Chapter Twenty-Seven
She woke up abruptly, aware that she was not alone in the bed. Instinctively she froze, struggling to comprehend the unfamiliar sensation. Her companion wasn’t Sebastian. She knew how it felt to have his small, warm weight at the foot of the bed. This new companion was very human and very male.
Owen.
She was lying on her side, facing the window. The desert night had long since settled on the city. Illusion Town was never entirely quiet, but it really got going after dark.
She tried to move and realized she couldn’t. It took her a moment to realize that Owen had one arm draped around her waist in a casually possessive way—as if he had every right to pull her into his warm strength.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized they were both fully dressed. It would have been very depressing to think that she had been so disoriented by tunnel energy and so exhausted by the work of keeping Owen from plunging into sleep that she had forgotten having sex with him.
Memories slammed back—the mad dash through the tunnels to the hotel.
Two Amber Palace security people helping her get the semiconscious Owen out of the sled and up to the suite via a back-of-the-house route that kept them out of the public eye.
Sebastian had accompanied them back to the room and then disappeared with one of the security people.
The guards had dumped Owen, fully clothed, onto the quilt that covered the big bed.
When she was alone with him, she managed to remove his boots, but that was as far as she had gone.
It wasn’t as if she could have gotten him out of his clothes even if it had been a good idea—he was too heavy.
She wouldn’t have been able to move him, at least not without a great deal of effort.
Besides, she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be smart to take off his shirt and trousers.
Once she was certain that he was on the right side of the sleep state, and stable, she had briefly considered opening the pullout bed in the couch for her own use. But the task had seemed overwhelming.
She had decided to curl up on the couch cushions instead, but that would have required her to walk across the room, and she had been so very tired. In the end she had concluded the sensible thing to do was to take a short nap on top of the quilt.
“In my dream, I was sure things were going to end a little differently,” Owen said into her ear. “But this definitely isn’t the worst possible outcome. I can work with it.”
She remained very still and forced herself to focus on the important things.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Great.” He kissed her neck just below her ear. “Never better. I remember what happened back in the Shadow Zone. Getting attacked. You rescuing me. You were glorious, by the way. You still are.”
The words were loaded with sensual invitation. No man had ever talked to her in such a voice. His lower body was pressed tightly against her bottom, making her intensely aware of his erection—making her aware of just how much she wanted him.
Why was she hesitating? Because you’re still not sure if you are acting on impulse or intuition.
Was the attraction between them purely physical or maybe situational?
Was it grounded in a true psychic bond? She was probably overthinking this.
But she was shatteringly aware that the answer mattered.
A lot. She was certain now that her heart was at risk.
Owen eased aside the collar of her shirt and dropped another kiss on her bare shoulder.
To green hell with trying to figure out if she was giving in to reckless impulse or if her intuition was sending accurate sensory data. She was going to do what she wanted to do and worry about the aftershocks later.
She turned to face him, moving quickly and awkwardly because they were already partially tangled up together. The result was that her knee came perilously close to his crotch, and her elbow caught him in the ribs.
Owen grunted in surprise and managed, barely, to protect himself.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. She started to lever herself up on her elbow. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you okay?”
He laughed, the rumble low and sexy, and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. He pulled her back down on top of him. His eyes got a little hotter. It was still a controlled burn but she knew the fire was real.
“I am more than okay,” he said in the same husky whisper he had used a moment ago. “In fact, I have never been in such great shape. And I like your enthusiasm. A lot.”
Relieved, she flattened her hands on his chest, leaned closer, and brushed her mouth against his. She could feel the sleek, muscled power of him through the fabric of his shirt.
“I’m glad,” she said. “Really, really glad, because I’m feeling very enthusiastic.”
“So am I.”
He moved then, easing her onto her back as if she were weightless.
He bent his head and began to seduce her with his mouth.
An exciting warmth shivered through her, tightening her insides and rezzing her senses.
She could feel her panties getting damp even though he had done nothing more than kiss her.
She lowered her hands to his waist. His shirt had come free of his trousers hours ago. She had no trouble slipping her palms inside it and under the edge of his T-shirt. His bare skin was very taut.
His fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt. She arched against him, trying to get closer. He got the garment off and unfastened her bra. When she was nude from the waist up, he raised his head and looked down at her.
“Beautiful,” he whispered in reverent tones.
He kissed one nipple, worshipping it with his tongue.
She did not want to be worshipped, at least not at that moment, she decided. The energy in the atmosphere was too charged, too thrilling. She was after more exciting sensations. She was in a mood to explore and discover and test the limits—not just her own but Owen’s as well.
A small ping warned her that she still did not know if she was responding to impulse or intuition, but she no longer cared. She felt free and wild and ready for adventure.
She got his shirt open and wrestled it awkwardly off his shoulders. Flinging it aside, she went after his T-shirt. By the time she got to his belt, he had pushed her trousers down to her ankles, leaving her in only her panties.
She was working on his zipper when he sat up, got to his feet, and drew her up off the bed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, dazed.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He leaned down and ripped the quilt aside. “Just arranging my dreamscape.”
“What dreamscape?”
“The one I was enjoying when I was so rudely interrupted a few minutes ago.”
He scooped her up and dropped her lightly onto the sheets. Straightening, he unfastened his belt and stepped out of his trousers. She stared at his rigid erection, aware of a sparkling sense of wonder.
“You really do want me, don’t you?” she whispered.
He gave a hoarse laugh and came down on top of her, mantling her in the heat and weight of his heavily aroused body.
“What was your first clue?” he said against the skin of her throat.
She sank her fingers into his muscled back and lifted her hips against the hard length of him. “Some things are hard to miss.”
He reached down between them and eased her damp panties aside. “I’ve noticed a few things myself.”
“Such as?”
He stroked her aching core. “How hot and wet you are, for example.”
She felt the tension in his hard, lean body and in the powerful currents of his aura. She knew that he was fighting to restrain himself. His control was a challenge. She was suddenly determined to win the sensual battle.
She reached down, wrapped her fingers around him, and squeezed experimentally.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he muttered. He gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his erection. “I’m going to be inside you when I come. You’re not ready.”
She scraped her nails lightly down his back and lower. “Trust me, I’m ready.”
He shuddered but he did not abandon the field. “Not quite.”
He took one nipple between his lips and simultaneously began to work the tight bundle of nerves at the top of her core—probing, teasing, massaging.
The orgasm came out of nowhere, cascading through her in deep waves. It stole her breath and dazzled her senses. She flung herself into the chaos, and for a few seconds she was so overwhelmed she didn’t realize that Owen was storming the castle gates.
“Now you’re ready,” he said in a low growl laced with triumph and anticipation.
He surged into her, relentless and desperate, as if everything depended on their union.
She gasped and slapped a palm across her mouth to partially muffle a shriek of outrage. “Shit, shit, shit, stop, damn it, get off.”
“What the—?”
Dazed, he eased free of her body and flopped onto his back. “Well, hell. I should have known. I’m going to take a flying leap here. You taught that sex ed class from a theoretical point of view, didn’t you? Not personal experience.”
She took a few deep breaths. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt. I’m not a girl. I’m an adult who exercises regularly. I ride bicycles. I own a vibrator.” She paused, remembering the dainty device in her lingerie drawer. “Evidently the model I bought is too small to provide a realistic experience.”
Owen folded his hands behind his head and studied the ceiling. His mouth twitched.
“And I’ll have you know that class I taught was quite popular,” she added.
“I’ll bet it was.”
She leaned over him, feeling very fierce. “Are you laughing at me?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“You are laughing at me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it would be a problem.” She frowned. “It shouldn’t have been. I honestly didn’t think you would notice.”
“I think it was your screech of pain followed by ‘Shit, shit, shit, stop, damn it, get off’ that alerted me.”
“I did not screech,” she said. “You’re exaggerating.”
“You screeched, and I, for one, will never forget it. Talk about traumatizing.”
She groaned and fell onto her back. “I was afraid you would stop if you knew that I hadn’t had any practical experience.”
“I wouldn’t have stopped.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not unless you wanted me to.” He rolled onto his side, facing her, and touched the tip of one breast with a finger. “But I would have gone about things a little more slowly.”
She turned toward him. “How slowly?”
“This slowly.”
He drew one hand down to the damp place between her legs, leaned over, and kissed her—slowly. Thoroughly. Deeply.
Her insides began to tighten again. The delicious tension rekindled quickly, and for a time there was nothing else of importance in the world except the feel of him, the stoking of inner fires and the rising tide of urgency.
Eventually, when she did not think she could wait another second, he eased into her, filling her until she was balanced on the knife-edge between pleasure and pain.
Another release swept through her. He groaned when she clenched and unclenched and clenched again.
“Alice.”
His climax roared through him in pounding waves that echoed through her aura. She held him with fierce passion until he collapsed on top of her, his skin slick with perspiration, his breathing deep and ragged.
“Alice,” he whispered.
That was all he said, but it was enough. For now.
She no longer cared if she had been guided by impulse or intuition. It didn’t matter because for a timeless moment she knew the soul-deep joy of true resonance with another person. Regardless of what happened in the future, she would always have this thrilling memory.
She stroked his muscled back. “I might be able to fix it.”
He tensed and then he raised his head to look down at her. “Fix what?”
But he knew what she meant. She could see the truth in his intense gaze.
“Your amnesia,” she said. “I think I can help you recover your memories of what happened when you killed Mr. Magic. But you would have to trust me.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I trust you.”
She smiled. “This won’t take long. All you need is a small tune-up. Tell me your dreams, Owen March.”