His parted lips came slowly for hers, heightening her anticipation.
No swooping in to steal a kiss. This morning, Paxton savored. The touch of his lips barely there, like fluttering butterfly wings, he prodded her upper lip to separate it from her lower, then he teased her lower
with his upper, the two of them sharing breaths. This was taking kissing to a new level, raising the bar on her expectations, and her appreciation and desire, to the point that . . . she could really learn to care for this guy.
After kissing him and reading his fantasies last night, she’d had some pretty erotic dreams—of him in that bed alone, hot . . . of the two of them there together, hotter—and yet her dreams were nothing compared to being in his arms at this moment.
Losing all sense of self, Harmony fell into the kiss with ease, knuckling his rugged back with one hand while sliding the other up his centerfold chest. Sifting through his chest hair, she found a nipple and took to curling the hair around it until it pebbled like her own, while her favorite steel rod got harder, too, as it prodded her ready center.
She got greedy with the kiss. She couldn’t wait a second more, and Paxton groaned and became as ravenous, their tongues mating, the two of them arching to get closer.
Harmony moved her hips to abrade his erection, taking a good deal of satisfaction in their complementing rhythm, but she wanted more, which he surely had to give, because Paxton was hard and thick with plenty of giving power.
He lifted her off her feet, laid her on the bed, and slid over her, taking up where she left off, his purpose clear, to graze her aching center with the treasure in his unsnapped jeans.
Harmony wanted to release, fondle, and torture the standing soldier. She wanted it inside her, until they both came their brains out.
Someone coughed. King stilled.
Harmony looked toward the door.
“Well,” said a scraggly stud muffin voyeur. “I didn’t know the place had gone coed, or I would have come up sooner.”
Harmony expected Paxton to come out of his sexual haze, but he returned to nibbling her mouth. “Go away, Aiden,” he said between nibbles.
“Yeah.” Harmony licked her parted lips. “Bye, Aiden.” She pulled Paxton’s head back down for another kiss, so he had no choice but to cooperate.
The intruder chuckled, and Storm’s kitten followed him out the door.
“I—” King slipped a hand beneath her shirt to place it flat on her midriff. “have—” He kissed the corners of her mouth, “a—”
“Breast in your hand.” Harmony placed his palm over an aching breast, arching so he’d do something amazing with it, which he did, then he lifted her shirt, unhooked her bra . . . and saw her tattoo. He fingered the pale aqua triquetra, symbol of three, in a heart, low on her right breast near her cleavage.
“It’s a Celtic design. Pretty, isn’t it?”
As if captivated by it, Paxton brought his mouth close, closer, and he kissed it. When he was finished adoring her tattoo with his lips, he breathed on her nip, warmed it, and let it cool. “I’m gonna be late for my own meet—” He reared back. “Hey, witch. Am I under a spell?”
Disgust turned Harmony to ice. “The Denialator strikes again!” She shoved him away with so much force, he fell back and hit his head on the footboard.
“Good!” She pulled down her shirt and jumped from the bed. “Meeting,” she said. “Downstairs. Now!”
She went in the bathroom and slammed the door.
Chapter Eighteen
KING went downstairs, determined to get his meeting over with so he could get the castle finished and the witch—the sexy one invading his home, bed, and dreams—out and away from his short-circuiting libido as quickly as possible. Was it only yesterday that he’d climbed the walls, impatient for her arrival?
He was a sick son of a bitch.
He found his antiques restorer and architect in the wide balcony area overlooking construction in the great hall.
“Good morning, you lucky devil, you,” Aiden said, petting the black cat nuzzling his neck.
“Be careful,” King said. “Insanity runs in that cat’s family.”
“Look at you.” Aiden shook his head. “The reliable, un-creased, ultraperfect King Paxton—all creased and wearing what? Yesterday’s clothes? And late for your own meeting.” Aiden slapped him on the back. “I’m proud of you, old boy.”
King stepped from his friend’s mocking congratulations. “I don’t need your patronizing jokes right now.”
“Hey, who better to help shove a stopper in your search for perfection than one of your oldest friends who happens to be one of the most imperfect men on God’s green earth?”
King turned his back on Aiden to greet his more serious friend. “Morgan, good to see you. I’m sure Aiden filled you in on the torrid scene he walked in on upstairs, though he should have been filling you in on the restoration project, which is why we’re here. Did you bring the plans for the altered design?”
Morgan tapped the unrolled architectural drawings on the table.
The devil cat jumped from Aiden’s arms to the plans as the seductive witch strolled in and removed it to join its siblings on the floor. “Paxton,” she said, her screwball cats hopping around her gorgeous legs like popcorn. “Introduce me to your friends.”
“This is a business meeting,” King said, eyeing the tight pink bare-midriff tee that proclaimed, I’ve Upped My Standards. Up Yours.
King fisted his hands, less at the insult than at her shorter-than-short black skirt, with those spikes, whose cross-straps tied halfway up her endless legs.
“Did you two have a lovers’ quarrel?” Aiden asked, rocking on his heels, eyeing them, and catching a cat mid-catapult.
His friend’s comment cut too close to the surface for King’s peace, yet not close enough.
“The lady’s shirt tells me somebody didn’t finish what he started.” Aiden shook his head in a pitying way.
“King, old boy, couldn’t you have loosened up for once and forgotten about work?”
King wanted to clock him.
“Hi, I’m Harmony Cartwright.” The hellcat cut Aiden’s sarcasm by shaking his hand. “I can’t believe Warlock likes you. He’s very picky about his people.”
Aiden picked up the cat to look it in the eye. “Hello there, Warlock. Nice to make your acquaintance.
Are you and your mistress new residents of the asylum?”
“Ramrod, here, hired me.” Harmony elbowed him, and King wanted to elbow her right back. “I’m the witch whisperer in residence,” she added.
“Ramrod,” Aiden said with a bark of laughter. “Good call.”
“Hello,” Morgan said, shaking her hand. “You can’t be a witch whisperer, because witches don’t exist, except in people’s minds.”
“And yet, Paxton’s unreal resident witch shut the hell up when I walked in, or haven’t you noticed?
Ramrod here is keeping me around for the duration. And you are . . . his fraternal twin?”
Morgan stiffened. “I’m sorry. I’m Morgan Jarvis.”
“I’m sorry you’re Morgan Jarvis, too.”
Morgan recovered quickly. “I’m the architect on this job and a paranormal debunker in my spare time.”
“Withering witch balls!” The hellcat said. “Then we should get along just fine.” Harmony and Aiden laughed, and King wanted to take a header off the balcony. He needed a shower and a good night’s sleep, but first, he needed to slake his lust with the witch, if lust this powerful could be slaked.
“I sense that you’re not just business associates,” Harmony told Aiden. “You’re too free with the insults, plus you invaded his . . . suite .”
“Actually,” Aiden said. “King and I went to military school together.”
“No way. Did you get thrown out together, too?”
“Ah, no. King did that by himself. I actually graduated.”
King frowne
d. “By the skin of his teeth.”
“Hmm. If King got thrown out and you finished, how come he’s the straitlaced tight ass, and you’re the scraggly stud muffin? I’d think you’d be the opposite.”
“Oh, I like this one,” Aiden said, hugging her and not letting go, the bastard. “She’s a keeper.”
Harmony raised a brow his way, which made King want to pull her from Aiden’s clutches.
“Morgan, do you and Paxton hail back to college, or something? You’re old friends, too, right?”
“And she’s perceptive as well. ” Aiden slid his hand from her shoulder to her waist, and if it landed on her ass, King was going to—
“Since senior year of high school,” Morgan said. “But I’m curious about your perception, Miss Cartwright. You classified my friends as tight ass and stud muffin, but you didn’t classify me?”
“You defy classification, Mr. Jarvis. What are you hiding?”
Aiden got out of firing range to play with the catapulting kitten squad.
“I assure you, Miss Cartwright, that I—”
“Oh I believe you have a degree in architecture, and some kind of paranormal gripe, but there’s more to you than you’re willing to admit.”
Morgan adjusted his cuffs. “No classification for me, I guess. I’m disappointed.”
“No, you’re not, but if it’s any consolation, the rest of the world doesn’t think what you’re hiding is as bad as you do.”
Caramello flew into Morgan’s arms as if to prove Harmony right. “What is this?” Morgan asked.
“Adopt-a-cat day?”
“You’ve got me,” Harmony said. “They’re not people cats, but they’re all over the three of you.”
“Fine with me,” Morgan said, petting Caramello.
“I do have a description for you, after all,” Harmony said. “Morgan the mystic.”
He frowned. “I can’t be a mystic. I’m a debunker.”
Harmony nodded. “You’re right. I was going for alliteration, but let me clarify. I should have said Morgan the spiritualist.”
Aiden’s head came up, but King thought their serious friend held his own, considering.
Morgan shrugged. “However confused you are, Miss Cartwright, I do feel at peace with your try.”
“Harmony has that effect on people . . . and ghosts,” King said.
“And a keen sense of their flaws, I think.” Aiden ate her up with his look, damn him.
“By the way, Harmony, we always called him Morgan the Miserable,” Aiden said.
“Works for me. Hey, I don’t suppose you two would consider trying to talk Ramrod, here, into keeping the castle?”
Morgan tapped the designs on the table. “Too late. He’s already accepted an offer, and the clock is ticking for him to finish, or he’ll lose it. That’s why we’re here.”
“Watch out, King!” Harmony shouted, throwing herself at him so they both flew and landed on his sore butt, as a ceiling beam swung in and broke through the wall where he’d been standing.
“Son of a sea witch!”
Aiden and Morgan caught the beam to steady it and keep it from swinging back like a pendulum.
Harmony got up and leaned over the railing. “Everybody okay down there?”
“Yeah,” Curt said. “The winch snapped. Everybody okay up there?”
“We’re fine,” she said.
King rose and tried to ignore his throbbing butt.
“I don’t know why,” Morgan said. “But all the accidents in this place happen around you, King.”
“They do?” Harmony asked. “That’s odd . . . or not.”
Aiden touched her arm. “Why isn’t it odd?”
“You won’t want to hear this, but my theory is that Gussie—Ramrod’s witch ancestor who’s haunting the place—doesn’t want the castle to leave the family.”
That shut his friends up. King gave her a look that he hoped shouted, “Out!” and she got the message. “It was nice meeting you both,” she said. “I’ll leave you to your meeting.” She tried to swipe his briefcase, but King caught her arm, stopped her in her tracks, and crooked his hand for her to give it back. “I need that.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, handing it over. “Well, I’m glad Aiden and Morgan both have a good sense of humor. You should consider growing one in the next two minutes.” She turned to his friends. “You need to know that Ramrod challenged me to try to take the starch out of him. Bye.” She waved. “I’m off to keep the imaginary ghost quiet.”
“Harmony,” Aiden called after her. “Care to have dinner with me sometime?”
King watched the hussy’s gaze flit from his former friend to him and back. “I’d love to,” she said. “Thank you, Aiden.” And with that, she disappeared.
King figured his heart rate had risen because of his near accident, not because Harmony agreed to date Aiden.
“Damn,” King said, “I forgot to thank her for saving my life.” He looked at Aiden. “No matter. I’ll thank her tonight . . . in bed.”
Chapter Nineteen
HARMONY intended to pay Paxton back for leaving her hot, wet, and aching this morning. He might think the great paper clip switch was enough—though she’d yet to hear his thoughts on that—but he had no idea what he was in for.
She’d hung around on the balcony landing long enough this morning to hear his friends’ laughter when Paxton found the paper clips. Who knew he wouldn’t be alone when he did?
At any rate, Paxton had thrown the paper clips away, but Aiden gave him hell and rescued them to keep as a memento. That must have gone over big with Paxton. He’d been jealous from the minute Aiden put his arm around her. She’d enjoyed that. Problem was, she hadn’t seen Paxton all day, and she didn’t really know how he felt about her attempt to unstarch him. Had he been stewing? she wondered as she moved his bedding to the cot beside hers.
Maybe he’d forgive her when he saw where he was sleeping.
Fifteen minutes later, he came upstairs as if nothing was wrong and sat beside her on the bed. “Thank you for saving me from the swinging beam this morning. I might have been seriously hurt. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you right away. I think I was in shock.”
And green with envy, she thought. “You’re welcome. I’m here to keep Gussie in line, after all. I told you I’d protect you.”
He petted Gingertigger. “Don’t start that again.”
“Start what?”
“Cut the innocent act,” he said. “Innocent fits you like lace on a porcupine. Look, I have another meeting here tomorrow morning . . . with my bankers . . . and as much as Aiden and Morgan enjoyed your leggy attention and penis paper clips, don’t introduce yourself to my bankers. And please, Harmony, no penis erasers, pencils, or anything that only you could imagine planting, and no shirt—”
“You want me to go topless for the bankers? Sure. You think it’ll help?”
Paxton took Gingertigger off his shoulder. “No shirt with a suggestive message on it. Great guns, do you joke about everything?”
“Laughing at life’s realities makes them bearable. You should try it sometime. You, McBullseye, have to learn to be spontaneous.”
“After I meet with my bankers, okay? Did you bring anything to wear that doesn’t have a message on it?
A dress maybe?”
“Of course I did.”
“Wear it, damn it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure? I insist. You’ll get a bonus if you wear your dress tomorrow morning.”
“Can’t argue with that. Why don’t you meet with your bankers in the formal parlor? It really shows off what the castle has to offer.”
Paxton scrunched his nose like something smelled bad. “It’s old and dusty.”
“It’s safer than the gallery, where deadly beams are being raised.”
“Good point. I’ll meet with them in the dining room.”
“Ooh, I haven’t seen th
e dining room yet.”
“You will not see it tomorrow morning. Got it?”
“Then why do I have to wear a dress?”
“In case.”
Paxton stood and crossed his arms to grab his shirt at the waist, but Gingertigger returned to his shoulder a nanosecond before he pulled it up. With a howl, her captive cat rolled over Paxton’s head and down his face.
“Ouch! Son of a—” Paxton caught the fighting shirt ball in one arm and touched his cheek with a finger.
“Blood. Great. A scratched face should impress the bankers. Do all witches have kamikaze cats?”
Paxton asked. “Or did you put a spell on yours just for me?”
Gingertigger popped from the neck of his shirt and took a flying leap into her arms. Harmony cuddled her shivering kitten with its paws around her neck. “Poor baby. You’re trembling. Did the nasty man scare you?”
Paxton rolled his eyes, balled his shirt, and tossed it toward the empty cot at the far end of the room.
That’s when he noticed for the first time that the cot on the other side of her bed was made. “Did Gilda do that?”
Harmony continued to nuzzle her kitten. “I did it.”
“You want me to sleep there?”
She glanced up at him. “I’m scared?”
Paxton shook his head. “Not buying it. It’s a new form of torture, like penis paper clips,” he said, shaking his head. “Why? Why in front of my friends?”
“Better than in front of the bankers, right?”
“Right.” He went toward the bathroom.
“Take a shower,” she yelled as he shut the door.
He popped his head out. “Come again?”
“If you play your cards right.”
“A trap,” he said, shutting the door. Behind it, his voice sounded like a mumbled hodgepodge of gripes and grumbling, but the shower did go on.
Harmony changed into her mermaid pajamas—sports bra and capri bottoms—and grabbed her overnight bag of obsession party goodies.
Sex and the Psychic Witch Page 10