American Witch, Book 1

by Thea Harrison

  Aggressively, he walked her back until her shoulders hit the wall. “You’re still leaving,” he agreed roughly. “I’m not. We both know what this is.”

  Do we? What is it?

  She was glad at least one of them was clear about where things stood. The only thing she knew for sure was that she couldn’t stand to have a single piece of clothing between them, and she yanked the T-shirt off again. While she struggled to get free of the soft cotton material, he put his arms around her to search for her bra clasp.

  He found it, her bra fell away, and he stopped, chest heaving as he stared down at her. When his gaze came back up, his expression had turned molten.

  It stabbed her, that look, somewhere deep where she had been bruised and hurt. She had needed somebody to look at her as if she were the only thing he had ever wanted—even if it was just for this moment.

  “You can change your mind and walk away,” she whispered, testing the threads of desire that tied them to each other.

  “Like hell I can,” he growled, pressing her against the wall with his bigger, harder body. But then he paused as he sank a fist into the hair at the nape of her neck. He muttered, with difficulty, “I understand if you’re not ready for this, but you’d better say something now.”

  That was… thoughtful. Winding her arms around his neck, she whispered against his lips, “I’m so ready for this.”

  Grabbing her hips, he ground against her and hissed, “Birth control.”

  “On the pill.” She brushed his hands aside and yanked open the fastening of her jeans.

  He pulled out his wallet and withdrew a foil-wrapped package. “Condom.”

  “Safe sex and protection. We’re good.” Coping with wall sex and a condom seemed like more than what she could handle. She slid away and walked into the bedroom, then wiggled out of her jeans.

  When she turned, she wore only her lacy panties. He had opened the fastening of his slacks. Underneath, his large erection strained against the confinement of sleek, black shorts. The unruly wave of dark hair had fallen on his forehead, and his Power radiated like a furnace.

  She felt like she was going crazy. The surface of her skin needed his like her lungs needed air. She snatched the condom out of his hand and ripped the packet open. He put the flat of his hand against her collarbone and shoved her so she fell back on the bed.

  Then, swooping like a hawk, he dove on top of her. A sound broke out of her as their bodies collided. She curled one leg around his waist while he pushed his cock against the bowl of her pelvis.

  He angled his dark head so that he could bite and suckle at her nipples, quickly teasing them into reddened peaks. Stabs of pleasure rocked through her body. The need to have him turned painful.

  Pushing his shoulder, she muttered, “Let me get this on you.”

  Growling, he lifted his head. A flush had darkened his cheekbones. Bracing his weight on both hands, he held still while she yanked his slacks open farther and reached into the black shorts to pull out his erection.

  They both looked at her hand gripping his cock. He muttered, “I’m close to spilling all over you.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she told him breathlessly. “I want you inside me when you come.”

  A small, sensual smile tugged at his strongly molded lips as he looked at her with approval and heat. “You know what you want. I like that.”

  So did she. Austin had always tried to exert control in the bedroom, and while she didn’t mind giving up control sometimes, she also wanted to take control too. With shaking fingers, she smoothed the condom over the broad head of his erection and rolled the edges down. He was beautiful everywhere, and large enough the condom didn’t reach to the root. While she worked it on, he jerked in her hands and swore under his breath. She paused to give him a few moments.

  Then, with sly gentleness, he teased his fingers under the edge of her panties and stroked her. With a strangled sound of surprise, she climaxed.

  His clenched expression softened. Gently, he stroked her in a rhythm that helped her further along while he watched every shift in her expression. Riding the waves of the climax until it eased, she gave him a twisted smile.

  “Well, that was a bonus,” she told him unsteadily. “Normally I don’t come that easily, or even every time.”

  “You can change that expectation right now,” he said as he eased one finger inside her. “Because you’re going to come every time you’re with me. Every time, Molly, and more than once.”

  “Those are some bold words.” She gasped, rocking to his penetration. “Are you sure you can live up to them?”

  He laughed, a soft and wicked sound that ran over her like caress. “I don’t make claims I can’t fulfill. Lift up, milaya. I don’t want to destroy your only pair of panties.”

  Milaya. What did that mean? As she lifted her hips, he pulled the panties off and dropped them to the floor beside the bed. Then, holding her gaze, he settled between her legs and rubbed the petals of her intimate flesh with the head of his cock.

  When she was ready, he pushed in, stretching her wide with his entry. It felt so incredible she tilted back her head and closed her eyes to savor every moment.

  “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Startled, she opened her eyes.

  Watching her closely, he pushed harder until he was in all the way. “You chose this. No regrets, no turning away.”

  He looked fierce, possessive, his expression taut. Surprised by his insistence, she gripped his biceps. “No regrets, I swear it. I’m enjoying this too much. I only closed my eyes because you feel so damn good.”

  “That’s all right then.” The clenched line of his jaw eased. Then, as he pulled back and slid in again, her eyelids fluttered shut again.

  “Still here,” she murmured as she arched up. “Still with you all the way.”

  “You better be,” he growled. “God, I hate condoms, but I love how you feel.”

  “I love how you feel too,” she gasped.

  Tension coiled higher as they found a rhythm together. He stroked her hair back off her face as he moved inside her, and somehow the wordless gesture conveyed something she needed. Sliding both hands down the long, strong curve of his back, she rose up to press her mouth against his shoulder, and in response, he gripped her hip and increased the power of his thrusts.

  When he pulled out, she grumbled in protest. A quick white grin flashed across his face.

  “Turn over,” he told her.

  Eagerly, she complied, and he guided her into position on her hands and knees and covered her from behind. When he entered her, the angle made him feel bigger than ever. Bonelessly, she collapsed onto her elbows, which raised her hips higher until at last he was buried to the root.

  He braced himself on one hand while he curved the other arm around her torso to stroke at her entrance. When he found her clitoris, she shuddered everywhere from the piercing burst of pleasure.

  He growled against her neck, “There it is.”

  “God!” Reaching blindly for a pillow, she buried her face in it. “It feels amazing, but I don’t know if I can come again.”

  “Oh, you can,” he told her. He bit her neck as he fucked her, and the relentless circular motion of his fingers drove everything else out of her head.

  It was indescribable. She felt empty and he filled her. She wanted to focus on everything about him—his big body, the taste of his skin, the grace and power in his movements—but he kept the focus on her with those wicked, wise fingers. The pleasure spiked higher and higher until a climax crashed through her again. This one was deeper, stronger, and she cried out at the intensity of it.

  He growled again and cut loose. Gripping her by the hair, one arm wrapped around her hips, he drove into her. “I can’t get enough of you.”

  “Me neither.” She felt crazed, outside her own head. What the hell were they doing? Nothing existed except this overwhelming drive to mate. Reaching above and behind her, she cupped the back of his neck.

/>   With a muffled groan, he twisted and held rigid. She could feel him pulsing inside, and it was gorgeous, glorious. His roughened breathing sawed in her ear. Gently, she released the back of his neck and stroked his cheek.

  We both know what this is.

  Except… she didn’t.

  She only knew one thing for sure. No matter what this was between them or how deeply it shook her, she was still leaving.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After holding against her for a long moment, he withdrew slowly. Shaking, she collapsed on the bed. He stroked callused fingers along the curve of her spine.

  “All right?” His voice sounded hoarse, as if he had been running for miles.

  “Yes,” she gasped. What else could she say? No? How much fun would that be after he’d just treated her with such consideration?

  She couldn’t admit that he had shaken her to the core and tossed her emotions head over heels. We both know what this is.

  He rolled away to sit at the edge of the bed, and she pulled up the blankets and curled on her side to look at him. God, he was beautiful. They hadn’t even gotten his pants off. She rubbed his back as he pulled the condom off. His dark head angled as he looked down, and he froze.

  She lifted her head. “What is it?”

  “The condom broke.” His voice was expressionless.

  She took in a deep breath, absorbing that. Then she sighed. “Don’t worry. I got tested after I left Austin. I’ll need a retest, but I think I’m good.”

  He turned his head to one side as he listened. “I didn’t pick up anything when I scanned you for damage after the attack. I’m safe too. And you’re on the pill.”

  “Yes.”

  Reaching behind him, he captured her hand and pulled it around to press his lips to her fingers. Then he stood, gathered his clothes, and strode out. A few moments later, she heard the water running in the bathroom.

  His absence was deflating, and she curled into a tighter ball. She felt inappropriately raw. What an inconvenient time to discover she might not be any good at casual sex.

  But there was nothing casual about what happened. She might feel unsure about almost everything else in her life, but she felt certain about that. They hadn’t committed to anything, and they had been very clear they were going their separate ways, but this lovemaking hadn’t been casual.

  He was fully clothed when he strode back in. Desire stabbed at her again, and this time it was stronger than ever. Now she knew what those sophisticated clothes covered.

  His gaze burned as he looked at her, and a muscle flexed in his jaw. He said tonelessly, “I won’t be coming tomorrow. I’ve got too much to do, and I can’t develop predictable habits.”

  Something dark pulsed in reaction. Disappointment? She sat up, holding the sheet up to her chest. “I understand.”

  “Two of my colleagues will be delivering your new car tomorrow. They’ll park it at the end of the lane. I’ll have them leave a cooler with supper in it.”

  “There’s more than enough food,” she said drily. “You brought two Cobb salads, and it looks as though you’re leaving—and how many sandwiches did you bring? I think there’s six now in the fridge.”

  “This was unplanned.” The muscle flexed again. “Now it’s grown late, and I can’t stay.”

  “Josiah, I wasn’t complaining,” she said in a gentle voice. Because we both know what this is. “I was simply pointing out there’s already more food here than I can eat.”

  His expression clenched. He strode forward, clamped one hand at the back of her neck, and his mouth crashed down on hers. After a long, blistering kiss, he tore away.

  “We’ll have your documents day after tomorrow,” he said and walked out.

  God. She felt as if something inside tore away to follow him when he left. A moment later, the back door slammed. She touched her mouth with unsteady fingers. Her lips were shaking too.

  She whispered to the empty house, “I’m leaving Wednesday.”

  Sometime later, she roused herself enough to open the wine and pull out one of the salads. As she sat cross-legged on the bed and mechanically picked at the supper, flashbacks of the evening played through her mind.

  His face, his hands. The sensation of his body moving over hers, in her. Her inner muscles were already sore. How he had stilled when he said, The condom broke.

  Thank God she was not just on the pill. Because of the upheaval, she carried the container in her purse. She always took it first thing every morning without fail, except…

  The salad went flying as she exploded off the bed and lunged for her purse. After digging frantically for the container, she opened it and checked three times for evidence of the answer she already knew in her heart.

  She always took the pill first thing, except she hadn’t taken it yesterday morning after the attack. What were the chances that it would matter?

  She wasn’t on the regular pill. Because of side effects, she took the mini pill—and the mini pill was the one you had to watch out for. But still, the chances had to be low. And she was almost forty, and she’d never been pregnant.

  “It’s all going to be okay,” she whispered. “Because we know what this is.”

  After a while, she stood and picked up her mug of wine. Even though she knew the science for how unlikely it was she might get pregnant—or even if she did, how safe it was to drink the wine before a fertilized egg implanted—she took it into the bathroom to pour it down the sink.

  * * *

  Josiah’s mood was savage as he drove back into Atlanta. Away from Molly. Away from what they had done together.

  It never should have happened, yet he wanted to do it again and again, because apparently whenever he got near her every firm decision he’d ever made about his life flew out the window.

  Once he reached the YMCA, he left the Camry down another neighborhood street, walked back to his Audi, and drove to the apartment. Then he flipped through the photos he had taken of Molly, selected a few, and forwarded them to Steven with the message: FedEx the documents to my attention at the office on Wednesday.

  You got it, Steven responded.

  After that he poured himself a scotch and checked coven email. Henry and Maria were delivering a Subaru Outback by midday on Tuesday. Henry and Steven’s research on the Seychelles file had led them to a Russian bank. Anson continued to monitor the city for flares of magic while he built a file on the governor of Georgia’s background. It would be, Josiah knew, as meticulously researched as every other file Anson had compiled.

  Everything was proceeding smoothly. Nothing was on fire except for him.

  After years of living with a dormant sex drive, it had come roaring back to life. He strode through the quiet apartment, half erect. The need to take her pounded in his temples. Even at half past two in the morning, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t drive back to the safe house to make love to her again before morning.

  She had been so sexy, aroused, and yes, caring when they had made love. Worlds different from any other woman he had ever had. A universe different from his dutiful, treacherous wife.

  And Molly had been so goddamn calm when he had told her he was leaving. She had torn his focus into tatters and watched with perfect composure as he had left. She was the most dangerous woman he had ever met, and she didn’t yet know a fraction of what she was truly capable of.

  He threw himself onto the bed and stared dry-eyed at the darkened ceiling until his alarm went off. Then he hauled his ass through his morning routine and went to work. By midmorning people were beginning to avoid him, and he realized he needed to dial back some of the savagery.

  He didn’t give a damn about the job. It was just a means to an end, but he shouldn’t abuse the people who worked for him. Not only did they not deserve that kind of treatment, but it wouldn’t get him reelected. So he reined it in.

  Maria and Henry texted when they were about to drop off the Subaru, so he texted Molly. Your new car is about to be delivered at the end o
f the lane.

  She responded almost instantly. Amazing. Thank you!

  They’ll tuck the keys in the visor. Don’t approach until they’re gone. That way you can’t ID them.

  I won’t get close.

  He paused. He should put down his fucking phone and get back to fucking work. Instead, his fingers moved almost reluctantly over the keyboard. Everything good?

  Everything’s fine, Josiah.

  He gritted his teeth. His office was up to its eyeballs in cases that had turned red-hot. He could have Anson deliver the package of cash and documents. He didn’t technically need to see her again.

  But a wave of rebellious anger rose up to quell that. Avoiding her would be taking the coward’s way out, and she deserved better than that.

  Besides, he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see her again. The fever running rampant in his blood wouldn’t allow it. As he sat at his desk, fighting an inward battle with himself, several emails came in at once.

  One of them was the autopsy report for Sullivan. Another was the report on Rodriguez.

  He clicked on the report for Sullivan and scanned it before sitting back in his chair. Then he texted Molly again. You didn’t kill Austin. Cause of death: smoke inhalation. The bruising on his body is attributed to the collapse of the ceiling over him.

  Long moments passed with no reply. He imagined her reacting to the news in the solitude of the quiet country house. Just as he was about to call her, a text appeared. What about Nina?

  Hold on. He opened that report and scanned it too. Same cause of death. There were no signs of struggle. The coroner stated it’s likely she died in her sleep. He thought of how upset Molly had been at the news of Rodriguez’s death, almost more upset than she had been about Austin. A sense of responsibility weighed heavily on her, so he added, She didn’t suffer any fear or pain.

  Another long pause, then: Tough news, but I’m glad you told me. Thank you.

  You’re welcome. He waited, but she didn’t text further, and he couldn’t think of how to maintain the connection, so he set his phone aside and got back to work.