Her heart surged, as if the fiery trail had stoked the flames of her feelings, drawn him closer to her than she had been since Mexico. If only her wish could come true...
Timmy poked at the fire with his stick. “You know what they always say. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Flush him, or fish him out of the john,” Stephanie said. “The worst he can do is say no.”
“He’s on leave of absence right now,” Violet reminded them. Of course, she’d told them when she heard the news a couple of weeks before. “Maybe when he comes back...”
She’d do it. Ask him out. And if he said no, she’d give it up. Move on.
But maybe, just maybe, he’d say yes.
Wet. Cold. Little spots on his face, his bare chest. Tony opened his eyes to darkness, then squeezed them shut as a fat droplet struck one. He’d fallen asleep outside, but he hadn’t counted on rain.
He’d have to go to the cabin. Bad enough the weather had trapped them inside most of the day. The continual effort to keep his hands off Charlotte wound him like a steel spring. Good thing she’d found that deck of cards. If the wet weather continued, they’d wear them out.
Not to mention wear down his resolve not to touch her again. Even though the weather was iffy when dusk fell, he’d decided it was his better risk and had brought his bedroll outside again.
He waited to see if the rain would slack off but instead, it rained harder. Thunder growled in the distance.
A dim light glowed in the cabin’s window. Charlotte must’ve lit the hurricane lamp. With a yawn, he struggled out of his blankets and groped for his glasses until he found them at the base of a tree. A chill wind buffeted him as he stood, and whipped his boxer shorts. He considered running for the car, but with no moon, he’d never be able to find his way up the trail. The rain began in earnest as he gathered up the blankets and ran for the cabin.
Thunder boomed again, nearer. He stepped inside and slammed the door behind him.
Charlotte sat in the bed and sipped at a tin cup. A tendril of smoke drifted up from a cigarette perched in a metal saucer on the floor. The quilt pulled up to her lap didn’t do enough to conceal her silky, white gown or the dark tips of her breasts beneath its lacy trim. Tony averted his eyes.
“I was about to come looking for you,” she said.
He shook the water off his blankets, dropped them, and wiped his glasses on the hem of his boxer shorts. Thunder rattled the teakettle and stockpot on the stove. Charlotte’s hand shook as she placed her cup on the floor and reached for her cigarette.
“Damn, it’s as cold in here as it is outside.” Tony spread his blankets by the opposite wall. Still too close to her.
“We left all the wood outside.” She took a final drag on the cigarette then stubbed it out in the plate.
Tony lay his glasses on the table then sat on the floor, pulling the blankets around him. Maybe he’d be able to sleep if she blew out the lamp. “Is there some reason we need the light?”
She studied her lap, drew her fingers across the blanket stretched over her knees. “It’s just that... I hate thunderstorms. Always have, ever since...” The flood, he realized. “Once in awhile I sleep through them, but usually, I get up and turn on every light in the house.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Silly, isn’t it?”
“Not really. Leave the lamp lit if it makes you feel better.” He lay on the floor, facing away from her. By morning every dark, blurry knot in the wall would be etched into his brain. There was no way he’d be able to sleep with her only a few feet away, in that silky gown.
“Tony? Doesn’t this sort of remind you of... when I was little?”
He felt her eyes on him. “Yeah.” In many ways. The cold, the absolute darkness outside, the drumming of the rain on the roof.
Her uneasiness mirrored that of the child he’d met twenty years earlier. Back then, she’d been scared, and he’d gathered her into his arms, whispered words of comfort. He ached to do the same now.
But this was different. In 1913, he’d wanted to take her home, tuck her into bed, and read her a goodnight story. Now he wanted to join her there, act out some stories of their own.
Unable to stop himself, he rolled over. Bad idea. Instead of masking her tempting curves beneath the silk, his blurred vision softened the glow of the hurricane lamp, and heightened his need to reach out and touch.
“Tony... come here,” she said softly.
Say something. Stay put. But his body obeyed her. He pushed his blankets off, rose and moved toward her. Toward temptation. He stopped at the side of the bed and turned his back to her, even though the evidence of his desire couldn’t have escaped her. “We need to go home tomorrow.” Roughness punctuated his voice.
“We can’t go back yet! Dr. Caruthers will still be in Dayton, searching for us—”
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take. If I’d known how remote this place was, how small... this was a big mistake, coming out here.” He couldn’t let this... this thing between them happen. Not when it was likely the cause of her demise.
“But...” Her eyes grew round, as if she’d surprised herself. “It’s not just you. He’ll come after me too. After all, I helped you...”
“Then I’ll go back to Dayton by myself. I’ll hitch a ride, and you can come back when you think it’s safe—”
“But Dr. Caruthers—”
“Fuck him. If he finds me, he finds me. I’ll force him to kill me before he gets me to the Society House.” He twisted around and allowed himself to look at her, as if he needed another reminder of why he had to leave. “Being here with you... it’s driving me crazy.”
There. The truth was out. As much as he always made it a point not to lie to others, he’d done nothing the past two days but deceive himself.
He thought he could stand up to her temptation. He thought he could control himself.
He was wrong. “I can’t take it anymore.”
Her warm hand circled his wrist, and she pulled him onto the bed. “Then don’t.”
The straw mattress crackled with his weight. Charlotte gripped his wrist tighter and pulled him to her. She wasn’t about to let him go, not now; she wished not ever, but she wouldn’t let herself think about that. His eyes burned dark with desire, so deep she could drown in their blue depths. Her breasts rose and fell in shallow heaves with her short, sharp breaths. “Charlotte...” he whispered.
He moved closer until her face was inches from his. Moistness on his lips gleamed in the lamplight, and the clean scent of rain lingered in his hair.
As if some invisible force had taken control of her body, she leaned nearer, powerless to resist his pull, until her lips met his. Wet, forceful, yet yielding. Softness mingled with the bristle of his day-old beard, sent electricity racing through her. He wrapped his arms around her back, his hands warm through her thin nightgown. His fingers trailed up the nape of her neck and into her hair. She shivered. A soft sigh escaped her lips, then his mouth captured them again, his tongue seeking out hers, entwining, joining.
One of her hands sneaked around his waist. She slid the other up his chest and threaded her fingers through the fine hairs around the L-shaped scar. He stiffened, and she pulled her hand away. “Does it hurt?”
“No. It’s just a little... sensitive.”
She tilted her head. “For someone who’s literally had his heart ripped out, you have more of it than any man I know.” Lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled. She kissed the scar, dragging her lips up and down it in a curious, silken line. His breath caught. Then she brought her face back up to his, and their mouths joined again.
Never taking his lips from hers, he reached up to slip the strap of her gown off her shoulder. She twisted to offer the other shoulder to him. He accepted her invitation and pushed that strap down, too.
He broke their kiss, and she straightened. The lace neckline of her gown drooped to reveal the tops of her breasts.
And her quarter.
She reached for it
, but he picked it up first. “What’s this?”
She wet her lips as he brought the quarter closer to his face and turned it over. “Two thousand- Holy shit! You found this in the attic, didn’t you?”
She lowered her head. Maybe it was only a quarter, but she’d kept it when it belonged to him, like a common thief.
He dropped the quarter, then drew his hand up her neck and brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “I shouldn’t have kept it.” She spoke barely above a whisper. “But I wanted it! Wanted it to remember you by...”
He trailed a finger along the intricate links of the chain. “I’m honored... you put your memory of me on this fancy necklace...” He picked it up again. “It’s beautiful. Though not as much as what’s beneath it.” Her heart soared. Beautiful. Honored. He let go of the quarter, then traced his finger alongside it and down. Slowly. Achingly. A delightful, prickly sensation followed his touch.
The heat in her face fled southward as desire enveloped her. She followed his gaze to the tops of her exposed breasts. Longing for his touch there, she tipped her chin up and closed her eyes. Instead he slid his warm, moist tongue down the side of her neck. She jumped, gasping. Her skin tingled all up and down that side of her body, and the warmth pooling in her loins turned to fire. He kissed the other side of her neck and sent matching shivers down her other side.
She wanted him to kiss her like that all over. Everywhere. It didn’t matter if she never saw him again. Nothing mattered but right now.
He unfastened her nightgown, drew his fingers down her skin between each button, bringing more shivers with every touch, until the fabric fell away to reveal her breasts.
He brought his mouth to hers again, then lightly circled one taut nipple with his finger. She sighed. He thumbed its aching tip, and her sigh became a moan. He traced around her other breast and gently nipped her lower lip, then drew the tip of his tongue down her neck, her chest, and down the slope of her right breast. He kissed its tip, drew it into his mouth, twirled his tongue around it until Charlotte was sure she’d explode. “Tony...” She sucked in a thick breath as he moved to the other side. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, how long I’ve—”
He stopped and lifted his head. The curve of his lips and his sparkling eyes took on a feral cast. “How long?”
“As long as I’ve known what it is to be a woman.”
Tony drew back. “How did you know I’d come back?”
“I didn’t. I just dreamed.” As a little girl, she’d thought she’d marry him, until she grew older and realized it was a foolish fantasy. And then she’d wasted two years of her life with that lout Louie Lambert, only belatedly realizing most of his appeal was his physical resemblance to Tony.
Tony’s smile returned, smaller yet warmer. “I wondered about you, too. How you’d turned out, if you had a happy life.” His eyes caressed her body. “You were a beautiful little girl. But nothing compared to the woman you are now.”
A thrill ran up her insides, and she waited for him to resume his affections. But instead he shifted away and looked somewhere past her. “Charlotte... we can’t do this.”
The bubbles inside her popped, suddenly heavy. “Why?”
“You’re not the kind of woman a guy wants for a one-night stand. You’re a woman a guy would want forever.” He swallowed. “And we don’t have forever.”
A sensation of floating on air rushed through Charlotte. Forever. Then she came crashing down. He was right. What kind of relationship could they have, when he belonged decades in the future?
It didn’t matter. No future, no past. Nothing mattered but this moment. She squared her shoulders and curled her fingers around his wrist. “We have tonight. And probably tomorrow. Maybe longer. I’d rather have a tiny moment of happiness than forever wonder what I missed.” She couldn’t let him leave her in aching need. “Tony... make love to me.”
He choked as he turned away. “There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he said in a raspy voice. “But we still have one problem.” She sensed he was drawing on the last reserves of his willpower. “No protection.”
“Protection?” Her expression drew into one of puzzlement.
He twisted around. “The last thing I want to do is take a chance and leave you... with a child. I won’t do it.”
Her insides relaxed. “Tony... I told you. I can’t have children.” For the first time in her life, the fact didn’t sadden her.
Tony listed away and regarded her from the corner of his eye. “Are you sure?”
She cast him a wan smile then looked down at the quilt, tracing her fingers along a seam. “Quite sure. Unfortunately.” If he belonged in her time, if he didn’t have to go, if it weren’t such an economic impracticality, she’d give anything to have his baby. But it wasn’t possible. “I have... female problems. My sister does, too, she’s been married for fifteen years, no children. And as for myself, well... you know I ran with a racy crowd, and... I’m not exactly innocent.” She thumbed her quarter, trying to gauge his reaction.
He sat without moving. Didn’t he understand what she was saying? She gulped. “There was a fellow in college...”
Tony regarded her silently. Waiting. Listening.
Her fist clenched and unclenched a wad of blanket. “I’m... I’m not... a virgin.” There, she’d said it. Hated telling him, but he had a right to know.
“So?”
She released the blanket. He didn’t care, and it was all right. “Well... I never became pregnant, though we never tried to prevent it. He would have married me if it did happen. But I’m glad it didn’t.” A lump formed in her throat. Would Tony reject her, too?
Tony gathered her into his arms, his hands warm and gentle on her back. “Maybe I’m a selfish ass, but, I’m glad, too.” He swept the quilt off the bed, then leaned in to drop a trail of light, feathery kisses down her neck. His hands trailed down her front to take up where he’d left off with the gown. In seconds, he unbuttoned it the rest of the way, then slid the straps off her arms and tossed the gown onto the floor.
She never wore panties to bed. Both sat still as his gaze traveled over her body. Far from feeling exposed, she felt caressed, cherished, treasured. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
She tried to respond, but nothing came out. Finally, he stood and slipped off his drawers. “So are you,” she managed.
And he was. Maybe not built like a bodybuilder, but perfect for her.
He tumbled back into bed. She lay down as he crawled toward her and positioned himself over her, then braced herself for the burst of pain she was sure would come. It had been a long time since Louie.
But instead, he rolled to the side and trailed a finger down her neck, her chest, over her breasts and down her belly until he reached between her legs. She hadn’t realized how moist she’d grown until he slipped a finger inside, rubbed it in her wetness. Her hips jerked involuntarily. “Oh, my gracious!” What an incredible sensation he made just with his finger. He withdrew it and hovered over her again. She waited for him to complete the act but he surprised her once more. He clutched her hips and rolled over, holding her against him, until she straddled him. Finally he lowered her until she settled onto him. “Ohhhh,” she sighed, and he made a matching groan. It didn’t hurt at all. He slid inside her with surprising ease, despite the fact he was more than adequately endowed.
His hands guided her backward and forward while his hips rocked up and down. “Charlotte...” he breathed. Something inside her swelled. She could float away if he let go. Joy. Pure, unadulterated joy, like nothing she’d ever felt before. She leaned down until her breasts brushed his chest. Her nipples hardened from the sensation of grazing the fine mat of curls there. She reached up and raked her fingers through his soft hair, and their mouths came together again.
They moved together endlessly. This moment could go on forever. She’d never tire of feeling him inside her, of the warm, firm hold of his hands on her hips and roving over her body, or the heady se
nsation of power she felt at his every moan, each gasp, each heavy breath. She didn’t think it could get any better until a tightness built down low, and she clenched around him until all of a sudden her whole body shuddered.
He held her hips firm until her spasms subsided. She brought a hand to her bosom. “Oh my heavens!”
A wide smile drew across his face, then he tensed beneath her.
“What?” she asked.
“Turn over,” he rasped.
She relaxed, her body pressed to his, while he rolled her onto her back, still joined with her.
He raised up on his arms and thrust in and out of her. She lifted her hips to meet him, surprised at how much tighter it was, yet it wasn’t painful, only more intense.
He moved faster and faster until he went rigid, his face tensed, and it was over. He relaxed and leaned down to kiss her, lingering for long seconds, then finally rolled off her.
They lay side by side, their hips touching. He reached for her hand, and twirled his thumb around hers. After his breathing slowed to normal, he rose and retrieved the quilt, then spread it over them, clutching her body to his. She’d almost drifted off to sleep when the lamp sputtered and went out. She listened. Heard only the pitter patter of a light rain and Tony’s breathing.
“Tony?”
“Mm?”
“The storm... it’s over.”
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that another storm—one of fear and danger and running—was just beginning.
Charlotte shivered as she blinked at the sunlight filtering in through the open door, though the cabin wasn’t cold. Whatever it takes...
She’d been dreaming. Theodore. She’d been dreaming of him. She’d been talking with him, in his lushly decorated office at the Society House—of what, she didn’t know, because the dream fled when she woke.
Why had she dreamed about Theodore? She sat up in bed, and the covers slipped down to reveal her naked breasts.
Warmth flooded her as memories of the night before rushed into her mind.
Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) Page 25