by Ann Gimpel
Not by a long shot.
She drained the bottle and wished for whiskey as silence stretched between them. It was his house, and if he didn’t want her cluttering up his kitchen, he could tell her to go back upstairs once she was done eating. In fact, she’d save him the trouble. Two more bites and she’d be gone, except her appetite had fled. He was so close—and so masculine—she was having a hard time breathing.
“Sure, Renee. That would be nice,” he said.
She’d been so deep in crafting her escape route, it took her a moment to remember her offer to heat food for him.
He cracked the fridge and extracted two more beers, handing her one. “Looks like you could use a refill.”
“Thanks.” She twisted the top off. “Although I was considering something harder.”
“We have whiskey. I can grab some from the liquor cabinet. Did you get any sleep?”
“Oh yeah. I passed out. First I’ve stirred since your sister showed me my room.”
“Good. You deserve a whole lot more than a bit of rest. You were a real hero today.” He ducked into the pantry and returned brandishing a can of beef stew. “Back in a flash with something more alcoholic than beer.”
She got to her feet, rinsed out her chili pan, and filled it with canned stew, turning the flame to medium. As soon as he got back, she’d pour herself a jot of booze and retreat to her room. No reason for both of them to be uncomfortable.
Renee winced. Who knew how he was feeling, but if she remained, she’d have a hell of a hard time keeping her hands off his body. The bathrobe displayed enough of his chest to fascinate her. Not that she hadn’t seen him naked when he shifted, but she’d been in healer mode then.
Not anymore. Now she was painfully aware of his body—and hers. Of breasts with nipples that were already hard. Of labia swollen and slick with need. Arousal ran hot, and all he’d done was ask if she’d gotten a decent few hours of rest.
Christ, she was pathetic.
Worse, something was wrong with her. She’d been around attractive men before—lots of them. What was it about this one that drew her as if he were a male version of a Siren perched on a rock churning out irresistible music? It couldn’t be the prophecy she’d plucked from the lore book. They were never this precise, relying on metaphor rather than specifics.
If not that, then what?
Jeremiah walked back into the kitchen, an amber bottle tucked beneath one arm and two tumblers in hand. He plunked the tumblers on the table and drew the bottle out. “All I could find was home brew, but Raul’s wife creates a mean mix. You might want to dilute it with water. I bet it’s 150-proof.”
The smell of stew on the edge of burning drove her to the stove. She yanked the pot off the burner, stirring madly. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” She turned the flame off and moved the hot pan above a tile counter. “Caught it before it scorched. At least not too badly.”
“Put the pan down and come over here.”
Something in his voice made her apprehensive and drew her at the same time. Was this when he shoved a tumbler of whiskey into her hand and sent her upstairs? Despite her resolve to grab the booze and run, she was loathe to leave his presence.
She set the pan on a trivet and made her way to the table. “I truly am sorry. The stew’s still edible. I caught it before it was ruined. And if you don’t want it, I can start fresh with another can.” She was babbling, but she couldn’t make herself shut up.
In a fast, fluid move, he scooted in front of her and dropped his hands onto her shoulders. “Look at me. Please.”
“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “I’ll just get some of that home brew and leave you to your meal.”
“Look at me,” he repeated, not moving his hands off her shoulders.
Warmth from his touch seared her, making her other problem—the one of wanting to touch him so badly she could taste it—far more pressing. Her swollen labia rubbed against one another, and she swallowed a low groan. She had to get out of here to somewhere she could jam her hand between her legs and bring herself off. Just touching herself would do it. She was that close and didn’t understand how her arousal had gone from low key to a hundred percent in such a short time.
To hurry her exit along, she raised her gaze to meet his. Twin flames burned in the depths of his blue eyes, and a soft smile turned his mouth into something profanely beautiful. “Better. I will never hurt you.”
“Didn’t think you would,” she mumbled. “I should leave.”
He tightened his grip. “What if I don’t want you to? What if I told you I sensed you here and came into the kitchen on purpose to intercept you?”
Surprise raced through her. “Why would you do that?”
He moved one hand to cup the side of her face. She tried not to, but leaned into his touch, craving more of it. Of him.
“We got off to a rocky start, you and I,” he went on, his deep voice like a balm. “But I have a confession to make.”
“You don’t have to thank me again,” she murmured. “Truly you don’t.”
He shook his head. “That’s not it. When you arrived at Stephan’s, I was inside, and I spent a really long time peeking through the window at you.” He took a deep breath, but his gaze never left her face. “I was fascinated, entranced. You’re so lovely, what man wouldn’t be? But you’re not just stunning to look at. You’re brave, selfless, capable. I know I was a mage, and you don’t trust us, but—”
“It was wrong of me,” she cut in, anxious to correct his misperception. “I’m over it. Our magic is the same. Not better or worse. Hell, not even different.”
A corner of his mouth twisted downward, and he cradled the side of her head, lacing his fingers into her uncombed curls. “I’m walking around what I want to say.”
She leaned closer, near enough their bodies were almost touching. Heat from him eddied between them, and his scent—the one that had snared her earlier—returned with full force. Vanilla, rosemary, and freshly wet forest surrounded her, thick enough to eat.
“Maybe we don’t need words,” she murmured, suddenly shy but unable to look away from his amazing eyes. Up close like this, silvery flecks floated around the irises, making them shine.
“Perhaps not, but if you don’t leave, I’m going to kiss you. I didn’t come in here for food or drink. I came here for you.”
Excitement shot from the soles of her feet up over the top of her head. He wanted her. Nothing shy of a tsunami could have dragged her from the kitchen, and maybe not even that. She turned her mouth upward, and he covered it with his. His chiseled lips felt just as enticing as she’d imagined they would. The first kiss was gentle. Too gentle.
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body the full length of his. He’d feel her pebbled nipples, but the time to be ashamed of her arousal was past. The length of him, hard, hot, and thick, pressed into her belly, and the evidence of his hunger thrilled her. She wanted to reach between them, wrap her hands around his cock, followed by her mouth. Imagining how his girth would stretch her fed her excitement, not that it needed encouragement.
He upped the ante on their kiss, which had turned more urgent and demanding. She opened her mouth to his questing tongue and sparred with it. He tasted sweet and hot, and she couldn’t get enough of his mouth. They traded bites, kisses, and suckles. She bit and sealed each spot with kisses before biting again. He teased her mouth with his tongue, driving it inside and then withdrawing in a simulation of sex that stoked her lust.
He made a decidedly male sound and thrust his erection into her belly. Heat and need roared through her, and she straddled one of his legs, pressing her engorged nub against the firm muscles of his thigh. He grasped her ass and jammed his leg firmly between hers.
She writhed against him, desperate for contact, for release. If his mouth hadn’t been glued against hers, she would have screamed as a climax shot through her, spun her around, and spat her out.
He ripped his mouth from hers, scooped an arm beneath her
knees, and carried her out of the kitchen and down the darkened hallway to a staircase she wasn’t familiar with. Narrow and winding, it led upward. She twined her arms around his neck, hanging on.
“I can walk,” she managed, her breathing still running triple time.
“Not a chance. I’m not letting you get away.”
She giggled. “What makes you think I’m about to make a run for it?”
“You. You said you were leaving multiple times, even after I returned with the liquor. Damn!”
“What?”
“I left the bottle downstairs, but I can run back for it.”
Another very uncharacteristic giggle bubbled from her throat. “You just said it was risky to leave me alone.”
He laughed too. “We’ll be in my bedroom soon. I can seal it with magic. Wouldn’t hold you long, but long enough for a quick trip downstairs.”
She searched for a way to tell him he didn’t need magic to bind her, but everything she came up with made her sound like a sex-starved slut. Hell, she’d already come, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. “I don’t need whiskey,” she murmured. “Just you.”
They crested the stairs, and he turned for the far end of the hall. “That’s the most welcome thing I’ve heard in a long time.” The last door on the right popped open, no doubt encouraged by a magical assist, and he carried her into a generous room tucked beneath the eaves. Dormer windows housed a padded seat with an armoire next to it. A large desk of polished wood graced one corner, and an old-fashioned bed another. The bed had high, carved head and footboards that appeared to be made of the same wood as the desk.
Candles in sconces flickered to life, casting the room in a warm, golden glow. Bookshelves overflowing with volumes, scrolls, and notebooks covered every vacant wall. The room felt like him. Solid. Masculine. No frills, but comfortable just the same.
He did set her on her feet then. Behind them, the door closed on its own. Jeremiah moved until he faced her then tucked an errant curl behind her ear. Offering a shy smile, he said, “I’m afraid I’m woefully out of practice, but you haven’t run screaming from my room, so I’m assuming you want to be here.”
She nodded. “I’ve never wanted anything quite so much.” Hooking her hands beneath her T-shirt, she yanked it over her head. The sports bra she’d borrowed barely contained her breasts, and they spilled out on both sides.
A strangled groan burst from him, and he pushed the flimsy bra aside, filling his hands with her breasts. His touch was exquisite as he tweaked her erect nipples. Sensation shot from her breasts straight to her crotch, and it was as if she hadn’t just come. She wanted more. Needed more.
A whole lot more.
Reaching between them, she jerked the sash of his robe, untying it. Once it was free, she pushed it off his shoulders where it pooled on the floor. He’d bent his head and was suckling her nipples, moving from one to the next. She sandwiched her hands between them and wrapped her fingers around his cock.
Hard. Hot. So ready, it quivered beneath her touch. She stroked him, holding him between her hands, and he groaned again. Straightening, he propelled her toward the bed. The covers were already down, and he lifted her onto a silky sheet. Hands at her waist, he undid the fastenings of her pants and pulled them down her legs, followed by her underwear.
He kicked them aside and stood over her, looking at her with an intensity that fed her soul. “You are so goddamned gorgeous.” His words held a raspy edge. “I could look at you forever.”
She took him in too, really looked at him. Muscles slabbed and bunched down arms and legs. His stomach was defined, and the cock she wanted to get to know a whole lot better rose from a spiky mat of golden curls. “You’re the gorgeous one.” She patted the bed in invitation.
He grinned, slow, lazy, wanton. Grabbing one of her ankles with each hand, he spread her legs and knelt in front of her. After long moments where she willed him to do more than worship her with his eyes, he bent his head and strung kisses down her stomach. Her skin shivered beneath his tongue. He got close to her nub but then moved away.
Her body writhed, moving from side to side as her hips thrashed. She was desperate for the feel of him and more than ready when he slipped his hands beneath her, cupping her ass. Finally, after what felt like forever, he settled his mouth above her throbbing, aching clit, breathing on her. She bucked, frantic for contact, but he held her an angstrom away.
“Tell me,” he urged. “Talk with me, darling.”
“You know what I want.” She could barely get the words out. Talking required thinking, and her mind had turned to mush. Her nipples were points of need. Her crotch throbbed. Her entire body turned molten with craving.
Without warning, he closed his mouth over her clit, sucking hard. Somehow, one of his hands was between her legs with fingers inside, thrusting and touching her sensitive places. She laced her fingers into his hair, holding his head in place.
He let go of her clit and ran his tongue around it. Up one side, down the other, another swirl, and then more sucking. She mewled with delight as heat swamped her, lust and hunger spilling from every point of contact and traveling to all the nerves in her body.
It was as if he was perfectly attuned to her arousal. He brought her almost to the point of release, backed off, and did it again. She gave in, turned everything over to him. Eyes closed, head thrown back, she became a slave to sensation and the giddy delight cascading through her.
He let go abruptly, slid from beneath the grip she had on his head. Her eyes snapped open. Before she could ask why he’d stopped, he swung her legs onto the bed and knelt between them, a hand wrapped around his cock.
His eyes glowing like exotic jewels, he pushed her legs wider. She wrapped them around his waist, and he seated himself at the entrance to her vault. His nipples had formed hard peaks too, their coppery surfaces puckered into points of desire.
She wriggled, anxious to draw him inside. He went slow, letting her accommodate and stretch to fit him. Before settling them on her hips, he ran his hands down her body.
“You have no idea how incredible you feel.” He twitched his cock where he’d buried it within her.
She tightened her muscles around him. “Maybe not, but I know how good you feel. Now, move, goddammit.”
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
“Good, because right now I want you.”
He grinned down at her. “I won’t last long. But just wait until round two.”
She thrust upward, and he withdrew just as slowly as he’d entered her. The second stroke was equally deliberate. And the third. She cupped her breasts, rubbing the nipples.
He made that wonderful male sound again, the one that let her know how much he ached for her, and then he moved faster. No longer titrating anything, he drove into her quick and sure. She tightened her grip around his waist, tilting her pelvis so every stroke caught her clit. Heat surrounded her, drove her higher and higher still. She was pinching her nipples now, wringing every last drop of reaction from her body.
He swept both her arms above her head, pinning them effortlessly in place as he continued to fuck her. Bending his head, he slashed his mouth over hers. Panting and gasping, they ground their bodies together, driving one another onward. A climax rolled through her, followed almost immediately by a second one as he came. The judders of his orgasm and the splashes of semen toppled her over the crest again.
He let go of her wrists and sank down onto her, breathing hard. She wrapped her arms around him, holding tight as their bodies quieted.
He was still buried inside her, still hard. “That was wonderful,” she murmured against his chest. “Thank you.”
He turned them onto their sides, cock still inside her, and positioned himself so he could look at her. “If we’re into thanking, it’s me who should be thanking you, but this wasn’t just sex. I want you to become part of my life. Forever. We’ve entered precarious times, but I’m falling in love with you. It’s a gift from
the goddess, and I’d be worse than a fool to spurn it. Or put it off until we enter gentler waters.”
Shock vied with delight. “But we don’t know each other well enough.”
“You’re stuck in modern times. Think back to our roots, sweetheart. How long did it take to find a mate a few hundred years ago?”
“But those matings were arranged, by our families.”
“So?” He quirked a blond brow. “Instead of telling me why we won’t work, tell me why we will.”
He was so earnest and so engaging, it made her smile.
“Tell him,” her eagle urged.
“I heard that,” Jeremiah said. “Tell me what?”
Heat rose to her face, making her rosier than she already was from her climaxes. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t know how much stock you put in astrology, but Sarai had a few ideas about us. So did one of her lore books.”
“Really?” The eyebrow edged higher. “Like what?”
“According to her, our mating is foretold—in the stars.”
A thoughtful smile crossed his face, making him look like an old-world scholar. “No wonder I was so attracted to you. I couldn’t figure it out, but it all makes perfect sense now.”
“I’m glad someone believes in psychic mumbo-jumbo.”
“You don’t?”
She laughed. “Your next question is going to be why someone magical doesn’t believe in psychic phenomena. I put stock in most of them, but astrology never did much for me. My eagle’s given me a raft of shit over the years because of it.”
“Philosophy aside”—he ran gentle fingers over her cheek—“will you share my life? I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, see you want for nothing.”
The eagle crowed, shrieked, cawed, and then repeated itself.
“Your bird just said yes,” Jeremiah noted. “How about you?”
