Night Magic (22 page)

Jane nodded her head suggestively toward the big gray shag rug that covered the vast expanse of floor between the couch and the huge TV screen. Once you were past the glass and chrome coffee table, there seemed to be acres of it.

“Vixen,” he murmured, grabbing the waistband of her cashmere sweater. “You know, you haven’t yet seen my full repertoire.” She lifted her arms as he pulled the sweater over her head. She had on a white, lace-cup bra. Nothing daring, like Drew would have worn, but the cups were cut away just a tiny bit so the swell of her breasts showed, and the straps were set wide. Apparently that was a good thing, because Kemble hissed in a breath as he tossed her sweater aside and ran both palms over the lace, teasing her nipples into points. She couldn’t help but arch into his hands, which caused, him, perversely, to stop palming her nipples and reach around to unhook the bra entirely. It followed the sweater in an arc.

“
You. Have. Such. Beautiful. Breasts.” He closed his eyes and the palms were, thankfully, back, making her moan as the sensation shot to her groin. She kicked off her loafers under the coffee table as he moved in for another kiss. Somehow he managed to kiss her and tease one of her nipples with his thumb and get her slacks unbuttoned and unzipped. The man was a genius.

He broke away, stood, and picked her up under her arms, standing her up like
her weight meant nothing. Then he knelt in front of her. That put his lips right at her breasts. Thank goodness. He didn’t miss the opportunity. His talented mouth sucked on her nipples until she wanted to scream. She only noticed that he had her slacks and panties down around her ankles when he broke away long enough to urge her to step out of them. When she did, he stood and swept her up in his arms. Just like in the movies. She put her arms around his neck. She liked the fact that she was naked with him fully clothed in a room other than the bedroom, where he was about to do who knew what to her. It felt so bold.

He laid her down in the middle of that big rug and glanced around.
“Just a minute,” he said. “Hold that thought.”

What thought was that? She couldn’t seem to think at all. He went to the gas fireplace, and flipped the switch. Flames flickered up. Then he came striding back to her, grabbed the small purple throw pillows
, and carried her over closer to the flame. “That should be warmer.”

She gave him a grin as he bunched the pillows under her head, not because what he did was funny, but
because providing for her warmth and comfort was just so like Kemble. Did he know how selfless he was, tirelessly working for the family? Of course not. And now, he just naturally applied all those protective instincts to her. She’d never felt so cared for in her life.

He got a wicked look in his eye as he stared down at her.
“Now, I’m going to have my way with you, wife.”

She’d never be able to get rid of the grin at this rate.
“I’m ready to perform my wifely duty.”

He lay down beside her, fully clothed, and kissed her again. The shaggy carpet was scratchy on her back and tush. His shirt against her bare breasts was as stiff as his mouth on hers
was soft. Somehow all the sensations were combining into something more than a little overwhelming. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her breasts into his shirt, her groin into the rough denim of the jeans over his hip. His arm slid around her buttocks and held her fast. But then his kisses were making their way down her throat. Ah, he was going to kiss her breasts again. She could hardly wait.

“
Kemble,” she murmured, over and over. She was restless with wanting.

And he did, lingering over each one, sucking, even nipping lightly. She couldn’t believe that could actually feel good. Well, more than good. She was so wet the fluid was dripping down her thighs. The ache in her loins was in full flower, and if she didn’t get that ache assuaged, she might die in the next few minutes.

But then he was scooting down further.

Was he
. . . ?

He was. He parted her thighs and positioned his shoulders between them.
“I wanted to do this last night,” he murmured. “But there were so many other things to do. . . .”

Nerves cascaded over her.
“What if I’m not. . . ? I mean maybe I should go take a shower. . . .”

He looked up at her from between her legs and smiled.
“You just had a shower a couple of hours ago. You’re fine.”

He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Well, she’d promised wifely duty. That probably included letting him perform oral sex if that’s what he wanted. Shouldn’t she be doing that for him though, if it was wifely duty? Before she could think about whether he really wanted that or whether he was just being selfless again, he bent his head.

The shock of his wet mouth on her dripping sex was almost painful. The aching in her loins ratcheted up another notch. He licked up from her passage toward her clitoris. She almost screamed when he swirled around that little nub and then over it, then down and around, and then over it, again and again. He slid his hands under her thighs and held her hips up to his mouth. That angle was even better. When he started to rub his tongue back and forth over her clitoris, the sensation was so intense she wasn’t sure whether she was going to come or maybe explode in some other way. On and on the feeling stretched, as he worked her with his mouth. She was just on the edge of an orgasm, and he kept her teetering there. The murmuring mantra of his name had become almost a shout.

That was when he sucked on her clitoris. At least she thought that was what he did, before her body clamped into a ball inside and then exploded, jerking against Kemble’s mouth. Her ears rang with it, blood pounding in her head until white flowers bloomed behind her clenched eyelids
, and it was like one of those atomic bombs that starts so small and then billows out silently, even as you know the crash of sound is coming. And it did come, overwhelming even her screams. Kemble didn’t let her go, just kept the cloud of sensation billowing out larger and larger, until finally she began to hear again and breathe instead of scream. He was licking her softly now, so gentle with her.

She blinked at the ceiling, unable to move as he scooted up beside her to take her in his arms. He moved into her line of vision and raised his brows.
“So, okay?”

She tried to speak and nothing came out. She cleared her throat.
“So that’s what all the fuss is about.”

“
Yeah,” he grinned, obviously proud of himself. “That’s pretty much it. And think . . . you can have that whenever you want it. Well, not in the middle of dinner at the Breakers. And we should probably abstain at the opening of the exhibition. But otherwise. . . .”

Jane managed somehow to get up on one elbow.
“Shut up, Kemble. You have far too many clothes on, and I need you inside of me.”

He grinned, and it was a happy and relaxed grin. She treasured that grin more than the screaming orgasm. And that was saying something.
He took a foil packet of a condom out of his jeans pocket. “Good thing I’m prepared. It seems I’ve married a shrew,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll be a shell of my former self, forced to perform sexually at her whim.”

That was Kemble. Always organized, always prepared. Someday she’d have to deal with that. But not today.
“Less talk, more action.” She took both sides of his shirt just below the collar and ripped. Buttons popped everywhere. Nagging guilt made her promise herself she’d sew them all back on. But the heat rising in his eyes was worth it. That, and the warmth of his chest, the downy hair under her palms. She tweaked a nipple. . . .

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kemble cooked steaks for dinner because he’d made his woman into a limp pool of sated female and she shouldn’t have to rouse herself from her lethargic fog to make dinner. Besides, he liked doing for her. Jane was always the rock of the family, helping his mother with dinner, often cleaning up afterward. She was the one who kept the house filled with flowers and consulted with Mr. Nakamura on the cleaning crew and the grocery delivery service. His mother had always depended a lot on Jane, and her absence recently at the Breakers had been keenly felt by all. So it was good that she didn’t have to take the lead on dinner tonight.

He let her chop up vegetables for a salad because she’d said she felt useless sitting at the bar watching him cook. But he’d kept a close eye on her knife skills. Wouldn’t want her to cut herself just because she’d had a little too much mind-blowing sex. And she had told him she was clumsy, though he had never noticed that about her. Hmmm. He did seem to save her wine glasses from spilling quite a lot though. Maybe she was right.

He provided some homemade vinaigrette with blue cheese crumbles in it. He’d also sautéed mushrooms in red wine, spiked some potatoes before he plopped them into one of the three ovens, and seared the steaks with the blowtorch setting on the indoor grill that was part of a range with about ten burners on it. They had that flavorful, crusty outside called the Maillard
reaction and were perfectly medium rare inside. Jane elected to eat at the small informal dining area at one end of the kitchen. It looked out over the garden to the sunset and Catalina Island. It was probably meant only as a setting for drinking coffee, but the big dining room probably sat twenty people and even the glass table behind the bar sat eight. This was cozier. He poured Jane another glass of wine.

It had been a good day. Aside from that anxiety attack about not working, for which Jane had found a lovely remedy, it had been just about perfect. But he was a little nervous. This was not what he’d expected. He’d thought his life would just go on as usual, working fifteen-hour days, devoted to the family and its causes, looking for Talismans while Senior kept the family safe. He’d imagined Jane sitting in this big house doing
. . . whatever women did who didn’t need to earn their own money any more. Now he could see that marrying Jane would change his life. And he wasn’t sure exactly how. Well, besides the mind-blowing sex. He had a hard time believing that shy Jane was so responsive, so eager, even a little saucy. Jane had hidden depths.

He knew she didn’t love him. And Lord knew, he didn’t love her. Their marriage was an accident of time and place. But he couldn’t say he was sorry he’d married Jane. He lifted his glass and clinked with hers. “To married life,” he said. He liked it when she smiled.

“Thank you for today.”

“Pleasure was mine.” It had been good, but he wondered for a moment what being married to your one true love, your Destiny, would be like, if just being married to Jane was this good. He’d never know, of course.

“What are you thinking right now?” she asked sharply.

He glanced over to find her steady gray eyes examining him. He cleared his throat. “I would have thrown in the towel on magic a lot sooner if I’d known how nice being married was going to be.”

She looked away, but not before he saw pain flash in her eyes. “Not quite what you were thinking. But thanks for the cover-up. That’s kind.”

She knew what he’d been thinking. And it had hurt her. No hiding from Jane. He felt awful. Should he admit it? Should he deny it?
She’d know he was lying. He was sure of it. “I’m not kind, Jane,” he said gruffly, sawing at his meat with the steak knife.

From the corner of his eyes he actually saw her put her pain away. She took a breath and managed a smile. He’d never felt so guilty in his life.
“You inherit it from your father, though I don’t expect you’ll believe that.” She was making a conscious effort to go on as though nothing had happened after he’d hurt her. Just as though she didn’t expect anything more. She gathered a forkful of salad.

He felt trapped in some alternate reality, as though everything had just changed.
“You’re right. I don’t believe Senior is kind.” God, but that steak was good. His mouth exploded with the flavor. But he couldn’t enjoy it. Not when he’d just hurt Jane. He wished he could un-think those thoughts, wipe that expression from his face, but it was too late.

“But he is. He built me that darkroom so I wouldn’t have to go home quite so much. No matter how much I protested against it.” Jane stared at her food. “Do you know he told me once that I should come tell him if you teased me anymore?”

“I never teased you.” Had he? God, but he was an even worse person than he thought.

Her eyebrows lifted. “You don’t remember calling me ‘Drew’s pale shadow
’?”

“No
. . . .”

“I seem to recall the phrase, ‘the dowdy one.’ Oh, and let’s not forget ‘chubbins.’
 ”

“I didn’t.” This was really appalling. “I wouldn’t be that cruel.” But she wouldn’t be saying it now unless he had. “You were my little sister’s friend
. . . . I guess I must have. . . . Oh, Jane, I’m so sorry. How can you call me kind? I wasn’t kind at all.” He didn’t dare address his most recent cruelty.

She shrugged and took a bite of steak. She seemed surprised for a moment before she continued. “You were seventeen. We were ten. Teenage boys are hormonal loons. You can’t be held responsible. And you grew up into a very kind man.” She took a sip of wine and her lips made a rueful curl. “Besides, it was true.”