01 Do You Believe in Magic - The Children of Merlin (25 page)

But he got out of bed. He
strapped on the cast and pulled on some sweats Kemble had lent him.
He tied and buckled the sling then slid into it and adjusted it
over his arm.

“Damn you,” he whispered
fiercely to himself. “You’re the worst.”

She might think you’re the
best.

“For about an hour.”

Maggie had turned the same page
in the romance novel three times when she heard a clunking step
somewhere downstairs. It was just at the edge of hearing.

She knew who it was. And he knew
she was here in the library, just like she could feel him. How, she
didn’t know. But that’s what was happening. She didn’t even have to
wonder how or why. She waited, a thousand thoughts swirling through
her head.

What does he want?

You know what he wants.

He won’t do it with someone like
you.

Then why is he coming up to find
you at two a.m.?

He’ll leave you.

I don’t care anymore. I’ll have
an hour of heaven. Or at least avoid an hour of hell.

The door opened. Tris stood in
the doorway. Maggie could hardly breathe. His black hair was wet
and disheveled. He was stripped to the waist, with only a towel
around his neck and his sling holding his arm. Even in the shadows
outside the cone of light from the small reading lamp she could
still tell he looked haggard. Didn’t matter. He also looked good
enough to eat.

The visual on that thought made
her blush.

He didn’t say anything. He just
limped over to where she was sitting in an overstuffed blue-green
armchair and lifted her hand.

She rose without really meaning
to. He was so close she could smell the man-scent of him. He’d just
had a shower. His personal scent was there, just under that of the
soap he’d used. It made her feel faint.

“You know this is a bad idea.”
His voice was a throaty growl.

“Yeah,” she managed. Her hand
ran up his good forearm to his biceps. The one with the tattoo. It
felt alive under her fingers. That made her loins actually hurt.
“You’re still injured.”

“I’m fine.” He stared into her
eyes. “That’s not why it’s a bad idea.”

“I know.” Her mind started to
run through all the reasons for the millionth time. But a voice
sounded inside her head, clear as day.
Shut up
.
You
should be so lucky he wants to do it with you. So do it. How many
times is he going to offer?

And maybe the voice was right.
Just once. Get it out of her system. It wasn’t like she was
betraying a husband or anything. Or actually anybody who loved her.
She had no illusions about him. It was a night of fun. Fun? Wrong
description. But doing it with Tris would be right. As right as
anything she’d ever done. Half of her was sure of that. Maybe more
than half.

“You want me to tell you why
it’s a bad idea?” The words seemed hard for him to muster.

“No. I don’t want to think about
anything but right now.” She turned off the light.

Relief flooded his expression in
the dim moonlight. He leaned in and took the nape of her neck in
his strong hand and drew her into his bare upper body, tilting her
head up. His heat enveloped her. His body was hard with muscle. She
expected aggression—a searing kiss that left her breathless.

Instead he brushed his lips
gently against her forehead. That sent a shiver down her spine and
raised goose bumps on her arms. His lips were soft. Such a contrast
to the rest of him. She lifted her head. Her body yearned for that
kiss so intensely she thought she might burst.

But he took his time. He kissed
down the bridge of her nose and over to her unbruised cheek. The
moist heat of his breath sent more goose bumps cascading over her.
“I’ve wanted this since the diner.”

“Maybe I did too.” She had. That
was why she pushed him away so hard.

And then his lips reached hers.
The first flick of his tongue was heaven, and the slow exploration
of her mouth that followed was ... tender. In spite of the
heat.

It was good to know he could be
tender. But she wanted more. Might as well admit it. So she leaned
into him and drew his head down so she could kiss him back,
thoroughly.

He seemed to get the message.
When he finally came up for air, he was panting, and there was a
fire in his eyes.

Shit. Hell and damnation.

He didn’t have a condom.

Why would he? He hadn’t bedded a
woman in months. And he’d had no intention of bedding one tonight.
He could
not
ask Kemble—if the Prince of Wales even indulged
in women between bouts of genius investing and astounding computing
skills. It was miles to a drug store. But he’d never chance leaving
Maggie carrying a child from a casual encounter.

This doesn’t feel casual.

Before he could think about
that, she turned out the light, leaving the room bathed in
moonlight alone. Devin said tonight at dinner that this was the
closest the moon would be in years. He called the full moon shining
through the library windows a “super moon.”

Maybe this thing with Maggie was
caused by some shift in the planets. He’d never wanted a woman the
way he wanted her. Not drawn against his will like this.

So he wasn’t going to just close
up shop and walk away for the lack of a condom.

She hadn’t thought of that
problem yet. She pulled his head down almost roughly and got back
to his mouth, tugging at his lower lip with her teeth and swirling
her tongue inside. He slid his hand up under that short robe that
drove him crazy and cupped her bare butt cheek. It was easy to lift
her, little thing that she was. She wrapped her legs around him and
held on to his neck.

He headed over to the big
leather couch set diagonally against one corner of the room,
detouring to the door to lock it by leaning on the handle with his
butt.

He let her gently down onto the
couch and leaned over her, their mouths never parting. She was a
hungry one. One hand slid from around his neck and scraped her
short nails over his right nipple. His cock bobbed against his
sweats in reaction. Damn this sling. He wanted her next to his
skin. But he didn’t dare just rip it off. She couldn’t know his
mother had healed him.

Sliding his good hand inside the
vee of her robe and under her nightshirt, he cupped one breast.
Soft. Yielding. All the things Maggie wanted everyone to think she
wasn’t. Her moan as he rubbed his palm across her tight nipple
almost drove Tris over the edge. Could he muster enough control to
pull out? Probably not. So he shouldn’t chance penetration. Even
though sinking to his hilt in Maggie was what his brain and his
body were screaming to do.

Maggie sat back, gasping. “So
how we going to avoid putting you back in the hospital?”

Maggie watched Tris get a wicked
gleam in his eye. “You’ll have to help. How about your clothes? You
could take those off.” He wiggled the hand in the sling to indicate
how impossible it was for him to undress her.

Two could play that game. “Okay.
I’ll take charge. But you may be sorry. I think I’d better help you
first. You’re delicate.” She grinned and pulled at the drawstring
that held up his sweats. He just watched her, eyes smoldering.

“Hope you know what you’re
getting into,” he said.

Smug bastard.
“I’ve
ridden bigger brutes than you. Can you handle that?”

“I’ll give it a go.”

She rose and slipped behind him,
tugging his sweats down over what turned out to be a
just-about-perfect butt. She’d
known
there was a butt like
that under those jeans pockets. She squeezed a little before she
knelt and held the sweats while he pulled first his casted leg out
and then balanced with a hand on her shoulder as he pulled his
other foot free. How was he even standing up without a crutch? He
was naked except for his sling and the cast.

She was breathing hard. As she
rose, he said, “I can do without the sling.”

Okay. His call.

Be careful with him.

Yeah. That meant she shouldn’t
actually push him down onto the couch and pounce on him. Before she
dealt with the sling, she ran her hands up his back and pulled the
towel from around his neck. The muscles flexed under her hands,
almost as if he were flinching from her touch. She let the towel
drop and traced the knotted pattern of the tattoo over his right
shoulder.

“So, ah, I ... I don’t have any
... protection,” he said. “I mean I wasn’t really planning on doing
this.” Now he actually sounded nervous. “There are lots of other
ways....”

Oh. He was afraid to get her
with child. Right. He should be. She didn’t want a child off a man
who was a one-night stand.
A one-night stand of your choice,
she reminded herself when that felt ... bad. They’d never be
together, never have a child.

That’s all right. It is. It’s
exactly what I want tonight
, she told herself firmly. She’d
never get what she’d admitted to this man she wanted most
anyway.

Or was he just trying to get her
to suck him off? She’d never wanted to do that for a man. And she
wasn’t going to start with Tris Tremaine in his parents’ library
for God’s sake. Besides, she wanted the full rodeo. She had some
deep driving need to have him fill her and pound into her and make
her scream. “Maybe you could pull out?” She slid around to the
side, her robe brushing against his flanks. She almost gasped when
she saw his ... his equipment standing to attention. He was, uh,
well endowed, thick and straight. Oh, yeah. She wanted that. As she
watched he throbbed with need.

“In my current state, that’s a
little chancy.” When she raised her brows, he cleared his throat.
“Uh, I haven’t had a woman in a while.”

This
guy hadn’t had a
woman in a while? He could go home with anyone in any room any
night of the week. He must have seen her look of surprise.

“I had, uh, lost interest in ...
in ... a lot of things, until I met you.” He smiled. It was almost
tender, like that first kiss. And vulnerable. That smile did things
to her. It seemed a part of him he didn’t let anyone else see, even
his family. He often looked remote or strong or disapproving.
Tonight he even laughed. But he didn’t look tender and she bet he
never let himself look vulnerable. She knew a secret about him no
one else knew, maybe not even Tris himself.

She unbuckled his sling.
Reaching to slip it off over his head made her breasts press
against it. Her nipples shot sensation through to her groin. She
tossed the sling.

He took her by the shoulders and
gently pushed her into the couch. She let him, even though a moment
ago she’d wanted to be in control. That embarrassed admission that
he wouldn’t be able to control himself with her rang true for some
reason, though she knew that guys who looked like this lied to
women about how special they were all the time. The man who put an
ice pack to her cheek back in the shack had somehow become
not
just “a guy who looked like that.” There was a core of
goodness in Tris Tremaine, one even his family wasn’t sure
about.

But she was. In this moment, she
was sure.

He knelt in front of her and
pulled the tie on her robe. As it fell open, she just took the hem
of both the robe and her chemise and pulled them over her head.
When she tossed them they landed on top of Tris’s sling. He wormed
his way between her knees and leaned in to kiss her.

But he jerked away. “You’re
bruised.”

She looked down. “Yeah. Maggie
versus steering wheel when I slammed on the brakes.”

He looked so genuinely
distressed, she wanted to smile. “I didn’t know you were hurt.”

“I’m fine.” He looked like he
was about to protest. “Look, if you’re fine, I’m finer, okay?” She
didn’t give him a chance to protest but leaned into him. She felt
him sigh in resignation.

He nuzzled her forehead with his
lips. “You’ll tell me if I hurt you.”

“Mmmmm hummm.” He took a breast
in the palm of each hand. All she could think about was the feel of
his hands on her, and his lips kissing the line of her jaw. Then he
took her in his arms, and they were strong arms. His biceps bulged
as he caressed her back and she just had to put her hands on them
and squeeze. Her hands moved up to his shoulders, kneading. The
feel of male flesh was intoxicating.

“Oh! Your shoulder!” How could
she have forgotten herself?

“It’s fine,” he mumbled into her
throat. “Just fine.” He kissed his way down to her left breast. “I
knew your breasts would be just this ... wonderful.”

“They’re small.”

“Don’t criticize my taste.
They’re perfect.”

“You say that to all the breasts
you meet.”

“I usually don’t say anything at
all. Safer.”

But he said he liked hers. Why
did he bother? As he worked his way lower, she lost her train of
thought. Was he going to...? She’d never let anyone do that to her.
Well, Phil the Rat had never wanted to, and it wasn’t something she
could ask for even though she’d been curious. And there really
hadn’t been anybody but Phil the Rat, only romance novels,
so....

That was exactly what he was
going to do. He pushed her knees apart and slid one hand up the
inside of her thigh, all the while he was kissing and licking her
lower belly. She could feel the slickness on her thighs. And then
he used that hand to part her folds and he kissed lower....

The first lick of his tongue
across her clitoris made her want to scream. She put her hands over
her mouth, just to remind her where she was. His tongue probed
straight into the core of her. My God. She hadn’t known she wanted
this, but she wanted it very, very much. He licked back up to her
clitoris and his fingers took his tongue’s place inside her. He was
playing her like one of Lanyon’s instruments, his full attention on
giving her pleasure. Her hands found their way to his hair. She
held his head as his tongue tormented her and his fingers worked in
and out.