Touch and Go

by Michelle Rowen

  But no. Patrick had told her he’d hand her off to another agent since he wasn’t able to deal with being so close to her—wanting to touch her. He was so afraid she’d find out his deep dark secrets with her naturally inquisitive nature.

  He’d been so stupid. Now he didn’t give a damn about his secrets—any of them. All he wanted to do was find her. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. He’d never forgive himself.

  A wave washed over his head and he gasped for breath as he broke through the surface of the water.

  Finally he felt her, his grasping hands closing around her waist.

  “Patrick—” she sputtered. “Are you okay?”

  She was worried that he was okay? “Forget about me. Hang on. Don’t slip away from me.”

  “The boat—”

  “Gone.” A glance through the torrential rain showed that the tiny boat had flipped over and was now sinking.

  The storm hadn’t let up. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse.

  He’d braced himself for the pain that would come from touching her, but surprisingly nothing happened. It was a blessing he wasn’t going to question at the moment. He didn’t think he could handle the mind-crushing pain and swim with her in his arms at the same time.

  “I see something—I think it’s land.” He spit out another mouthful of vile-tasting water. “Just hang on.”

  “I should have learned how to swim.”

  “You’ll take lessons when we get out of this. Promise me.”

  She nodded. “I promise.”

  He fought against the waves, worrying every time one lashed against them that the undertow would drag them down and they wouldn’t come back to the surface. This was the worst storm he’d ever experienced. They were at least a hundred yards from what he assumed was shore, and if he gave it too much thought, he might give into despair.

  With Carrie’s life currently in his hands, he had more to fight for.

  He didn’t know what it was about this situation that kept his touching her from overwhelming him, but he was thankful for it. He couldn’t even empathically sense Carrie’s emotion at the moment, although he could pretty much guess what was going on in her head right now. She was scared.

  He was exhausted when he finally felt solid ground under his feet. His legs, though strong from running and regular exercise, felt like rubber. He didn’t think he could make it another step.

  CARRIE PULLED AT PATRICK, helping him as they staggered onto dry land—although the word dry wasn’t all that accurate at the moment.

  “Are we back at the resort?” he asked wearily.

  “I don’t think so.” She scanned the water-logged view. It was difficult to see anything with the rain coming down so hard. She’d tried to push away her worry that she’d somehow caused this. That seemed an impossibility. How could her passion have brewed up a storm? It didn’t make any sense.

  She felt like she were going crazy just thinking about it.

  But she had caused it. She knew it. She felt it.

  Patrick didn’t look so good. He had a head injury to start, and now he must be exhausted from fighting the water. Maybe he had a concussion.

  She helped him to his feet, pulling at his arm to get him to move quicker. The next moment, a large tree branch whipped past them, nearly knocking them over. The wind and rain bit into her skin and it was nearly impossible to make any headway against it. A crack of lightning struck a palm tree only twenty feet to their left, splitting it in half.

  Somebody screamed. She was pretty sure it was her.

  “Patrick, come on!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him off the beach and along a cobblestone path flanked by heavy tropical foliage. It took a lot of effort to fight the wind, but they had no choice. They had to find shelter. If they stayed outside for much longer, something was going to hit them—be it lightning or windblown debris.

  She didn’t see any sign of human activity—none at all. It was as if she and Patrick were the only people left in the world. She heard another crack of lightning behind them and Patrick’s grip tightened on her hand. She didn’t have time to think about the fact he was touching her. Was he in pain?

  She almost twisted her ankle as they turned a sharp corner, but at the end of the path—with torrents of rain coming off the roof like waterfalls—stood a small house. She made a beeline to it, still holding on to Patrick. Once there, she pounded on the door as hard as she could, but no one answered.

  Patrick exchanged a look with her, and then glanced around. The storm was so loud now she didn’t think she could hear him if he spoke. He didn’t try. Breathing was hard, there was too much water coming down all around them, and the wind roared.

  They had to get in that house.

  He tried the door, but it was locked. No surprise there.

  He pushed her gently to the side and rammed the door with his shoulder. It didn’t budge. His face shadowed with pain as he tried again. He was about to attempt a third time when she grabbed his arm. He looked at her with surprise.

  “Let me try!” she shouted.

  The door was made of solid wood. Patrick was only going to hurt himself if he kept going.

  He studied her for a moment until it was clear he realized what she was doing. “Just concentrate!”

  She nodded, but felt uncertain. If she couldn’t control her telekinesis when she was sitting on a patio next to a clear blue pool on a beautiful sunny day, it was unlikely she’d be able to control it now. But she didn’t have a choice.

  Lightning flashed and she tensed, then pushed her drenched hair to get it off her face and out of her eyes.

  “You can do this!” Patrick urged.

  She felt his belief in her, and their eyes locked for a moment.

  Ever since she’d found out she had this ability, she’d tried to clamp down on it. Whenever it escaped, it did so without her control. Being telekinetic was embarrassing, it was inconvenient and it had screwed up her life.

  Everything was different now whether or not she wanted to believe it. The storm was proof positive that there was no going back.

  For the first time since she’d realized she was telekinetic, she relaxed the part of herself that tried to hold her power back. It sat inside her now in a warm pool and she could feel it begin to spread through the rest of her body.

  Without trying to force anything, she focused on the locked door.

  Nothing happened.

  She exhaled with frustration, nearly ready to give up and search for shelter elsewhere. This was a stupid idea.

  But Patrick grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She knew it would cause him pain to do this, so his sacrifice to give her a little extra strength was enough to make her try harder.

  He believed in her. She had to believe in herself. She used to. Hell, she was filled with self-confidence at one time. The telekinesis didn’t define her. She wasn’t some character out of a horror movie. She was Carrie Stanfield, onetime magazine journalist—award-winning, thank you very much—and now a newbie agent for the Paranormal Assessment and Recovery Agency.

  She could do this.

  This time—drawing on the warmth she felt from Patrick’s tight hold on her, reminding her she wasn’t alone in this—she gently nudged her power instead of waiting for it to simply work on its own.

  Come on, telekinesis, she thought. Let’s be friends.

  She heard a click, then without losing concentration, she pushed a bit with her mind.

  The door swung open.

  She gasped and looked with surprise at Patrick. He was grinning.

  “You did it!” he said, before pulling her unceremoniously over the threshold. Once they were both inside, he let go of her long enough to fight to close the door against the strong winds.

  The noise and wind and rain were shut outside.

  Both panting, and both soaked, they stood there staring at each other.

  “You helped,” she said.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  But he did. Mo
re than he would ever know.

  “We nearly died,” she began, still feeling the fear and shock from only moments ago.

  “Yeah.”

  “But we didn’t.”

  “When I saw you fall over the side of the boat, I thought I’d lost you.”

  The relief in his eyes was replaced by something much more heated. It turned her cold wet skin warmer as his emerald gaze traveled the length of her body. She didn’t have to look down to know her soaked white blouse was completely see-through now and plastered against her breasts, her tight nipples jutting through the thin material of her bra.

  Suddenly embarrassed, she covered herself with her arms. “I’m fine. We’re both fine.”

  “Carrie, don’t…” He pulled her arms away from her chest. “I want to see you.”

  Her cheeks felt very warm. “Why?”

  “Because I—I wasn’t lying before when I said you’re beautiful.”

  She was about to reply to that, although she wasn’t sure how, when she looked down to see his hands encircling her wrist. “You’re touching me.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Isn’t that a problem for you?”

  He frowned deeply. “It should be.”

  “But it’s not?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “Well, either you’re feeling major pain or you’re not.”

  His eyes met hers. “I’m not.”

  That surprised her. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.” The next moment he let go of her completely and she instantly felt cold again.

  She bit her bottom lip and stared down at the hardwood floor. “Well, it’s probably better if you don’t—”

  Patrick grabbed her and crushed his mouth to hers, taking her breath away with the passionate kiss. She was about to stop him, to knock some sense into him. After all, she didn’t want to hurt him. Didn’t he have a problem with physical intimacy? Amanda had given her the impression that he’d basically been a monk for the last couple of years.

  But this…

  This was no monk.

  She melted against him as his tongue swept hers and she kissed him back just as desperately as he kissed her. No more protests or trying to make sense of what was happening.

  This wasn’t what she’d expected from this hands-off man. His hands were currently on, sliding down to cup her ass. He pulled her firmly up against him so she could feel the hard length of his erection pressed to her stomach.

  “I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long,” she whispered against his lips.

  “Then touch me.”

  Desire pooled in her core. She wasn’t going to let this moment go to waste. She moved her hands up over his chest and shoulders, up his stubble-covered jaw and his cheekbones, and slid her fingers into his wet hair as their tongues tangled together. The sound of the storm pounding against the villa outside, the warm, sexy scent of Patrick, and the taste of his mouth on hers filled her senses and pushed her thoughts aside.

  She’d never wanted anyone this much in her life. She was near-frantic to have him deep inside of her.

  A bolt of lust hit her at the same time as another lightning strike flashed outside. It only increased her aching need for him to make love to her. However, the next moment he broke off the hot kiss and stepped out of her embrace completely.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She gasped for breath. “That’s not exactly the sort of thing you apologize for.”

  “This is—I don’t know what’s happening here. We should talk about this.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Talking was not what she wanted to do at the moment. She tried to compose herself but it was difficult. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted Patrick naked in bed. Now.

  She felt the storm still swirling inside her. She needed to calm down.

  But instead of calming her down, the desire inside her expanded. It felt like tiny electric shocks, but instead of being painful, it felt very, very good.

  His eyes widened. “I can feel your power right now.”

  She frowned. “I think it’s acting up again.”

  “No more storms. Please, Carrie. The one outside has already trapped us here. We don’t need one inside.”

  But it wasn’t a storm her power brought forth this time.

  The bed from across the room slid directly toward them, knocking Patrick in the back of his legs so that he fell on top of it. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her with shock.

  She’d been feeling desire for Patrick—a lot of it. She’d wanted him in bed—desperately.

  Patrick was now in bed.

  Her inner desire had become a reality.

  She gasped as the realization came to her. “I’ve been cursed by a goddess of love.”

  10

  “CURSED,” HE REPEATED.

  Carrie bit her bottom lip and nodded, the energy still swirling inside of her. Seeing him lying there in bed, looking at her, made her desperately want him naked.

  The next moment, his buttons popped right off his shirt so that his chest was bared. He looked down at himself, then at her, his eyebrows raised.

  She covered her mouth with her hand. Her every lustful thought toward Patrick seemed to be manifesting itself.

  She remembered what Erzulie had said.

  Why have you not made love with him when it is obvious you want him—and have wanted him for a very long time? This is a storm that is not meant to be controlled, but surrendered to.

  The goddess knew she wanted Patrick. Despite their differences and despite their difficulties, it was true. Carrie ached for him and had since the moment she’d first met him. And now he lay bare-chested on a king-size bed staring at her with guarded interest.

  “Strange,” he said. “I’m not telepathic, but it’s as if I can somehow read your mind. I wonder why that is?”

  “Teasing me about this is not helping.”

  A glimmer of a smile played at his lips. “You want me naked and in bed. Not necessarily in that order. I can’t help but take that as a compliment.”

  “Please stop.”

  “I’m not the one doing anything.”

  She looked down at the ring Erzulie had given her. “It’s because of this stupid thing.” She pulled it off and threw it away from her. It clinked as it hit the wooden floor and rolled under the bed. She let out a sigh of relief. “Maybe that will help.”

  “My shirt is still ruined. The water was bad enough, but now it’s totally unsalvageable.”

  She glared at him, then looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “This is Will’s honeymoon island, isn’t it?”

  Patrick propped himself up on his elbows. “I figured that out the moment the door swung open. This must be the honeymoon villa.”

  It was beautifully decorated. She concentrated on that for a moment as she tried to calm down. It reminded her of a more luxurious version of her room at the main resort. Hardwood floors, a huge canopied bed draped in rich fabrics. Through an archway to her left was a large ensuite bathroom with a marble tub that looked big enough for eight people. Sitting on a nearby table was a small basket filled with—she strained to see what it was…

  Condoms.

  Even honeymoons needed safety precautions.

  She scowled at Patrick’s amused look. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I disagree.”

  “How can you be so relaxed? We almost died out there.”

  “But we didn’t. And now we have more than adequate shelter until the storm passes.” He sighed. “However, I did lose my BlackBerry. I think I’m in mourning.”

  “Hopefully that’s the only casualty today.” She glanced nervously out a bay window that had to be made from reinforced glass. Water poured down it, rendering the outside a fuzzy blur of indistinct shapes and darkened colors. “Erzulie is evil.”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  Carrie looked at him. “What?”

  “She’s the goddess of lov
e and sex. Why would she be evil?”

  “I have no damn idea.” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

  “Next time you want me to get undressed, just ask.” He absently ran his fingertips over the hard ridges of his abdomen. Carrie had to force herself to look away to suppress the fresh burst of desire that exploded inside of her. It didn’t help much.

  “It won’t happen again. I’m not wearing the ring anymore.”

  “I don’t think it had anything to do with the ring,” he said. “It was the power she pushed into you. It’s changed your telekinesis, although likely it’s only temporary.”

  “How can you sound so sure about something like that?”

  “Experience.”

  “I feel better. I feel like I have some control again.”

  “It’s all about perception, Carrie. You just think you’re not in control and that’s why you’re not. Erzulie saw that. She used it to do what she wanted to do.”

  “Which was?”

  “Well, she is the goddess of love.”

  There was that intense look again as he rose from the bed and came toward her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Testing a theory.” He slid his hand around her waist, slipping under her wet blouse so that he was touching her skin, and drew her closer to him. She fanned her hands over his hard muscled chest and its light dusting of dark golden hair. He felt so good. She desperately wanted him to kiss her again, but as she glanced up at his face, she noticed he looked pained. He released her a moment later.

  “Just like I thought,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I can’t touch you right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s the ring you were wearing. She did say it was for me, right?”

  Carrie nodded. Erzulie had told her to wear it and it would help Patrick.

  Help him to touch her.

  She moistened her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “Do you want me to put it back on?”

  He slid his gaze from the floor to her face. “Yes.”

  Desire twisted inside of her, a desperate need for him to touch her again as soon as possible. “But, my telekinesis—”