers on her skin, the way he so tenderly took care of her. She realized then that she did trust him. “I don’t feel any pain anymore. You sure it’s not going to hurt you?”
The corner of his mouth twisted. “I’m sure that’s not gonna hurt me,” he murmured his gaze on her mouth. He let go of her, took out a washcloth and turned on the water, staring at her as it warmed. When he returned, he bent and slid the soft cloth over her face. Slowly. “Got a bit of soot.”
She had something, all right. Elita’s body took on a mind of its own. She started to shake, her lower body starting that familiar hot throb. She reached out, hooked her fingers in his belt loops and pulled him closer.
“This is a bad, bad idea,” he murmured.
“Why?” she whispered. “You looked at me like you wanted me—wanted sex with me—from the first moment you saw me.”
“Sex, yes. Sex is a great and wondrous thing. I love sex.” He pulled her gently to her feet. “But something about you makes me think—”
“Think what?” Elita wanted to close her eyes and soak in the heat from his body, but she also didn’t want to miss a thing. She felt small next to him in a way she never had before. All the areas she felt too plump, her hips, thighs and even her breasts, felt suddenly just right—like what made her a woman was everything he desired. She felt gorgeous because he looked at her with a fire in his gaze that said she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Elita held her breath, completely annihilated by the flood of need that raced through her, making her quake like desire had taken over her bones, her muscles…her blood. Adrenaline pumped through her system so hard and fast even her skin itched. She was sure she’d never been more ready for a man—this man—in her entire life.
He lifted her hand, circled her wrist with his long fingers, then placed her hand on his waist. “You make me think about things I can’t have.”
She ran her hand up his abdomen, loving the way his muscles jerked under her fingertips. She rested her palm over the wraith tattoo. “I love the feel of your skin. So hot.” Elita looked up, her gaze locking with his. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, I want you too.”
“Just like that.”
She nodded. “It’s not something I usually do—sleep with someone I just met—but…” She took a deep breath, pulling his scent deep into her lungs. “I think I might die if you don’t touch me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly like he wanted to smile but was too far gone. His eyes narrowed, focusing so hard on her, her legs started trembling. She lifted her chin and his mouth was on hers, strong and hungry. She opened her mouth and his tongue slipped in to twine with hers.
Elita knew what it felt like to melt. She locked her knees so they wouldn’t buckle on her, wrapped her arms around his neck and shivered when he deepened the kiss. His groan rumbled into her mouth as his hands grasped the material on the back of her shirt, as he clutched her closer.
Pryor pulled back, his breath ragged as he stared down at her. The hunger in his eyes burned her, made her feel frantic and restless. He suddenly pressed their foreheads together. “This is wrong.”
She pushed his chest until he moved back enough for her to see him. “What?”
He shook his head. “When I said you make me want things I can’t have, I meant you.”
“I don’t understand. What part of what I’ve said or done makes you think you can’t? I’m never this forward, Pryor Bernaux. Never! I don’t usually trust people enough to sleep with them and I don’t usually do it to keep them safe. My last boyfriend got hurt badly in one of my accidents. I figured that you—” She realized how that would sound and grimaced.
“You thought it would be okay with me because of the magic.” There was a hint of resignation in his voice she didn’t want there.
“I don’t only want to sleep with you because of that—because it’s safe.” She licked her lips, took his hand and placed it over her left breast. “Feel my heart, Pryor? I’ve never been more turned on in my life. That”—she put both her hands over his and pressed—“is why I want you. And it’s not some stupid reaction to your magic. I know it.”
He stared at her for so long, she dropped her hands, wished she wasn’t against the tub because she wanted to step back from him. Fiery humiliation burned her skin, and washed away the pulsing need she’d felt. She stepped to the side to go around him.
Pryor flatted his palm on the wall next to her, halting her movements.
She wasn’t trapped. She could go the other way. Duck. There was absolutely nothing about Pryor that made her think he’d push when she didn’t want. But she didn’t move. She only watched him and wondered what was going on behind that closed expression because she got the feeling it was a lot. She stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his in a brief, sweet kiss.
She yelped when she suddenly went airborne. Pryor wrapped her legs around his waist and groaned as he turned and pressed her into the wall. One long, wet and hot kiss later, he was turning, stalking out of the bathroom and headed for the stairs.
She kissed his neck, skimmed her lips over his jaw. “What is this obsession you have with carting me around? I have perfectly good legs.”
He gripped her backside with one hand and ran his other hand under her thigh before he cupped her other butt cheek. “You have fantastic legs. I’m just in a hurry.”
“I can move fast.” She licked that indentation in his cheek, the crease that only showed when he smiled.
“We are most definitely doing that,” he murmured as he set her down halfway up the stairs. He turned, pressing her into the wall again for another kiss that made her toes curl inside her shoes. Pulling back, he looked down, his hand touching her breast. She looked too, watching him rub his thumb over her nipple, which was hard enough to show through the shirt. Her legs started to tremble and she rethought the carrying thing.
As if he knew what she was thinking, the corner of his mouth twitched, then he took her hand and nearly ran the rest of the way up the stairs.
Laughing, she held on and kept up.
Elita stopped in the doorway. “Wow. And I thought that other room was big.”
“Most of the bedrooms up here are big, all but two. But I don’t wanna talk about the house now.” He tugged her toward the queen bed taking up part of one wall. It was covered in a dark red, billowy comforter, the sheets underneath white. He turned her toward him, reached for the hem of her T-shirt. Instead of pulling it off, he only lifted it enough to touch her skin. He ran his fin
gers over her stomach. “Your hip feels okay? That table hit you pretty hard.”
She nodded, then sucked in a deep breath, licked her lips again and pulled the shirt off herself.
“Damn,” Pryor murmured. “Elita.”
She’d worn one of her prettiest yellow lace bras, one that made her plump breasts push up high together. Warmth spread through her as Pryor stared and ran his fingers over the tops, then underneath the material to stroke over her nipple. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She felt that way under the heat of his intense stare.
He groaned her name before kissing her. He tasted so good, smelled so fantastic, and she wanted his naked body against hers so badly she reached for the snap on his shorts. He helped her remove them in between breaks for more kisses. Long, deep, drugging kisses that brought the trembling back. Elita let go of him long enough to remove the rest of her clothes and she crawled onto his bed and held out her hand.
He stood, gaze roving her body as his breath picked up.
She looked at him too. At the smooth muscles, tanned skin, the colorful tattoos…his long, corded legs. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered.
“That word doesn’t even come close to describing you.” He climbed onto the bed and hovered over her on his knees and hands before lowering his body next to hers.
She had to close her eyes and just take in the feel of all that sleek skin against her. They flew back open when he stroked his thumb over her nipple again. Though she used to wish for a thinner body, she’d always thought her breasts were kind of pretty. If the look on his face was anything to go by, he thought so too. He ran his hand down her side, over her hip.
“Damn, Elita,” he murmured as he came down to slant his mouth over hers. She opened her mouth wide, stroked her tongue over his. His breath hitched, then he moved his kisses to her jaw and down her neck. He made his way to her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth.
Elita grabbed his head and arched her back off the bed. He nuzzled her breasts, gently rubbed his stubble over them and she cried out. It was like a trigger. Their movements grew more frantic. Hands caressing, mouths touching skin everywhere they could reach. He rolled on top of her, slid one thigh between her legs and pressed.
She hooked her leg around his hip and he released another of those sexy, hoarse groans. He opened his mouth over her neck. She dug her nails into his back and couldn’t keep herself from rocking her hips. He was hard. She rocked a bit faster. He ground against her.
“Condom,” he bit out. “I need one. Don’t want to go that far.”
“The quicker you get it, the quicker you can get inside me.”
He rolled off her so fast, she almost laughed. But she couldn’t at that moment because the masculine line of his back drew her. She followed, running her hands over the lean muscles, the taut curves of his ass.
Pryor opened the drawer in his nightstand, pulled off a condom and looked over his shoulder at her as he ripped it open with his teeth. She held out her hand and he turned over, handing the condom to her.
He let go with one of his hands, reached down and slid it between her legs. She opened for him, moaning into his mouth when sure fingers touched her intimately. His fingers were hot and she was so ready for him, she rolled onto her back.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered, ghosting his lips over her collarbone. “I like it.”
He’d better because she couldn’t seem to stop. It felt like so much—the two of them in this bed. Like this fire would consume her, consume them both, until they lay like the ash in the room downstairs.
But she didn’t want to stop. No, she wanted to inhale him. She ran her free hand over his shoulder, loving the hard muscles of his chest as she moved both her hands down, down.
He made a hoarse sound in the back of his throat when she slid her fingers over his hard length. Soft, silky skin over pulsing heat. His gaze snapped to hers as she rolled the condom down him. She brushed her lips across his, over and over until he slid his hands into her hair and pulled her tongue into his mouth to suck on it.
She opened her legs, moving her thigh against his and he groaned and rolled on top of her, then pushed slowly inside her.
Elita wrapped her legs around his back, dug her fingers into his shoulders and lifted her hips to meet him. Heat prickled the surface of her skin, made her breath catch and her eyes rolled back as she pulled away from his mouth to suck in air. He buried his mouth in her neck, hot breath against her skin. He opened his mouth, sucking on her skin hard. She cried out and tightened her legs around him.
Pryor was muttering something, his hot breath searing her skin. French and Cajun words she didn’t even try to follow or understand. She picked up some of them—motier foux and knew he murmured about being crazy for her as he came up to her mouth again. He whispered bouche and delicieux before he took her mouth in a kiss that had her seeing stars.
His deep voice whispering words she barely understood, his hot mouth taking her over like he had to kiss her to breathe, his hard body moving inside her…all of it overwhelmed her until every muscle went taut.
“Oui,” he muttered, his hips moving faster and harder. He slid his hands under her butt and fitted her even closer to his body, rocking against her steadily.
Her eyes flew open, her gaze locking to his, right before her mouth fell open in a cry that felt torn from her lungs. She clutched Pryor to her, not stopping the movements of their lower bodies together, feeling the clenching muscles in his waist as she gripped him hard. Waves of pleasure washed over.
His hoarse cry of release sent his hot breath over her neck again and she shuddered.
He laid on her, heavy and welcome, kissing her throat, her shoulder, before stretching up to kiss her mouth. When he pulled back, his golden brown eyes glittered down at her. “I can’t get enough of your mouth.”
Elita instantly thought of a lot of things she could do to his body with her mouth and heat filled her cheeks.
His grin, that lovely, overly sexy grin of his sent wicked heat zinging through her body—one that should be sated at this point. Unfortunately, she had the feeling she would never get enough of Pryor Bernaux.
Normally, sex wiped him out—especially good sex. But Pryor lay staring at the dance of shadows on the ceiling as he replayed the events of the evening. Good sex didn’t come close to describing what he’d just experienced. He felt alive in a way that was so new, everything felt fresh, exciting. He’d always enjoyed sex, but he understood right then, as he stared at the same ceiling he had looked at his entire life, that what he had just done with Elita was making love. Sex, making love…fucking…it had been everything. He’d never felt the urge to crawl into another person’s skin, to breath the air she let out of her lungs, to taste every inch of her entire body.
And damn, she felt incredible draped over him. She’d felt that way next to him and most definitely under him. He stroked the skin of her side from her plump breast down her waist to her curved hip. He wasn’t sure he’d ever touched softer skin. He turned his nose into her hair. She’d used some fruity shampoo and there was still a faint smell of burned herbs and summer rain, but something underneath was all her and it called to him on an elemental level that made him want to find a way to keep her.
And he couldn’t.
He couldn’t have her in his life. Not without hurting his brothers, possibly having sons who would go through the absolute hell he and his brothers went through.
But he’d never felt that sort of intensity, this desire, with anyone. He wanted her here. In his bed. In his life. He wanted to see her face across his table and wanted to hear every detail of her day. Wanted to see her looking down at their child.
His gut clenched. Hard. Even thinking about it hurt because he was wired for family, for children, and he could never do that to a child. Never have a son knowing what he’d go through even though the need for a family raged inside him at all times.
She is yours.
&nbs
p; He wanted to rant and rail at the whisper that came from the walls. This was crazy. Completely insane. He’d just met the woman and none of this made any sort of rational sense.
Yet he couldn’t stop his mind from picturing a different life than the one he’d always expected. A lonely life with an early death.
He put his lips on Elita’s forehead and tightened his arm around her when she sighed and snuggled all those soft curves against him. He wanted her in his life so much. But he didn’t want her hurt and being with him would cause her pain. So very, very much pain. He’d have to let her go.
But until then, he’d enjoy every moment he had with her and hope that the memories would be enough to sustain him the rest of his life. He turned his head, buried his nose in her hair and wished for things he could never have.
Chapter Eight
It sounded like a family of egrets had moved into the trees behind Pryor’s bedroom. Their husky, rumbling conversation made Elita wake with a gasp. She started to lift up, realized she was sprawled on top of Pryor and stared down at him until his eyes slitted open. He greeted her with a sleepy smile, tightened his arm around her and gently pushed her face back into his neck.
His lips on her temple made her close her eyes. Damn, he felt good underneath her, his skin silky and hot, his heart beating against her right breast. He smelled even better. She took a deep breath, loving the way he rubbed his chin in her hair. She lifted enough to meet his gaze, slid her leg between his. The fuzzy hair on his legs felt so good on her skin. She watched as desire rolled over his expression along with the rising sun from through the blinds across the room.
Pryor slid his hands into her hair, cupped the back of her head and pulled her mouth to his. Apparently, he didn’t give a crap about either her morning breath or his because his tongue slipped into her mouth. He kissed her deeply like he was trying to memorize her taste, and she let go of any worries and just sank into the feelings his kiss invoked. She kissed him back just as thoroughly, feeling her lower body go warm and wet as she took in the different aspects of Pryor that stormed her senses. His hot skin against hers, the light rasp of hair on his chest against her breasts…the way he grew hard against the apex of her thighs. When she pulled away, she kept their gazes locked as she opened her legs more, rubbed against the hard muscle of his thigh. She couldn’t stop the moan that tore from her throat.
The Brothers Bernaux [01] Raisonne Curse Page 10