Mortal Temptations

by Allyson James

  His blue eyes flashed, quick volatility that was instantly masked as his gaze roved her from head to foot. He lingered at her breasts, and she felt the nipples rise for him, then his gaze dipped to the dampening tuft between her thighs.

  Patricia parted her legs and let him look, going so far as to lick the tip of her fingers and touch them to her clit.

  His erection was evident in his pants, but he simply leaned on the bedpost, folded his arms, and studied her.

  “Very nice,” he concluded. He pushed himself away from the bed and ran his tongue over his lips. “Keep the bed,” he said softly. “I’ll sleep upstairs.”

  Giving her a final, lingering look, he turned and left the room.

  Patricia let out her breath and scrubbed her hand over her face. That had been—incredibly erotic. She’d come close to orgasm feeling his admiration on every inch of her. She’d never let a man look at her like that before, and now she’d played with one man and spread herself in front of his best friend not an hour later.

  Then she realized that the shower had stopped—had stopped some time ago.

  She looked up in alarm. Nico leaned against the bathroom doorframe, a towel around his waist and water droplets all over his shoulders.

  “Nico,” she whispered.

  Hurting Nico was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t understand why she’d wanted Andreas to look at her body; she understood none of this.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, remorse biting her. “I couldn’t seem to stop myself.”

  “I know.” Nico flicked off the light in the bathroom and came through the darkened room to her. He sat down on the bed and slid one hand across her bare hip. His towel-wrapped body was incredible, and her own body throbbed for him again.

  “This is how it happens,” he said. “You want me first, then you’ll draw Andreas in until he becomes fixed on you. You’ll have us both until we’re so tangled we can’t get free without pain. And then it’s over. You move on, and we eat our hearts out.”

  She listened in dismay. “That is not what’s going to happen.”

  “It’s the way of things.”

  “I am going to find a way to set you free, Nico. So that if we want each other, there’s nothing in the way, and we know it’s real.”

  “Maybe.”

  Patricia started to scramble up. “It will be real; I swear it. Now, I have to go. I have cats to feed, a store to open in a few hours—”

  His hand on her hip tightened. “Stay.” His eyes went dark. “Sleep with me tonight. I know a great place for breakfast, best bagels in Manhattan.”

  The incongruity of a demigod, son of Dionysus and a nymph, on the lookout for a really good bagel made her laugh.

  “All right,” she conceded. “I’ll stay. My cats will never let me hear the end of it, though.”

  “I’ll send Andreas to look after them. He likes cats.”

  She started to smile again, then Nico pulled off his towel, and she got lost in admiration of his body. “I hope you mean he likes to pet and feed them.”

  “I do.” Nico slid under the covers with her and shut off the bedside light. “He’s a pussycat at heart, I told you.”

  “Sure,” Patricia said numbly. “I believe you.”

  But she had to admit snuggling down in the warm bed with Nico, kissing him good night, and spooning back against him, was worth the price of a couple of pissed-off cats.

  NICO’S great place for breakfast turned out to be outstanding. It was one of those incongruous storefronts that didn’t even try to compete with the trendy restaurants of the day and served its customers in a small space of home-baked goodness.

  Nico ate a full breakfast while Patricia nibbled a bagel, both as comfortable with each other as though they’d been together for years. Patricia still was not sure what she felt about her encounter with Andreas or about Nico’s proclamation that she’d ensnare them both and leave them high and dry.

  Patricia knew she had faults, but being a siren wasn’t one of them. Breaking up with someone because they’d grown apart or couldn’t get along was one thing; using and discarding someone was something else.

  She’d also not been sure how good a cat minder Andreas would be, despite Nico’s assurances. But when she’d popped in on the way to breakfast with Nico, she found the water bowls topped off and Red Kitty curled tightly around his favorite toy. Isis sat guard as usual, sphinxlike on the bottom stair.

  “He likes cats,” Nico repeated after they’d left Patricia’s apartment again. “Cats like him.”

  “You do know that I’ve never met anyone as bizarre as the two of you, right?” she asked as they sat across the booth from each other. “Even when I dated another psychic.”

  Nico sipped his coffee. “Glad to know I’m unique.”

  “That’s one word for it.”

  “And I treasure you,” he said, giving her one of his smiles that made her blood heat. “I’ve not met a woman in eons I can show my true nature to. It is not easy for us, remaining hidden. We were thrust here against our will, yet we can’t openly be what we are. Most mortals don’t want to believe in the supernatural, not really. Not alive and walking among them.”

  “I’ve never had the choice.”

  “How long have you been psychic?” He leaned toward her, his attention intoxicating. When Nico looked at her, he truly looked at her, and it was obvious his mind was on nothing else. She’d never had that kind of attention from a man, and it was heady.

  “I was about eight when I found out,” she said. “I’d always felt presences lingering on things and in places but never thought much about it. One day when my grandmother was visiting, she explained it was a talent not many people had, and that I shouldn’t talk about it too much. But it was a gift, and I should use it wisely.”

  “Your grandmother was psychic, too?”

  “I didn’t know it until that day. When I talked about her visit later that day, everyone looked at me oddly. She’d died the night before.”

  Nico’s brows rose. “Interesting.”

  “For some reason it didn’t scare me. She’d needed to talk to me, to pass on her knowledge before it was too late. I never saw her after that. It’s not like I can conjure ghosts or carry on conversations with dead people whenever I want. I’m just good at reading auras and figuring out what happened in rooms where there were strong emotions or reading the vibrations on a piece of furniture. Comes in handy in the antiques business.”

  “Which you love.” He smiled, and her heart squeezed again. “I see it in your eyes.”

  “I do enjoy the work,” she said, trying to sound offhand. “I like the excitement of a good auction; I like tracking down obscure pieces for clients, like the ostracon for Mrs. Penworth.”

  “Why did she want it?”

  “She’d heard about one that belonged to Cleopatra. She couldn’t get that one but wanted one like it. So I searched the market.”

  Nico traced the edge of his mug. “If Andreas and I had come to you in the first place, you might have been able to find it for us.”

  “Or the Dyon might have prevented me from finding out about the ostracon at all. You might have gone straight to the dealer, and I’d never have met you.”

  Nico caught her gaze in one that was half amused and half anguished. “And I wouldn’t be in this deep.”

  She laid her hand on top of his warm, strong one. “I don’t know what kind of women caught you in the past, but I don’t go through men like a hot knife through butter or leave a trail of broken hearts behind me. I think women who do that have intimacy issues. Or not enough to do.”

  “Or they refuse to be hurt,” he suggested.

  “You mean it’s easier to end a relationship before you start caring too much? I suppose.” She sighed. “But I don’t think it’s healthy to go through life never getting close to someone, no matter how much it might hurt later.”

  He was laughing at her, his dark eyes dancing.

  “What?” she asked
.

  “I notice that most of you humans can’t say the word love. It’s relationships and intimacy issues.” He pushed his coffee aside and leaned forward. “Everyone is afraid of love—deep, gut-wrenching, heartbreaking caring for someone else more than for yourself. Love, pure and simple. No analyzing the hell out of it, no sitting with a third person discussing issues.” He put his fist on his chest. “It’s raw, simple emotion, and without it, the world would have been a dead place a long time ago.”

  “Oh.” Patricia liked how his eyes had gone dark and intense. “I’ve never heard it put quite like that.”

  Nico lifted his coffee, breaking the spell. “Call me old-fashioned.”

  Patricia called him sexy as hell. In her thirty-two years of life, she’d had male friends as well as female, and she’d seen that her men friends could love as deeply as her women friends.

  But she’d never heard a man declare that love was as important as Nico just had. The fact that he could still think such a thing, after being so long buffeted by the whims of a goddess, warmed her.

  He didn’t believe she’d be different from whatever women he’d had before, didn’t believe she could be. But she intended to show him. What she felt for Nico already went beyond sexual interest—although that interest was pretty strong.

  She intended to prove to him that she wouldn’t be fickle, spell or no spell. She’d do anything to wipe away the sadness she saw deep in his eyes.

  THEY walked back to Patricia’s apartment so she could call the Egyptology professor she’d located at Cornell. Nico slid his hand in hers as they strolled along the busy Manhattan street, and she enjoyed his strength and the feeling of protection he wrapped around her.

  Once the call was made and the meeting arranged, Patricia packed a few clothes, put the cats in their carrier, and left with Nico for the club. They found Andreas up, in a T-shirt and jeans and drinking coffee, his white black hair mussed. He insisted he come with them to Ithaca, to her surprise and consternation, and not long later, the three of them plus cats were in a rental car heading north out of town.

  The only Egyptology specialist Patricia had found with both the expertise and the time to talk to them was Rebecca Trimble, a postdoc at Cornell. The university’s website said that Rebecca had taken her doctoral degree at the University of Chicago, had plenty of experience at excavations, and had won several prizes for her hieroglyphs and hieratic expertise, including the fellowship she currently held. She’d agreed to see Patricia late that afternoon.

  Patricia had planned to drive up, talk to Dr. Trimble, spend the night, look through promising antique shops, and cruise on home the next day. Her store could stand to be closed that long; her walk-in business was nowhere near what her behind-the-scenes business was. She’d not been surprised when Nico wanted to accompany her, but she wasn’t sure what Andreas’s motive was.

  Andreas stretched himself out in the backseat next to the cat carrier, tucked earbuds into his ears, and closed his eyes. The cats squished themselves to the front of the carrier to be close to him and fell asleep.

  She left city gridlock for packed freeways, which thinned out a little as she drove north. The early fall air was crisp, and Patricia drew a heady breath of it. She’d grown up in the middle of Michigan, where winters were dark, but spring, summer, and fall were fresh and alive. She loved living and working in Manhattan, but the countryside always held a special place in her heart.

  Nico watched the scenery or watched her. She could feel his dark gaze on her, which reminded her of the warmth of sleeping curled up beside him in bed. Every time he looked at her was like a heated touch.

  She glanced into the back to see Andreas, eyes closed, mouth relaxed in sleep. If she was daring, she’d pull over to the side of the road, skim down her pants, then start up again, inviting Nico to lean down and lick her as she drove.

  The idea made her pussy throb, but she knew she wasn’t anywhere near that daring. A noise of frustration escaped her throat.

  Nico looked over and slanted her his sexy smile. “Are you wet, Patricia?” he asked in a low voice.

  Patricia gripped the steering wheel. Her nipples must be sharp outlines against her blouse, but she was too busy driving to check. “I remember what happened last time you asked me that.”

  “Good.” His voice went darker as he snaked his hand to her thigh. “I want you to be dripping wet for me, your panties soaked with your come.”

  She swallowed and glanced quickly into the backseat, but Andreas lay unmoving, tinny sound emanating from his earbuds.

  “I think I’m pretty much there,” she said.

  Nico curled his fingers on her thigh, nowhere near the join of her legs, but her pussy squeezed, and squeezed again. “Stop it,” she half laughed. “I need to drive.”

  “I don’t want to touch you, Patricia. I just want to know that you’re wet for me, that if I unzipped your pants and dipped my fingers inside, I’d find you wet all over. That my fingers would slide over your clit, that it would swell for me, and you’d drip on me even more.”

  Patricia squirmed in her seat. “Oh, God.”

  “Your patience will be rewarded, love. I promise you.”

  “If you make me come while I’m driving, it may be the last thing I ever do.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t touch you. Not yet.”

  “You make me want to touch you.”

  Nico squeezed her thigh again, hunger in his eyes. “Why? What do you want to do to me? Tell me.”

  “I want to open your pants,” she said rapidly. “I want to find your cock hard and huge. I want the tip to wink at me.”

  “That could happen.”

  “I want to stroke you all the way down to your balls. I want to fit my hand under your butt and play with your balls where they’re warm from hanging inside your pants. I want to feel the hair there rubbing my hand, and feel your balls all hard. I want you to lift your cock toward me, with you dying for me to put you in my mouth.”

  Nico’s gaze was intense, his eyes black-dark. She resolutely watched the traffic.

  “What else?” he prompted.

  “I want to tickle your cock with my fingers, then bend over and lick it everywhere I’ve touched it. I want to suck the tip in my mouth and wiggle my tongue over it.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “I want to suck you until you can’t stand it, until you’re dying to come in my mouth. And then I want to slide my own pants off, straddle your lap, and slip your cock into my pussy, which is so, so wet for you.”

  He rubbed his hand once along her leg. “I’d like that.”

  “And then you’d fuck me. You’d thrust your huge cock inside me until I screamed, because it’s so big. You’d fuck me hard, and I’d keep coming while you screwed me.”

  “I’d like that very much.” He didn’t move, but his gaze was so fixed on her she could feel it.

  “Then you’d come. You’d come so high inside me it would burn me up, and I wouldn’t care. And then I’d . . .”

  She pressed her brakes hard, screeching the car to a halt before she climbed the red taillights of the one ahead of her. “Damn it.”

  Nico burst out laughing. He couldn’t possibly realize how sexy he was when he laughed, his brown throat exposed, his hair falling like black silk. “Maybe you’d better stick with driving,” he said.

  “Maybe so.” She did a quick nipple check, but nope, they weren’t relaxing at all.

  As she started moving again, she heard a noise in the backseat. Andreas rose like a god from the sea and leaned forward between them, sinewy arms resting on either seat. He said, “When you’re done doing all that to him, would you consider doing it to me?”

  Patricia gasped and almost had to slam on the brakes again. “Shit. I thought you were asleep.”

  Andreas regarded her in the rearview mirror with lazy blue eyes. “You were mistaken.”

  Nico continued to laugh, not disturbed in the slightest.

  “You see?�
� he said to Patricia, weaving his fingers together. “Tangled.”

  8

  NICO spent the rest of the trip uncomfortably hard from Patricia’s fantasy until he was afraid the zipper of his jeans would fly apart. He knew damn well that if he opened her pants as he’d described, he’d find her slick and wet and wanting him.

  Whenever they reached where they were going, he’d reward her by spreading her and licking away that sweet honey until she shuddered with release. She needed to release, and Nico could do that for her.

  He knew Patricia had a place inside her where desire waited to be caressed to wakefulness. She was shy about it, but as she’d shown him, her buried desires were dying to break free.

  He’d teach her that there was nothing wrong with releasing her inhibitions. Before this was over, he would teach her everything, and even if she couldn’t respond to him emotionally, he would have the satisfaction of knowing he’d helped unlock parts of herself that she kept hidden deep down. It was really all he could have from this.

  Patricia had booked them into a bed-and-breakfast on a hill overlooking the town, the inn surrounded by trees loaded with September yellow, orange, and crimson foliage. The air was cool but not yet biting. Beautiful.

  Patricia asked for two rooms, one for herself and one for Andreas and Nico. The innkeeper, Mrs. Blake, was a bright woman with short white hair, and showed them around with enthusiasm. The house was nineteenth-century, and Patricia looked around as though she were feeling the auras of the many people who’d passed through.

  “I’ve given you boys the Helen Monroe room,” Mrs. Blake said. “She was the original owner of the house. Don’t worry if you hear something scuffling about in the night. The whole place is haunted.”

  Nico caught Patricia’s twitch of lips as she turned away. He wondered if it was because she knew for certain whether or not the house was haunted or because of their diminutive host calling him and Andreas “boys.”

  Patricia settled into her room with her cats, which she’d brought because the inn was pet-friendly. Isis and Red Kitty weren’t used to staying on their own at night, she’d said.