Night Storm (Bones & Gemstones Book 1)

by Tracey Devlyn

  The stroking stopped. “Now the chemise.”

  Her heart knocked so hard against the wall of her chest that she had to grab hold of the solid post at the foot of the bed.

  He raised his head and swallowed hard. It was then she realized how much he wanted this, needed this—the same as she.

  Shyness gave way to the return of her boldness. When she made no move to comply, he asked, “Charley?”

  She glanced pointedly at his still hand. “Cam?”

  The uncertain expression he wore turned hot and feral. He began stroking himself again. Harder this time.

  Without glancing away from the erotic sight, she found the loose end of the bow holding her chemise together. She tugged on the tie at the same time she stepped forward. With every inch she freed herself as she moved closer to Cam.

  By the time her chemise gaped open at the neck, she had halted between his outstretched legs. One deep breath from her would ease the scrap of material off her shoulders to pool at her feet. But she did not immediately give him what he wanted.

  Abandoning his ministrations, Cam surged to the edge of his seat. Desire burned in his gorgeous eyes, as did a question. May I? His gentlemanly request made her heart fall in love with him all over again.

  She nodded and watched as his unsteady hand eased the plain linen from her left shoulder, revealing one pale breast. He cupped the underside, plumping the mound until her ruched nipple turned bloodred. Then his hot, wet mouth covered her. Soothed her. Tortured her.

  Crying out, she braced one hand on his bare, broad shoulders; the other grasped his neck. She pushed into his mouth. Seeking, craving, needing more.

  His left hand skimmed over her calf, thigh, hip, stomach. He didn’t stop until he held her other breast. Her chemise slid down, and he once again filled his mouth with her aching plumpness. The moment he had his fill, his wicked hand journeyed back down until he discovered her slick folds.

  “Sweet Charley,” he breathed against her bare stomach, resting his damp forehead there. “You’re so wet for me.”

  “Please tell me that’s good,” she said, half joking, half serious.

  “Love, it’s very good.”

  Two fingers teased the delicate flesh between her legs, back and forth. Her panting breaths reached her ears, mingling with her pounding heart. She recalled how he had flexed his hips and did an exploratory flex of her own. His fingers sank deeper into her, the friction forcing a groan from her throat.

  Then he did something with his thumb, and she nearly burst from her skin. Pants of pleasure reverberated through her every time his thumb tended to that one special spot.

  “Cam, I need—” she cut herself off, having no idea of how to ask for what her body desperately yearned for.

  Drawing his hands away from her, he allowed her chemise to pool around her feet.

  “Charley, your body is beautiful.”

  She laughed a little self-consciously. “I detect a note of surprise in your voice.”

  “No,” he said quickly. “I’ve always known you would be, but my fantasies didn’t come close. Stunning is a more apt description.”

  She felt the same about his body. Not a single soft spot cushioned those hard muscles. He did not possess the physique of a seasoned pugilist. No, his frame tended more toward lean and sleek, like that of a thoroughbred or one of those large spotted cats found on the plains of Africa. Defined. Honed. Lethal.

  She started to tell him how much she loved the look of him when his hands gripped her legs.

  “Brace yourself.” He waited for her to follow his instructions before drawing her forward. His mouth skimmed along her stomach, making it quiver, and his palms slid up the backs of her legs until he cradled her buttocks in his hands.

  Unable to stop herself, Charlotte offered him her breast and he drew one hard peak into his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around the nub.

  Slowly, he eased back in his chair, positioning her knees on either side of his lean hips. He continued to suckle her while applying gentle pressure against her lower back.

  She wasn’t certain of what he sought from her until her wetness cleaved to the hot, hard length of him. “Oh, dear God. Cam.” Her breath caught, and she could say no more.

  Releasing her nipple with a sucking pop, he shoved his shoulders back into the cushioned chair, arching his hips to create an exquisite friction where they touched so intimately.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He repositioned her again, and the feeling between her legs intensified. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the glide of their bodies, learning his rhythm to increase both of their pleasure.

  “Charley,” he ground out, waiting for her to look at him. “I need you. I want to be inside you when you come.”

  She didn’t fully comprehend his meaning, but nodded and glanced down to where their bodies were so intimately entwined. It was her first good, up-close look at his manhood. The delicate smoothness of the top surprised her, but not as much as the pearly drop of moisture emerging from the small slit in its center.

  Not thinking, she reached down and touched the pad of her index finger to the drop and used it to caress the soft tip.

  “Holy Mother.” Cam struggled beneath her. “You’re going to make me spill my seed.”

  She jerked her hand away and glanced up. Desire flushed his cheeks and neck. The sight made her inner muscles contract against him.

  “Dammit. Hold on.”

  She tightened her hold before he surged to his feet. Her legs automatically clasped around his hips, and she realized her wish had finally come true. No narrow, restricting skirts, only bare heated flesh against flesh.

  Every step he took brought them closer together—and farther apart. The trek to the bed was maddening and thrilling in equal parts.

  Before she knew it, she was flat on her back with Cam—her lover, her best friend in the world—hovering over her, trying to regain some semblance of control. She didn’t want him in control. She wanted him wild for her.

  Grasping his face between her hands, she demanded, “Stop thinking. Take what you want. What we both want.”

  He took her mouth. His kiss was not gentle, nor was it painful. It was unkempt passion. It was perfect.

  Nudging her legs wider, he guided himself to her entrance. He slid the tip along her moist folds, easing into her with each torturous pass. The moment she enveloped him, he pushed deeper inside, then retreated before lunging forward again. On the third push forward, she experienced a twinge of pain, and stiffened.

  He halted immediately, their breaths sawing raggedly in the silence.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She tested the waters by slowly moving her hips. Nothing. She experimented once more and heard his sharp intake of breath.

  “I’m fine. Are you?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Hell no.” Lifting himself up onto his elbows, he repositioned himself. “I’m going to love you hard and fast, Charley Fielding. Brace your feet on the bed and meet me, drive for drive.”

  She nodded and worked to match Cam’s pace. Pressure began to build deep in her core. Her body searched for something just out of reach. She arched her back, focusing instinctively on that special spot Cam had tended earlier. That elusive something finally came into clear focus, and her muscles latched on to it until she cried out.

  Pleasure-pain pulsed through her body, forcing yet more and more cries from her throat. In the distance, she heard Cam shout out her name and felt him drive into her one last time.

  Within seconds, the raging, focused emotions that had driven them toward a common goal calmed into a soothing, boneless contentment.

  Cam lifted off her and rolled oto his back, bringing her with him. She curled around him as if she had done so a hundred times before, draping a leg and arm over him and resting her head against his chest. Beneath her ear, his heart bet wildly. The sound brought her an odd comfort, as did the strong arm holding her in place.

 
“Does this mean we’re no longer friends?” he asked.

  Charlotte laughed and nuzzled his chest. “We’ll always be friends…and more.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “So, do we take this one day at a time?”

  “I’d like that.” She snuggled closer, feeling whole again for the first time in years. “I’d like to learn more about Ruthless Cameron.”

  He stiffened beneath her. “There’s much not to like about him.”

  “From my brief acquaintance, I would say there’s also much to love.”

  “Charley, don’t put the blinders on now. Since our separation, I have done much about which I’m not proud.”

  His confession caused a small bite of concern, for she knew he spoke the truth. She also understood he didn’t give himself credit for the good deeds he had done.

  “For the first time in a sennight, I’ve taken the blinders off. You have much to be proud of. Shall I name a few?” She ticked off, “Granston, Trigger, and Alice.”

  “Temporary lapses in judgment.”

  She pushed up on one elbow, looking down on him, and noticed his gaze dipped down to her bared breasts. “You’re determined to think the worst of yourself.”

  “You’re right. I’m an angel.” He burrowed lower.

  Laughing, she asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Angelic things.” He drew her nipple into his mouth, and Charlotte lost her train of thought.

  She speared her fingers into his thick brown hair, holding him to her. He anchored her knee over his hip and slipped inside her already damp passage. Raising her hips, she accepted more of his length. He loved her lazily, thoroughly, as if they had all the time in the world. He built her desire in slow, steady increments.

  By the time she felt the first tremor, he had her breathless and thrashing, begging for release. As before, he had waited for her to find her pleasure, then indulged his own.

  Charlotte had no idea how much time had passed—it could have been five minutes or five hours—when a door slammed below, waking them.

  In an instant, Cam was out of bed, retrieving a knife from his discarded clothing. The muscles on his broad back bunched in readiness for a fight.

  Boots pounded up the stairs. “Mr. Adair!”

  Cam’s shoulders slumped, and he lowered his weapon. Over his shoulder, he said, “It’s Trigger.”

  “Mr. Adair, are you here? Those Scotts are up to something.”

  Charlotte sucked in a breath and scrambled to get out of bed.

  Pulling on his clothes, Cam said, “Stay here. I’ll see what’s going on.”

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Charley—”

  “Cam, if Piper and Felix are in trouble, I want to hear about it firsthand. I don’t want your watered-down version.” She heard him murmur something about the stubbornness of women. He could grumble all he wanted. Men like him and her father were taught early on to protect the women in their lives at all costs. Since returning from Scotland, she had decided for herself what she could handle and what she couldn’t. Strangely—or perhaps not so strangely—very few issues fell in the latter category.

  Opening the door, Cam called out, “Trig, I’m here. I’ll meet you in my office.”

  The sound of Trig’s rapid advance stopped. “Hurry, sir.”

  With Cam’s help, Charlotte managed to dress and fix her hair in record time. They entered his office seven minutes later to find Trig pacing the space. His eyes rounded in disbelief when he saw her.

  “Trig, this is Mrs. Fielding. She owns the apothecary shop on Long Acre.”

  The young man’s eyebrows shot up,

  and a smile spread across his face.

  “Keep it behind your teeth, Trig,” Cam warned.

  Trig clapped his mouth shut, but the amusement dancing in his eyes did not fade.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Trig,” she said. “What’s happened?”

  Sobering, Trig glanced at Cam, who nodded. “You may speak freely in front of Mrs. Fielding.”

  “But—”

  “There will be no more secrets between Charley and me. Tell us what you know.”

  Trig cleared his throat. “Mr. Adair asked me to keep an eye on Felix Scott.”

  Charlotte tensed at this new information, wondering if she had also been under surveillance.

  “Since Felix Scott was with Mr. Adair this afternoon, I decided to check on the sister.” Trig’s gaze bounced around the room, landing on everything but her and Cam.

  “A few hours after I took up my post across the street, Felix arrived. From what I could see through the window, he seemed agitated at first, then angry.”

  “Angry?” Charlotte asked. “That’s not like Felix.” The only other time she could recall seeing him in such a state was when she had asked him to not return to the Augusta.

  “He left the shop in a huff. I followed him as far as the theater.”

  “Did he go inside?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dread pooled in her stomach. “What did he do?”

  Trig’s gaze flicked to Cam. “I don’t know, ma’am.”

  “What do you mean? You didn’t follow him into the theater?”

  Trig’s ears turned bright red. “No.”

  “But—”

  “Charley,” Cam interrupted. “I’ve given Trig strict instruction to observe only. He’s never to interfere or follow someone into a building where he could be trapped.”

  She forced back the fear. “I understand. My apologies, Trigger. My concern for Felix got the better of my good sense. You did the right thing.”

  Trig nodded, though he didn’t look any happier about the restriction than she did at the moment.

  “Riordan mentioned they’re in between productions right now,” Cam said. “I can’t imagine there would be many people at the theater, especially this time of night.”

  Night? Charlotte squinted at her timepiece. Half past six. She would never make dinner. When she lifted her attention back to their conversation, she found Cam’s icy attention fastened on her.

  “Go to your dinner,” he said, meaning it. “I’ll check on Felix and Piper.”

  “I’ll do no such thing.” She hated to disappoint Mr. Buchanan. But Piper and Felix needed her far more. “I’m going with you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Charlotte’s teeth clenched. “Did it occur to you that I could go with you—under your protection, or I could wait and follow you—without your protection.”

  “Dammit, Charley. Neither is to my liking.”

  “Nevertheless, they are the only two options you have.”

  “Fine,” he all but growled. “But you will follow my instructions without question. If you don’t, I’ll tie you up and deposit you into the nearest room I can find.”

  She believed him. “Deal. May I borrow paper and pen?”

  “Yes. Trig will take your message straightaway.”

  “I can get Danny Denton to deliver Mrs. Fielding’s note. You might need me.”

  Cam said nothing, simply raised a brow.

  Trig groaned.

  “Did you see anything else?” Cam asked.

  “No,” Trig said with less enthusiasm. “I waited for about an hour for him to reappear, but I never saw him again. I didn’t think much of it because he’s been moping outside that theater all week. I thought he finally got up enough nerve to go inside. It wasn’t until I followed the sister to the same location that I grew suspicious.”

  Cam caught Charlotte’s eye. “Now would be a good time to write your message.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Piper’s knees were beginning to ache from sitting in one place for so long. After making one fruitless search of the theater with Peter, she now waited in this small, unobtrusive alcove until Felix showed himself. Discarded crates littered the area and a dingy gray curtain hung from a rather unstable-looking rod high above her head. From behind the curtain, she could see
the actors and stagehands coming and going, with them being none the wiser.

  Peter had wanted to stay and search the place again with her, but he had to hurry home to help his mother care for his sick sister. Before he left, Peter had assured her that if Felix was still here, he would have to come this way, eventually.

  While crouched amid decades-old dust and God only knew what else, Piper saw many familiar and unfamiliar faces rush by, but no Felix. Slowly, the theater grew increasingly quiet and dark shadows began to fill in around her.

  Felix wasn’t here. No one was, given the uncommon silence.

  Feeling panicked and ridiculous having wasted so much time and inconveniencing her neighbor, mother, and Peter, she shot up from her hiding spot and promptly banged her head on a low support beam.

  “Ow!” Stumbling, she rubbed her head and winced at the blood rushing back into legs that had been in one position too long. “Felix, you’re going to pay for this.”

  “For once, I’m glad I’m not Felix,” an amused voice said.

  She whirled around to find Christopher Gordon garbed in a beaver hat and great coat, smiling at her as if she played the lead role in a farce. More like tragedy, she thought.

  The actor doffed his hat and gloves. “What brings you to our fair theater?”

  “I—um—” Piper had never been good at prevarication, so she settled on the truth. “I came to fetch Felix.”

  He angled his body in order to see around her—toward the alcove. “No luck in there?”

  Heat poured over her. “I—I thought I heard a noise.”

  “Ah.” His keen gaze roamed down her body. “Shall I help you find him?”

  She backed away, shaking her head. “He’s not here. I must have misunderstood him earlier.”

  “Happens to the best of us. Piper, right?”

  Nodding, she glanced down the wide thoroughfare toward the exit. The familiarity with which the actor’s gaze drifted over her made Piper uncomfortable.

  “Do you need an escort home?”

  “No, thank you.” She took another step toward the exit. “I’ll be perfectly safe on my own.”

  “Very well.” He spoke slowly, as if he were coming to a decision even as his words slipped passed his lips. “They’ll be locking up soon.” He angled his head to the side, listening. “You had better hurry.”