“Yes?” He kissed my nose.
Just kiss him. Wrap up, take the shirt off, be with him. It would be so easy, feel so good. It wouldn’t require explanations or apologies, self-doubt or failure.
Or should I tell him? Could he help? Wade might not have worked with spirits but he’d had some education on the matter.
“Wade…” Again.
He licked my lips. He pushed my T-shirt up my stomach. I arched my back so he could push it up still more.
His body burned, pressing along mine as he inched down. We should come up for air, didn’t have to lie with our knees bent and bodies curved together and heads covered as if we were nestled in against the cold. At least there would be moonlight above sheet-level. I could hang my green caterpillar over the bed under some pretext.
The heat of his mouth finding my nipple made me catch my breath.
Go ahead and tell him. It would be easier to tell him in the dark without eye contact. I wasn’t sure I could admit the truth otherwise.
I helped him to pull my shirt off, breaking the surface of sheet, into less dark darkness.
He pushed the covers down more as he dropped the shirt aside and leaned over me. Nerves tingled with his tongue and lips, then teeth, as he sucked my nipples. I pressed both hands through his hair, eyes shut, breathing through my mouth. It seemed responsible to tell him. He was part of this now.
He moved back, looking at me.
I touched his chest, tried again. “Wade?”
“You’re beautiful,” he repeated. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so. Not to be shallow…”
“Go ahead.” I had no illusions about my looks. A pretty face on a praying mantis body, looking more mature with glasses instead of contacts, but screw those—contacts all day and every day, or rather night, while I had houses to clean.
He grinned. “Then … I love your hair. I loved how you jumped right in at The Silk Door, how the yellow carnation and scarlet hair were fire together. Maybe it’s a sixth sense? Like attracts like? As casters, we notice things other people don’t, right? Even if it’s just a feeling.”
Well, God, there wasn’t going to be another opening that good. He’d handed me that one with his kisses.
Breathe and open my eyes and, “I should tell you something. So … I…” Stop for a long kiss.
When had he pulled off his underwear? I shivered as his erection touched my skin.
What sort of stupid time was this to fess up about something totally unrelated? Something that would have no impact on anything until the next night at the earliest?
I sat up, quilt falling back, focused on him and not the dark, close contact, not being alone. His fingers and lips and tongue, legs and chest against mine, the heat of his breath and saliva on my skin, all worthy of attention. He felt along the waistband and I moved up on a knee to let him pull away my underwear. Both naked, we held even tighter. Each kiss was more demanding, more urgent.
My pulse drummed in my ears while my mind leapt ahead. Me on top, or him? Just let him lead, see what he did, see how it felt—how he made me feel.
Boyfriend experiences hadn’t been stellar highlights of my past. A jock in high school who preferred his face to mine. Later, a controller who was making demands of the wrong woman, only briefly able to mistake me for someone he could own. I’d regretted giving my virginity to Marcus, only later able to admit to myself it had been about peer pressure. Every other girl in twelfth grade had wanted him. He’d wanted me. And I hadn’t particularly liked every other girl.
I’d never tried a pretty boy mage who blows things up and seems basically to be a nice guy.
“What is it?” Wade asked of my breasts.
“What?”
“You wanted to tell me something?”
“It doesn’t matter. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow. It’s four in the morning.”
“We can talk about it later.”
“Ripley? We were meant to be, don’t you think? We were given a second chance when you placed that ad.” Kissing across my breasts.
“Sure.”
“I’m so glad you did.”
“Yeah…”
I managed to kiss his lips, holding for a long time, throttling anymore sap.
He grabbed at the bedside table—his gathered treasures. Tearing something with quick motions, pressing tighter against me. I felt at his hands and finally realized he’d gone to fetch a condom from his car.
I pushed him back, following until I was partly on top of him. It was tough to see even outlines in the bedroom, but he watched, panting, while I felt along his dick, then rolled the sheath down taut skin. He pushed up a little to meet me, mostly keeping still, fingers gliding over my hair and down my shoulder.
“I love you,” he said dreamily.
I laughed. “Sure you do. Usually they wait until the end—about two minutes after this point—to say that.”
He also laughed. “Very funny.”
“What?”
“Two minutes? Come on.” Still grinning at me in the dark. “Don’t be so pessimistic.”
I pulled back to lie on my side and he faced me, kissing my cheeks, rocking his hips against me. “Three minutes? Don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
He pulled back to look at me, trying to meet my eyes. “You’re serious?”
“About what?”
“Uh… Have you done this before?”
“Had sex?” Like, a few hours ago? “Sure I have.”
“And some guy left you with a bad impression?”
“Few guys…” I tried to shrug on my side.
“Guys who wouldn’t tell you they loved you until they got off, and who went for a record each time?”
“A record? I guess.” I was getting confused, not to mention pulled from the moment.
Did it matter? Marcus had been full of himself and Dillon had been a jerk, but I’d kicked them to the curb and here we were. I’d been on a few dates with what seemed to be nice guys, but, well… My dad had been a nice guy. Nice guys were so … old-fashioned.
“Forget it,” I told Wade, who was totally not grinning anymore, sounding distinctly annoyed. “It doesn’t matter. Show me what you’ve got if you think you’re so special.”
“I don’t. I think you’ve been keeping shitty company.”
“Comes to the same thing.”
He kissed me, hard, shoving me back, pushing up on an elbow and leaning weight into me. My lips dug into my own teeth.
“Not anymore.” He spoke into my mouth. “If any of the other guys give you a hard time or … you know … push you about anything, I’ve got your back. I’ll watch out for you. I promise.” More unsolicited promises. And a weird offer to boot. I was sure he was afraid of the werewolves. Since they were afraid of magic maybe all fair in love and war. Still, he was making me uncomfortable.
“Thanks,” I said. “But I don’t need a guardian.”
“Even from yourself? If those are the sorts of guys you’ve been going for?”
I’d have been better able to defend the fact that I had no such relationship or interest in the shifters if not for his having been present for Gideon’s efforts to ravage me in the bedroom by the window instead of carrying out our escape. And my eagerness for him to go through with it. God, I was glad Wade didn’t know about Vel.
“Even from myself,” I said firmly. “My choices, not yours.”
“I don’t mean it like that. It’s not my business who you see or what you do. Unless you’d be willing to make it my business.”
“Maybe we’ll work up to that.”
A breath of a laugh. “Okay. I’m being presumptuous.”
“Most guys wouldn’t notice.”
“Most guys you’d be around, don’t you mean?”
“No, I mean ‘most guys,’ but whatever.”
He kissed me. “You say that a lot for someone who deeply cares about things. You’re so passionate and then you say ‘whatever’ to pret
end you’re not. You don’t have to. I love passionate.”
That was what Vel had called me. Which was why it made me squirm now.
Wade held my mouth and I followed up, hands on his face, giving myself a reason not to answer since I had no idea what to say other than being defensive. Which would involve what? That I wasn’t passionate? That I didn’t say whatever?
When the kiss broke, I said instead, “If you’re so smart show me something better.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
33
Wade kissed down my body, temples to breasts, across my belly, reaching farther with his hands while his sheathed erection rubbed along my skin.
I returned his kisses, feeling over all of him I could reach, exploring with fingers instead of tongue while he moved across me. Wet and hungry for him, I would have taken him ten minutes ago, but Wade continued fondling, making me squirm and sweat on my side, then below him as he pushed me back.
He shifted his long, lean weight on me then. So pale, his skin contrived to appear snowy in the dark room as the sheet fell away and we were fully exposed to one another in a tinge of silver light through the window.
I lifted my knees to meet his hips. Wade, who returned repeatedly to my breasts, licked and suckled at my nipples as if they were covered in honey. One, then the other, while I shuddered and couldn’t breathe properly.
I arched my back, spreading my knees, raising my hips to meet him while his dick only prodded between my legs. Still, he sucked my right nipple, taking it painfully into his mouth with firm pressure and a hunger that left me giddy, startled by him.
He was right there—thin latex wet where he rubbed me, the head of his dick practically feeling into me. He moaned softly with the pleasure of fondling my breast, then turned his attention to the left.
My breaths were ragged. I lifted up more to meet him, at the same time reaching between my legs to grab him. Wade released my nipple in a gasp. I drew him to me, fitting us together, letting out a breath as I pulled the slick head into me.
As though he’d been waiting for me to point the way all along, Wade pushed forward as fast as Vel had. With a moan, he filled me, his balls slapping my skin, and kept himself there. It seemed he’d sealed us together—a lid coming down on a full jar.
Meaningless sounds left my throat. I grabbed his waist in both hands, holding him close. Wade thrust his tongue into my mouth, probing in there as well. Then, slowly, he rocked his hips. A rhythmic, rolling motion, sideways or up and down, sending shockwaves through my system like tongues of flame.
I wanted to tell him to fuck me, beg him for more, yet I wanted this also, just like this, holding onto this pleasure and oneness for the rest of the morning, the day, forever twisted up with him.
Wade withdrew his tongue from my lips to kiss across my face while I pressed back into the pillow, chin tipped up. Mouth wide and eyes shut, I gasped against the force of him, the way he seemed to reach through me, stroking my spine and tingling to the soles of my feet.
Wade made a sound like someone savoring a divine dessert and pulled back, finally drawing partly out of me after several seasons with us sealed together. Slowly, slowly easing up, leaving an inch or two inside, then a quick thrust that buried him while I cried out. The bed creaked, swaying, Wade gasped and kissed me and held on tighter.
Over and over he nearly broke us apart, then, just when I was afraid of losing him, he thrust, rocking the bed, making me groan or gasp as I took him.
After some time and changes, he stayed pressed close again, his dick straining inside me, his breaths ragged while we kissed and I shivered, clutching him, ready to burst on feelings so intense I could think of nothing but this exact moment with him and our two bodies—a shocking blessing.
At long last, he lifted more of his weight off me and gradually rocked his hips in what started out light. Over the course of another minute he built up to regular deep, fast thrusts, rocking the creaking bed, making the headboard tap the wall, me moaning under him, while his short breaths grew even shorter, hardly there, like a dotted line blurring to one.
“Wade! Oh, God, oh!” I grabbed his hair, arching against him, throwing back my head and crying out. I’d never, never, never had an orgasm like that, holding on, almost making me sob while he kept thrusting, carrying me on.
He didn’t say he loved me. He just said my name and thrust until he was holding in, pushing as hard as he could, slight out, then push again and hold, reaching for the last trace of his own pleasure.
I felt dizzy, the bed spinning below me, while tiny white lights popped through my eyes like the ones from a sudden rush of dizziness after something benign like standing up too fast. Only this was one of the least benign things to ever happened to me.
I still clutched Wade as I choked for breath and he kept holding onto me, crushing me. Kissing me again—soft, wet, post-orgasm kisses dragging across my skin like the sheen of sweat he was licking away.
“I love you, Ripley,” he said, not a whisper, but a normal, if breathless voice. And, angels and demons, I believed him.
“I love you too,” I panted, far more stunned by the words than anything else that had happened all night.
34
I could tell the moment I even began to wake up, that I was screwed when it came to making good use of a full day for picking through my parents’ notes or practicing rituals. Rumbling of the old AC, heat of the room, blast of sunlight that had been dimmed somehow.
I rubbed my eyes and squinted, momentarily confused as to where I was. Had I ended up in a different room last night? My parents’ bed? Wade had been there. Actually, everyone had been. Most had cleared out. They weren’t scaring the cats too bad, were they? Everyone gone now, including Wade. Someone had clothes-pinned a bath towel onto the curtain rod.
So bright. So midday feeling. It must be…
I grabbed my phone, still groggy, and swore. Almost 11:00 a.m. I’d stayed up late before. Plenty of times. Been a night owl since I was a kid. But I usually woke up while the songbirds were still out.
I sighed, flopped back, but no—had to move.
“Hi, Mouse,” I mumbled as I sat up.
The multi-colored ball of fur on the foot of the bed lifted its head. It was not a calico cat.
I jumped, gasped, and pulled the sheet to my chin. “What are you doing back in here?”
The fox blinked at me, then yawned, exposing four rows of shocking teeth in that sharp little muzzle. He squeaked like a rubber toy being stepped on as he yawned, then stretched out his forepaws, splaying the toes and digging into the quilt for maximum stretch from claws to shoulders.
“Your arm healed?” I eased back, glancing around for my T-shirt, wondering if I could get up without being naked in front of him. “They don’t know you’re in here, do they?”
The door was shut. No sound beyond—not even a yowling Pickles, who usually did yowl if any door was shut anywhere because he desperately had to know what was happening on the other side. Yet it seemed there had been a noise. Something that had woken me. Were they even still here? Any or all? Maybe it was the door shutting. Even if they had been hanging about, they’d probably gone into town for lunch. I’d been living on cold cereal and peanut butter sandwiches for a while, with the odd beer or pint of Häagen-Dazs butter pecan. Until last night. Peaches, Devil Wings, sharp blue cheese, crunchy celery, fruity Tropicália that suddenly tasted of bliss—not just something to drink or take the edge off, but so, so good.
A real shower and spend more than five minutes on the day’s wardrobe and makeup. Eat something. Look after myself and not just the cats. Answer emails from my only concerned family members in distant states. Talk to the three guys who had been there for me last night and maybe even admit what was going on with me. All of this suddenly seemed like real things to think about, concern myself with, and do. Life was knocking on my window with that sunlight through a pale lavender bath towel. All this after so much time focused on death in one form or ano
ther.
The fox rolled onto his back, paws in the air, apparently rubbing an itch on the quilt.
While he wasn’t staring at me, I checked over the side of the bed. No shirt. Was it here on the—no, there it was. Folded neatly on the other bedside table. A purple index card of the sort that my mom had all over the place for notes and shopping lists and reminders lay on top of it.
I pulled on glasses before looking at it. On the unlined side was written a W, then a doodle of a heart, then R. The heart had cat ears and whiskers.
I’d never thought of myself as a sentimental person. Yes, I’d always loved animals and we’d always had pets. But I found them fascinating and enjoyed watching wildlife. I respected them. I didn’t hold with things like Halloween costumes on cats or birthday parties for dogs. I hadn’t even come close to crying over Old Yeller. I mean, the dog had rabies. It was terrible it happened, but they made the right choice. Just the way the world worked.
Which is all merely an example of something I take pride in: my own practicality. Silly little drawings or love notes weren’t my style. Pushing forward, respecting the food chain, kicking butt and taking names if necessary—there’s a style I can get behind.
So I have no idea why I smiled at that little card like a cheerleader at a valentine from her team-captain boyfriend. I noticed because the smile tugged my mouth, pushed at my glasses, made my whole face feel odd.
Thinking of last night made my skin heat. Thinking of Wade made my breaths quicken. Oh, dear Lord, really? We’d just met. Sort of. Almost two weeks ago. That’s what it felt like. Solid two weeks getting to know you.
I pulled on the T-shirt, dropping the card on the quilt, and straightened my glasses.
The fox was eyeing my smile, beady eyes fixed on me.
“You better get out of here,” I told him, looking around but deciding the panties must be somewhere down in the bed. “I’m going to shower and I’d hate for you to get torn limb from limb in my absence. Well … at least I’d feel bad about it.”
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