Shattered Souls

by Delilah Devlin

  “Manhandling?”

  “He dragged me out of bed and tossed me into a cold shower.”

  His eyebrows rose and hazel eyes sparkled. “Think I’ll head on home. I don’t want to get in the middle of the fireworks.”

  “Think there’ll be some?” she murmured, feeling heat creep across her cheeks.

  “You didn’t see his face when he was walking toward the table.” Jason slid to the end of the bench and stood. Then he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  She jerked back and scowled. “What was that for?”

  “He’s still watching,” he whispered, sauntering past.

  Cait didn’t dare glance behind her to watch the two men’s exchange. She sipped her Coke, wishing it was something stronger, something that would anesthetize her emotions, because she was in deep trouble. No one turned her on like Sam.

  The kiss they’d shared outside the station house had fueled her imagination all day long. Her body had come alive. Even now, her heart thudded against her chest. Her belly tightened, heat ripening her core. Her nipples beaded, poking against the scratchy lace of her bra.

  Get a grip, Cait! Tonight she knew she was destined for disappointment. She would spend hours tossing and turning restlessly because too many thoughts swirled in her head—about Henry and the Farmington girl, about Sam’s reappearance in her life. But mostly, she’d lose sleep because she’d be thinking about sex—with Sam—reliving the old days and wishing for the thousandth time she’d done things differently.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  She jerked and then glanced up at Sam standing beside her. His expression was shuttered, his eyes cold. Had he seen Jason kiss her? Or was he still angry because she hadn’t called earlier to tell him she had a lead?

  Deciding now wasn’t the time to press for an answer, she followed him out of the bar. Rain was beginning to fall, and she scrunched her nose as she peered up into the dark sky. “I can catch the trolley home, you know. I won’t melt.”

  “I’ll drop you off.”

  His tone left no room for argument, so she caved, ungraciously. She grunted and walked ahead of him out onto the street. He’d parked his car close to the entrance. She waited while he hit the automatic unlock before sliding into the passenger seat. The drive to her building, a long row of connected, one-story apartments, was made in silence. She cast wary glances his way, but each time she did, his jaw flexed.

  A sure sign he was angry.

  Well, she wasn’t a mouse. And anger was better than disinterest. When he pulled into the parking lot, she flipped the door latch and climbed out, throwing a casual “G’night” over her shoulder and walking briskly to her door.

  The parking brake grated. A car door slammed behind her.

  She grinned, careful to wipe her face clear of amusement as she unlocked her apartment door. Before she could push it open, a hand reached past her and shoved it wide. Another hand slid around her waist and forced her over the threshold.

  Shrugging away from his hold, she pretended to resist. The door slammed behind her, and before she could face him, his wet body crowded hers against the wall of the foyer, hands gripping her wrists and gliding them upward.

  “Gonna pat me down?” she gasped, wishing those hands were caressing her.

  “Just shut up,” he ground out, pressing close enough she felt his rigid cock grind against her buttocks.

  Anger chasing desire was a heady cocktail. Cait knew all too well that the madder Sam got, the brighter the fireworks. “This is my house,” she bit out, “and I didn’t invite you in.”

  “I’m not a fucking vampire, and you left me a key,” he whispered in her ear. “Invitation enough.”

  So he’d figured that out. “Maybe I just forgot it was there.”

  “You’re a lot of things, but careless isn’t one of ’em.”

  The low, sexy rumble of his voice was doing a number on her, rasping nerve endings, igniting her arousal like kerosene poured onto smoldering coals. “Whatcha gonna do, Detective Pierce?” she asked, letting him hear the breathless excitement in her voice.

  “Not what I should, that’s for sure,” he growled.

  The whispered regret stung.

  Stiffening, she muttered, “I’ll make it easy for you to do the right thing. I want you to go.”

  “Liar.” His hand slid between her waist and the wall, then skimmed upward to cup her breast. He squeezed, shaping its fullness with his broad palm.

  Another hand glided between her legs, and fingers strummed over her clothed sex.

  Cait bit her lip, trying to hold back a moan. But her body betrayed her in a very obvious way.

  “You’re wet, O’Connell,” Sam drawled beside her ear.

  “So, it’s been awhile. Coulda happened with anybody.”

  “Sorry I’m not Jason?” he whispered, pinching her nipple.

  The sensual torture earned a throaty groan. Then she remembered he’d asked something. “Jason?”

  “You been playing with a partner again?”

  If she’d had an ounce of pride left, she would have said yes. Just to prick him. He was already getting pretty sure of himself by the way he crowded closer, his hips grinding against her backside. “We’re just friends,” she gasped, then rocked her hips side to side to rub against his cock.

  He nuzzled into the corner of her shoulder, and she tilted her head, encouraging him to slide warm lips along her skin.

  “You planning on staying the night, Pierce?”

  His teeth gently bit her earlobe. “Only if you beg me.”

  “Beg!” she snorted. “I don’t have to beg for it. I get hit on all the time.”

  “Wrong answer,” he growled.

  The button at the top of her slacks popped. Her zipper scraped down. A hand slid over her belly, and a single, thick digit slipped between her slick folds. Sam circled on her clit and then pinched it and circled again, stoking her arousal.

  Cait’s entire body quaked. Sweet Jesus, she wasn’t gonna last a minute. When fingers twisted her nipple, the intense pleasure arched her back. Another second and he’d have her climbing the wall. “Uncle, already.”

  “What’s that, sweetheart?” Fingers glided down, tucking inside her entrance and then thrusting in maddening little strokes.

  “God, you’re an asshole.”

  “Just making sure you really want me here.”

  A soft, ragged sob escaped her lips, and Cait surrendered, slumping against him. “Please, Sam. Please finish it, now.”

  He pulled away his hands and gripped her hips. Taking one step back, he turned her. Standing face-to-face and supported by his strength, Cait lifted her face.

  His taut, hungry look took away her breath. The half-lidded gaze blazed midnight blue; his stare was unrelenting.

  “It’s just sex,” she blurted, needing to pull back a little emotionally.

  “Agreed.” His stare flitted to her lips.

  Cait wet them with the tip of her tongue. “Doesn’t mean we’re together again.”

  “That will never happen.”

  His expression, tight, intense, told her he meant it. Part of her wanted to howl with disappointment. The other part was revved and ready to take anything she could get.

  “Fuck buddies it is.” She rose on tiptoe and grasped his collar, pulling him down until his lips rubbed against hers. Cait moaned and stroked her tongue into his mouth, greedy for a taste.

  Sam pushed his tongue against hers, forcing it back, and followed, rimming her teeth and then stroking deep while his lips suctioned and rubbed.

  She thrust her hands into his short-cropped hair and lost herself.

  His breath was minty, like he’d popped a Tic Tac before he’d followed her to the door. She smiled against his mouth. This seduction was premeditated. No way could he claim she’d driven him to break.

  Sam ended the kiss, then spun her by the hips and shoved her toward her bedroom.

  “You still haven’t learned the joys of fo
replay,” she muttered. Secretly she was thrilled. Cait rolled her hips as she strode toward her bedroom. She unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it over her shoulder. The rustle of clothing behind her told her he was making quick work of his own clothes, so she kept going until she was nude and crawling onto the mattress.

  She still hadn’t glanced back, wanting to be horizontal when she took her first good look because her legs felt rubbery already. She lay against the sheets, closing her legs, one thigh angling over the other because suddenly she felt a little shy about giving him a glimpse of her sex.

  Cait, however, took her fill of Sam, her gaze raking every inch of his body. Time apart had dulled the memory of his masculine perfection. But now every detail seared her mind.

  The dim light from the hallway defined Sam’s rugged body with a shadowy underscoring of rippling muscle. Wide shoulders, a tapered waist, thickly muscled arms and thighs…her gaze snagged on his cock, which thrust upward, rigid and pulsing.

  Moisture spilled from deep inside her pussy to moisten folds thickening with arousal.

  Sam took a step toward the bed, then halted. “Are you still on the pill?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  Her mouth had gone dry. She nodded.

  “Been sleeping with anyone else?”

  She snorted. “None of your damn business.”

  On a harsh rasp, his chest rose swiftly, his lips crimping in irritation. “Cait, do I need to wear a condom?”

  Her pride deflated like a punctured balloon. “No. Do I need you to wear one?”

  Sam’s square jaw flexed, and he set a knee into the mattress.

  Cait had her answer and shouldn’t have been so damn happy about it. Nor did she have any doubts he’d told her the truth. At least with sex, they’d always been completely honest. So neither of them had been in a hurry to find another partner. Maybe they still had too many raw wounds to risk their hearts again.

  Sam crawled over her, nothing except his thick cock touching her skin. It glided over her mound and then rested against her belly, heavy and warm.

  Cait slowly parted her legs, scraping beneath hairy thighs, until she lay open beneath him.

  He came down on his elbows and cupped her cheeks.

  Then he bent to give her a slow kiss that melted the tension she hadn’t known rode her body. Her lips parted, and she surrendered herself, giving him the lead as she always had because, when it came to sex, Cait yielded everything, body and soul.

  Sam groaned and lifted his mouth away. His hips rose as he dragged his cock down her belly and pushed it between her legs, prodding her sex. When he found her moist entrance, he paused. “Wider,” he rasped.

  Instantly, she obeyed, lifting her knees and letting them splay open as far as was comfortable. Her hips tilted, cupping upward, angling her pussy for the prime angle, the one that would force the ridge around the head of his cock to stroke her magic spot.

  Her whole body quivered with anticipation as he circled his hips and began to screw slowly inside her. Air hissed between her clenched teeth. God, she’d forgotten how big he was.

  “You OK?” he asked, his voice thick.

  “Ego need a little stroking?”

  His mouth curved, and he pushed deeper. Then his head sank. Forehead to forehead, he groaned again. “Goddamn, you’re wet. And so fucking tight.”

  Sam rarely cursed, except when she got under his skin. Cait tilted back her head and kissed him hard. “Don’t go easy on my account.”

  Like a greyhound leaping out of the starting gate at the crack of a pistol, Sam thrust deep, pushing the air from her lungs in a harsh gasp.

  Cait didn’t care. She clutched his shoulders, her fingers digging deep. She bounced her hips off the mattress, her movements opposing his, until their bodies slammed noisily together.

  Sam began the rapid-fire pistoning that never failed to get her off. His strokes powered into her, rough and targeted—aimed straight at her core.

  Unbidden, tears filled her eyes. She savored every moment—the taste and scent of his clean sweat, the tensile strength of his hard, muscled frame, the thrusts that churned her juices like silky butter as he rammed past her rippling walls.

  Sam filled her up in more ways than the obvious. How could she let him walk away again?

  His body tightened like heat-tempered steel, and he heaved himself up on his arms. His biceps flexed, and Cait couldn’t resist gliding her hands over the sweat-slick muscle. She glanced down between their bodies to watch him power into her. The sight of his cock gliding quickly in and out fed the tension ripening in her body. At last, she dug her head into the pillow and arched her body, grinding her pelvis into his, rubbing her clit against the crisp hairs surrounding the base of his slick shaft.

  Abruptly, he pulled out, leaving her on the edge. Still needy, she cried out.

  Sam didn’t give her time to rail at him; he flipped her over and lifted her ass into the air.

  Before she had a chance to get her arms beneath her, he was stroking inside her again, pounding against her bottom. Grateful he’d arrested her orgasm, she delighted in the heat and tender violence he delivered.

  But Sam never missed a trick, never let her rise toward heaven on a steady glide path. He reached around her and thrust his hands between her legs. Fingers exposed her clit and rubbed in wet circles on the sensitive knot until she bucked wildly against him.

  When she came, only then did he clutch her hips and deliver the final salvo. She gave a muffled scream, and her torso collapsed toward the bed, her breasts rubbing on the cool sheets, as he thrust in an uneven rhythm. At last, he jerked against her, his labored groans the sweetest sounds she’d heard in a long, long time.

  Spent, he collapsed on top of her, blanketing her back with his cock still lodged deep inside her. “’M not moving,” he slurred tiredly.

  Cait snickered softly and wiggled her ass.

  Sam blew out a deep breath; his arms snuggled close to her sides.

  Completely surrounded by him and happier than she had a right to be, Cait drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Sam awoke to the sound of Cait’s soft whimpers, something he’d heard often during their marriage. Cait had always deflected his questions, leaving him wondering to this day about the cause. She’d been tight-lipped about a lot of things.

  Sam came up on an elbow and shook her gently. “Cait, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  Her breath hitched and her legs scissored. When she settled again, her ass was thrust deep into the cradle of his hips. A thready moan broke the silence.

  He bent and glided his lips across her shoulder. “What were you dreaming about?” he asked softly.

  Cait lay still, her body slowly stiffening. Just when he thought she wouldn’t answer, she rolled to face him and placed a hand on his chest.

  Her gaze stayed lowered, watching her fingers stroke his chest. “I was dreaming about the day I found my mother’s body.”

  His chest tightened. Sam closed a hand around her fingers and lay back, keeping his expression casual while everything inside him grew quiet, waiting. “You never told me how she died.”

  Her fingers plucked at the chest hair beneath her hand, but he didn’t think she was even aware of what she did. He didn’t prod her for more, waiting to see if at last she’d open the door on her past just a crack and let him in.

  “She poisoned herself. With a potion she meant to give to me. She tried it on herself first.”

  Sam’s jaw tightened. “What was her intent?”

  “To kill our affections for Morin.”

  Sam’s breath caught. “How old were you?”

  “Seventeen,” she said, with a derisive half smile. “I figured out what she’d done later. She wrote everything in her book. But I guess it worked. Morin didn’t even bother his ass to come to her funeral. That pretty well killed my crush on him.”

  “You hadn’t seen him again until today?”

  “I went once. To give him back hi
s key. Always blamed him. But Mama was just as guilty.” She sighed. “And so was I. I knew she loved him. She was always going to see him to ‘study’ and get help with her incantations. Guess she finally figured out we slept together.”

  Sam’s breaths evened out. He’d already guessed they’d had an intimate relationship. The looks Morin had given her, as though stripping her with his gaze, had told him some of the story.

  Suppressing a sudden flare of jealous anger, he slid an arm beneath her and pulled her closer until her cheek rested against his chest. “I’m sorry, Cait. That was a lot of guilt for a kid to carry around.”

  She grunted, but snuggled deeper against his chest. “Celeste took me in after Mama died. I stayed with her until I finished the academy. And then we drifted apart. I wanted to be free from the magic. Wanted to be in the real world. There’s monsters enough here—and at least I can see them.”

  Her hand rubbed up and down his belly in a lazy motion. His body reacted predictably, his cock filling, pulsing insistently against her.

  She pulled away and made a face. “Hold that thought.” With a quick smile, she rolled out of the bed and headed to the kitchen.

  He yawned and closed his eyes.

  “What the hell!”

  Sam winced, coming back to awareness again in an instant. She must have discovered that he’d emptied her cabinets of all liquor.

  Stomping sounded from the kitchen all the way back to the bedroom. The overhead light switched on. “Pouring my scotch down the drain wasn’t enough? You had to go through my things, too?” She shook her fist at him.

  Sam blinked, his gaze narrowing on the scrap of red material she clutched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen that before.”

  “You didn’t go through my closet?” She opened her fingers, her brows lowering. “This was in a shoebox in the back.”

  “I didn’t think to look for liquor there.”

  Her anger retreated, and the rosy color in her cheeks fled. Her arm dropped. “Forget I mentioned it. Must have forgotten getting it out.”

  “What is it anyway?” he asked, scraping a hand over his bristly face.