Modern Magic
Page 110
The gesture was so Earth-male she laughed.
“What, now you think I’m funny? First you call me a nutcase and now you laugh at me?” he mock-growled.
She wanted to rip his clothes off, kick his feet out from under him and nibble on everything she could reach, right here, right now on the floor.
“That is some visual,” he managed, and he did something with his tongue that made her gasp. “I like it.”
“What?”
“You. Me. On the floor.”
“How—”
“I’ll explain later.”
“Holy shit.” With him, she better watch her thinking.
“Vivid. Hot,” he continued. Pulling their bodies together, he slid down to press kisses at the throat of her dress. “Can I take this for you?” He lifted it from the hem as she slid down the side zipper.
Automatically, like a child, she lifted her arms. He slipped the dress off and tossed it aside. Both his hands went to her waist, hot and firm. He let his hands span the smooth skin there, then moved up to warm her ribcage.
He groaned, then pulled her lacy camisole off as well. Naked from the waist up except for an equally lacy bra and a necklace, she was soon too hot from his mouth and hands to think. She got busy with his tie, pulling it loose until he could tug it off over his head. She fought the buttons on his shirt. Frustrated with that, she paused to slide her fingers in the belt loops of his pants, pull him tight into her hips. She wanted to feel his arousal, and could, even through the wool fabric.
She turned her head to give him better access to the sensitive skin at her throat. He went there immediately. Man, he was talented.
“Your shirt,” she muttered, “lose it or I’m busting the buttons.”
He busted the buttons himself, when he jerked it open before he could get the last two undone. The tic-tic-tic of the buttons on the floor made her laugh. The laughter turned to a moan when he unhooked her bra, slid hot hands over her shoulders to ease it off.
She let it fall away, but he didn’t immediately cup her breasts or play with them as some men might have. Instead, he smoothed the skin on her back where the strap had fastened, kneading the flesh till she made purring noises in her throat.
“Ahhhh, that feels…awesome,” she managed, her hands mirroring his kneading strokes.
“So do you. You have a beautiful body, Cait, to go with your beautiful face.”
“I don’t think of myself that way,” she murmured, distracted by the comment, and the equally magnificent musculature of his chest. Scars puckered over his abdomen, and a long, evil-looking slash went from left shoulder to right hip, bisecting the other scars like a sash.
“Ah, but I see you that way.” The words were punctuated by kisses trailed down her throat and into her cleavage.
Cait squealed when he scooped her off the kitchen counter and carried her into the living room.
“Tile’s too cold. Bed?”
“Bedroom,” she said between kisses. “Too far. Floor’s good.”
“Rug,” he managed, and she laughed as his eyes crossed when she rubbed her body on his. The laugh was throaty. Feral. Every inch of her was on fire. She was already wet for him. He knelt to set her on the floor and she tugged him with her onto the soft rug.
He knelt in front of her, his hands firm on her hips. Nuzzling her belly, he slid her lacy underwear down her legs. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yes,” she hissed in pleasure as he ran his tongue up her belly. “I am totally okay with this.” She furrowed her fingers into his hair, enjoying the silky feel of it. Tilting his face up, she bent forward to kiss him deeply. “I’m hungry for it, I need it to feel…to feel…”
She kept losing track of what she wanted to say, reveling as his hands caressed her hips, her thighs. The heat of him was real, blood heat. The beat of his pulse in his throat enthralled her and she wanted to taste it. She shifted, pushing him down instead. Kneeling herself, pressed her lips to the lifepoint.
“To feel what?”
“Alive, human.”
“Are you alive, Cait? Are you human? Are you real?”
Pulling back, she looked into his eyes. The questions weren’t rhetorical. But he wasn’t unsure. He was asking her, demanding of her, that she be sure.
Later she would appreciate the subtlety of his pause, his way of saying, say-no-now-or-don’t-say-no without being that blunt.
“Oh, yes,” she said, feeling a hot wave of desire flood through her. “I’m real. I’m alive. I’m as human as you are.” She let one hand cup him, slid up and down the shaft of his erection. “And I want to be with you. Now. I’m protected, I’m healthy.”
“Should I be protected as well?”
“It’s taken care of.”
In answer, he reared up to kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then her lips. The kiss deepened, grew more heated. Swaying together, they wound themselves around each other. He twisted, tumbling her onto his lap.
Shoving the footstool aside, she pulled him on top of her.
“Good enough,” he said, as he pounced, his hands finding the sensitive, ticklish skin at her ribs. From there, his hands caressed her hip, moved forward to warm her inner thighs. Head bent, he pressed his mouth to her calf, moving up to her knee and easing to the floor to bury his face at the juncture of her thighs. She arched into his hands as he used his tongue to bring her to the edge of a climax.
“Oh, God, that feels so incredible,” she nearly screamed the words. “Don’t…”
“Stop?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t and she crested to climax within moments. Enervated by the powerful orgasm, she sank back to the floor, panting. His hands continued to caress her as she recovered, reheating her core, sensitizing her flesh even more.
Needing to return the favor, she kissed his shoulder, moved down his torso, followed the line of brown hair to his taut belly. She felt the strength beneath the skin, used her hands to mold the muscle, tease his nipples in return. His chest and shoulders were broad, delicious, but his arousal beckoned. She used her tongue to touch, taste and caress him, while her hands urged him to trade places with her.
He rolled to his back with a groan of appreciation as she stroked him. She felt his passion rise, both mentally and physically. It was an amazing experience to make love with someone, while sharing that mental connection. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would be like to open fully to him, feel his every feeling.
The thought scared her, so she put it away and concentrated on his pleasure as he writhed under her mouth and hands.
“You’re killing me, Cait, I want you now. I need you.”
“You need to let me taste you some more,” she murmured.
He let her play for a few more minutes, rewarding her with appreciative noises and epithets. She was half expecting it when he reared up, took her arms and reversed their positions. She opened for him, guiding him in.
“Ooooh,” she breathed, delighting in the sensation of him filling her to her uttermost. “Oh, Aiden.”
With his body poised above her, his gaze was fierce. “Yes, Cait. I have you. Move with me.” He began to rock, a light stroke at first. As she lifted her hips in response, he lengthened the stroke of withdrawal and reentry so they moved in unison, their pleasure building together. And fast.
“Look at me Cait,” he demanded. “I won’t last much longer. I need you to look at me.”
She focused on him, his eyes alight with passion, his features etched with emotion. “Come for me,” she whispered, feeling her own completion building. “I want to feel you explode inside me.”
She felt him thicken, and it heightened her pleasure so much that she felt her own release begin. He quickened his pace and drove into her as she rose to meet him. As she went over the edge, so did he, arching back as he found his own release.
Her heart galloped as they shuddered together, falling, falling. He continued to slide, rocking gently in and out as she quaked with the a
ftershocks of a monumental orgasm.
It took her an eternity to return to her body, or at least it seemed that way. Her heart beat, her lungs worked. She was warm. Aiden blanketed her in the heat of his skin. His breathing was still ragged, but his heart steadied under the hand she ran up and down his back.
She couldn’t stop touching him. He was built perfectly for her. Long, a little rangy. Solid. His hips met hers at the right spot, in the right way. His chest hair was an erotic tickle at her breasts. All in all, a fabulous fit.
“You feel good,” she said, letting her hands glide down to his butt. “All the way around.”
“I wish I could come up with something poetic,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But all I can say is ditto.”
She laughed. It was so good to laugh with him. He had made her laugh more in the three days she’d known him than she had in…well, as long as she could remember. Long before she became an ST. The old Cait would have been mortified that she’d only met the man three days ago and here she was rolling around naked with him on her living room floor.
Cait Patten, ST, aka Dr. Cait Brennan, knew that life truly was so very short.
“I can’t read them, but those feel like deep thoughts, my Cait.”
“Not so deep, really,” she replied. “I was thinking that in my old life, I’d have at least made you take me on a second date.”
“We’ll order pizza.”
Actually giggling, she nodded. “Okay, I accept. I used to be a lot more cautious. I also used to think I had all the time in the world.”
“You don’t now?” he queried, propping himself up on his elbows to give her relief from his weight, and, she supposed, to see her expression. He seemed very keen on that.
“I know I don’t. I’ve died once and I’m in a dangerous job. I used to see that bumper sticker that said Don’t Postpone Joy and didn’t really get it. I get it now.”
He smiled, and it was as intimate as an embrace. “I know. Atlanta was a knock on death’s door. Thankfully death didn’t answer. I was in the hospital with flash burns, required two surgeries for the shattered leg, and this alone required more than seventy stitches,” he said as he pointed to the long scar bisecting his body. “Concussion, broken fingers, broken rib, bruised spleen, fractured hip, which took a couple more surgeries.”
“How did you explain it?”
He unfocused his eyes, seemed to waver. “Carjacking. Then situational amnesia, I’m afraid,” he said apologetically, as if to someone else. “You actually got away with that?” She was incredulous. How could anyone buy that excuse?
“Of course. No one could argue since there weren’t any witnesses, and I did have a concussion.”
“You left Atlanta.”
His expression closed, and she could tell he was about to deflect, blow it off.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t shut me out. Tell me you don’t want to tell me, or it still makes you afraid, but don’t lie here, still inside me, and shut me out.” She managed to keep her voice even, but her heart sank and emotion closed her throat with tears.
In the seven years she’d been awake, she’d hardly cried. If she started now, she might never stop.
He dropped his head to her shoulder, taking a deep, almost gasping breath.
“I’m sorry.” He stayed there, breathing deeply for several long minutes. “I try not to go back there. It’s hard to lose friends.”
She had let her hands lie still as he struggled, but now, she ran them to his hair, tugging his face out of the confines of her shoulder. Meeting his gaze, she nodded.
“I know that feeling. If you want to tell me more about it sometime, I’ll hear it, understand it. And I won’t judge it.”
Something changed in his face as she said it. A clearing. A release.
“Thanks. I may take you up on that.” He nuzzled her neck and God help her, she wanted him again. “We should probably move.”
“Mmmm. Want to go shower?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“You have one of the remodeled showers?” Aiden asked, a hopeful note in his voice.
“I do.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, moving quickly to rise, pulling her up as well. He tugged on her hand, hurrying her across the living area and through the master bedroom to the bathroom.
She hoped they’d get as far as the bed next time. Her heart clenched at the thought that she wouldn’t be downside as long as she’d like this time. She had to get the Ty-Op and go, unless the Kith said the murders were her job.
She really hoped she wasn’t going to go back in a body bag.
Setting that ugly thought aside, she turned on the water. Aiden was looking at the cabinets, admiring the room.
“This is great. I’ve wanted to do mine but haven’t had time yet. It’s disruptive to have workmen in the place. Remodeling doesn’t go well with spell casting or scrying.”
“Really?” she was intrigued with the thought. “Spell casting?
The look he gave her was quizzical. “Of course. And all it entails.”
“I don’t have a clue what it entails.”
“I’ll teach you if you want, if you have time.”
So he’d sensed her worry about time, about being here. She started to warn him off, tell him her time on-planet was never enough to indulge in the things a lover would want, but he pulled her into the shower. They played with the soap and each other, then she ended up straddling him as he sat on the stone bench. She understood at that point that if she could imagine a physical pleasure, this man would make it happen. He’d probably know she wanted it before she knew herself. She came back to Earth in his arms, with the jets beating down on them like rain.
“The water’s getting cold,” she protested as they sluiced off for a second time.
“The boiler here is incredible.” At her surprised look, he nodded. “Yep, still old boiler systems, but man, are they superb. Our four apartments are on a separate system in this wing. We each have a water heater under the sink for the kitchen, but the bathrooms are on the central boiler. It goes off about this time of night, beginning to reheat around four in the morning to prep for morning showers.”
“How do you know this stuff?”
“When you have to protect yourself and others from magical attack, you protect every means of ingress to your home. It’s not happened to me, but a lot of nasty things can come in through the pipes. Magic can follow the water, the copper or steel in the wiring. I have some unusual additions to my piping that the other apartments don’t have.”
“Like what?” she asked, wrapping up in a huge, fluffy white towel.
“Spells.” He took the towel she handed him and ruffled it over his hair, then down his body. She followed its progress, feeling a renewed hunger. She’d had an exhausting day, two incredible bouts of lovemaking and she was still feeling the rush when it came to him.
“And some additional valves,” he said from under the towel.
“What?” she’d missed the second part while she was perving on him.
“Valves. You know.” He made a levering motion. “I have extra shut-offs. If I sense anything hinky, I can shut off before something comes into my…” He looked at her. “You know what a valve is.”
“Oh, yeah. I do.” She knew she must look sheepish. “I was, uh, not paying attention.”
“No problem,” he said, looking at her. “Anything I should be wondering about?”
“No, I was looking at you. You’re distracting.”
“Well then.” He grinned. “I’m looking forward to showing you my valves.”
“Riiiiiight.” She felt ridiculous, and vulnerable, but grinned at him anyway. “I think I’d better get dressed.”
From the living room came a trill and a series of beeps so discordant, Cait nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d only heard it in training. It was only used for a serious emergency.
“Oh, my God, I’m getting beeped!”
The urgency translated to him. “I’
m guessing that’s bad.”
“You have no idea. Hell, I have no idea. It’s never happened. Five years, ten—no, twelve—missions, and I’ve never been beeped.”
She headed for the living room with Aiden on her heels.
What are you doing? Whatever the hell it was, it was bad. She couldn’t let him see this. It would be like signing his death certificate to involve him. She stopped in her tracks, and he nearly ran into her back.
“What’s wrong, Cait?”
“Uh…this may take a while, and I think I need to be alone while I take care of whatever it is.”
Aiden pulled her around to face him. She slammed her expression to neutral before he could see her uncertainty.
“I thought we were working together on this.”
Cait shook her head as she wrapped her towel more firmly around her body. “I never said that, Aiden. You wanted to talk about the smell when you came over tonight, and I didn’t plan…”
“Yeah,” he said. “I get it. And what happened between us doesn’t change anything.” He walked around her apartment, picking up his clothes which were strewn all over. The evidence of how badly they’d wanted one another, the rush to lovemaking, was everywhere, and it mocked Cait’s lack of trust in the man who’d just loved her into oblivion.
“It changes a lot,” she countered. “But not this. I’ve told you I’ll keep your secrets and you keep mine.” The PDA went off again, the tones raising the hairs on the back of her neck. “But…”
“Right.” He stopped next to her on his way to the door, clad in his dress pants, dress shoes and the t-shirt he’d worn under his dress shirt. He shrugged into his coat, then wadded up his buttonless shirt and shoved it under the suit jacket. “But your secrets are still secrets.”
“And so are yours.”
Aiden looked at the floor and shook his head, then seemed to regroup. He took the ends of the towel in each hand, and tossed the loop gently over her shoulders. He used it to pull her in to him. He kissed her, long and deep, and rested his forehead on hers. “Whatever you share, whenever you share it, it’ll be safe with me. I’ve got your back, Cait. I’ll see you in the morning at seven to go to the towpaths.”