Fire and Flame (25 page)

With a flare of dark passion flashing in his eyes, Brent tore her shirt over her head, pausing only long enough to suckle her right nipple before shoving her pants out of the way. A half second later he positioned himself to enter her. Stunned at his speed, Sara couldn’t wait to see what he’d do next.

Brent thrust into her twice, waking her from her stupor with a rush of heady lust. He withdrew and grabbed her by the hips. Carefully he lowered them both to the white carpet, easing Sara gently on her back. So intent on resuming the sex act was he that there was no pause to kiss or caress before he climbed between her thighs.

A roughened patch of bubbled skin on his left shoulder drew her fingers back again and again as she hung onto him through his wild pumping. Hoping to get a hair closer, Sara wrapped her legs around his back, smashing her pelvis flush with his. Together they set a rapid pace, groaning alternately until they reached the blazing climax.

Brent immediately rolled them over after, collapsing without weighing her down. His slick chest rose and fell with quick breaths.

Sara could think of only one thing to say to him. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

****

Brent let out an unexpected laugh at her statement. “I’m glad to be alive.” He stroked a finger over the long line of her spine. “Sex with you would be so much harder if I were dead.”

He hadn’t been this relaxed since…last night. And he hadn’t felt this good ever. Sara was the ultimate tonic.

He’d had high hopes for when they’d returned to the house after lunch this afternoon. Reciprocation had been on his mind. She deserved a little something for the session in his truck. But Derrick had been waiting with news. They’d had a few errands to run before they could head to Muncie.

What a waste of time the trip had been. The truck wasn’t even black. He’d known the moment they’d spotted the thing that it couldn’t possibly be the same one. Nonetheless he and Derrick had run all over the town trying to track down the owner and his girlfriend. Then they’d been obliged to wait until the guy had finished his date…and completed the sex after the date as well as the post coitus cuddling. The guy sure had enjoyed his cuddling.

Brent stroked his fingers along Sara’s hip and on over her round bottom. If the witch he’d tracked had a girlfriend like Sara, he could understand the wish to cuddle. He nearly laughed when his organ stirred to life again. Sara’s snuffle against his chest hinted she’d noticed it too.

And then she shocked the sense out of him when she clearly said, “Take me from behind this time, Brent.”

****

Sara followed the trail of the pink towel soaking up the droplets of moisture on Brent’s thighs. He lifted his head and caught her watching. The grin that spread across his lips made her smile in return.

“Can I sleep here?”

The serious question wiped the smile off her mouth. Sara focused on wrapping her towel around her chest, avoiding the disturbingly fragile set of his eyes. “Not if you’re going to wake me every time you get aroused.”

Brent’s tone was stronger when he replied, “I wouldn’t do that because I’m never not aroused around you.”

Sara couldn’t stop her attention from darting to the crop of dark hair between his legs. The pink organ resting against his thigh was flaccid at the moment. At rest it was on the small size compared to the human lovers she’d had. That was shocking considering how much larger it got when he was completely aroused. It was perhaps one of the few physiological differences between the races.

He chuckled softly when he noted the direction of her gaze. “We just got you clean, princess. Don’t go getting me all worked up again.”

Sara’s gaze snapped to his face. He was legitimately amused. It would be much harder for her to get him worked up if she weren’t in the same room. Stepping onto the soft carpet, she left him drying himself in the attached bathroom.

But when she pulled open the dresser drawer to get a pair of panties, Brent’s warm body pressed against her back. His hands clasped over hers, drawing them away from the white wood.

“I want you bare against me,” he rumbled into her ear.

A shiver of desire moved within her chest. Would he be able to keep his arousal under control if she heeded his wish? Assuming he knew what he was doing, Sara pushed the drawer closed then started for the bed. After blotting the excess moisture from her shoulders, she dropped the towel to the side. Using her knee, she pushed the covers aside, and then slipped between.

Her pose facing the far window meant she could only hear Brent rubbing away the dampness along his body. The soft thud of the towel hitting the ground alerted her he’d soon be joining her. His steady footfalls crossed the carpet. And then he climbed into bed behind her.

Tonight he climbed beneath the covers. The heat of his skin, hotter than a vanilla human, acted as an electric blanket around her. Without a word he spooned against her spine, resting his thighs along hers and his chin on her shoulder. Finally he pushed his hand beneath her arm and curled his fingers over her waist.

Sara held her breath while he settled in to place. The bed was too small with him in it like this. But she wasn’t any closer to the edge than she always was. And he hadn’t complained about needing space.

Brent’s organ stiffened against her rear without warning. His arousal awakened hers. Though he did nothing to soothe the arousal. It was shocking how often Brent was, in fact, worked up around her.

They’d already had intercourse twice since he’d returned. And once in the truck. Three times was plenty for one day. Especially considering the two times last night. They couldn’t possibly maintain this level of obsession with each other for long. It couldn’t be healthy. Could it?

Only one thing was absolutely certain: she was glad he was alive. And she hoped to god he remained that way for a long, long time to come.

Chapter Thirty-One

Sara shifted her thigh toward the edge of the bed in her half-awake state. Brent’s breath quickened over her neck. She’d roused him. After six nights of sleeping in the same bed, she’d learned his sleeping and waking cues.

One of those cues was that his fingers and body often trembled when he was in a deep snooze. This was accompanied by little noises the likes of which she’d heard from her sophomore roommate’s sleeping cat. She’d always assumed the feline had been dreaming of running from dogs. Could it be that Brent dreamt of running from Ena witches? Several times she’d considered waking him so she could ask but each time she’d decided he needed sleep more than he needed to explain himself.

Brent’s hand caressed her hip in the leisurely motion she’d decided was his way of making sure she was still there. Apparently, the feel of her spine in front of him, her hair in his face, and her body heat warming him wasn’t enough of an indication. Though she couldn’t say she was opposed to him touching her so gently.

By the lightening of the room around them, she gathered the sun would soon rise. They’d only slept five hours thanks to the late start they’d had. Brent had followed yet another false lead to the witches that had attacked him days ago. There’d been no sign of the Escalade that had been parked down the street or of the black pickup truck. It was almost as if the Ena brood had given up.

Sara hadn’t dared to ask Brent why he didn’t simply assume they had. She knew why. Fintan had always said never to underestimate the foe. Believing they had given up would be a very large underestimation.

Brent grazed his fingernail over her right nipple while she pondered her worries. Sara inhaled sharply as every nerve in her body woke. Soon his other hand massaged over her rear in motions that sent heated shivers up her back. He worked it over and then down between her cheeks, teasing the flower there before pushing onward toward her already quivering core. Without warning, Brent rolled her over so he could hop atop her and…

He fell off the bed.

Sara burst into laughter at the exasperated expression of his lowered brows and twisted lips. He looked boyish to her scowling there on the floor beside her bed. Had he not been completely nude, she might have thought he belonged there all these years.

“We need a bigger bed,” he declared.

Sara’s mirth promptly fled.

We
needing a bed implied they would be sleeping together for longer than the remaining four to five days it would take to impregnate her.

“What?” he asked when he caught sight of her strained expression.

She shook her head in the hope of him dropping the subject.

“Sara—”

She grabbed hold of his arm, tugging him back onto the mattress. But he was having none of it.

Though he returned to bed it was only to sit on the edge and gaze down at her. “What’s wrong with a bigger bed, Sara?”

She rolled her head away from his probing gaze. He caught her chin, forcing her attention back. Brent scanned her face. A long sigh escaped his mouth.

“You still think you’re going to go to New York.”

Sara didn’t argue with the low, incredulous tone of his.

“You won’t be happy there.” Brent sounded assured of his opinion.

“It’s what’s best,” she replied rather than refute him.

“Bullshit, Sara.” He lowered himself until his face was inches from hers. “What is best is that you marry me.”

Sara choked on her next intake of air. “Marry you? You haven’t even asked me!”

He lifted himself upright, determination filling his features with hard lines. And then he spoke words she wouldn’t have expected to hear out of any witch’s mouth. “Marry me, Sara McKenna.”

The tight set of his jaw didn’t look particularly romantic. But he was absolutely serious. He continued with his insanity in a hardened tone. “Marry me and I’ll buy you a ring worthy of a princess. I’ll build you a bed fit for a king. And I’ll spend my life treating you like royalty.”

His wording struck a chord. Was she using Brent to fill the hole Fintan’s death had left in her heart?

And how could she marry Brenton Conley? He didn’t even love her! She’d always promised herself she’d marry for love.

The gleam in his eyes faded the longer she made him wait. “We would be so unhappy,” she whispered.

“Why?” he demanded at a lifted volume that sharply contrasted hers.

“I’d always resent you for keeping me from my dream.”

“What is your dream, Sara?”

“I want to become a news anchor on national television.”

“No,” he argued with a fierce tone. “You want people to love and adore you and that’s just the method you’ve picked to accomplish your goal.” Sara opened her mouth to argue. His emphatic declaration cut her off, “But
I
love and adore you.”

Her jaw hung open in astonishment. The passionate set of his finely slivered eyes and pursed lips implied he meant it.

“You’re going to lose your biggest fan if you go to New York,” he added.

Moisture burned the edges of Sara’s vision when she thought of losing him to New York. She’d tried to stay aloof during these past few days together but it had been the little things she’d been unable to avoid that had affected her. The way he ended up in the fetal position every morning but went right back to spooning the moment he woke had tugged at her heart. How he unconsciously touched her when they were in the same vicinity had made her feel needed. And every single laugh she’d drawn from him had been a victory.

Now that he was scowling, she feared she’d never hear his rich laugh again. But was it reason enough to abandon what she’d been working toward for years?

“Witches don’t get married,” she said.

Brent gave a quick snort. “Who the hell cares?”

“And you’re going to be expected to breed with other witches. I won’t tolerate my husband cheating on me.”

“I don’t care what is expected of me.”

“If you don’t behave as a regional high priest should, others will try to take the position,” Sara pointed out. Neither of them needed the reminder that someone taking his position would involve death.

He took her hand in his, drawing his fingers softly over her palm. “We’re going to change the status quo, me and you.”

How could they change the attitudes of hundreds of witches drastically without killing dozens? And wouldn’t it be counterproductive to kill people who were unwilling to embrace the notion of less violence?

Brent reached his other palm up for a caress across her cheek. “I don’t want to breed with anyone but you.”

He inhaled a ragged breath as he rapidly blinked. His eyelids drooped in a heartrending fashion when he spoke with a soft, wavering tone that matched. “I need you, princess.”

Her heart broke for him because he truly believed he needed her. Sara gently kissed his lips in the hope of easing his hurt. “You don’t need me,” she whispered.

“I do.” He gripped her biceps. “So many decisions I’ve made have been for you. I bribed the school secretary into putting me into your classes every year. I went to all the events I thought you’d go to. And when you moved to Pennsylvania for school, I got my job with Fintan just to have the chance to see you during the holiday breaks.”

Sara shook her head in an attempt to make his words go away but he continued talking.

“I think your father wanted us to be together.”

Anger momentarily warmed her neck and face. She tugged her arms away from him as she slammed herself against the headboard.

How dare Brent claim to know what her daddy had wanted more than she? Fintan had always maintained he wanted her to be happy. He’d known she wouldn’t be happy unless she’d achieved her goals in New York.

Heedless to her growing ire, Brent carried on, “In the months before he died, he’d said several times that when you came back from your vacation in Florida he wanted the three of us to have a discussion. It was almost always after someone had asked him when you’d do your duty and who he’d choose.” There was a pause before Brent added, “He knew I didn’t like the idea of forced breeding. And I’d made no secret of my intention of being an active parent in any of my children’s lives. But he still put the stipulation in his will that it be me you were with.”