Alex wrapped a hand around her wrist, stopping her from applying pressure. “Wait.”
She scowled at him. “Why?”
He didn’t say anything, but when she looked at his side, she saw. Alex lay perfectly still, but the wound moved.. A small bump quivered beneath his raw flesh, coming closer and closer to the surface. What was it? Nausea churned her stomach and her hands started shaking. Was she going to pass out before she could help him? Alex’s hand slid from her wrist.
“Oh my God.” And it was a prayer, probably the most eloquent one she could produce at the moment, considering how the nausea triggered the gag reflex at the back of her throat. Elizabeth looked to Alex, trying to focus through the tears gathering in her eyes, but his eyes were closed again.
Whatever it was in the wound appeared at the edges, small and black. Elizabeth wiped more blood away to see it better. Hard. Metallic. It was the bullet. Every episode of CSI she’d ever watched told her so, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of it emerging, without aid, from inside someone she cared for. Right as she watched. How the hell?
“Take it,” Alex gasped.
Elizabeth glanced at his face, then back to the bullet. She spread the wound with one hand and tried to grasp the slippery bullet with her fingernails. She hadn’t run across tweezers in her hurried examination of his bathroom. Blood ran hot over her hands and tears fell from her eyes. “I’m not trained for this, Alex.”
“You’re doing good, honey. Just hang in there. It’ll be okay.”
He was the one shot, yet he could console her? The bullet slipped from her grasp again, and she choked on her tears. It was sticking out by millimeters now.
“It’s almost out, Alex. Almost.” She tried to grab the bullet, using the edges of the towel as a grip against the slippery metal, refusing to worry about threads being in the wound. The whole towel would be pressed to it soon anyway. And then she’d have to worry about stitching him up. Did bachelors have sewing kits? How could she give him stitches without one? Hysteria welled faster than her tears.
“Its okay, Elizabeth,” Alex said as the bullet came free.
Her hands were so sticky she could barely maneuver them. She hurriedly wiped them on an end of the towel, but froze as a soft blue light emerged from within Alex’s wound. Her jaw dropped and she could only stare, inhaling raggedly. The blood slowed to a lazy stream, then barely a trickle and she could tell the flesh was knitting together behind it. Clearly, she didn’t need to give him stitches. He didn’t need a hospital.
Her terror was for naught. Her fear, her anxiety. All because Alex had a secret he hadn’t managed to share. Gritting her teeth, she unscrewed the rubbing alcohol and dumped it over his wound just before it closed completely.
Alex bowed his back off the bed. “Holy shit, Elizabeth!”
Sniffing, she capped the bottle and rose to her feet. His wound was only a pink scar now. “At least it won’t get infected.”
“Infected?”
She angled her chin stubbornly.
“You did that for pure freakin’ meanness!”
“Like it would have been so hard just to say, ‘Don’t worry about my bullet, Elizabeth. As soon as it’s out, I’ll be fine.’ ” She gestured toward herself. “I have been freaking out over here, worried sick.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
Elizabeth wrapped her shaky arms around her torso and strode toward the bathroom, holding in her tears, anger, and relief. It was all she could do not to explode. “If I had a gun, I’d shoot you again.”
“Elizabeth—”
She slammed the door and locked herself in, then leaned against the wall and stared at her blood-covered self in the mirror.
“They look cozy.”
Draven’s sudden appearance on Alex’s shadowed balcony forced Silas back into the wrought-iron railing. “There’s a reason airplanes have control towers.”
“I am not as big as an airplane.”
“No, but if you push me off this, you’re going to fly,” Silas threatened.
Draven snorted, obviously unimpressed. “Mary Beth is stable. One visit from the bitch goddess and all Alex’s work was undone.”
Silas sighed. “She’s getting busy, then, attacking from multiple fronts. Alex was shot tonight.”
“She was there?”
“I don’t know for sure. I was with the children and arrived as he healed.”
“Elizabeth must have freaked.”
“She did.” Silas gestured through the window to Alex’s bedroom. Alex stood by the door Elizabeth had just slammed between them.
“How are the children?”
“They’re fine. Shelly is sleeping. I’ve tried to convince her to remove the earrings all day, but she’s good at ignoring me.”
“She trusts Geoffrey enough to fall asleep?” Draven queried doubtfully, not surprised someone could ignore Silas. In fact, it was one of Draven’s favorite things to do.
“Geoffrey would accept no less.”
“If Maeve has already visited Mary Beth and Alex, then that leaves the kids, Dreux, and Kalyss, right?”
“And Felicia. But Dreux and Kalyss are safe. The shields for the emerald obscure both the dojo and the apartment above it.”
Draven nodded. “You find Felicia. Whisper in her ear to come home. I’ll go to the kids, convince Shelly to remove the earrings. Maeve can’t have that link to the children.”
Silas grabbed Draven’s arm. “Check in before morning. Sooner if you see Maeve.”
The cowled head bent to look at Silas’s hand and said sarcastically, “Yes, Daddy.”
Silas shuddered and released his grip.
Draven disappeared, leaving only a husky chuckle drifting in the wind.
As the clear stream rushed over her arms, turned rusty, and circled down the drain, Elizabeth knew Alex’s blood was actually there. It was soaked into her skin, under her fingernails, and had definitely ruined her silk shirt.
Shrugging off the blouse, she dropped it into the sink, plugged it, and let it fill with cold water. Last thing they needed was for a bloody shirt to be found in the garbage. Searching under the sink, she found some tile cleaner with bleach and scrubbed it into the shirt. The silk bled and bleached white in spots, but the blood came out for the most part. Whatever was left on it would be ruined by the bleach.
Elizabeth stared at her reflection. Almost two in the morning and she stood in nice, normal, boy-next-door’s bathroom wearing jeans, a black lace bra, and blood on her face. So much for knowing him. She officially knew nothing about Alexander Foster, except that he could heal himself, even from a bullet.
And that he’d selflessly stepped into the middle of a potentially deadly drunken brawl to save a stranger. Just as he’d selflessly come to her house every day for the past week. He was patient and gentle with the kids. And he’d accepted her strange gifts. Not only that, but he’d forgiven her for the way she’d endangered him with their dreams.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. Forgiving him for having secrets was a non-issue. She couldn’t blame him for not exposing his gifts before she had. She’d been searching for reasons to push him away. He would have seen his ability as a definite reason for her to shove.
She sighed. There was too much information for a single day to hold. No, she wasn’t angry. But she still shook, deep past her muscles and into her bones. Fear was loosening its grip, but it had clamped so tight she shivered as it left. She could barely breathe between the cramps in her chest as she tried to hold herself together. The vision of his headstone wouldn’t leave her. He was love.
She blinked back more tears. “Two in the freaking morning is too late for this.”
A soft rap sounded on the door. Too exhausted to care about modesty, she flipped the lock and waited. The handle turned and the door swung slowly open. Alex’s jeans clung stiff and damp from thigh to hip to a trim waist and defined stomach, his chest was lightly sprinkled with hair and marke
d with streaks of dried blood as if he’d tried to wipe it off. His long hair had come untied and now framed his face, neck, and collarbone—the perfect dark backdrop to his glittering hazel eyes.
She took in Alex’s cautious expression and the grim set of his clenched jaw. “Still mad?”
She bit her lip as her eyes filled with yet more tears. She shook her head. No. Anger was not the emotion she battled.
Alex released a sigh and the stiffness flowed out of his posture. In one fluid motion, his arms snaked around her and pulled her against his warmth. Sliding one palm under her hair to her nape, he whispered. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
Elizabeth rubbed her cheek against his chest, the hairs rough against her skin. Embracing him in return, she held him tight, pressed together from cheek to thighs, but it still wasn’t enough. She wanted to crawl inside him, feel him on every inch of her. For so long she’d held them separate, first by distance, then by sheer willpower. But that was gone now, drained away by the sure knowledge that Alex might still earn that grave her father had shown her. This might be their last chance to experience everything she’d denied them.
Sliding one hand up Alex’s torso, to curve behind his neck and tangle in his hair, Elizabeth locked her gaze with his. Clearly, succinctly, she demanded, “Closer.”
Alex swallowed against the lump in his throat, not daring to speak. He’d held his body under such tight control, he was afraid to relax. Alex met her gaze, praying he understood what she meant. Then the button below his navel unsnapped as she loosened his jeans—until he jerked and swelled against her hand, his reaction automatic and uncontrollable.
“Elizabeth?” Her eyes were dark and determined. Her front teeth trapped the full center of her bottom lip for a second, then she licked it, softening and wetting the plump flesh. If he was dreaming again, he just didn’t care. To hell with questions. Alex dipped his head and captured her mouth with his as he unclasped her bra. Even in dreams, they weren’t going to make love covered in his blood.
Elizabeth sneaked her hands beneath the sides of his jeans and pushed them down his hips and thighs. He returned the favor. Alex knelt as he lowered her jeans, kissing her breasts, then her soft stomach. It was a dream, a fantasy he’d lived a million times or more, but it still felt new. There was extra electricity zapping over his skin as he smoothed his hands down her thighs and over her calves.
Making short work of her boots and socks, then his, Alex rose before her. Hugging her to his chest, he picked her up and backed her to the shower, pressing her into the cold tile. Elizabeth gasped and arched into him. Reaching back, he fumbled with the knob and turned the water on. Freezing cold, the spray pelted him. He jerked. Elizabeth shrieked and shrank before Alex, letting him block her.
Alex laughed, loud and triumphant. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Elizabeth glared at him, peeking up as the water warmed. “Are you insane?”
“Nope.” He grinned charmingly and kissed her cheek. “I’m not dreaming, either.”
“Oh.” She smiled and looked away, reaching for the body wash. Squirting some in her hand, she closed her eyes, inhaled deep, and smiled. When her eyes opened again, they shone that amazing blue that had stolen his heart twelve years ago. “No wonder you always smell so good.”
Alex grinned and reached for the bottle. Squirting a bunch on one hand, he dipped a finger in and brushed at the blood on her cheek, keeping his touch gentle, still amazed this was real. Elizabeth didn’t share his hesitance, though. Rubbing the soap on both her hands, she caressed his chest and side. Alex shivered, loving the way her delicate hands brushed through his chest hair, her fingers gliding in appreciation of the body he’d managed to sculpt.
Bodybuilding wasn’t his thing, but he was vain enough to want to look good. Elizabeth seemed to agree he’d made a good choice. The air warmed, and a clean, rain-fresh scent filled the shower.
Finishing her face, Alex soaped both hands and reached for her. But he moved slowly, caressing her delicate neck, relaxing the tension that had built in her shoulders from the moment she’d realized he’d been shot. Stroking, caressing, knowing the warm flesh beneath his grasp was real. His dream, his fantasy, standing in his shower, her head tilting back against the wall, her eyes closing as he soaped and molded her taut breasts. She arched her back as he moved down, soaping her stomach and her hips.
Alex leaned forward and kissed her stomach, nuzzling the soft skin as he soaped down her thighs, to her calves and feet. He reached between her legs and dipped his fingers into every fold, crack, and crevice, feeling her arch and swell around him.
Alex nuzzled against her torso, giving his hands free rein as she widened her stance, then braced one foot on the side of the tub, allowing him more and more access.
Alex opened his eyes to the most perfectly formed breast. He couldn’t wait to taste it.
He tested the texture with his tongue, around and around, then sucked the sensitive peak into his mouth. Sliding Elizabeth up the wall until her legs wrapped around his waist, he took the tip of her breast into his mouth again and groaned. She shuddered and rocked against his stomach, shimmying and moaning.
“Alex.”
Her hair. He didn’t want to forget her hair. Releasing her breast, Alex grabbed the bottle and squirted a small puddle of shampoo into his palm. As he massaged it into her scalp, Elizabeth leaned forward, her head on his shoulder and her thighs squeezing his waist. Tilting her head, Alex took her lips again, massaged her scalp and ground against her, meeting each thrust until they were both moaning.
Conditioner. He grabbed for the bottle, struggling to give her the same sensual enjoyment she’d given him. It was likely abbreviated in comparison, though. By the time he’d wrapped a couple of towels around them both and left the bathroom, he was hard, straining and impatient.
Shoving the bloody blankets to the floor, Alex pulled a pillow to the middle of the bed and laid her down with her hips propped up and angled toward him. He wanted in, he wanted deep, and he was through waiting. Sliding his fingers over her moist labia, Alex leaned forward and kissed her. “I’ve waited forever for this.”
Elizabeth tangled both hands in his wet hair and corrected him. “We’ve both been waiting. I promise it was mutual.”
“Everything?” Alex paused, but when she held her legs open, his pause didn’t last long.
He thrust, gliding through silken hot tissue. He growled, forcing himself deeper. Elizabeth panted encouragement in his ear, her fingers digging into his scalp, her heels pressing his flanks until he bottomed out inside her.
Alex held her, keeping them tightly fused and straining for more as he struggled for breath. “Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth rippled around him and cried out, strain in her voice, “You are so much better than plastic!”
Alex’s eyes nearly crossed. He’d have to pull out, despite every cell in his body screaming a protest. “I forgot a condom.”
She squeezed her legs around him. “That’s fine. I really doubt you have any diseases.”
Alex buried his face against her neck and gasped, “Pregnancy.”
Elizabeth giggled and her body tightened around him. Alex moaned helplessly.
“Implants. Checked like clockwork. Damned things better work the first time I put them to use.” She laughed again and it was the best, most freeing feeling ever.
Alex pushed up for leverage, stared straight into her eyes and pulled out. Disappointment passed over her features milliseconds before he thrust back in, hard and deep. “Elizabeth, I love when you laugh.”
She smiled and he kissed her, his hips moving, finding a rhythm to please them both. “I love to see you smile.”
Her sighs brushed his ear, sending small shocks down his spine. He rocked into her, slow and thorough, deep and fast. Then faster, until his blood thundered through his system and his muscles tightened, coiling like a spring. His fingers tensed. His arms and shoulders. His toes and calves. His back and thighs. Ever spir
aling until all sensation focused on his tight balls and shaft.
The harder he grew, the more Elizabeth melted beneath him, opening and giving, accepting everything he had. Alex thrust hard, almost jerking against her. She was his. Elizabeth screamed, her body arching, her hips rising, her inner muscles tightening and pulsing, milking him. Alex rode her through her orgasm, kept it going, until shivers scraped the edge of his skin and he couldn’t hold back.
Sweating, almost aching from the release of tension, Alex rolled, bringing her with him. After that, neither could move. They could only lie, sprawled side by side, legs entwined, as nerves sizzled and danced from the tips of their fingers to the tips of their toes.
“Definitely better than plastic,” Elizabeth panted.
“Don’t like condoms, huh?”
“Not condoms. Toys.”
Alex groaned. “In about twenty minutes, that will get me really hot.”
“Oh no, there’s no way I can survive that again,” she choked.
“What? Never gone twice in a night?”
“Once is usually sufficient.”
“Lazy lovers, lady,” he admonished, a note of humor underlying his voice.
“Not lovers. Toys.”
“Lazy toys?” He frowned, his brain still on meltdown.
She giggled.
“Do that in twenty-one minutes.” Right after he recovered and slid inside her body again.
Elizabeth laughed, then her smile slowly died. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m a control freak, Alex. I haven’t trusted anyone else to fulfill my needs.”
Alex turned his head on his pillow to see her face.
Elizabeth faced him, her expression serious and more than a little vulnerable. “I’ve heard the stories. A girl finds someone she’s attracted to, gets his attention, and sleeps with him. Then she finds out he sucks in bed. Selfish, vain, or just plain inept. There’s not enough chemistry, or nothing but chemistry. The girl gets pregnant, he gets possessive, or she otherwise becomes stuck with that choice. There’s no way I was ever going to sleep around while I looked for a decent lover. Or give some random attraction that much influence over my future. Much better all around to take care of myself, meet my own needs.”
Cursed Page 25