He rolled the rubber up onto his cock before he pushed her back down on the floor, entering her. She was so tight around him even with the decreased sensation, it was a wonder he didn’t come from that first sliding inside her. He’d always loved that moment. Her face creased in desire, just the way he remembered.
Slowly, he rocked back and forth against her, letting her pussy adjust to the penetration, each time gaining a little more ground, until he was fully inside her. He ground his hips down, shuddering at the slowness.
“Ohhh. Drake.”
Able to set a quick pace, he grasped both her arms, holding them down to the floor as they supported him as well. She bucked more frenetically under him. Her movements drove him over that close edge so that he burst inside her in one clear driving stroke.
Resting on top of her, he tried to regain his breath.
Next time, he’d take her nice and proper.
“Whoa, buddy, who says there will be a next time?” She pressed her palms against his shoulders.
Hell, had he said that out loud?
* * * * *
In the dying sunlight, Rob leaned forward in the seat of the Cadillac, watching as the woman with long, curly black hair walked down Marsters’s front walk in sexy heels. Her dress fit her like a glove. A magician’s glove. She was probably some Marsters fan club member trying to have a quickie with the most famous magician in the world. He snorted.
Then she turned, and the stunning creation’s identity became clear. He’d seen her in clippings and in video.
Chloe Marsters, Drake’s ex-wife.
He’d heard she’d gone back to her maiden name, Richards, after the divorce.
How delicious she should show up now. Now that Rob had the key to Drake’s magic. Soon, he’d claim it for himself. Maybe he’d claim the woman as well. Make it a double loss for Marsters.
The insolent fraud. Marsters had been celebrated for years, touted as the greatest since Houdini, while he had been left to languish in tiny bars and clubs trying to eke out a living. Even as Rob’s own star had risen, Marsters had stayed on top, the celebrated magician who could do feats beyond comprehension.
Rob had never understood how Marsters had pulled off some of the tricks he had. They’d seemed impossible. And then, to retire at the top of the entertainment field and fade so quickly from the spotlight.
Nothing had made sense.
Marsters hadn’t allowed Rob to take that top spot from him, instead retiring before there had ever been a challenge issued. The bastard. Rob would always know that Marsters had left, that Rob hadn’t truly won. The whole thing ate at him. He was the best. Marsters needed to know that.
Two years ago, Gray had hit upon the solution to solving the riddle of Marsters’s magic. Marsters had found some way to imbue himself with it, having no real talent of his own.
It had all started with a certain magic circuit slut talking about Marsters downplaying his talent. She’d talked Marsters up and down until Rob had given her what she had coming. Then, before she’d expired, she’d tearfully told Rob of an encounter with Marsters where he’d been drunk after he’d retired, and he’d told her he had no magical talent, none whatsoever.
That wasn’t the arrogant son-of-a-bitch Marsters that Rob knew. The one who laid claim to moving the sun backwards and making the moon spin faster. The one who’d raised ships from the Atlantic Ocean.
He’d quickly realized that Marsters hadn’t said he had no magical power. A slight difference, which was ludicrous, unless you believed that magical power existed raw within the universe. And Rob had come to believe that. He’d studied with a shaman in New Orleans who had taught him about natural magic. Something that Gray didn’t have. Somehow, Drake had found a source and exploited it.
After all, how else could a no-account hack be better at the thing that Rob had spent so many years studying? Marsters had no training, no teachers. He should have stayed a magical nobody.
So Rob had investigated and researched what exactly Drake Marsters did with his time in retirement, trying to discover what could give him his power.
The odd object that Marsters had taken to be examined by several historians had intrigued him. What was so important to Marsters about this thing?
He’d read up on historical objects and found a line of study that said they could empower one with magical prowess.
And the key had fallen into the lock.
This thing was what gave Marsters his talent. He’d stolen it. Stolen talent that should never have been his.
It was why he’d beaten Rob at being a magician. The only reason why. And now Rob would take it, and claim what was rightfully his.
He patted the case sitting on the seat beside him.
In the process, he’d punish Marsters for daring to take away Rob’s place. It was only fair that they both know who was the true best magician.
Chapter Four
This was not the way things were supposed to go. Chloe ran a hand through her hair. Not even two steps into his house, and she’d wound up back to old habits. Sex. Yeah, they’d never ever had a problem there.
She’d made the right decision years ago when she’d cut off all contact with Drake. Had they kept in contact, she’d have kept doing things like this, no matter what her resolve was, no matter how many secrets he kept from her. To keep having sex after they’d broken up would have confused things too much between them, or rather too much for her. It didn’t matter how good the sex was, or how much her pussy wept for him even as she’d cried over him, too.
Pulling her hand away from her hair, she huffed a breath. She should’ve worn underwear tonight. She’d wanted to distract him with flirting, not seduce him. What did you think would happen when he figured it out? And she’d known he’d figure it out. He knew her way too well in the sexual department. “We’re not doing that again.” Who did she tell? Him? Or herself?
Drake’s shit-eating grin said he didn’t see it that way. It said he knew they would be doing it again. The grin faded as she didn’t return the look, but glared at him. “Why did you come here? We never made it to that subject.”
Tittering but not talking, she straightened her clothes out, attempting to look like she hadn’t had sex a few minutes ago, but not succeeding. Her clothes were rumpled. And she hadn’t come up with a completely gelled cover story yet.
“I know why you came back.”
She stopped breathing. He couldn’t know the reason. Unless the Collector had set her up. “Why?” She followed him into the living room, which was ornate and fully furnished, though he’d never spent much time in there. The lack of butt impressions on the rose-colored couch told her he still didn’t. She’d never understood him having all these rooms he didn’t use. For him, it had been about keeping up appearances, acquiring things. Other than his growing up without a lot, she didn’t quite understand his reasoning.
He turned his head away to look out some windows. They overlooked an immaculate garden with a huge fountain shooting water into the air. Did it still have fish in the bottom level? She’d liked to feed them. Yet another thing he’d said was gauche about her.
He said one word, still without looking at her. “Reconciliation.”
“Drake.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. It had never occurred to her he’d think that. Not after the way they’d left it. It had never occurred to her he might want her back. Did he? Nothing had changed between them. The secrets were still firmly in place. Surely he had to know what couldn’t happen. They couldn’t get back together. Not unless everything changed. And he didn’t like change.
“Chloe.” His back presented such a formidable front. Her mind remembered kissing down it naked, until she’d reached his balls to suck them in her ... She quickly shook her head. I’m not. Her traitorous body mewed. It had been good with Drake. And he’d said next time, he’d take her good and proper. Her thighs clenched together. She remembered what it had been like with him when it was good and proper. Even hot and quick, sex with him w
as better than most.
No, there won’t be a next time, dammit.
“I don’t know why I’m here.” Lord, she’d never been good at lying. He’d see through any elaborate story in a minute, probably a second. Best to keep it simple. “I needed to see you.” That was true. She needed to see him and get the artifact.
He turned back around, his eyes casting out a hopeful glow. She winced. He thought she’d come to get back together. Her heart niggled at the romance of that, and dropped at the reality of what she intended to do. She was not going down relationship roads again with him. It had been too painful to leave last time. But if she didn’t lie, if she didn’t lead him on to think she would, it would get her in the front door. And closer to the artifact she’d come to find. It would be a fine line she walked. She only hoped she didn’t fall off and hurt herself. Or him.
“Let’s just get caught up. Do some talking.” She let a shaky smile loose on her lips. “No more of what happened in the foyer.” Her neck heated and she rubbed it. “For right now.”
His gaze fell, looking a bit crestfallen. His eyes darted up to meet hers again. “You can stay here if you want. Tonight.”
She arched a brow at him.
He laughed. “I have plenty of rooms. You don’t have to stay in mine. But ... I know ...”
She didn’t have the money for a hotel room. Well, she did with the Collector’s slush fund, but he didn’t know that. “Fine. I’ll stay here tonight. My bag’s in the car.”
They both started for the door, then stopped. “What are you doing?”
“Going to get my bag.”
“I’ll get it for you. Make yourself at home. After all, it used to be yours.”
She took a deep breath, hearing the door click shut behind him. While she was looking at a few pictures, Drake soon rattled back inside.
“What the hell is in here? Rocks?” He pushed her suitcase in front of him before leaving it in the foyer.
“A girl has to pack essentials.”
“And then some.” His eyes followed her as she checked out a painting he’d not had when she’d lived there. “Want some dinner?”
“Sure.”
She followed him to the kitchen where he made them a stir fry. The scent of onions and peppers soon filled the gigantic kitchen.
“You never used to cook. Retirement has changed you.”
“In some ways.” He dumped some sauce and spices in the pan, stirring frantically, keeping the veggies and meat racing around the pan before pulling the pan off. He loaded down their plates before sitting down himself.
“So how do you keep busy? Now that you’re not touring.”
“A little of this. A little of that.” He shrugged, his shoulders rolling. She’d loved to give him backrubs when they’d been together. Her finger clenched around her fork. It was the one time he’d let his guard down. Even during sex, he’d had shields up. But when her fingers had kneaded his neck, he’d always relaxed. He took another bite of peppers. “How’s Kimberly doing? And Joanne?”
“As well as can be expected. It’s bad.” She stabbed a piece of chicken. “And it’s hard to watch.” She almost choked on her tongue. Never had she talked to anyone about this. Somehow being with Drake had loosened her tongue.
“I can imagine.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he asked, “So what else have you been up to the past four years?”
“Boring stuff. Not much.”
His eyes met hers over his glass of water. “I’d like to hear about it. Especially the boring stuff.”
Warmth infused her stomach and throat. “O.K. But you have to tell me about retirement.”
The smile took over his whole face. “Deal.”
Butterflies race around her whole body. God, she’d forgotten how handsome he was. How his eyes could melt her. But none of that mattered. She steeled herself as they finished dinner and the conversation. Because after he’d gone to bed, she’d creep down and find the artifact. He always kept things like that in his study. She’d take it and get the hell out of his life again.
* * * * *
Only she couldn’t do it.
Sneaking down the steps after she was sure Drake would be in bed, she dashed for his study. He always went to bed at the same time every night. She counted on him not changing his habits too much in the time they’d been separated.
She didn’t cut on the light, but let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The shelves where he kept his prized possessions were still full of knickknacks. Some things outlined in the shadows, she thought she recognized.
The artifact beckoned to her from its place on the shelf. It gleamed, saying, “Come and get me.”
Reaching to it, she wrapped both hands around it. It was cool, almost cold to the touch. Its smoothness tingled under fingertips. She rubbed her hands along it for a second, unable to resist.
What are you doing? Get out. Before you get caught.
Artifact in hand, she crept for the front door.
Her other hand reached for the door handle. She had it grasped in her hand. She was home free. Pressing down on the handle would compress it to get outside the house. Deliver this item, and money would never be an issue again.
One thing stopped her.
She’d enjoyed spending time with him earlier.
She and Drake had talked for a couple of hours, sharing things that had happened while they’d been apart. She still couldn’t believe he’d retired. Listening to him tell her everything about his life, only not the things she wanted to know, she’d sat there plotting. Planning to get the artifact she’d come for. Regardless of the things neither of them brought up, it had been nice to talk to him again without jumping his bones or throwing objects at his person. It reminded her they’d used to be friendly. Not just lover friendly but friendship friendly.
And she’d missed that part, too.
She blew out a breath.
Just do it.
She couldn’t.
Much as she wanted to take off with the totem, deliver it, and collect her money, it would be stealing it from Drake. No amount of persuasion could convince her that wasn’t the case. And she couldn’t do that to him. They’d had their problems, but she didn’t hate him. And last night, she’d seen more of the man she’d fallen in love with than she had when she’d left. He still hadn’t opened up fully. But things had been better last night. Better than good, they’d been great.
Chloe, you’re an idiot.
At least she’d be an honest idiot. It was rather hypocritical of her to take Drake to task for secrets, then do a doozy of a clandestine move of her own, taking what was his without asking.
Trudging back to the study, she hefted the artifact back in place. Her fingers rubbed over it. It almost seemed to shiver with her touch. Did she imagine a wiggle in the material it was made of? What was it made of?
“So this is why you’re here.”
She swung around to confront the familiar voice in the dark. Drake’s. She was so busted.
* * * * *
After flipping on the light, Drake watched the myriad of emotions parade across her face.
“You’re still up.”
“Yep.” He leaned back on the couch, sitting in the shadows unlit by the small lamp. He’d watched her sneak in, take the artifact and book off with it without a look back. His heart hammered in his chest even as the couch squeaked under his weight. She hated him that much, she’d take something of his.
“I ... I was bringing it back.” She pushed her hands down in front of her. Her voice sounded upset, but not near tears. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. What had possessed her? And why the fuck did he, even as angry as he was now, want to throw her to the floor, strip off her clothes and make love to her endlessly? His cock rested rock hard despite everything that had happened.
“After you took it.”
She stepped closer, where he could see the hands wringing in front of her, a sure sign she was upset, and repea
ted the words slowly, as though he hadn’t heard. “I brought it back.”
“But you did take it.”
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
His honest Chloe. Course if he couldn’t lie without his face showing it, he’d stick with the truth too. His fingernails bit into his palms. His anger wasn’t only directed at her but at himself. “Sit down, Chloe.”
She teetered, her body swaying. “Drake.”
“Sit down.” He gritted the words through tightly clenched teeth to keep from raising his voice.
Her eyes widened -- she’d picked up on his mood -- and down she sat. “Do not overreact.”
“Oh, that’s rich. You stole from me.”
“I brought it back.”
“So you keep saying. But that was after you stole it, dammit. Why? Why did you come back here to steal from me?” His pulse beat a rhythm in his throat. He could feel it, along with his throat constricting. “Who are you stealing it for?” Who the hell wanted this thing so bad they’d use Chloe to get to him?
“Drake.” She pursed her lips together before parting them to speak. “A man offered me money to procure that thing.” She pointed a thumb in that thing’s direction. “A lot of money.”
“Did he tell you to steal it?”
“No. I was supposed to find it and get it, but ...” She hesitated. “He never said to steal it.” She cringed at the latter.
So she’d come up with that part on her own? “Then why? Why steal it? Why didn’t you ask me for it?”
She blinked her eyes several times before running a hand through her hair. Her look plainly said she thought he was nuts for even considering that. “Would you have given it to me?”
“If I knew it was important to you, yes.” He would have. He’d have given her anything she needed. Including the damn artifact. All she’d had to do was ask. Damn Chloe and her pride. It got her into so much trouble. Why didn’t she trust him enough to come to him? His gut ached from the thought of how much she must not trust him. Why did this hurt so much?
THE COLLECTOR 1 - Magical Chances Page 4
