Forgotten Sea (14 page)

Maybe even forever.

Her fingers spread across his chest. Her warm breath teased his nipple to attention. His cock stirred.

He grimaced. Okay, not completely content. Not entirely motionless either.

She moved her leg, getting comfortable, and then froze, her thigh brushing his erection.

“Ignore it, and it will go away,” he forced himself to say lightly.

“Really?”

Despite the ache deep in his balls, the disappointment in her tone made him grin. “Eventually.”

She slid her smooth leg down his hair-roughened thigh and back up again, watching him through her lashes. “How long?”

His mind blanked. She wanted to know
how long
he . . . Oh.

“Minutes.” Hours. Maybe for as long as she was next to him. “Unless I, uh, take matters into my own hands.”

“Like this?”

Her soft, warm hand closed gently around him, zapping his brain and sending a wave of molten heat pouring through his veins. He started to sweat.

“If you pay it attention, you’ll only encourage it,” he warned.

She chuckled.

He loved making her laugh. Loved that she was lying with him, warm and pliant and unafraid.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said.

“What question?” He wanted to talk to her, to reassure her, but her hand on his dick made conversation difficult.

She stroked him lightly. “You didn’t tell  me if you like this.”

Okay, that was an easy one.

“Love it.”

Although in truth, she was almost too gentle, her tentative touch promising more than it satisfied. But those were
her
fingers, skating over the broad head of his cock.
Her
palm briefly cupping his balls. Her sweet incompetence was searing pleasure and teeth-grinding agony.

“I’ve never been particularly . . . handy,” she said, and even with his blood throbbing he appreciated that she’d actually attempted a joke. “Is this right?”

He grinned over her head in the dark. Angels and their fucking rules. Maybe they had rules for fucking.

“Whatever feels good to you,” he said hoarsely. “Whatever you want.”

Her smile flickered. She drew the covers down his body. He caught his breath as the sheet dragged over his erection. With flattering concentration, she explored him slowly, thoroughly, tracing the ridges and indentations of his torso, the narrow trail of hair below his belly button.

She was beautiful in her absorption, her lashes fanning her pink cheeks, her lips parted. Moist. She raked her fingers up his inner thighs, combed the crisp, short hair at his groin, taking him to Heaven and to Hell. He was desperate for her, his shaft pulsing in time with his heart.

Her exploration was arousing her, too. He could see the stiffened peaks of her breasts against the soft cotton of her T-shirt. He could smell her sweet desire.

His cock jerked, demanding her attention. She fit her hand around his hot length, cupping the underside of his shaft, and he shuddered, hips arching off the mattress.

Her hand froze. “I’m sorry.”

He dropped his head back on the pillow—
See? Harmless
—and forced himself to smile. “I’m not.”

She bit her lip. “Did I hurt you?”

His grin came naturally this time. “You’re killing me. In a good way,” he said hastily when she looked at him with those big, uncertain eyes. “My junk’s not fragile,” he added, trying to ease the tension, to tease another smile to her beautiful face. “You can tug on it all you want.”

“Even here?” Her hand squeezed delicately.

His grin spread. Never in a thousand years had he imagined giving whack lessons to an angel. “Whatever you want,” he repeated. “Whatever you do feels good to me.”

* * *

Lara trembled. Iestyn might claim he had no experience thinking about the needs of others, but with those words he’d given her exactly what she needed.

Safety to experiment and explore.

Freedom to indulge her curiosity and desire.

And she did desire him. Her yearning tightened her breasts, weighted her womb. Her sensory world shrank to this bed, this moment, this man. She touched him, reveling in the velvety expanse of his torso, marveling in his hard muscled abs, his solid thighs. His erection jutted thick and tall from its nest of rough curls.

Her breathing quickened. She could do whatever she wanted with him. Whatever felt good. Impulsively, she leaned forward and nuzzled him, enjoying the glide of hot satin over stone against her cheek.

She liked his salt-and-man smell. Her tongue darted out. His taste. Greatly daring, she opened her lips over his sleek crown, taking him like a plum into her mouth.

His fingers gripped her hair. She stiffened. But he didn’t try to hold her head or force her mouth. He only gathered her hair up out of the way so he could watch. Watch her with a heavy-lidded, lazy, sexy look that melted her insides.

She smiled at him, licking her lips.

His answering laugh sounded more like a groan.

An unfamiliar confidence swelled her chest. Jacob had made her feel safe. But no other man had made her feel so powerful, so sure of herself and him.

She took another swipe of him with her tongue and then crawled up his lean, hard body, seeking his kiss. Her lips bumped his chin before his hands came up to steady her shoulders. Her legs straddled his thigh. She found his mouth, warm and sweet and reassuring under hers, and licked into him, using her tongue to explore his mouth with leisurely delight. Yum. She kissed him again, longer, harder, deeper, their mouths engaging in a conversation without words.
Yes. Again. More. Now.

His heart thudded under her palms. He was warm and  solid between her legs, hot and hard against her stomach. She molded herself closer, rubbing herself against him in a kind of fever. He felt so good. His hands found her hips and lifted her over him. She wriggled. Even better.

“Lara.” He squeezed her gently, holding her still.

She raised her head.

He watched her steadily with burning golden eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

Her heart expanded to fill her chest. He worried about her. He cared about her. Nothing could have made her feel safer or more certain. But she wanted to lift that shadow from his eyes. From her memory.

“I want . . .” She reached between them and caressed him boldly. “This.”

His choked laugh was music to her ears. “Then don’t let me stop you.”

* * *

Iestyn could feel how wet, how ready she was. Hot and slippery, nestled against him. Burning above him, glowing and unafraid. She lit the dim room like a star.

Her cloudy hair tumbled down around them. Her eyes were deep as the night as she rubbed herself against him, rocking above him, using him for her pleasure, beautiful in her delight.

She wiggled, working his broad head with her heat, his heavy shaft lodged between her slick folds, almost there, almost . . .

He inhaled through his teeth. “Condom.”

She was in control, but it was still up to him to protect her. She was too inexperienced to know what she was doing, to understand the risks they ran.

He frowned, something about that thought niggling at the back of his mind. She lurched, reaching across the bed, smothering his last resistance. No thought could compete with the mind-blowing sensation of her wet sex grinding against him, her sweet tits practically in his face.

He captured one taut peak in his mouth as she swept one hand under her pillow. She hummed her pleasure. But before he could really get to work, she sat up, depriving him of his prize.

Not that he could object. Her new position pressed her open sex even more firmly against him. And in her hand, she brandished a little foil packet.

There was a surprise. “Where did you . . .”

She tore it open. “Bathroom.”

Relief shuddered through him. She wanted this. Had planned for it. Maybe she knew what she was doing after all.

She turned the condom over in her fingers, fumbling in the dark.

And maybe not.

He took the condom from her and sheathed himself.

She barely waited until he was covered before she pushed his shoulders to the mattress, raised her hips, and . . .

His mind blanked as she sank down on him. Tight. Perfect.

He was buried to the hilt, gripped by her wet heat. He gritted his teeth and thrust up, seating himself even more deeply inside her.

She didn’t move. She held herself very still above him, a stunned expression in her wide, darkened eyes.

His stomach muscles tightened. He didn’t breathe. Carefully, with his thumb, he pushed a strand of dark hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Okay?”

Slowly, very slowly, her gaze focused on his. Her smile, when it came, blinded him with its brilliance. “Very okay.”

She leaned forward to kiss him, her breasts brushing his chest, her kiss warm on his mouth. The movement pulled their bodies apart. Instinctively, he arched, seeking a deeper connection. She caught her breath and pulsed around him, beginning to rock, finding her rhythm. He caught her hips to help her, each glide, each push, each pant, bringing them closer.

Sensation wracked him as their sweat-slicked bodies moved together. She held him tightly deep inside, gripping his shoulders, her short fingers digging in. Her lips parted, her eyes narrowed in fierce concentration.

“I can’t,” she choked out, straining against him.

“You will.” He palmed her buttocks, feeling her muscles clench and squeeze inside and out, dragging him with her to the edge. “Come on, baby. Fly.”

He reached for her, for the place where they were joined, and pushed her over.

Impaled on his cock, imprisoned by his arms, she cried out his name and flew.

His world spun dizzily out of control. Holding her close, he fell .

The gray light of dawn edged the shabby motel curtains. Iestyn turned his head on the pillow. Lara slept heavily beside him, her dark hair a tangle, her face pure and soft in the cold, uncompromising light.

He could be gone before she woke. To Maine. Now that he had a destination—he wouldn’t go so far as to call it a plan—he didn’t need to drag her with him. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d slipped early from a woman’s bed to avoid an argument in the morning.

The scent of sex lingered on the sheets, but no trace of cigarettes or booze or stale perfume. Physically, he felt better than he had in days, his body loose and relaxed, his headache a manageable throb, the burn around his neck a mere distraction. He stretched, careful not to disturb the sleeping woman at his side. It would be a shame to waste his current well-being on regrets or recriminations.

And yet . . .

Desire stirred. Again. She was so damn beautiful.

Those long, dark lashes. That moist, kiss-swollen mouth.

Her fingers curled protectively into her palm as if she held a kiss or a secret.

She was full of secrets. And surprises.

Who’d have thought his angel would be so hot in bed?

Just thinking about the way she’d gone down on him last night was enough to flood his veins with liquid fire. Yet she was so guarded, so modest, she hadn’t removed her oversized T-shirt, even when they’d made love a second time.

Of course, they’d both been half asleep. He had roused to find her still sprawled over him, soft, warm, delicious.

He’d covered himself with another condom from the stash under her pillow, giving silent thanks for her tendency to plan ahead. With a contented sigh, she’d moved over him, her lashes fluttering open as he’d slipped into her welcoming heat.
Heaven.
Lips joined, fingers linked, he’d loved her with slow, deep strokes until she’d quivered and was still, until he’d shuddered and exhaled into her hair.

Sex so tender, so ardent, belonged in a dream.

Ruefully, he regarded his hard-on, jutting against the sheet.

He could be out of here before she woke. The problem was, he didn’t want to go.

After last night, he could hardly slap some money on the dresser and take off. Yet he couldn’t leave her without funds. Without a car. Without a word.

Without a kiss.

He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.

* * *

Lara woke, the warmth on her lips seducing her into opening her eyes.

Iestyn.

The shock of connection caught her unprepared.

Sun-streaked hair, sun-bronzed skin, sun god face.

Something hot and liquid gleamed in his eyes and pooled deep inside her. The tug of need left her dizzy, dazzled, and uncertain.

Her face flushed.

“What can I do for you this morning?” he asked with easy warmth.

She had no idea how to respond.

Last night she’d talked him—talked
herself
—into having sex. She’d told him she wanted to. She’d told herself it would be enough. But his question this morning made her feel more needy than needed, unsure of her moves and his motives.
“What can I do for you?”

What was she supposed to say?
Rock my world? Tell me
you want me? Say that you love me?

Her pulse jumped.
No.

She drew an unsteady breath. “Not a thing,” she said coolly.

His eyes narrowed. For a moment she waited, her heart beating wildly, for him to . . . What? Take her back in his arms to that safe place in the heart of the storm, that place where she could fly.

“Fine.” He dropped a hard, brief kiss on her mouth. “I’ll grab a shower, then.”

Naked, he rolled away from her and strolled into the bathroom.

She refused to acknowledge her sinking feeling as disappointment. She’d had a lover. She’d even had an orgasm before. Sort of.

Sex was
not
that big a deal.

A memory of Iestyn’s glinting eyes came back and stole her breath.
“It is if you do it right.”

Well, Maybe.

She listened to the sound of running water from the bathroom. Last night in the dark, she’d felt safe with him, safe and solid and right. Relaxed enough to let go, grounded enough to fly.

Of course, it was possible he hadn’t felt the same. In the clear light of morning, she recognized that safe sex was an oxymoron. Sex was never safe. There was always a risk of being hurt physically or emotionally, the danger of disease.

Pregnancy.

Rejection.

The shower hissed. A cold finger traced down her spine.

Iestyn hadn’t hurt her. He’d taken care to wear a condom both times. He’d satisfied her sexually beyond her wildest dreams. Twice.

But his consideration had only put her at greater risk.

She was in real danger now of losing her perspective.

Her chest squeezed. Or her heart.

A tap creaked. Iestyn swore.

Lara got out of bed, tugging her T-shirt down her thighs.

She felt better prepared to deal with an annoyed male than a playful one.

She stopped in the bathroom door, momentarily transfixed by the sight of his very bare, very fine ass as he bent over the tub. “What’s the problem?”

He glanced over his shoulder. She thought his gaze lingered on her legs before he said, “Something’s wrong with the water temperature.”

“It’s an old motel,” she pointed out reasonably, trying to ignore her dry-mouthed response to that look. To all that warm male flesh a few feet away. “Maybe you need to let the water run to get hot.”

His brows pulled together. “That’s what I thought. But when I turn on the tap . . .” He suited his action to his words, and a flood of scalding water burst from the faucet.

Steam boiled to the ceiling.

“Skies!” She yelped and jumped back. “Turn it off!”

The flow of hot water stopped.

Lara eyed the cloud of steam curling overhead like an evil genie against the water-stained tile, her heart thumping.

Something wasn’t . . . right. She reached for the cold tap on the sink.

“Careful,” Iestyn warned.

She turned the handle. Just a little bit.

Metal screeched. Water exploded into the sink, white-hot.

She yanked on the tap, fighting the pressure from the pipe, choking the geyser to a trickle. Plumbing rattled and groaned. An ominous hiss escaped the faucet.

Iestyn moved purposefully past her. “I’ll call the front desk.”

“Don’t bother.” She forced the words past her tight throat. “We have to check out. Now.”

He stopped directly in front of her, a solid male wall.

“Why?”

She raised her gaze from his chest to his face. Licked her dry lips. “The demons have found us.”

* * *

Iestyn squatted on his heels in front of the Jeep. He couldn’t leave Lara now.

He wouldn’t go back to Rockhaven.

So for the time being, they were stuck with each other.

He tightened the screws on the Jeep’s new New Jersey license plate, trying hard not to feel cheerful about that.

Lara tossed the plastic Wal-Mart bags in back. Her eyes had widened when she saw him removing the plate from the Corolla five spaces down, but she hadn’t said a word in protest.

He grinned. His angel was adapting to all kinds of new experiences. Good and bad. Once she dropped her little bomb about the demons, she’d taken five minutes, tops, to throw on her clothes and clear the room. No fuss. No wasting time.

He’d crewed with guys who weren’t as steady in a crisis. He watched her climb into the passenger’s side, her new jeans pulling across the slender curve of her butt. And they for damn sure didn’t have her ass.

He gave the screw head a final twist with the point of his knife and swung in beside her.

“All set?” He put the key in the ignition, released the clutch.

She nodded, her face set and white. He was no good at relationships, but even he could tell  something was bugging her.

They bounced out of the parking lot and under a bridge, following the highway signs along narrow gray streets full of dry cleaners and Chinese restaurants, drugstores and tattoo parlors. The lights went on in a coffee shop.

Even this early in the morning, traffic was picking up.

He didn’t know this town. He just hoped the demons were as lost as he was.

Lara stirred. “Do you know where we’re going?”

He slanted her a look. “North.”

He hoped. He looked for another highway sign . . . and nearly swiped the mirror off a delivery truck idling in a loading zone.

His heart rate jumped. He steadied the wheel and shot another glance at Lara’s pale, set face. “What?”

“I owe you an apology.”

Surprise almost made him smile. “Babe, most times I spend the night with a beautiful woman, she doesn’t apologize in the morning.”

She turned pink. With anger or embarrassment? He hardly cared. Pink was better than pale and miserable. “It’s not that. Well, not exactly. The thing is . . .” She took a deep breath. “It’s my fault you almost burned in the shower.”

“Don’t say that. You warded the motel room, right?”

“I used the taw to seal the door and windows. But—”

“So they heated the pipes.” He had a flash of lugging buckets up a spiraling stone stair, of the demons using the hot springs under the sea lord’s castle to access the heart of the selkies’ Sanctuary. The brief vision made him dizzy. He shook his head to clear it. “There wasn’t anything you could do to stop them.”

“They shouldn’t have been able to find us.”

He’d wondered about that. He shrugged. “Maybe they followed me from Wal-Mart.”

“The children of fire do not hang out at Wal-Mart.”

“How do you know? There were some pretty creepy characters in the electronics aisle.”

Her lips twitched before she pressed them together.

“Even if there were demons in the area, your shields should have prevented them from noticing you. And if they had found you, you would have been attacked before you reached the motel.”

“So if they didn’t see me, how did they track us down?”

She folded her hands in her lap. “Demons’ reference points are not entirely physical.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“The children of fire are the only elementals to lack matter of their own. They have no physical presence beyond what they borrow. But they are aware of energy. Attracted to it.”

She’d said something like that last night, he remembered.

“You mean magic? But we didn’t do any. At the motel.”

“No, but we . . . There’s a connection between us. When we joined, I felt a definite, powerful release of energy.”

“Babe, that wasn’t magic. You came.”

Her blush deepened. “Thank you. I’m aware of that. But we also broadcast power.”

She was serious.

“You’re telling me that when we have sex, it sends up some kind of flare? Like the Bat-Signal?”

“Not the Bat-Signal. But if the demons picked up on our combined energies . . . it’s my fault.”

He wasn’t big on assuming responsibility. But he couldn’t let her beat herself up because they’d made love.

“Not your fault,” he said firmly.

“My idea, then.
I
climbed into bed with
you
.”

“Not the second time.”

She flicked him a glance, measuring, uncertain.

“Of course, we could test your theory,” he continued, trying to provoke her smile. “Make love again and time how long before the bastards show up.”

Her sputter of laughter delighted him. But, “That’s not funny,” she said.

He sobered abruptly. “No,” he agreed. “Because if you’re right, if the demons have some way to trace the two of us together, you’re safer if we split up.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

Her soft certainty drilled a hole in his gut. He didn’t either.

Not because he needed her to find the merfolk, if they still survived. Not because he was using her for sex.

He
liked
her, her loyalty, her tenacity, her determination to do the right thing whatever the cost. She gave him purpose and direction. In a world where everything was fluid, she was a beacon, clear and true.

None of which mattered compared to her safety. He couldn’t let his craving for her company jeopardize her life.

Better for them both, perhaps, if he left her now. It wasn’t like he had anything to offer her beyond this moment.

Besides sex.

“We don’t have a choice,” he said.

“There’s always a choice.”

He shot her another glance. Lara Rho would never go with the flow. She was a fighter. He wished he didn’t admire that about her.

“Okay. Give it to me.”

She met his gaze, her eyes vulnerable, and his heart tumbled at the look in her eyes. Not so certain after all. “The demons seem to respond to the connection between us.”

“Yeah, so?” he asked, seeing where this was going, not liking her direction at all.

“So.” She took a deep breath, released it slowly. “All we have to do to lose them is not have sex again.”

* * *

The room stank of demon.

Demon and sex.

Jude Zayin stood on the landing outside the open door of Room 230, his face impassive, his neck muscles tight.

Corner room, second floor, hard to access. He’d bet Miller had chosen it for that reason.

Slippery son of a bitch.

Automatically, Zayin scanned the room for unpleasant surprises. Nothing. No threats. And no quarry.

He stepped inside.

“We can clean the room for you,” said the maid—dark, wide-hipped, hard-eyed—who had shown him upstairs.

“Five minutes.”

“I won’t be here that long.”

“But you paid for the room.”

So he could search it. Two beds, one barely disturbed.

The other . . . He laid his hand on the cold sheets. The other bed had been well used.

Simon would not be pleased.

“You here alone?” the maid asked.

He glanced at her, registering the invitation in her posture and her eyes. Did she expect him to pay for more than the room? “I prefer it,” he said.

She shrugged. “Takes all kinds. Let me know if you change your mind.”

He shut her out of the room, taking note of the rune, a taw, scratched in the paint above the door. Lara’s work, he guessed. He found another written in the dirt of the window.