Inked Magic (29 page)

He heard the bike before he saw her on it. And used the time between to tamp his emotion so it would appear as though he’d come out for fresh air and happened to be there as she passed, when in truth, before Etaín, he’d rarely allowed himself to be seen at Aesirs by humans.

The sound of the engine changed. She slowed and stopped next to the curb, forcing him to come to her as she had when she entered his estate.

He hid a smile. He would always come to her.
For
her. She was his, and he would do what it took to keep her.

She removed her helmet though the bike idled as if she hadn’t decided to remain with him. That didn’t concern him nearly as much as her paleness and the slight tremors he felt when he cupped her cheek.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” he asked, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip and feeling a tug at his core, as if she needed some of his magic to sustain her.

She was changeling with a link to the old magic of Elfhome so it was entirely possible she did. Especially if he guessed correctly and she
had used her gift earlier in the day when she went to Denis Dunne’s home.

He touched his mouth to hers, giving her what she needed, the sensation like fire spreading from him to her, flames of magic and lust merging to become indistinguishable from one another.

Satisfaction replaced his earlier aggravation when she melted into him, her arms going around his waist. Though worry for her safety soon edged out the pleasure that came with her return.

Wards and glamour wouldn’t hide his interest in her should there be spies watching. He ended the kiss, reluctant despite the wisdom of it.

In the distance Liam made his presence known, a deadly assassin emerging from darkness just long enough to smile in ripe amusement.

Eamon forced himself from her embrace though he couldn’t draw his hand away from its resting place against her cheek.

Her color was better, her eyelids lowered by desire rather than exhaustion or illness. “Let me feed you dinner, Etaín.”

A chauffeured limousine chose that moment to stop near them and disgorge its passengers, women in furs and men in five-thousand-dollar suits, among them several state senators. He saw the
no
in her eyes as she took note of the diners bound for Aesirs, felt it begin to take form against the thumb he stroked over her bottom lip.

Before she could utter it he deflected it by once again closing the distance between them, this time touching his mouth to her ear. “Say yes and I’ll give you a demonstration of the magic you’re not sure you believe in. I have a private suite. No one will bother us.”

It was temptation enough for Etaín, given her earlier suspicion that she’d subconsciously intended to seek Eamon out when she came this way instead of going home. The headache and chills that had steadily gotten worse since leaving Denis’s house were gone now that she was with Eamon. It had to mean something, and if not, the respite from them was welcome given the dreams she’d soon face, the reality she’d soon live.

“I’ve got to park the bike.”

His laugh was a confident, warm caress against her ear. “I’ll have it taken care of.”

“Your valets ride?”

She felt the small, teasing smile. “If they don’t, I’ll replace the Harley with another of your choosing. An upgrade even, so you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

“You make it hard to refuse.”

“That’s my intention.”

She racked the kickstand and turned off the engine. He stepped back so she could swing off the bike.

Taking the key from her he passed it off to the maître d’ inside along with dinner instructions. A private elevator took them to the top floor.

He’d said “suite” and he’d meant it. Elegant dining and sitting areas. Plants in abundance, their pots beautifully crafted. A large bed visible through an arched doorway. And like his home, the walls held priceless paintings.

A Renoir drew her forward for a closer view. Eamon came up behind her, his arms pulling her against him so she felt the hard ridge of his erection. He pressed kisses along her neck. “Beautiful things please me,” he murmured. “Though nothing pleases me as much as having you with me.”

It should have come across as a line, total bullshit she could laugh away and enjoy for the play it was. Instead it came across as honest, and worse, unrelated to the message of lust his hard cock gave.

Unease spiraled through her at how her intentions to keep things casual with both men faded quickly when she was with either of them. She couldn’t seem to stay away from Eamon any more than she could Cathal, and didn’t bother lying to herself. The need for answers hadn’t brought her here.

Like to like
. It was an attraction that might only be broken if she did as her mother had done. Run and keep running.

It was a mantra often repeated, and yet her mother had left her in San Francisco. At eight years old she’d had no choice but to remain in one place. At eight, she’d been too young to have any defenses against coming to love the man she thought was her father, and the protective boy she thought was her brother.

An idea took shape in her mind, a question she couldn’t shake and yet one she would never have an answer to. Was foresight her mother’s gift? Is that what the eye on the back of her mother’s hand signified?

See, but don’t be seen.

Had she chosen San Francisco because she’d seen Eamon there? Had she left Etaín, untrained in the use of her gift, knowing that needing Eamon’s help might make her stay with him?

Etaín felt the headache returning and grimaced. This is why she didn’t like to think too much about her gift and its uses.

Amusement followed, a by-product of self-knowledge. She pressed backward, against Eamon’s hardened cock. “I was promised a demonstration of magic. But if you got me up here to show me sex magic, I’m already a believer.”

His laugh made her smile. “Not sex magic despite evidence to the contrary.”

He gave a tender bite to her neck then nuzzled her ear. “I can smell his cologne on you.”

He made it a dark, erotic discovery and her nipples tightened in response to it. Desire coiled low and deep in her belly. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Quite the contrary. I enjoyed this morning’s fun and games. Did Cathal?”

Images of what it had been like with Cathal when they got to her apartment brought the remembered heat of a threat-rough voice and raw demands. Dominance stirred by possessiveness and jealousy.

Her channel clenched repeatedly, violently, with a need that went beyond simple physical joining. “Not at the time, but later . . . Later we both did.”

Eamon’s husky laugh made her squeeze her thighs together. He pressed another kiss to her ear.

She wanted him, but she was aware of the sweat dried on her skin from the sickness that had vanished in his presence, the griminess left over from retching in the bathroom down the hall from Brianna’s room.

“I’d like a shower.”

He stroked his hands down her sides. “Perfect. The demonstration I have in mind is best done after you’ve taken one.”

A wave of remembered pleasure went through her, at what it had been like the last time she and Eamon had taken a shower together. “This still sounds like a demonstration of sex magic to me.”

“I’m not going to join you. Though fair warning, I’ll wait and watch while you do.”

“Kinky.” And yet it excited her, not just the prospect of being watched, but what she might do, in turn, to the watcher.

He led her to a bathroom easily as large as her apartment. Mirrors took up one wall. Seeing them she asked, “You do this often? Promise a woman a demonstration of magic if she’ll come upstairs with you?”

It bothered her that he might. It bothered her more that
she
was bothered by it.

“Jealous?”

A shrug rather than a lie.
This isn’t permanent
, she told herself, uneasiness shimmering through her when it didn’t feel as completely true as it once would have.

He took the same position he had as they’d stood together in front of the Renoir, his arms encircling her, his mouth close enough to her ear that his words came on an erotic whisper of breath. “You have no cause to be jealous, Etaín. You have my full attention and no competition. I told you, there won’t be anyone else now that I’ve met you.”

A shiver went through her at seeing them together in the mirror. They fit. Like to like.

“Watch,” he said, hands slowly stripping her of the jacket. The
shirt. The bra. The rest of it following, leaving her standing naked while he was fully clothed.

“It pleases me to take care of you,” he murmured.

The intimacy of it unnerved her. “So it’s not just about getting me out of my clothes so we can do the nasty?” She joked, trying to return to what was familiar, comfortable. Sex without complications.

He ignored the comment, placing a long trail of kisses along her neck, her bare shoulder, his caresses turning her nipples into painful points and making her wet with need before he stepped backward. “Take your shower, Etaín.”

She lifted her arms, watching his face tighten with desire in the mirror as she braided, then knotted her hair to keep it from getting wet. “Shower with me, like we did before.”

“No.”

“Using reverse psychology? So I’ll have to work at seducing you now?”

He stepped into her, his hands going to her bare breasts, cupping and molding, sending spikes of pleasure from her nipples to her cunt with each touch to them. “I think maybe I’ve been too easy a conquest for you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Oh but there is. At the risk of scaring you and making you leave in a rush, I’ll repeat myself. I won’t always settle for a meaningless physical act.”

Reverse psychology, a dare, and yet even recognizing what he was doing, the challenge he presented was too great. She wanted him again, needed him despite being with Cathal earlier in the day.

The possibility Eamon could hold out intrigued her. From the time the dreams of ink started, she’d been fending off advances from men and women of all ages.

She turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck as she pressed against him. He didn’t bother to keep the desire from his expression.
That’d be pointless given the size of his erection, nor did he temper his response when her mouth found his.

Long moments passed. One kiss blending into another, a deep, heated communication of desire as his hands roamed, finally settling on her hips and holding her tightly as he ground his cloth-covered cock against her.

She broke the kiss then, her breathing as fast as his. “Sure you won’t shower with me?”

“Yes.”

“Your loss.”

“We’ll see.”

She pulled away and walked the short distance to the glass-fronted shower stall, hyperaware of how wet and swollen she was between her thighs. He took a seat and amusement trickled in at having a bathroom large enough to accommodate furniture, though it served a purpose now.

She stepped into the shower stall and turned on the water, lathering her hands and proceeding to apply soap to every inch of her skin. It heightened the sensation, knowing he watched, feeling his eyes on her and his hunger as she touched herself.

Fantasy returned, the same one she’d had when she showered in her apartment after meeting both Cathal and Eamon. The three of them together, though now she knew what it was like to be with them separately.

Release came, enough of one to leave a hum of contentment. She turned the water off and stepped out of shower to find Eamon standing with a towel his hands, his nostrils flared. She smiled. “Do you want me to help you out of your clothes so they won’t get wet?”

“Not yet.”

She lowered her eyes to the front of his trousers, provocatively running her tongue over her lip. “You’re sure?”

“For the moment,” he said, the heated need in his voice and the
hard outline of his erection assuring her he did have a breaking point, and she would find it before she left him.

He moved closer, refusing to hand her the towel when she reached for it. “I told you before you got into the shower that it pleases me to take care of you.”

Their game had gone too far for her to retreat. And then his touch made it impossible.

He wielded cloth like a sensual weapon, applying it to every inch of skin as she’d done with soapy hands. Lingering over breasts and inner thighs and cunt until she was thoroughly aroused again.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered.

She complied and felt him step away then return.

“Now open them.”

He was holding a hanger. “Dress for me.”

Refusal surged into her instantly, the request touching old wounds, the silent message she always heard from the captain and Parker.
Conform to my expectations if you want to be a part of my world.
But if Eamon saw the turmoil he’d caused, he ignored it. Diffused it by saying, “When I bought the dress, I envisioned you accompanying me to Saoirse while wearing it. Now I find I don’t want to share the vision of you in it with Cathal.”

“I think that might be best.” Despite her fantasy and growing need for both of them, she couldn’t see Cathal tolerating Eamon’s physical presence when he could barely stand knowing she might be with him.

Eamon took the dress from the hanger and handed it to her. It was minimalist in design. Dark blue and backless, with a hemline shorter than the skirt she’d worn to Cathal’s club.

The sleeves extended to her wrists, hiding the tattoos on her forearms. The front was equally concealing, elegant, making the show of skin elsewhere seem wickedly erotic.

“There are matching shoes,” he said. “Optional for dining in.”

“Apparently panties are optional, too.”

“Of course.”

She tugged the dress on over her head. It clung to her like a second skin.

“Where are the shoes?”

He produced a pair of fuck-me heels. She slipped them on, tormenting him, both of them knowing he had only to free his cock and push the dress upward to have nothing separate them.

Satisfaction purred through her when she saw his hand only just stop before gripping his erection. “Sure you want to keep holding out on me?”