Talon didn’t kiss me or try to undress me. Instead, he just stood there, running his hands up and down my body. His touch was light, surprisingly so, given how rough his hands were, but every soft fingertip he trailed up my shoulder and down my chest burned into my skin, making me ache inside. Overpowering all my awkward fears and doubts.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I grabbed his hands and held them tight against my chest. “What do you say we get naked?”
“I’m already naked,” Talon replied, smiling. “But I’d be more than happy to help you.”
He slid my camisole straps down one at a time, pressing sweet kisses along my arms and shoulders as the silk slid away. Then, he pushed the fabric down, exposing my breasts. His hands covered them again, kneading them as before. I couldn’t stop the low groan escaping my throat. Talon leaned down, his mouth just brushing my nipple, his tongue just flicking out to tease it.
By this time, so many tingles ripped through my body I felt like I’d been electrocuted again. It was wonderful, but my skin was too sensitive, and I was too impatient. I drew back, unzipped my pants, and stepped out of them. My panties followed a moment later, then the camisole.
I put my hands on Talon’s face and crushed my lips to his. He responded by yanking me toward him and pressing his fingers into my back, sliding them down my body, even as our tongues drove together. His shaft brushed my inner thigh. His fingers did too, before retreating. Again and again and again.
Exquisite torture. And I loved every second of it.
But I was in a frenzy. Too much pressure. Too much pleasure. Too many sensations.
“Talon,” I said, my voice low and husky with need.
“I know,” he said. “I know.”
Talon picked me up. I locked my legs around his waist and buried my face in his neck, drinking in his minty aroma.
“Wall,” he rasped into my hair. “Couch, table, chair, something, anything.”
“Couch back and to your left,” I murmured.
Talon swiveled around and took two steps forward. He reached out and touched the back of the couch. He laid me down on it. The fabric felt cool and scratchy against my bare back, but I didn’t care. There was only one thing I wanted to feel right now—Talon.
He steadied himself, then slid into me. I opened my legs, taking him inside.
I’d had sex since my accident, so I knew what to expect with my supercharged skin and heightened senses—knew I’d feel everything more now. Feel his stubble scraping my cheek. Hear his voice rasping out my name. Smell his scent spreading over my skin. Taste his tongue in my mouth. See him moving over me.
But this pleasure was more intense than any I’d ever experienced. And it wasn’t just physical. Hot emotions rushed through me as we kissed and caressed and moved back and forth together. I thought my supersensitive, supercharged body would explode as Talon thrust deeper inside me.
Then, it did, and we both did—together.
#
Afterward, we remained cuddled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. I had my head pillowed on Talon’s chest, while he drew small circles on my shoulder with his finger.
“I like being here with you, Nightingale,” he said, his chest rumbling with every word. “You finding me in that alley was one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I asked. “I’ve told you a dozen times now my name is Wren.”
“No it’s not. Nightingale is your name,” he said in a firm voice. “You’re no drab wren. You could never be that.”
Sure I could, I thought. That’s what I really am. You’d agree, if only you could see me.
I closed my eyes as a horrific realization struck me. Talon would be able to see me, sooner rather than later. A few more hours, another day tops, and he’d get his sight back. He’d told me as much.
This cocoon we snuggled in, this perfect little bubble of easy happiness, would pop! as soon as Talon saw me. The story, as he called it, the fairy tale, would disappear as quickly as lightning striking the ground, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth—and the ashes of my heart.
He wouldn’t want me anymore. He wouldn’t want good ole Abby Appleby, who was practical, uptight, and occasionally yelled at people to get things done. He’d want his fantasy woman. Nightingale. The mysterious, clever, witty, gorgeous heroine who’d saved him.
I didn’t know what Talon would do if he realized who I really was. How he’d react. Would he try to pretend he felt the same way about me as he did about Nightingale? Would he give me the let’s-just-be-friends speech? Or the it-was-great-but-it-was-only-one-night talk? Or worse, would he be like Ryan—completely ignore me and pretend like this had never happened?
I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to find out.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, pulling away from him.
“Sure, that would be great.”
“Just a minute.”
I went into the kitchen and pulled a bottled water out of the fridge, but instead of handing it to him, I walked over to my vest, the one I’d worn to the O’Hara wedding, the one I’d gotten the condom from. I pulled a small, white pill out of one of the pockets and dropped it into the water, watching it fizz. When the pill dissolved, I moved back over to Talon and handed him the water. He sat up, and took a long drink, draining half of it in one gulp.
“You know, I think Bandit’s drug is wearing off,” the superhero said. “The grayness is getting brighter, and I can see more shapes now. Like this bottle.”
Talon looked at the bottle, and his head tilted to one side. He let out a slow breath. “Wren? I feel … strange. Did you … do … something … to me?”
“I’m sorry, Talon.” I pressed my palm against his cheek. “I gave you a sleeping pill.”
“But … why?” the superhero asked, his voice thick and slow.
“So you won’t ever see the real me,” I whispered.
The superhero’s head dropped onto his chest. He slumped against the couch. The bottle rolled out of his hand and fell to the floor.
Chapter Eight
I stood there, holding my breath, but the pill, a combination of relaxidon and some other drugs, had already taken affect, and Talon slept peacefully—for now.
So, once again, I had an unconscious superhero in my apartment—and this time, I needed to move him before he woke up. Before he could see me for who I was—a superfreak.
I threw on some clothes and my vest, ignoring the treacherous, warm glow I still felt from being with Talon. Then, I re-dressed the superhero in his hat, boots, pants, leg harnesses, and weapons. I hesitated when I came to the bloody shirt. It went against all my supersenses, especially my nose, to put that nasty, smelly thing back on him, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t take him out in the snow half-dressed.
The leather shirt had shrunk from being wet, and I struggled to get the stiff fabric onto Talon’s body, but I managed by duct taping the leather together when I couldn’t get the zipper in the back to close. The same thing went for his pants. First, I’d taken them off, and now I wrapped tape over certain sensitive areas to make sure they didn’t get frostbite. I really was a superfreak.
Talon looked so calm, so comfortable, so sexy sleeping on my couch I almost changed my mind. Then I remembered how he kept calling me Nightingale and what would happen if he found out who I was. How disappointed he’d be. My resolve hardened.
Now I had another problem—where to take the G-man superhero. I wasn’t just dumping him in the street. He’d freeze to death before the pill wore off. So, where could I stash him? The blizzard had shut down everything, even Quicke’s restaurant, according to SNN.
I paced back and forth in front of the couch, zipping and unzipping the pockets on my vest, as if they held a space where a superhero could sleep off a pill and the lingering effects of a blinding gas. My vest held a lot of things, but that, unfortunately, was not one of them. My keys were in one of the pockets, and I
pulled them out, spinning them around and around on their silver ring. I kept shooting looks at Talon, making sure he was unconscious, which was why I rammed my right knee into the kitchen table.
“Ouch!”
I put a hand on the edge of the table, catching myself before I did a complete nose-dive, but my keys slid from my grasp. They smacked on the table, before bouncing off onto the floor. I winced at the harsh clang. Cymbals clashing together in my ear couldn’t have sounded any louder. But the jangling keys gave me an idea. In addition to the ones for my loft and office, the ring held another very important key—the one to the convention center.
That was where I was going to take Talon. It would be warm, and the superhero would be safe until he woke up. The center was only a couple of blocks away, and was big and anonymous. Talon would have no idea where he’d come from—or more importantly, who had taken him there.
One problem solved. Now, how to get the superhero out of my apartment and over to the center without anyone seeing us? I wasn’t putting him back in a garbage bag and dragging him through the street, but I couldn’t call a cab either. Talon would find a way to trace it back to me, if the cabbie didn’t automatically lock the doors and drive my ass straight to the police station.
My eyes fell on my chair, the same one I’d used to maneuver Talon into my bathroom. No, I couldn’t use that either. There was no one way it would roll through the snow. I needed something that would glide. Something I could push or pull. Something like … a sled.
I frowned and looked over at the boxes lining one wall. They might have been twenty feet away, but I could read the small, white labels clearly. Piper had insisted we label every single box when she’d helped me move. She’d even brought her own label maker to ensure it was done to her satisfaction. My eyes traced over the boxes. Dishes. Towels. Books. DVDs. My gaze latched on to a label that said Abby’s Old Stuff.
Because it was the biggest and longest, that particular box huddled on the bottom of the pile. Naturally. I marched over, shoved the other boxes off it, and ripped open the top. The cardboard box contained the assorted random stuff I’d stored in my mom’s garage over the years. She’d foisted it off on me when I’d moved into the loft, but I hadn’t had the time or inclination to unpack it. The box held junk, for the most part. Stuffed animals, old toys, tattered report cards, embarrassing childhood photos.
I pawed through the layers until I’d spied a bit of red plastic. I reached down, took hold of the plastic, and yanked. The animals didn’t want to let it go, but I pulled out a small, plastic sled. In my younger years whenever it snowed, I’d trudge outside with the sled and spend hours climbing up and sliding down hills with Piper. I frowned. The toy seemed smaller than I remembered, only about five feet long and cracked down the middle. But it would do. It was going to have to.
I took the sled over to the couch and eased Talon onto it. It was a foot too narrow and more than a foot too short for the superhero. His chest hung over the sides, while his legs stretched out past the edge.
So, once again, I got out every woman’s best friend—duct tape—and wrapped it around Talon, securing him to the sled. I also made sure I had a pocket knife in my vest, so I could cut him free later. Then, I went over to the windows and looked out. It was after nine now, darkness had spread its black blanket across the city. Nothing moved in the street below. Only a smattering of lights gleamed in the distance. Now was as good a time as any to go—and start pretending the past two days had never happened.
That Wren didn’t exist.
That I’d never met Talon.
And that I didn’t wish I really could be his Nightingale.
#
Dragging Talon out of my loft and into the elevator was simple enough. We rode down to the first floor in silence. The doors slid open, and I stuck my head outside. Everyone else had already gone to bed. No one haunted the lobby. So I grabbed the rope on the end of the sled and pulled Talon out of the elevator. I maneuvered him over to the front doors and peered through the glass.
I didn’t see anyone out on the block. Then again, I usually didn’t. This was a residential neighborhood, quiet except for the morning and evening rush hours. Only two other buildings populated my side of the street, and the block across from me was one enormous brownstone owned by a guy named Jasper.
Because the coast was clear, I opened the doors and dragged Talon outside. Kelly Caleb hadn’t been exaggerating about the snow. The white stuff went up past my knees in some spots, but the plows had been out, and the snow on the streets had been packed down enough so you could walk on it, if you were careful.
Farther down the next block, a couple of kids sledded up and down the giant mounds of snow created by the city’s plows. Their happy shrieks, giggles, and shouts carried through the still night air.
“Wheee!”
“That was awesome!”
“Let’s go again!”
The kids were intent on their fun, and none of them gave me a glance. For once, I was happy to be the invisible woman as I pulled Talon out onto the street. Still, I turned away from the kids and walked fast, like I had somewhere important to be—and that it was perfectly normal to be dragging a body duct taped to a sled behind me.
The snow and the night fought for supremacy, reflecting off each other and making everything a dull gray. A rare, clean tang hung in the air. I breathed in, and the cold burned my lungs. All I could smell was the thick, wet snow—mixed with Talon’s clean scent on my skin.
I looked over my shoulder at the superhero, but Talon remained in the same position. Face-up, hands crossed and taped over his chest, a blanket piled on top of him for extra warmth. He wasn’t even snoring.
I hurried on and made it to the convention center without incident. Darkness shrouded the massive building, just as it did every other one on the street. I went around to the alley, the one the caterers used for deliveries, and unlocked the side door. I’d go out through the front, and smash the glass on one of the revolving doors. That way, Talon wouldn’t wonder how he’d gotten into the convention center undetected. He’d just assume I’d broken in and dumped him there.
I dragged Talon inside and locked the door behind me. It was dark, but thanks to my enhanced eyesight, I didn’t need a flashlight to make my way down the hall. The sled didn’t glide as well on the carpet as it had on the snow, but I huffed and puffed my way to the service elevator and rode it up to the second floor.
I pulled Talon out onto the main balcony, flipped open my knife, and cut through the tape that bound him to the sled. Then, I grunted, heaved, and shoved him up into one of the cushioned chairs, making sure he was far away from the edge.
As I tried to make Talon as comfortable as possible, my hand brushed his visor. I tried to pull my fingers away, but I wasn’t quick enough. The damn thing shocked me again, even through my black fleece gloves.
Unauthorized user alert! Unauthorized user alert! The mechanized voice boomed out through the open auditorium, echoing back to me. Then, the bars shot out the sides, and the visor went into full-fledged, self-defense mode.
I grimaced at the noise and wrung out my tingling fingers. I should have been happy this would be the last time I’d ever get zinged by that damn visor—but I wasn’t.
I dropped to my knees in front of Talon. He slumped in the chair, head back, arms loose at his sides, like he was relaxing and ready to catch a show, instead of sleeping off a pill. I leaned forward and pressed my palm against his heart, saying goodbye. Heat soaked into my gloves, reminding me of Talon’s body moving against my own.
I dropped my hand, got to my feet, and turned away.
I reached down to pick up my pitiful red sled, and a creak of leather caught my attention. I looked up. Talon’s head swiveled from side to side, as if he was looking for somebody—me. I froze. The superhero was waking up.
I quietly scooted away from him, abandoning the sled, and pulled my black toboggan farther down onto my head and my scarf higher up on my face.
Bandit’s gas must have been wearing off as well, because Talon turned his head in my direction, drawn by my furtive moments.
“Nightingale?” he murmured, his words slurring together. “What’s going on?”
“Just sit still.” I kept backing away. “The drug will wear off soon. You’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
“Wait …” he called out.
It was too late. I’d already run down the stairs.
#
After smashing one of the convention center’s front doors, I ran back to my building, if you could call falling, stumbling, and sliding along icy patches running. I didn’t stop until I was back in my loft with the door locked behind me.
I pulled off my chilled clothes, trudged into the bathroom, and took a long, hot bath, trying to pretend like everything was normal. Trying not to think about how Talon had pulled me into the tub with him last night. Or how we’d spent our time together today.
After an hour, I got out, dried off, and put on my warmest, softest Bella Bulluci fleece pajamas. But the material didn’t feel as smooth against my skin as it usually did. I doubted anything would besides Talon’s hands. I wasn’t likely to forget his touch anytime soon. That was another curse of having supersenses—everything got imprinted on my memory that much more. The good, the bad, the heartbreaking.
I shut the drapes, climbed into bed, and snuggled into my microfleece sheets. They too were the softest on the market, part of Bella’s homewear collection. Normally I could go to sleep in a matter of minutes, drifting away into the blackness that waited. But tonight I couldn’t—because my pillows and sheets were full of his clean, minty scent.
I buried my nose in one of the pillows and thought about Talon. I wondered if he’d left the convention center by now. If he had his sight back. If he was angry with me. Or just relieved I was gone. I felt panicked, confused, and sad about the whole thing.
Come on, Abby! I chided myself. There was no need to panic. Talon would never find out I was Wren. Even if the thought somehow crossed his mind, he’d dismiss it outright. Because I was good ole Abby Appleby. Not Wren, and certainly not someone like Nightingale.
Nightingale (Bigtime superhero series, Book 4) Page 8
