Rendezvous at Midnight

by Lynne Connolly

  “No condom. Nothing. I’m on the pill, Michael.”

  He swallowed. “You trust me?”

  She nodded and then smiled. “With my life. I leave the decision up to you.”

  “Darling, I swear—” He broke off, and finished his sentence in her head. I never, ever want you to suffer because of me. I love you.

  She answered him in the same way. I love you.

  The burning need in his eyes seared her with its intensity. He moved down once more and she gasped when his cock entered her, firmly taking possession of what had always been his. She just hadn’t realized it before. He briefly closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he gazed into hers, hiding nothing of his need and desire.

  Fulfilled just with the sense of him inside her, she could have stayed motionless, savoring the moment.

  I think we can do better than that.

  With a feral grin, he lifted and plunged down again, touching the sweet spot inside her as his cock slid past. She arched up to him, unable to prevent her reaction even had she wanted to, rapture blossoming inside her.

  “Good,” he purred. “Let it go, darling, forget everything except me, except this!”

  He gave a sharp “Ah!” but she hardly heard him, so lost was she with her body surrounding his, his needy invasion of her. He seemed made for her, unerringly discovering all the most sensitive parts of her body, relentlessly stimulating them into ecstasy.

  Flailing her arms, she came into contact with his waist and hung on. Her knees hugged his hips, gripping with the desperation of a woman close to her peak. When it arrived, it was with an intensity that took her breath away, making her gasp in short pants. He didn’t stop, but drove hard inside her, never pausing, until her orgasm began to fade. When Lisa opened her eyes, it was to see him gazing down at her.

  “I’ve never seen anything half so beautiful.” He bent to kiss her again, invading with tongue and cock, driving her up again to a perfect, shimmering climax.

  The waves of completion went on and on, and then she heard his hoarse, wordless cry. Pushing up to grind her crotch against his, she took all of him, feeling him throb and pulse deep inside her body. She watched, helpless from her own climax, as he threw his head up, the sinews on his neck tautly corded. A growl welled up from deep inside his throat, erupting in a wild cry, and then every muscle in his body seemed to collapse and he slumped forward, his head buried in the pillow next to her.

  Had it been too much for him? Should she have waited? Only when she felt his breathing, heavy as though he’d been for a long run, was she at all reassured. She closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of him on top of her, still inside her, his body slumped to one side above the waist so she could breathe.

  He mumbled something she didn’t catch but at least it meant he was still conscious. Or as conscious as she was, which wasn’t saying an awful lot. She’d just begun to drift into sleep when he moved, rolling off her and drawing her into his arms. She lifted her leg over his and her arm around his waist, as though they’d been sleeping together this way for years.

  Perhaps they would.

  Chapter Six

  With the sweet body of Lisa curled up against him, Michael heard the bedroom door open and sat up, curving over her to protect her from attack. He cursed long and low in his mind. Why the fuck hadn’t he locked the door? The movement was instinctive, to protect his woman from danger. Lisa groaned and he felt her begin to come awake.

  The fully dressed figure of Brant McManus stood in the doorway. Michael felt the belligerent air fade away when Brant saw the woman at his side.

  “Shit.” McManus showed no desire to leave but took in the mussed bed and its occupants in a shocked stare.

  Michael breathed out slowly and twitched the sheet up to cover her.

  McManus’s upper lip curled in a sneer. “Don’t bother, man, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  Michael wanted to kill him for talking about her like that. He felt her tense and knew McManus had upset her. But showing the bastard would give him the upper hand so he forced himself to relax.

  “Just came to tell you we’re on set at one, if you’re feeling okay, though I can see for myself. Lisa can finish her introduction piece, and then we’ll decide where to hold the investigation. We can’t use the pool now.”

  Michael knew where he wanted to hold the next night session, and he was in no mood to discuss anything. “Set up in the bedroom of suite number one. Now go.”

  Brant shrugged and left the room, closing the door slowly behind him.

  Michael ran his hands through his hair as Lisa rolled to her back to stare up at him. His anxious expression cleared and his eyes softened. “Good morning, my love.”

  She smiled up at him, warming him to his very soul. “Good morning. How do you feel?”

  “Fine. Better than fine.”

  “No, I meant after last night. After your accident.”

  He touched her jaw with the tip of one finger, drawing it around to her mouth and tracing her lips. Soft as satin. “You know it wasn’t an accident, Lisa. I’m okay. The guys got here in time.” Intent on tracing her cheekbones, he didn’t look in her eyes. “You know it was a killing jolt. The mix of you knocking me away and Mr. Smith and Rostov arriving brought me back.”

  “I’m so glad we did.”

  “So am I.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers before moving on to her knuckles, needing to taste her. “Even more so, now. But I slept like a log. I don’t usually do that. Ghosts have a way of disturbing my sleep.”

  “They do? Can’t you control it somehow?”

  “I do.” He licked delicately between her fingers, caressing her nerve endings to hypersensitivity. “I’m a hybrid, a mix of psychics, and it resulted in my ability to talk to ghosts.”

  “I’ll keep you safe.”

  He stopped his gentle strokes and gazed at her, somberly studying her face. “I know you will.” Lisa would ground him, keep him sane. She was good for him in more ways than one.

  They shared a moment out of time, drinking each other in, sharing something profound and he gently entered her mind. Delicately and politely, he came in.

  Would you mind if I stayed here for the rest of the weekend? I want to stay in direct contact with you. I need to know you’re safe.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t mind.”

  She showed none of the fear she’d exhibited before. It demonstrated acceptance and filled him with contentment and relief at her response. How would he feel if he hadn’t known about the world of psychics and then suddenly found himself in the middle of it? Loving one? He didn’t know, but her strength of character humbled him.

  How about the rest of my life?

  “That might be a problem. Can we ease up a bit?”

  He kissed her, softly. As slowly as you need. But not this. Need built in him but he wanted to make it good, as good as possible. This woman was his now, and he’d ensure she was as happy as he could make her. He licked the spot where her neck met her shoulder, curled his tongue into the little indentation there, hearing her gasp with satisfaction. She liked that.

  With his mind embedded in hers, he explored her anew, discovered the spots on her body particularly sensitive, kissed her, enjoyed her taste, and the feel of her skin under his hands and mouth.

  Before he could slide over her to enter her, she pushed him onto his back. “My turn,” she said with a wicked smile that turned his insides to Jell-O.

  She wanted some control. He understood and welcomed her. She needed to feel wanted. He could do that.

  Lifting her leg, she straddled him, pausing to examine his erection.

  “I hope it suits you,” he said, feeling a twinge of anxiety.

  She caressed him as he had done to her face, drawing her finger gently up its length, driving his body into a maelstrom of need. Then she circled it just under the cap and bent to taste him.

  Oh God! He forced himself to keep his mind open
, let her know just what she was doing to him. Her tongue stroked him gently, explored his contours, entered the little opening at the top.

  “Torture,” he managed to gasp. “Sweet torture.”

  She sucked and he tensed, his whole being with her, urging her on, a litany of nonverbal compliments pouring into her. Warmth, comfort, stark need, all combined and with every swirl of her tongue as she brought him higher.

  Just when he thought the end was inevitable, she pulled away from him and studied the wet, glistening tip, smiling.

  “This mind stuff sure makes the lovemaking interesting.”

  She lifted her head and met his anguished, ecstatic eyes, and then slowly raised her body. He wanted to look, wanted to see her body, wet and open just for him, the sweet little bud between her lips erect and asking for his touch but the expression in her eyes was too compelling, too much like the emotions coursing around his body.

  Next time. He’d look next time. He’d watch her dampen with need, watch until she soaked the sheets with her arousal. Then he’d lap it up, drive her to harder, stronger heights until she begged for him.

  “Please.” He heard himself begging now and wasn’t ashamed. He needed her. She should know that. She had to know it.

  Her smile captivated him, teasing him with promise. “What if I went and had a shower now?”

  He didn’t have to stop to think of the answer. “Ever had shower sex?”

  Laughing, she positioned herself above him and he couldn’t resist watching this time. She poised her wet, delicate flesh above his and slowly brought them together.

  She bit her bottom lip and her eyes half closed as she swallowed him up. Captivated, he watched himself disappear within her, first the bulbous head, and then the rest of his shaft, truly a shaft in this position. The sensation was indescribable, so he didn’t try. He opened his mind and shared it with her.

  She convulsed, the shock sending her into orgasm. He reached up to catch her hips in his hands, steadying her and bringing those delectable nipples down so he could take them into his mouth.

  He felt just what she needed, and he did it, sucking hard, rolling the tip between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, hearing her cries of completion with triumph in his heart, triumph he didn’t even try to hide from her.

  In time they would become truly one, their minds dwelling in each other’s all the time, so habitual being separate would be the oddity. He welcomed it. All his life he’d enjoyed being alone, the sole determiner of his fate, but now he was ready to share. Willing and eager to share. He prayed she’d feel the same.

  When he let her nipple go with a satisfying slurp, he immediately pulled the other one in. She moaned softly and lifted up, sliding down. He felt her sweet spot, where she would most want to be touched inside and her frustration that she couldn’t find it. The position was wrong for her. Reluctantly he let her other nipple go and pushed her up a little, so his angle of entry changed.

  That was better. She moved, and he felt the flicker of pleasure when he slid across the right place.

  He built on it, his hands on her hips helping her to rise and fall at just the right tilt, each stroke pushing her fractionally closer, emotion and sensation making her hypersensitive. Her orgasm shattered around them both, bathing them in a consummation neither could have achieved alone.

  With the intensity of her peak still echoing around his mind, heating his blood, he came in a rush. He was unable to speak the words he wanted to give her, only gasp helplessly and hang on for the ride.

  Unbelievable.

  This time she fell onto him, and he cradled her close, unwilling to let her go. When the sweat on her body cooled, he drew up the sheet and reached with his mind for the comforter, pulling it gently over them both.

  They dozed, totally at peace. No restive spirit arrived to disturb his tranquility, no mortals knocked at the door to interfere with their happiness. He wanted this, and he wanted it for the rest of his life.

  ***

  Dressed in the pants and blouse she’d worn the day before, Lisa still felt like a different person as she headed for the hallway outside suite number one to complete her introductory piece for the program. After sleeping, they had showered and Michael had gone to the dining area to pick up some food. He’d come back with sandwiches, a salad and a bottle of cold, crisp white wine and they’d lunched together, completely happy in each other’s company.

  But life went on and she had left for the introduction. Michael went to speak to Ayesha, to discuss the changed plans for the day. Although their bodies were apart, his mind was in hers, his presence a constant with her. She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  “Dayum, you look great, girl!” Cliff exclaimed. “Done your makeup differently?”

  She shot him a grin. “Of course not. I know better. There’s not much more to do.” She took the clipboard and scanned the script. It wasn’t a line-by-line, but an outline of the subjects she had to cover. A red line marked where they’d stopped the day before. At almost exactly the same time. Most of the light here was artificial, but in the suite beyond, large windows opened on to a view of the bay, curving around as though it had been put there just for the delectation of the occupants of suite number one.

  She recapped from the day before, providing an overlap in case the editor needed one and went into the suite.

  This time there was no unpleasant shock, just a luxury suite decorated in a deliberately retro style. Her mind elsewhere, Lisa outlined the circumstances of her mother’s death, surprised to discover she felt no emotion as she related the story. Since her father had told her years before, she’d read about it, discovered all the details she could, but never felt any link between herself and the beautiful, though misguided, Rosanna. An accident of fate made her resemble her mother more than her father, but despite looking like her mother, she felt no connection, no fondness.

  The introduction went well. She repeated it, as she always did, in case they needed to splice anything in. Sometimes, especially in haunted sites, strange lights and sound interferences only became apparent when they were back in the editing suite, and recording everything twice was such a habit, nobody stopped to say “cut” or “retake.” Relief suffused her when she finished. She could join Michael now. She found she needed him, wanted his touch. His mind wasn’t enough. She wanted her fingers laced with his, his warmth close enough for her to feel.

  Was it always this way, love?

  Lisa had no way of knowing. She’d liked men before, even had crushes, but had never felt this intensity of emotion for any man. It was like a physical need. She’d held back, done the right thing and tried to make her relationship with Brant work, but even then, she’d watched Michael, wondered what it would be like to be loved by a man like him.

  Now she knew. She wanted more. She doubted she’d ever be satisfied.

  I feel the same way.

  His voice in her head sounded natural and right. Lisa turned and headed for the door of the suite. An arm blocked her way.

  “Let me by, Brant.”

  He just stared at her, as though he was trying to read her, as Michael could do. Then with an audible intake of breath, he spoke. “Why did you sleep with him?”

  She raised a brow. “Can’t you guess?”

  He gritted his teeth, visibly controlling his emotions. “He’s got a big dick?”

  The crudeness suited him, she realized. Brant McManus might be big and handsome, but he had no tenderness. When she was with him, he’d made her feel possessed, wanted, but never cherished. She hadn’t known that particular feeling until last night. “Let me pass. I don’t owe you any explanations, Brant, or anything else. In case you’d forgotten, you dumped me.”

  He smiled slowly, the corners of his sensual mouth curling up in a way she used to love. With the emphasis on the used to. “Is that what this is all about? I was only waiting for you to come to your senses, baby. If you like, you can come back now. But I still want you to give up work. Tha
t’s a given.”

  “Give it to yourself. If you can find a woman who wants that, she’s an idiot and you deserve each other.”

  He showed no sign of getting out the way so she tried to reach past him to the door.

  Catching her arm, he yanked her hard into his body and then whirled around so he slammed her against the wall, knocking the breath out of her.

  “I like some spirit in a woman. But I also like a woman who knows when to give in. Just to help you along a bit, I’ll give you a bit of advice. Keep away from Michael Scott. Not only is he seriously weird, he’s not even the same species as we are.”

  At the first jolt of alarm, Lisa had felt Michael’s presence in her mind, anxiously checking on her. She still couldn’t speak and gasped for breath. Brant bent his head, obviously meaning to kiss her, and that helped her find her voice. “What are you talking about, the same species?”

  He drew back and although desire still smoldered in his eyes, a certain hardness entered. “He’s not our kind, Lisa, you and me.”

  “He’s a medium, he’s psychic. We could all be psychic. Why does that make him a certain species?”

  She felt nothing else but Michael in her mind, and he was listening intently. Hold on, Lisa, I’m making my way to you. Keep him talking. I need to hear what he has to say.

  Decision time. Should she trust Michael, a new love but an old friend, or Brant, someone she knew inside and out? She didn’t hesitate. Michael showed integrity, tenderness, and honesty, all things she considered essential. Brant lacked all three. At one time she’d thought his determination to climb the greasy pole of success amusing, admirable even, but some of the methods he used were questionable, to say the least.

  “Listen, Lisa. I belong to a powerful, influential organization of people who call ourselves Anti-Sensitives. They’ve bought into the TV network because they saw something in Scott in some of the programs. They know there’s something wrong with him. So do I. I’ve seen him close up, and his ability isn’t just unusual, it’s weird. Off. Wrong. I’ve agreed to give him to them, and they’ll arrive soon to pick him up.”