by Billi Jean
“A blender? No, but I can go get one…” He looked doubtful but before she could say anything, he stepped around her and smelt the sauce. “Smells great. What else do you need?”
She gazed up at him, a bit shocked by the change in attitude. He seemed more relaxed, almost eager to help. Last she’d seen him, he’d been eager to leave. But he’d also been sporting wood like a baseball player…and now he wasn’t.
Of course. He had someone. No wonder he couldn’t stay here. She was such a dork. Complete idiot. A nice meal, him, her, alone…what had she been thinking?
“Uh, I don’t need the blender, and you don’t have to stay, I mean, you probably have someone to get home to?”
She turned and hoped he didn’t hear the question in her voice. The sauce looked good, but it needed that last step of blending with a bit of the cream, then it’d be to die for, but she suddenly wasn’t hungry.
“You kicking me out?”
She turned and saw his big grin. The brat. She shrugged, playing it cool. “I’m sure you have places to go, people, you know, to see.”
His grin grew and she got the feeling he was enjoying himself immensely. His aura practically snapped with something. Happiness? Excitement?
He reached out and brushed a wisp of hair off her face. His knuckles brushed along her cheek before he dropped his hand and folded his big arms over his broad chest. She really tried not to note how his muscles flexed when he did that.
“I got no one, no plans, not a thing besides that for dinner.” He jerked his chin at the stove and winked.
Mmm, so no one, huh? She turned from him to the stove and paid close attention to the sauce, too nervous to look at him.
He didn’t move, but she sensed he was watching her, almost as if he were trying to put her at ease. He waited less than a minute before suddenly saying, “I’m starved. Nearly. I think we need some bread, and maybe a salad. I’ll be right back.”
She peeked over her shoulder in time to see him lift his gaze from checking out her butt. The thrill that gave her really shouldn’t have made her all wobbly inside. “Ah, we don’t need, I mean you don’t have to bother—”
“Looks like I was wrong. You can cook. So are you. It’s not a bother. Believe me, I’d kill for less than a beautiful woman making me dinner.”
Okay, that was…hot.
“I’ll get the blender, maybe some wine? A salad, bread.” He looked like he was making a grocery list in his head.
“Uh, sure, whatever sounds good.”
He tilted his head and closed the space between them, taking her hand to rub her knuckles and whoa, she felt that all the way to her toes and other much more interesting places.
“Did you nap?”
She nodded because, yeah, her throat suddenly felt too tight. He had seen her naked. Ah, man, why did I have to remember that now? He eased closer, until the heat from his powerful frame seeped into her. Breathing became difficult.
“Good. You need to take it easy for a bit, Beauty. Let me go get some stuff, I’ll be back in ten.” He stepped away but didn’t let go of her hand. His gaze swept her up and down and she fought the urge to squirm. The clothes he’d left were warm and comfortable yoga pants and a cropped yoga tank that left her shoulders and abdomen bare. He’d not left her panties or a bra. His eyes lightened from a burnished grey into a blue-silver. He raised his eyebrows in appreciation and he shook his head.
“Damn, I like how those clothes fit.” His grin grew. “I sound pretty Neanderthal, huh?”
She choked on a laugh and smiled. “Maybe, but a lady never points out stuff like that.”
He laughed, a pure, deep sound of pleasant surprise that she instantly liked and wanted to hear again. “I’ll remember that. Do you want me to pick up something else, too, if you’d like—”
She shook her head and he cut himself off mid-suggestion. She couldn’t let him buy her all this—clothes, food—“No, no, don’t. I can’t have you spending money on me like that, I mean—”
He tossed his bangs off his head and interrupted her with a grin. “Listen, I have more money than Donald Trump. You remember him?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I just hope you’re not a jerk like he is.”
Torque shot her another amused look then laughed long and low. “I’m many things, but a jerk? Haven’t been called one.”
The ‘yet’ he left off was like some unspoken challenge. She frowned at him, suddenly unsure of what he was trying to say. Torque was a bad boy to the core, she could tell, but a jerk? She hoped not because he seemed to have changed since he’d returned. He seemed almost like he was excited to be here, with her. Before he’d been hot with lust—lust she caused—but hadn’t done a thing about it. Now? She felt like a deer suddenly caught in the crosshairs of a hunter’s scope. She wasn’t sure how that idea made idea made her feel. Scared. Nervous. Excited. All of the above?
“I’ll be back in a few.”
He dropped her hand, made her knees weak with another killer grin, and turned to stalk out of the kitchen. She leaned against the counter for support and watched him. His leather trench coat made him look bigger than ever, almost giant-size. She knew parts of him were, too. How on earth could a man grow an erection like that? Maybe he was part bull?
She giggled and cupped a hand over her mouth, shocked at her own thoughts. Her face flamed bright. What would it be like to feel a man like Torque make love to her? Would he be slow and tender, the way he’d rubbed her back earlier, or would he be aggressive and hard, making her scream out orgasm after orgasm?
* * * *
Torque pushed his plate away and eased back in his seat. The meal was fantastic, the sauce so good he wanted to lick the plate but settled for imagining licking the woman across from him instead.
She’d surprised him again. Instead of staying quiet throughout the meal, she’d asked him questions, carrying on an intelligent conversation like he’d not had in…hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d relaxed over a meal with anyone. He’d never sat across from a woman and simply enjoyed her company. He strategised with some of the most powerful witches in the world, worked with other women who held their own in the battle against the Death Stalkers, but he never felt like he wanted to simply enjoy someone’s company, merely sit, and let the lust build while he savoured the companionship of a beautiful woman.
Beauty sat across from him with her golden head tilted to the side and played with her hair, lingering over her wine while she studied him with interest. He’d not missed the blush when he’d come back and frightened her, nor when he’d blatantly showed his interest. She’d appeared rocked a bit by his strategic move towards sharing more with her than this house. But she’d not shied away from him when he’d pulled her closer. She’d softened against him trustingly. He’d scented arousal on her and something warm and tingly shot through his body at her reaction. It wasn’t lust exactly, that was there, but something lighter, warmer, almost tender filled him. She’d been hesitant, no doubt worried over her attraction, but hell, he liked that she grew aroused, even when she tried to hide it.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You,” he answered truthfully.
Her green eyes widened. A soft smile curved her mouth and her blonde eyebrows quirked upward. He settled back in his chair, simply enjoying watching the expressions flow over her beautiful face.
“I see. And what about me?”
Ah, tricky. If he told her how much he’d wanted to shove everything off the table and eat from between her slim thighs, what would she think? Maybe a bit slower. He picked up his wine and sipped it, stalling to gather his brain cells back where they belonged. She simply watched him, seeming at peace with merely enjoying his company. The thought did odd things to his stomach. He licked his lips and his dick throbbed at the way her bright eyes followed the path of his tongue. She bit down on her pink bottom lip and those sizzling green eyes jumped to meet his gaze.
“I was thinking that fo
r a woman who didn’t know who she was, and can’t remember jackshit about—”
She made a face at his language and shook her head slightly.
He laughed. What could he say? He practically lived on curses.
“—herself, she seemed to be doing rather well.”
“Rather well. I sense you think I’m weak. I’m not.” She sounded defensive and he noticed her small hand fisted next to her plate. He’d offended her earlier. He could see that now. Of course he’d offended her. She had fought. She’d been like a pissed-off Amazon telling him she was fighting the Death Stalkers.
“I don’t think you weak.” Not exactly. He still believed she was vulnerable and confused right now. She knew no one, had no one and in the world he lived in—she lived in—that was dangerous. He was a loner, but most magical beings formed ties that bound them to others. Those bonds allowed them protections of a sort. She had none. At least not that she knew of at this point. She had no idea the dangerous situation she was in, especially sitting across from him, he grumbled silently. He did plan on seducing her, after all, then leaving her.
A cold sweat broke out on his brow at the dark thought. I am? What the hell else can I do? I want her at a level that scares the hell out of me and excites me beyond measure. Maybe I can simply keep her here, safe, and—
He cut off the crazy thought before he finished it. She would never be one of those women he sought out to feed his magic. And she couldn’t be his, either. He would never put his heart out to another again. The pain at losing what you loved was too great. He couldn’t endure that again. But he could create memories for them both. Memories to fill her life for a time.
She sipped her wine, still regarding him with that half-amused half-serious look. “Well, I’m not exactly sure you’re being one hundred per cent truthful.” She shrugged a slender shoulder and trailed her fingers over the rim of her wine glass, creating a soft sound against the rim.
Oh, he wasn’t being one hundred per cent honest, but not about what she referred to. How could he be? He didn’t know what the hell he was doing. But she wanted the truth, so he would give it to her. Maybe that would help her see her situation a little better.
“All right. Look, you’re barely over an attack, with no memory, and you have no one but me. I don’t know how I’d do in your position.”
She exhaled and tipped her pink lips upward in a faint smile. “Yeah, no doubt your big bad self would be out knocking some heads to get some information.”
He laughed again. “Yeah, probably.” He liked how she called him on his shit. No one did that. No one probably dared.
“Huh. Well, what good would that do? I mean, I could go back to where you found me and start asking questions—”
Instantly he cut her off. “No way, that would be dangerous. The Midway is in chaos right now and—”
She held up a hand palm outward and laughed. “Okay, okay, I have a brain. I do know how to use it.”
He laughed. What else was there to do? She said that so snappily he could tell she was only partially teasing him. Had he offended her worse than he thought?
“So, anyway, Mr Know-it-All, I was going to say—before you interrupted me—” She paused and gave him a ‘duh’ look that made him cough out a laugh. Damn, she was hot. “That going back where you found me might not be the way to go. But I do need to do something. I mean, you’ve done so much already, but I am a fighter, you know?”
He frowned. How did she know that? “How do you know that?”
“I don’t know, I just do, is all. It’s hard to explain, but I can’t deny when I think of the Death Stalkers, I know that I’ve always fought against their dark curse.”
She glanced down at the table and fisted her small hand again. He reached out before he thought better of it, and cupped his hand over hers. She gave him a surprised look, but didn’t pull away. He saw the confusion on her face, more at her own thoughts, he hoped, than at his touching her. The thought of her fighting again gave his heart a painful leap. He had been unable to focus with her battling so near him. So easily she could have been ripped from him. Did she know that? How fragile life truly was?
Her skin was so soft he wondered what he’d do when she touched him. If she touched you, douchebag. If.
“Look, it won’t help to go out there trying to find a fight until your memories surface. It’s not even been a day. Maybe they simply need time. Maybe they’ll come to you.” The need to soothe her, remove the misery from her green eyes was foreign to him, but it was there, pounding at his frontal lobe almost as insistently as the hard-on throbbing under his jeans.
He pushed back from the table, and not letting go of her hand, pulled her up with him. She stood willingly, merely giving him a small smile for his manhandling her if the twinkle in her gorgeous eyes meant anything. “Let’s go relax. Dinner was the best thing I’ve had in way too long, but you need to rest and the living room has some nice couches.” Nice, big enough for two couches that he intended to put to some good use.
She hesitated, slanting a curious look up at him, and he had the feeling she’d just interpreted that comfy couch excuse like a truth seer spotted a white lie.
“What about the dishes?”
He ignored her question and guided her down the hallway to the open living room. They made it halfway inside the room before Beauty ground to a halt. One glance at her face and that damned warmth in his chest spread. She liked books. Her face glowed with pleasure as she stood there eyeing the shelves like he’d led her into a room full of buried treasure. She dropped his hand and walked in a daze to the nearest shelf, tenderly tracing her fingers over the spine of a leather-bound volume bigger than her head.
Watching her, he settled against the back of the nearest couch and crossed his ankles. He squinted down at his boots. He could still see her though. The grey yoga pants and white top fit her perfectly, highlighting her lean lines and rounded, firm ass like a glove he wanted to wear. She amazed him. Nearly twenty-four hours before, she’d stood like some fairy princess dragged through the mud on a tabletop, pissed and ready to wage war on giants. Now all soft curves and warm woman, she threw him for a loop. He wanted those small fingers trailing down his stomach, finally circling his dick with feather light touches.
Just the thought had him nearly groaning. He bit it back and the image. She was amazing. Much more than the toys he used for sex. Those women wanted one thing—sex with him. Beauty was light years away from what he got out of quick, hard fucking. She’d just woken without her memories, yet made him the best meal he’d ever eaten. She’d talked to him about things he’d not thought of in years—the beauty of the mountain sunset outside the lodge’s windows and the snow falling like stardust on the landscape—all the while making him hot as hell as she devoured her plate of pasta, salad, and soft bread with little sounds of appreciation.
Hell, he’d loved every single bite of the meal. Add to it her sitting across from him, watching him like he was the centre of her existence and he’d been on the edge of tugging her over, pulling those yoga pants off and devouring her for dessert.
But she wasn’t like his usual women—the toys—he had stashed all over the world. The travel hub here connected him to almost any city he wanted. He’d made sure of it. Within seconds, he could be with one of the women who would drop whatever they were doing simply to have sex with him. He wasn’t boasting, and the knowledge made him sick inside, dead in a way he’d not understood until looking into Beauty’s eyes.
He had no idea how to proceed. He wanted her on a level that shouted to him, a warning he knew he’d ignore. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before. She did things to him, inside him that made him uneasy, yet excited. Warmth settled over him simply being near her, as if he’d not realised until being near her, and seeing her soft smile of welcome, how alone he’d been all his life. He didn’t just want to fuck her though. He wanted—
She turned and grinned at him and his thoughts stuttered to one primitiv
e thought. Her. He wanted her.
“This is amazing. Can I read?”
He chuckled and the sound was so foreign but felt so right he shook his head. “I don’t know, can you?”
She laughed and flipped the pages of the book she held open. “‘The first sign of a disturbance was when’…yep. I can.” Sounding happy as a cat with a bowl of cream, she hugged the book on the beginnings of the Death Stalkers to her chest, swept past him and sank down gracefully on the large couch, tucking one small foot under her, and smiled up at him. She opened the book like she was all set for the evening.
I guess that decides how to go, he thought without a trace of resentment that he’d not be deep in her sweet, soft core. He paused halfway to picking up an old text he’d been meaning to study and analysed his response. He was almost, hell, not almost, he felt satisfied, more than pleased to settle down next to her and share her space. His erection was a full mass, but it didn’t shove him into frantic action, instead it simply added a pulsing anticipation to being close to her.
He swallowed past a dry throat and picked up his book, settling nervously next to her. She smiled but didn’t look up. Instead, she did this little scoot so they were even closer and leaned into him while she turned a page. She shivered and snuggled closer, humming something under her breath, and slowly relaxed against his warmth.
Instincts flared, but not the fight or flight rush of adrenaline. This was more possessive, more animalistic, than the mundane response to danger. This was a response to her, he realised. Her need for closeness or maybe her slight chill. Holy hell. What’s happening to me?
“Mmm, do you think there’s any wine left?”
The question sounded so normal, murmured without looking up, but with a soft caress of her hand on his thigh, he felt that odd tug in his chest again. Protectiveness, that was what he was feeling.
Instead of answering, he set his book aside and reached over to tip her head up from her study. Her brow furrowed as she blinked up at him. Colour blossomed across her high cheekbones. He didn’t think, he simply dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. She froze, then sighed softly and slid her hand along his forearm and up his arm to his hair. She left a sizzle of heat where her palm smoothed over him. She tilted her head to the side. He took the offer and deepened the kiss, slowly turning the erotic play into a more powerful possession.