“Knock yourself out.” The wall air-conditioning unit was overpowering the little space, but she didn’t want to turn it off and let the muggy warmth back in, so she went into the bedroom to grab a blanket and curl back up on the couch.
Nature channel. Reality TV show. A sitcom. The news. She chewed salad and flipped through channels, not really paying attention. Most of her focus was on what Josiah was doing. The shower ran for a while, then switched off. Shortly after, he came out wearing black shorts that showed off the sinewy strength of his muscled legs and a T-shirt that strained across his wide chest and biceps.
Damn, was there anything about him that wasn’t sexy? What he had done to her with that firm, stern-looking mouth… She closed her eyes as her body pulsed.
She would be so lost over him if he had chosen a different life than the one he was living—any kind of different life—so, in a way, she should probably be grateful that he kept everything so crystal clear for her.
After some silence, he asked, “Is that all you’re eating?”
She lifted one hand in an indifferent shrug.
He approached to bend over and stick his face between hers and the TV screen. Their gazes collided. His soft, even voice was at odds with the volcanic force in his eyes. “Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich if I made one for you?”
Silently, she nodded. She watched as he went into the kitchen and found everything he needed. He knew his way around a kitchen, his movements purposeful and economical. His expression gave away nothing of what he was thinking.
When he returned, he carried a plate piled with grilled cheese sandwiches, another bowl of salad, and a glass of wine. She scooted over to make room, and then they sat and watched the news while they ate.
Once she took her first bite of sandwich, her appetite roared in and she ravenously ate the rest. He took away the plates and bowls, poured himself more wine, and when he came back to the couch, he put an arm around her and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
She held very still, but the warmth of his body was too much to resist. Melting against his hard length, she let her head rest tentatively on his shoulder. He cupped the side of her head and drank wine.
Was this all right? The experience flowed into places she wasn’t sure she wanted it to go. It felt too warm, too good. It felt too right for her to give in to it entirely. She turned her cheek into his shirt and closed her eyes. “Why did you come back?”
“Because I want this weekend with you more than I want to react or fight.” His chest moved in a sigh. He drank more wine and stroked her hair. “Don’t think about it too hard, okay?”
She nodded. Sometime later, she said telepathically,
Just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he said,
Ah. That suited him. She smoothed the T-shirt over his chest.
He kissed her forehead.
Toothy leviathans swam underneath the calm, peaceful surface they created, but if he could restrain himself from poking them, she could too. Gradually the tension eased out of her body and she dozed. She only woke when he turned off the television and picked her up to carry her into the bedroom.
“I have two perfectly sound legs and feet that work quite well together,” she remarked in a sleep-blurred voice.
“Yes, you do, but I’ve discovered I like carrying you around. Don’t rob me of that enjoyment.”
She clearly heard what he had left unspoken. Don’t rob me of that enjoyment while I can have it.
When he eased her onto the bed, she laid a hand to his cheek and kissed him. He made a sound at the back of his throat, settled the weight of his body on hers, and kissed her with so much passion and hunger it was almost enough to reshape their futures.
Almost enough to reshape everything.
Heat and light exploded between them. It was sex mingled with a gush of Power. His, hers. He swore, a guttural, foreign-sounding word, gripped her hips with both hands, and thrust her legs apart with his.
A fine sweat broke out over her skin. She felt fevered. In that moment she needed him more than she needed anything else. More than air, than light. Than food. How excruciating, dramatic. It was unsustainable. They would burn themselves out on each other.
But they hadn’t burned out yet. She raised herself up on her elbows to lick and nip at his flat male nipples while he fingered her, preparing her for his entrance. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back to plunge down for a searing kiss, his hardened lips slanting over hers while he invaded her with his tongue.
His roaring, sensual drive shook her. She had originally thought he was so cold, so calculating. How could she have been so mistaken about him?
When he positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed in, she rose to meet him, and the empty ache at her core turned to a sharp spike of pleasure. As he took her, she took him. He conquered her senses, and she gave over control, allowing herself to go boneless and submissive as he spun her around, wrapped an arm around her throat, and fucked her from behind.
She had never felt this way before, so out of her mind with need. The rhythm he built made her crazy, crazy—she had to do something to get at him the way he was getting at her. She reached back for any part of him she could touch, raking her nails along his shoulders, sinking her teeth in feral response into the bunched muscle of his forearm. He felt massive inside her, hardened everywhere, his body clenched on hers in an unbreakable hold.
Then he reached down to touch her between her legs, and she exploded with such force she saw white stars against her closed eyelids. She cried out sharply, bucking underneath him, while he held suspended over her, in her, rubbing, rubbing… Jesus, she thought she would never stop climaxing…
Even as the waves still rippled through her body, he stiffened and swore again, his mouth pressed to the soft skin at the nape of her neck. She felt his thick, hard length pulse inside, and oh my God, she had never climaxed with anyone before. She grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers against her.
He understood immediately and rubbed her harder as his raw breathing sawed in her ear. The second wave hit, clear and piercing. She twisted back against him, straining for that last tantalizing peak, and he buried his face in her hair as he spilled the last of his own pleasure.
Afterward came the mental and physical collapse. She couldn’t talk even if she wanted to. Apparently he felt the same. As he pulled her back around to take her in his arms, the heavy muscles of his biceps trembled. She gave in to simple, animal need and burrowed against his larger, heavier frame, her head resting on his shoulder, one leg hiked up to drape over his hips. He tangled his fingers in her hair, and she plunged asleep.
Only to wake again sometime later as he pushed her onto her back and entered her. She made a sound, a cross between surprise and incoherent delight, and wrapped arms and legs around him, cradling him with her whole body while he fucked her.
He brought her to climax that time too, not quite as sharp and high as the first ones, but a fuller, deeper sensation that rewrote the pathways of her circuitry as she locked everything on him and realized just how much he could give her. How deeper, higher, further they could go.
Nobody had ever—her ex-husband had never… She held such distaste for him she couldn’t tolerate his name in her mind in that moment and let the thought spin away.
The weekend blazed like tissue paper, disappearing in a bright flash of sex, heat, and need. They slept and made love in the shower, on the couch, on the living room floor.
Those times when they needed food, they moved around each other warily, like animals that had been stripped of their protective layers. They avoided talking about anything controversial or difficult—the future, the past—and concentrated on small, domestic things.
Everything was raw and heightened. When she drained the cooling water off hard-boiled eggs she had cooked and forgotten, he trailed the tips of his fingers along
the back of her neck. She dropped the pan into the sink, shaking. That was all that was needed to set him off again.
He lifted her so she sat perched on the sink. She hooked her ankles eagerly around the back of his thick, muscular thighs, taking his cock in both greedy hands, fingering the broad head and stroking along the rigid length until he hissed between his teeth and entered her again in a slow, liquid slide.
By that time she was so sore and sensitized that when her swollen little bud came against the root of his erection, she made a muffled sound and twisted in agonized pleasure. This time he rocked against her gently and took his own pleasure a few moments later in a quiet, liquid gush.
Don’t come, she said to Monday.
But time was the most measured, inexorable force in the universe, and Monday dawned anyway. Lying sleepless beside Alexei she witnessed the day’s arrival alone.
Even at rest, his angular face was hard, but this was the most relaxed she had ever seen him. He had laced his fingers through hers before drifting off, and they still held hands.
I don’t want you to go, she thought as she watched his sleeping profile. But this was never something we meant to sustain. And you can’t stay.
She had known that all along. She had been the one to set the ground rules.
But—oh, what a stupid thing to do—she had gone and fallen in love with him anyway.
* * *
When the time came, he packed his belongings in the carry-on bag. It took less than ten minutes. The pure gold of a hot afternoon shone in the open french windows while Molly sat outside at a patio table, drinking iced herbal tea.
Denial hadn’t worked, so he had gorged on her. He should have worked her out of his system by now. Watching her profile from the shadows of the cottage interior, he thought of everything she had taught him.
She was diametrically opposed to his dutiful, traitorous wife from that long-ago past life.
Molly’s eager excitement at her pregnancy.
The way she reached for him, both giving and receiving physical affection and sexual pleasure. His wife had been the kind to turn her face away even as she presented her cheek for his kiss.
Molly had destroyed his sovereignty of solitude. Laid waste to his cold purpose.
He had loved his sons, and they and their mother had betrayed him, but he had accepted a very long time ago that a portion of the blame must lay on him. If only he had been a better father. If he had just taken a closer involvement in their raising. If he had only known then what he knew now.
But that innocent spark of life that nestled in Molly’s body… It would grow up with her as a role model and mother. It would know her deep, abiding sense of loyalty, decency, and her affection, and he wanted to claim it more badly than he had wanted almost anything else in a very long time.
The only thing he wanted more was Molly herself.
He called for a cab. Setting his carry-on by the open windows, he withdrew an envelope and walked out onto the patio. Turning, she smiled at him.
As he looked at the small, telltale marks he had made on her skin with his teeth and hands, his body flooded with desire again. Maybe he could call in sick and steal another day. But her sunglasses couldn’t hide her exhaustion, and now, more than ever, he needed to avoid deviating from normal behavior.
He handed her the envelope. “There’s five checks in here, all under ten thousand. Movement of anything over ten grand gets an automatic report sent to the IRS, so be sure to deposit them one at a time.”
“Thank you so much,” she said as she took it. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”
“It’s not a loan anymore, Molly.” When objection flashed across her features, he went down on his haunches in front of her and said harshly, “I will support the mother of my child, and I don’t want to hear any arguments about it.”
Her expression closed. “Money will be one more thing that ties us together.”
He cupped her hands in his. “You’ve trusted me this far. Trust me a little further. I will keep you both safe.” Safe from me and the life I lead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a yellow taxi approach. Huskily, he told her, “This isn’t goodbye.”
Her tight mouth softened. “Oh Josiah, it is.” She smoothed the hair back off his forehead, her fingers gentle against his skin. “I don’t want to see you again.”
Her lie shrieked at him. He pressed her hands to his mouth. “You do.”
She gripped his fingers so tight it cut off the circulation. “Yes, I do. But as long as you’re living the life you live, I won’t. You and I are not a couple. We had an affair—we haven’t even dated. We’re not together, and I’m not waiting for you. This baby and I deserve someone who will always put us first.”
The ferocity in that rocked him back on his heels.
Just as fiercely, he growled, “This isn’t goodbye. But there are several other people involved, along with those who have already been killed, and remember, careful investigations take time. I have to finish what I started for everybody’s sake—including this new young life you carry—and then I will find you.”
“Am I supposed to believe you’ll walk away from your plans for building power, just like that? Well, I don’t. You’ve had a long damn time to become who and what you are, and people don’t change on a dime even if they might want to.” She yanked her hands out of his. “Your taxi is here. Just go, will you?”
Fucking hell. He lunged forward and kissed her with all the wild hunger raging inside. It rocked her back in her chair. When he pulled back, he said through gritted teeth, “See a doctor, milaya. Let me know how you’re doing.”
Looking devastated, she nodded and whispered telepathically,
If she had stabbed him in the heart, she couldn’t have dealt a more effective wound. Blindly raging, he grabbed his carry-on and stalked away.
This baby and I deserve someone who will always put us first.
They did. Goddamn it, they did.
And he could not walk away from his coven, not after the decades they had put into their mission. He could not simply walk away from what he had started.
As he waited to board his flight, he texted his coven. We have got to do whatever it takes to finish this.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day, Molly left New Orleans. She still had another night booked in the vacation rental, but Josiah… Alexei… had put his stamp on everything. He was everywhere she looked. She couldn’t rest on the bed without his reclining body to curl against.
And her Power finally unfurled, fueling a sense of restlessness. It was time to start the search again for her teacher. When she started to drive, another sign leaped out, this one in the shape of a key pointing west.
Over the next three days as she drove toward Los Angeles, she began to sense when the moon rose. It was waxing toward the full moon. Each evening the glowing, ivory orb grew larger, like a vast night-skinned goddess slowly opening one eye to contemplate the world spread below.
When the full moon came, she felt so sensitized to the pale light pouring like cream over the shadowed landscape she couldn’t sleep. Leaving her motel room, she walked outside while Power leaped and coursed underneath her skin, reaching for the moon. The next morning, disturbed and exhausted, she left for another hypnotically long drive.
She almost picked up the phone to call Josiah but managed to stop before she followed through with it. They had left things too raw at the end, but even so, he had spoken from a place of realistic, severe self-discipline.
If there was the possibility that she might be in danger, so was the baby, and like he said, careful investigations take time. When there were any relevant updates, he would get in touch. Besides, hearing nothing from him meant there was nothing to say.
That evening her phone lit up with a text. All thoughts of self-restraint went out the window as she lunged for it.
People may not change on a dime, but they do change when they are ready.
She
sat on the bed, elbows on her knees as she stared at the phone she held in a death grip. Don’t answer. You’re not behaving rationally.
Her phone lit up again. Molly.
This time she could feel him waiting. He might be in Atlanta while she was in SoCal, but he felt close enough to touch. Carefully, she typed out a message and read through it. I meant what I said. If you ever chose a different path than the one you’re on right now, you would be so welcome to be a part of this baby’s life.
So welcome to be a part of mine. She didn’t add that.
She read through the text again. Did it sound sane enough? Like she was a lot more balanced than she really was? Oh, for Christ’s sake, stop second-guessing yourself.
She hit Send.
She and he were linked by an invisible wire. It drew taut, vibrating tension.
I meant what I said too. This isn’t goodbye. Be patient.
Be patient for what? So much dangled unresolved between them.
All he had ever said was that he would come find her. And that he wanted to support the mother of his child. He had enough decency that he didn’t want to be a deadbeat dad—and she had opened that door when she had told him about the pregnancy.
He didn’t know she had fallen in love with him, and she didn’t need to go flapping her damn mouth about it.
She typed out another text, read through it. Sent it. I saw a doctor today in a clinic in LA. I told her I was on vacation and just discovered I was pregnant. She took a blood test and will call me, but she said that’s most likely a formality since pregnancy kits are very accurate these days. Everything looks good. I got prenatal vitamins.
That is really good news. Thank you for telling me. She could almost hear the words spoken in that quiet, husky way he had when his voice gentled. And you’re safely in for the night?
Should that be any of his business? She was wearing herself out by overthinking everything. Yes.
Excellent. Get a good rest. Where are you headed in the morning?
There was the boundary she was looking for. She knew it as soon as she saw it. She might trust him to do everything he could to keep her and the baby safe, but as he had pointed out once already, you couldn’t divulge what you didn’t know.
American Witch Page 21
