Wait a minute…
“You only felt my hands on your back?” He had to be sure.
She crossed her arms and shifted her weight, raising one eyebrow and glaring at him. “Yeah. So?”
“Because I felt a hell of a lot more than that. For the last five minutes at least. What have you been doing out there?”
Her mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut, then turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
Yeah, his powers were acting up again, but she had prompted it. He could tell from the look on her face, the way her cheeks and the skin of her neck and chest were flushed.
She was thinking about him, imagining or remembering what they had experienced together. And he had felt every moment.
He still wanted her. Of course he did. But now he knew she wanted him too. Damn, did she want him.
He followed her into the bedroom. “We need to talk.”
“You’re right.” Jazz stopped on the far side of the bed, crossing her arms again. “I’m not going back to Summer Park.”
“What? That’s not what I meant.” He would save that argument for later. And it would be an argument. “We need to talk about what just happened.”
“No we don’t. Your powers are malfunctioning. End of story.”
“That’s not… Do you even listen to yourself? You can’t put this all on me.”
She let out a snort. “Pardon me for not being more careful with my thoughts around a telepath who told me he can only read people when touching them—and that I was immune to his powers. Anything else I should know?”
“What the fuck, Jazz. Are you kidding me? I didn’t try to read you. My powers have never done anything like that before.”
“I get it. It’s not your fault. I don’t get why we have to talk about it.”
“Because it shouldn’t have happened. On so many levels, it shouldn’t have happened.”
“Well it did and it’s done. You’re dripping on the carpet. Go dry off.”
Seriously? That was her diversionary tactic?
He’d had enough.
He pulled the towel from his waist and roughly dried his chest and arms, then his legs. He glared at her the whole time. Well, at first, anyway.
The more she stared back, the less angry she looked. He started to forget what they were fighting about. Her lips parted and her arms dropped to her sides.
He ran the towel over his back and scrubbed his hair, then ran his fingers through it. When he was done, he threw the towel over the back of a chair and just stood there. One of them had to make a move, a gesture, anything to break the icy silence between them. He couldn’t stand being so close to her without touching her.
And that was always the problem.
“Jazz…”
She didn’t give him a chance to finish. She ran across the room and grabbed him. Her arms locked behind his neck, pulling her up so she could crush her lips against his. Her tongue slid into his mouth, not so much demanding as starved.
He pressed her against his body—thrumming as anticipation built. He let his hands slide down to her ass, lifting her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist, deepening the kiss as her weight was taken off her arms.
God, he had missed this.
He walked them to the bed, then laid her down and covered her with his body. She ran her legs along his thighs, the softness of her skin making him want to just plunge into her. He couldn’t risk hurting her, though. He had to be sure she was ready.
Sliding a hand between them, he let his fingers follow a familiar path through the soft curls at the apex of her legs. She was already slick. Maybe she wouldn’t need as much warming up as he thought. He ran his fingers through her wetness, then drove two in deep.
She gasped against his mouth, back arcing as he started moving within her, steady thrusts, thumb circling her clit. She melted back into the mattress. The more she relaxed, the more worked up he became. His dick was so hard he could probably cut glass with it. It would be so easy to sink into her.
He felt her shift beneath him. He didn’t want to break the kiss. He was afraid of what would happen when they made eye contact.
Would she pull away? Freak out? Say something that made his heart reach for her or shrivel up in his chest?
He forced himself to pull back. She didn’t even look at him. Just reached for the bedside table—and her wallet. She pulled out a condom, then flung the wallet back on the table.
Practical, as always.
He tried not to care—tried not to let it get under his skin—but who was he kidding? She lived under his skin. Had since the beginning.
He sat on his knees, waiting for her to do her thing. She’d probably want to be on top and run the show. He never really minded. Hell, it was great to be with someone who told him what she wanted instead of making him figure things out on his own.
Other guys probably thought Finn was lucky to be able to read people’s thoughts through touch. He always knew what his partner enjoyed or didn’t enjoy. But the running commentary wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.
It didn’t usually take him long to realize that most of his lovers were so smitten with his looks that they didn’t care at all about who he was as a person. Others compared him with previous lovers, which was almost worse. The result was that his experience outside of Jazz was actually pretty limited. Sex was too complicated when he could read people’s thoughts.
Jazz opened the wrapper and slid the thin plastic over him without missing a beat. Her skill set didn’t seem rusty at all. A surge of jealousy hit him in the chest. Dammit, now was not the time to be thinking about that—or anything. This could very well be his last chance to be with her like this. He wanted to enjoy it.
She kissed him again, slow and deep. Then she knelt next to him and unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing. She let it slide down her arms before tossing it away. Instead of pushing him down on the bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck, gently pulling him toward her as she lay back.
That was new.
He’d take it. He’d take her any way he could get her. He nestled himself between her thighs, perched right at her entrance, trying to hold on to the moment, to remember every touch, every look.
And the way she was looking at him…
It was unguarded. She actually looked vulnerable.
“Jazz—”
She shook her head and wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs. “No words. Just this.”
Then she pulled him home.
Chapter Fifteen
Jazz felt Finn enter her as a cascade of bliss flowing along all her senses. He slid his hands beneath her back, embracing her as he slowly thrust in and pulled out, over and over again.
Wrapping her arms around him, she held him as close as she could, nuzzling his neck and pressing kisses along his warm skin. She let her legs glide up along the backs of his thighs, then locked her ankles so he could land deeper.
He made a little grunting noise and his fingers tightened against her back. He was trying to hold on to the moment, to make this union last. She couldn’t blame him.
She didn’t know what would happen when it was over.
He buried his face in her hair, his stubble tickling her ear. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
He pushed himself up on his elbows and stared down at her, his hips still making languid thrusts into her body. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. She only wanted to feel.
She lifted her lips to his. He kissed her, pressing her back against the pillows. She nipped at him, urging him on. She met his tongue as it slid into her mouth. He was still drawing his shaft out slowly, letting them savor the friction, the building heat. But then he’d drive himself back in quickly, as if he couldn’t stand being apart from her.
The pace
of his thrusts increased, his kiss deepened. She distracted herself from the pressure building within her by tracing the muscles of his back as he moved above her, exploring the valley of his spine just above his waist. She dropped her legs to the side so she could spread her fingers over his ass and feel them flex.
They should have done this more often. She had taken the lead most times when they had sex. It might not be safe to tell him how she felt, but she had always thought she could at least show him. She could give him as much as he gave her.
At the moment, she needed to feel as much of him as possible. She wrapped her legs around his, pulling against his thighs as he buried himself in her over and over again. The rough hair of his legs prickled against her skin.
He shifted his mouth to her neck, sucking and nipping. His weight pressed her into the mattress, his heat surrounding her, filling her. Every time he buried himself in her, he ground against her most sensitive spot. He was moving faster, each pump increasing the pressure she felt deep in her belly, sending tendrils of pleasure out through her body.
He pushed himself up on his arms, letting the cold air from the AC flow over her. His pace quickened, the pull against her skin, the grinding of his thrusts, setting off an avalanche along her senses. The tension he had built shattered as waves of pleasure pulsed through her body from where they were joined.
She wanted to pull him in even deeper, but he wasn’t done. Gasping as she caught her breath, she looked up at him. His eyes were shut tightly, his lips parted as he started pumping into her even faster. She wrapped her legs around his waist again, running her fingernails lightly along his back as he landed hard and deep.
Finally, he threw his head back and groaned, burying himself as deep as he could, pinning her to the bed. She felt him pulsing within her, spending himself. With a last shuddering breath, he lowered himself so their chests were pressed together again. He wrapped his arms around her back, embracing her without crushing her.
“That was…amazing,” he said.
There was a lump in her throat blocking her words. She ran her hands gently down his back instead of trying to talk.
Panic started to set in.
He was going to pull out soon. She felt him softening. Then they would go back to being…what? Friends? Ex-lovers? Friends with benefits? She had no idea.
They couldn’t pick up where they left off. She didn’t want to be the couple who always fought. How long could they really be together anyway? She couldn’t give him a family, didn’t want to settle down. She didn’t even want to live with anyone. She wanted her own place to retreat to. She needed her space.
But she wanted Finn. She wanted to be with him.
She felt him slide from her body. He rolled over, taking her with him, then reached to the nightstand and grabbed a handful of tissues. He managed to take off the condom and bundle it up with one hand before tossing the whole thing in the trash.
She wrapped her arms around his chest and willed her body to relax. He wouldn’t need his powers to detect her tension at this rate. The longer she could put off talking, the longer she could stay in this moment, this fantasy of them being together.
Everyone always thought of her as brave. Her friends had outright said it on many occasions. But labeling her as brave was dismissive. She was human. She felt fear. They only thought Jazz was brave because she never let them see it. She was terrified of losing all of them, just like she’d lost Finn.
Now he was back in her life and she wanted to keep him there. If she was honest with herself about it, she was desperate to.
She knew that he would never have had sex with her if he was involved or even interested in someone else. Adultery was one of his triggers. She had witnessed that enough times when he flipped out about her keeping their relationship secret.
Back then, she had felt like she was protecting them—keeping them together. If they told people, Jazz had been sure something would happen to tear them apart. Instead, their relationship had deteriorated.
What if this was a second chance? What if Fate was cutting her some slack at last, giving her someone instead of taking him away? What if her curse was finally breaking?
They both seemed to have changed. Jazz wasn’t sure if she’d changed enough. But she could try. She would try. If Fate was giving them the opportunity to see if they could work out, Jazz wouldn’t waste it.
And if Fate was messing with her…Jazz wouldn’t tolerate it. She’d done everything she could to help people along their paths, to be Fate’s implement. It was her turn to guide her own life. And she wanted a life with Finn. She would make that her destiny.
The trouble was, she had no idea how to go about it.
No, she had one. She needed to talk to him. She needed to tell him how she felt. Even though the thought of it scared the crap out of her. She would find a way to keep him safe, even if she had to go up against Fate to do so.
His breath had evened out and his eyes were closed. She felt her own exhaustion catching up with her. Eventually, his steady heartbeat lulled her to sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
Finn was walking through a swamp. He felt the weight of…something in his right hand. He looked down to see that he was holding a machete.
Why was it in his right hand? He was left-handed. Wasn’t he?
He stared at the ground. Some kind of animal trap had been sprung by a squirrel. The poor thing had been snapped in half. Finn poked at it with the end of the blade. He tried to stop himself, but couldn’t.
“Leave it, Mikey!”
Finn turned as a gangly teen ran up to him. The boy’s clothes were worn and dated. He had short-cropped brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was taller than Finn, which didn’t seem right. The kid was maybe five-six, but Finn was looking up at him.
Finn turned back to the squirrel, noticing that the hand holding the machete—his hand—was smaller than it should be. His feet were bare and crusted with sand. It looked like he was about the same age as the other kid. Maybe a little younger.
“You’re going about it all wrong, Travis.” The words came out of Finn’s mouth, but he didn’t recognize his voice. “If you want the pelts, you have to use live traps. Oh, right. I forgot. You’re too much of a coward to kill anything yourself.”
Travis… The gangly kid was Travis? Finn tried to commit the boy’s face to memory, updating it with time. Finn was surprised at how healthy he looked. He was thin, but not gaunt.
“They don’t all get hit like this one.” Travis knelt down and dug a length of chain out from the sand. He pulled it, and the trap and squirrel came with it. He stood and said, “If the pelts won’t work for practice, the meat’s still fine for dinner.”
Finn felt his mouth open again, his voice young and strange. “Is food all you ever think about? Ma isn’t that good of a cook.”
Travis grabbed the collar of Finn’s shirt and jerked him forward. “She’s not your mom.”
Finn laughed. “It doesn’t matter. She still likes me best.”
Travis looked like he was about to punch Finn. Finn wouldn’t blame him. Instead, Travis shoved Finn in the chest. He stumbled back, the machete slipping from his hand.
“Mikey!”
Travis dropped the trap and grabbed Finn’s arm, his face horror-stricken. Finn looked at the ground, at the crimson spreading from his foot, at the digit lying in the sand next to the blade.
He started to laugh.
* * * * *
Finn jolted awake. He sat up, frantically searching the room for… He didn’t know what. He was alone.
“Jazz?” he called.
“Just a minute.” Her muffled voice came from the bathroom. He could hear water running.
He was cold. How low was the AC set? Finn threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood. The room spun around him. Had he always been this tall? He felt kind of drunk.
>
His clothes were draped over a nearby chair. He stumbled to it and pulled on his jeans and tank top. Jazz must still have his shirt. He slid his feet into his shoes, then ran his hands over his face, trying to shake off the dream’s effects while remembering what had happened.
Travis. Finn had dreamt about Travis. But when they were both younger. No, not him. Michael. In the dream, Finn had seen everything from Michael’s point of view again. It was visceral. He had actually been in Michael’s body.
Why did he keep dreaming he was Michael?
Pushing that…admittedly terrifying thought away. What did you learn?
They were in a swamp. Their house was close. Finn wasn’t sure how he knew, but there it was. Travis was trapping animals for practice. He wanted the pelts.
Finn remembered the stuffed possum at the bar and Nell’s instant defense of Travis. Taxidermy. As if this wasn’t all creepy enough as it was.
Finn scoffed. He actually thought those ugly little pets of his were art.
Wait… Where had that thought come from? That laugh? Finn shook his head again. The room was still spinning.
“These are ruined.”
Finn jumped at the sound of Jazz’s voice behind him. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. She was holding her leather pants and staring at him.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He and “fine” weren’t on the same continent.
She tossed her pants on a chair. She was wearing her bikini with his shirt, which was completely unbuttoned. The swimsuit was wine-red and more string than fabric. The dark blue silk of his shirt flowed around her body as she walked.
Finn had always thought she moved like she’d been trained for the stage. He asked her about it once, but it brought on their first big freeze-out. Watching her now, though… The room seemed to warm as he looked at her.
Her T-shirt was wadded up in her hand. She sniffed it, then curled her nose and tossed it on the chair after her pants.
“Do you mind if I keep wearing your shirt for a while? I’m not up to trying to shimmy into that leather, and the whole outfit reeks.”
Lingering Touch: The Summer Park Psychics, Book 3 Page 13
