She accepted, staring at him with those wide eyes. She should have been staring at him as though he had lost his mind, but rather, she watched him with wonder. Sean reached out, brushed his fingers over the brooch she wore. It looked, impossibly, like it had the day he had first given it to Aislinn—as though the centuries had not passed.
“It’s lovely,” he said softly, drawing her away from the door and under the narrow overpass that led to the courtyard of shoppes. “May I ask where you found it?”
“At a flea market,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t…do you have flea markets in Ireland? It’s an American thing, where—”
“I’ve been to America many times.” Not since his parents’ deaths, but he knew of flea markets. She had found it there, among junk and old books and furniture? “You are serious? That appears to be, ah, very old.”
“It is. An Irishman sold it to me, actually. I was hoping to find out some of its history,” she said, looking down to where he still held her hand. She knew who he was, Sean Concannon. The famous magician had been in an accident several months ago, and afterward had retired to his native Ireland. But seeing his face in magazines and on TV didn’t explain why his touch seemed so familiar.
Sean’s eyes narrowed. “An Irishman, really?”
“Hmm. I was describing him to the lady inside the shop. Antiquing is actually a small world, and I was hoping he was someone she knew,” she murmured, feeling a bit dazed, and very hot. The brush of his thumb over the back of her hand seemed much more erotic than it should. It felt as though he was actually stroking her nipples, or her clit, for all that one light caress was doing.
“Perhaps you could describe him to me? I’m a bit of a collector myself,” Sean fibbed. But he already knew. Da. You old schemer.
“Tall. About your height. Iron gray hair. Dark-green eyes,” she replied, suppressing the shudder that started to run through her body. She really needed to get her hand away from him before she embarrassed herself. She was very close to falling into a moaning, steaming puddle at his feet as she screamed and moaned her way through orgasm. All from him just touching her hand.
She was so starved. Had been waiting for his touch again for so very long. Taking a deep shaky breath, she continued, “A very deep voice. And he looked—sad. I thought maybe he was, well, crazy, for a while, selling me this for what he sold it for. He told me I was meant to have it, like he knew me or something. It’s worth so much. But he’s right.” She reached up and folded her free hand over, whispering fiercely, “It’s mine.”
Sean smiled, and replied, “It is, that.” He offered her his arm and said, “If you will let me walk you to your hotel, I have a bargain of sorts. I recognize the piece, if you will believe that. It comes from a local family. I know some of the history and I can tell you. We can deposit your purchases and then go have some dinner. All I ask is that you not think I’m…crazy when I’m through.”
Fighting not to make a moue of disappointment as he stopped stroking her hand, she laughed and said, “After the last few months I’ve had, very little would faze me.”
He smiled down at her and said, “I understand that, trust me, I do.”
Back at the hotel, she was reluctant when he offered to wait in the lobby. “Come up, please.” As they stepped off the elevator, she rummaged for the key to her room while she continued to just stare at him.
Rhee didn’t understand why she offered, but offer she did. “I’d rather just order room service. I’ve been on my feet so much the past few days, I really would rather just sit for a while.”
Sean’s hands fisted in his pockets. Staring into her lovely, familiar face, he cursed silently. Alone. In a room, with Aislinn. After centuries without her. Fuck me, he thought savagely. But he forced an agreeable smile and shrugged his shoulders, saying, “I’ll not take much of your time, Miss…?”
“Welles. Rhiannon Welles. And I’m tired of eating alone, actually. I’d rather you stay,” she said as she stepped out of her strappy sandals and offered the room service menu.
“You shouldn’t be offering strange men meals in your room, Miss Welles,” he told her, glancing over the menu before handing it back to her, his eyes irresistibly drawn to her slim, narrow feet. The pencil slim skirt of the dress she wore slid a little higher on her thighs as she lowered her body into the overstuffed chair by the phone and lifted the receiver, sliding him a questioning look as she did so.
After they ordered, she looked back at him and said, “I promise not to think your story, whatever it is, is crazy, if you don’t think this is crazy, Mr. Concannon.”
“Sean.”
Her wine-red-slicked-mouth curved in a smile and she said, “Sean. I looked up at you after I so gracefully landed on my butt and the first thing I could think was, There you are. Where in the hell have you been? I felt like—and I still do—I’ve been looking for you for my entire life. Am I crazy?”
He moved across the room and knelt in front of her, staring up at her with serious eyes that had darkened to the color of pewter in his need, his hunger for her showing in the stark lines of his face, in the roughness of his voice. “No, you are not. Now, you might be thinking that I am. I’m ah, shall we just say, well, I’m psychic. I can see things that happened in the distant past, or…” his lids drooped and he smiled slowly as the thoughts from her mind bloomed in his. “You left your room three times this morning, and walked right back in, telling yourself what a ridiculous outfit you are wearing to go shopping in. And no, it’s not ridiculous. You look quite lovely.” He stroked one hand down her silk covered calf and hummed with appreciation.
Her eyes widened and she looked down. “How did you know that?” she whispered, looking down at the green silk sheath she wore.
Sean lifted one shoulder and just stared at her.
“What else?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
The grin that spread across his face was hot and wild and she turned a very lovely shade of pink. His lids drooped as he shared the image he had lifted from her mind, how she had seen herself, standing in front of the mirror, wearing the scanty lingerie, studying herself, wondering why on earth she was wearing it to go shopping.
“Are you still wondering why?” he asked roughly.
“Ahhh….ummm, no,” she murmured, shaking her head, her cheeks pink, tongue nervously wetting her lips.
He lifted his hand, palm out.
“I can tell you, or I can show you.” His voice throbbed and pulsed, and he could see the reflection of his own gaze glowing in her violet eyes.
Her palm lifted and met his, and their hands touched lightly, and he projected. Everything but her death, the way she died, and the fact that he had killed her, to spare her further pain, ending the pain, as she had wanted. That was his, and only his. He would never share that, because it was his horror now, his alone now and forever.
Their meeting at the stream, their lovemaking in the woods, the bandits, their all-too-brief love affair, and he let her think it ended in the hut that final time, when she sent him away. “Such a lovely thing, you were. I wanted ya so badly, and I took you. I had no right.” When his hand fell away, he opened his eyes and looked into hers, saw them glimmering with unshed tears. “I’ve lived four times since then, and have looked for you in every single one of those lives,” he said roughly. “This is the first time I have been able to find you.”
“Maybe we are both crazy,” she said on a watery laugh.
Sean felt the disappointment inside, but it died when she moved off the seat and ended up on his lap, her slim, strong arms winding around his neck, her mouth on his.
Finally.
But oddly, it didn’t seem like it had been centuries since he had tasted her.
No matter. He shoved the slim skirt of her dress high, finding only the tiny thong that he pulled aside. Her head fell back and she whispered, “Room service?”
“Fuck them,” he rasped as he devoured the sweet, smooth scented skin of her
neck as his fingers sought the zipper of her dress. With his big hands under her bottom, he lifted her onto the chair and searched frantically for the zipper, refusing to rip or tear away her clothes.
Finally, Sean found the zipper under her arm and yanked it down, stripping the dress away. He found the thing that had made her blush so adorably, a sheer green bra, dotted with fragile violet flowers that matched the skimpy thong she wore. The thong had only one flower, larger, blooming right over the bud of her clit. Sean curled his fingers into her hips and pulled her to the edge of the seat as he lowered his face to that flower. Swirling his tongue against it, he bit her clit gently through the delicate fabric before pulling it aside and thrusting his tongue deeply inside.
“Are we really doing this?” Rhiannon gasped just as he screwed two long fingers deep inside her wet vagina, causing her last words to die on a ragged cry. Her wet, creamy heat closed tightly around his fingers, gloving him in satin warmth that made his cock swell even more in the confinement of his jeans.
“This and more,” Sean promised as he stood and lifted her up with him, carrying her to the bed before kneeling down in front of her, sliding his hands along her body to remove the pretty bra, then inside the waistband of her panties, gliding them down the length of her legs.
“So damn sweet,” he crooned, pausing to flick her clit with his tongue, delving into the depths of her weeping pussy as he tossed her panties aside before he rose and stared down at her sprawled on the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. Bloody hell…finally, he thought, as he came down on top of her. Pausing long enough to rip his shirt from his body and shove his worn jeans down and off, kicking his boots away with them, before driving deeply inside her. His long, muscled body went rigid as he burrowed inside her wet, creamy sheath to the hilt.
“Finally,” they both whispered as one, and then they stared up into each other’s eyes, startled at first, but then they both smiled slowly and then wider.
Sean pulled out and surged back in, linking his hands with Rhee’s, leaning down to rub his cheek against hers briefly before lifting up to stare down at her as he pulled out.
The ruddy, rounded head of his cock showed briefly as he pulled completely out and surged back inside, spearing her, spreading her open. Against his chest he could feel the softness of her breasts, the hot, hard press of her nipples, and he groaned as he shifted to the side, lowering his head so he could capture one swollen nipple between his teeth.
Sean stroked his fingers across the swollen, slick bud of her clit and smiled as she shrieked and lifted her hips against him, seeking more.
“Like that, aye?”
“Yesssss…” she moaned as she reached up and buried her fingers in his hair, tugging his head up to hers, catching his lower lip between her teeth and nibbling on it before sucking it into her mouth as she frantically ground her pelvis against him.
He caught her other breast in his hand, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger as Rhee wrapped her legs around his waist, and he shuddered when she started to come.
That narrow, snug little sheath went into divine, sweet milking spasms that hugged his cock and drove Sean into a mind-numbing state of near bliss as his cock jerked roughly inside her pussy.
His balls drew tight against him and he swore roughly.
“I wanted this to last,” he whispered against her breast.
“We can do it again,” she moaned, her chest heaving against his, her breasts gleaming under a fine light coat of sweat. “Not going anywhere.”
Sean reached down and gripped her hips, driving his cock deeply inside, moving up on her body and catching her mouth, sharing the sweet, tangy taste of her own body as he drove his tongue deep inside her mouth. She shuddered around him, and her entire body trembled. She screamed and he growled against her lips, plunging more deeply within her pussy as she moaned his name and he drank it down as she came again, just as his own orgasm ripped through him and spilled into her hot pussy.
Sean collapsed onto her heaving chest, his head spinning wildly. A few minutes later, she whispered, “I feel like I’ve finally come home.”
He searched through the tangle of sheets until he found her limp hand and he brought it to his mouth and kissed it. “You have, my lady. You have.”
About
Shiloh Walker has been writing since she was a kid. She fell in love with vampires with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more…ah…serious works of fiction. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest.
She writes romantic suspense and contemporary romance, and urban fantasy under her penname, J.C. Daniels.
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Look for other titles by Shiloh
The McKays
Headed For Trouble
The Trouble With Temptation
The Right Kind of Trouble
The Barnes Brothers
Wrecked
Razed
Busted
Ruined
Contemporary Standalone Titles
Beg Me
Tempt Me
Beautiful Scars
A Forever Kind of Love
Playing for Keeps
No Longer Mine
You Own Me
Her Best Friend’s Lover
The Ash Trilogy
If You Hear Her
If You See Her
If You Know Her
The Secrets & Shadows Series
Burn For Me
Break For Me
Long For Me
Deeper Than Need
Sweeter Than Sin
Darker Than Desire
The FBI Psychics
The Missing
The Departed
The Reunited
The Protected
The Unwanted
The Innocent
The Doubted
Wrecked
In the nineties, Abigale Applegate and Zach Barnes were the most beloved sitcom child stars in the world. Then they grew up and left Hollywood behind…
Whatever happened to Abigale Applegate?
She’s been wondering the same thing.
With her Hollywood dreams long gone, Abigale now has a nice, neat, uncomplicated life—until the day her perfect fiancé needs to talk. Dumped, a little more than shattered, and totally confused, Abigale turns to Zach, her best friend since forever, to help her pick up the pieces. He does it with a gift—a copy of Wreck This Journal. She can vent her frustrations, and sketch out a new plan. Zach just hopes he’s part of it. Because he’s been in love with Abigale his entire life.
When the journal falls into Zach’s hands, he discovers Abigale wants a new man. And fast. Nothing more than a hot distraction. Zach has a strategy, too. He’s going to be that man. It’s his last chance. Abigale might be out to shake up her life, but Zach's out to reinvent it. Now, all he has to do is convince Abigale that life can go as planned.
Read on for an excerpt from
Wrecked
the first book in Shiloh’s Barnes Brothers series
“Hey, Zach.”
She glanced down and he followed her gaze, saw that she had the journal he’d picked up for her. “Did you bring that here to beat me up with it or something?”
She laughed. “Well, there is something about an unexpected action…” Then she shrugged. “Nah. I actually figured out a plan. It’s a weird one, but I’m here to ask you to help me do one of the things on the list.”
“Okay…” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and waited.
“I want a tattoo.”
Zach closed his eyes. Reaching up, he rubbed his right ear and then said, “You want what?”
“A tattoo.” She wiggled the book. “I wrote it dow
n and everything. I did it last night and I’ve thought about it all day and I’m sure I want to do it, so stop looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, okay?”
“You wrote a plan that includes getting a tattoo,” he said slowly. His mind was churning at the very idea of it and his blood was boiling. Putting his hands on her...focus on the issue at hand, Barnes! “And you want me to do it.”
“Well…” She grinned at him and the dimple in her chin winked at him. “The tattoo part is in the plan. And who else would I ask? You’re my best friend, right?”
He pressed the heel of his hand to his eye. “You sure about this, sugar?”
“Yes.” She tapped the book against her leg, looking around. “Ah...does that mean you’ll do it?”
“Like I’d let anybody else,” he muttered. “Do you know what you want?”
She shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought it through that far. I was kind of thinking you could help me figure it out.”
He shoved a hand through his hair and glanced around. The parlor was empty. “When did you want to do this?” He could take some time to think up some designs for her. Take some time to get a grip and—
“Now.”
So much for taking time to get a grip.
“Okay.”
Bent over the table, she watched as he sketched out another image. Keelie had left, locking up the front door and lowering the blinds. Zach seemed completely focused on the task at hand. “You got any idea where you want to put this?” he asked.
“Ah...well, I was thinking that I’d rather have one that doesn’t really show. It’s for me, not anybody else.” She scooted back from the desk and went over to the design wall, studying some of the pictures. The back of her shoulder seemed innocuous enough, but this was something she was doing for herself. Not to show off and she wanted it personal. Completely personal. She saw one woman’s picture—the woman was pretty damn clearly showing off—she was sexy as hell, Abigale had to admit, but did she really have to have her jeans open like that?
Under Your Spell Page 8
