Spell of Summoning (21 page)

“Hol—”

He grasped her chin and kissed her, and she forgot whatever she was going to say.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, flattening her breasts against his chest. There was nothing between them but his shirt and the thin fabric of her button-down blouse, but it was too much of a barrier. She flicked two buttons open, baring her lacy bra.

It still wasn’t enough. She wanted him inside her. She broke the kiss to yank open his fly, and she reached for him.

He gripped her wrist in a death hold and then flipped her onto her back on the goose-down comforter. He captured both wrists, stretching them above her head as he hovered over her.

“We are not,” he growled, “rushing this.”

Becca gave a jerky nod.

Slow was good. She liked slow. Except her body wanted him
now.

Holden released her. “Lock your hands over your head.”

She did as he asked, and something wild and unrestrained showed in his eyes. She recognized the same need in him that reared up in her, and her core hummed in response.  

Surrendering herself to another person, not only her body but her will, wasn’t just scary. It was thrilling. And freeing. Rebecca relinquished control and focused on the tide of pleasure rising in her lower belly.

Holden rested one knee on the mattress, and it dipped under his weight as he popped the last of the buttons on her blouse. With a flick of his wrists he pinned the cups of her bra under her breasts. Air tickled over her bare skin, and her breath whistled through her teeth.

Holden cupped her right breast in a gentle, reverent palm. She quivered against his fingers, arching her back in a silent plea for more.

He obliged, dipping his head and kissing the very tip of one pink nipple. Oh so slowly, he pulled the peak into his mouth. And sucked.

Rebecca writhed.

Holden drew away, leaving her breasts puckered and exposed. “Put your knees up,” he said.

She drew her legs onto the bed, watching him watch her, positive no man had ever looked at her with such a mix of fascination and undisguised desire.

“Open your legs.”

Her breath was ragged as she let her knees fall wide, showing him her lace panties. The waiting was an exquisite torture. Another minute of lying spread out while he fucked her with his eyes and she’d beg him to touch her. Hell, she’d drag him down on top of her.

Her need built and built until her pulse was a locomotive in her ears and her fingers clawed at the duvet.

“Touch me,” Becca gasped.

He tore her lace panties apart like he was ripping into a Christmas present, and then his warm lips kissed her where her panties had been, and her legs bucked. His fingers dug into her hips, locking her in place. Holden suckled her with the same desperate need in all his kisses, like he might never have her again.

He growled into her, a rumbling vibration of pleasure at her core. Then he slid two fingers inside her, and she thrashed.

Screw locking her hands. Rebecca palmed the sides of Holden’s face, wanting more of him, wanting all of him.

He pushed her left knee up, spreading her wider. His fingers went deeper, and the flat of his tongue teased until she couldn’t take anymore. Crying out, she pulled hard on his hair as he sucked an orgasm out of her, making it last and last and last.

Wrung out and breathless, Becca collapsed, one leg dangling limply over his shoulder.

Bending, Holden lifted her easily and stood up with her wrapped around his waist. She gasped, clinging to his shoulders. Beside the painting of an oak tree, he pressed her against the wall. His hips ground against her, and she felt a zing of pleasure.

He kissed her, tasting of salt and sex. Rebecca lost herself in his warm, slick kiss. Until there was nothing in the world but him.

He entered her with a hard thrust. Threading his arm around her ribs, Holden pumped into her. She locked her ankles behind his back and panted, feeling every ridge in his chest, every inch of corded muscle in his arms. He thrust again, raising her into the air.

The flat-screen TV beside them wobbled. The landscape painting crashed to the floor and splintered. Holden came in a whole-body shudder as Rebecca clung to him, glistening and spent.

Chapter Fifteen

Becca’s cell went off at 5:20 a.m. Caller ID read “Derek.”

“Morning,” she grumbled, burrowing under the covers with the phone. She hadn’t gotten to sleep last night until after midnight. Holden hadn’t been satisfied with one round against the paneling. And neither had she. They’d done it in on the floor and then in the shower before falling into bed.

Holden snored softly beside her, oblivious, and she tried to be quiet.

“I have bad news,” Derek said.

Her stomach dropped. Did he call with anything else these days? “I can’t handle much more bad news. Is it an emergency?”

“More like a funeral.” He took a deep breath. “Maeve is pulling the Havers Street house off the market.”

“What?”

“I called her about your remodeling plan, and she told me it was too much. She isn’t willing to ‘tear the whole bathroom to shreds’ were her exact words.”

Becca sat up, shoving at the blankets. “I don’t believe this. Tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I were, trust me.”

“
Four months
,” she hissed into the phone. “I have put the full force of my business behind this house. Do you know how many hours, how much money out of my own—” She kicked the bedside table, bruising her toes.

Holden startled. She laid a soothing hand on his bare arm and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry, Derek. Of course you know. I’m just so angry. What a screw over.”

“You did everything you could.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“She’s going to rent the place instead of sell.”

“With us?” Rebecca could get a monthly managing fee. That would make up for the time and costs she’d already incurred—-mailers, hors d’oeuvres at the open house, emails, staging pieces, flyers, phone calls…

“She wants to rent it out herself.”

So much for a silver lining. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Meet me at the office at seven.”

“Sure thing.”

She hung up and turned toward Holden, unable to hide her disappointment. “My business is sort of imploding at the moment. Sorry I woke you.”

What she really wanted to do was curl into him and sleep, warm and safe, for another three hours.

“Did I hear you say you’re going into work?”

“Unfortunately.” She really hated her job at the moment. “I’ll go take a shower.”

But once in the bathroom, Becca didn’t turn on the water. She wrapped herself in a terry cloth robe and stared in the mirror at her tousled hair and smeared mascara. What was she doing? Everything was so upside down that she hardly remembered what right side up felt like. Once upon a time, her business had been her baby, and she hadn’t had time for relationships. But while she wasn’t paying attention, her final property had crumbled and a stranger had taken over her every waking thought.

Rebecca grabbed her hairspray, gel, moisturizer, and deodorant and lined them up on the ledge above the sink, left to right, tallest to shortest.

Except she didn’t feel better. If anything, she felt worse.

She slumped on the lip of the tub and put her head in her hands. Somehow Holden had wormed his way into her heart, and she couldn’t imagine being away from him. Ever again. The problem was she had a plan that him and his dog and his dead grandmother didn’t fit into. She didn’t know how to make an average relationship work let alone a long distance one. And she couldn’t picture him in her fabulous new McMansion in its gated community in Raleigh.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Becca said.

“Let me in.”

“I’m taking a shower.”

“No. You’re not.”

She didn’t want to know how he knew that. She opened the door a crack. Holden stayed outside, wearing boxer shorts and nothing else.

“I need a few minutes,” she said, too shy all of a sudden to make eye contact.

He put his hands on either side of the door, trapping her. “You’re scared.”

She crossed her arms. “Of course not.”

He looked pointedly at her row of toiletries.

With a frustrated sigh, she swept them all into the sink. “There. Chaos. I must be feeling better.”

“What are you scared of?”

Becca flinched. He was way too perceptive. She was usually better at fooling people. “Why do you think I’m scared of anything?”

“Because I’m getting to know you pretty well. You have everything and everyone around you labeled, organized, and pigeonholed. I don’t fit.” His fingers thrummed the wood doorframe. “Do I?”

Shit. That was spot on. How the hell did he do that?

She opened her mouth to deny it, but their honesty pact made the words stick in her throat. Instead, she answered, “No. But,” she rushed to add, “I was just now trying to figure that out.”

“Right. Well, I want you to remember, I may not have a place in your life now, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make a place for me.” Holden smirked. “You don’t exactly fit in my life either, but I’m willing to adjust.”

“Are you? Do you see a future with us?”

“How about,” he said, running his eyes over her bundled-up form, “we fit breakfast into our plans and go from there? Deal?”

She dropped her arms. “Deal.”

“Hurry up. I’ll order room service.”

When she reemerged, Holden stood at the connecting doors with a mug of hot coffee and a croissant.

She laid her fingers on his bare arm, and a pleasant zing passed between them. Flushing, she grinned like a silly eighth grader and tore into the buttery bread.

“Today’s a big day,” he remarked.

Becca’s smile evaporated. Right, reality. Maeve and a demon and her mother. What a day.

Rebecca lingered at her overnight bag, frozen with uncertainty. What did a person wear to meet her estranged mother? Jeans and a T-shirt? A designer day dress with every piece of jewelry she owned? Would it make her feel better to flaunt her success?

Finally she decided on flat-front khaki capri pants and a tight-fitting turquoise top. Diamond studs in her ears and nothing else. Makeup and hair as usual. That felt normal. Safe.

Holden dressed in his usual jeans and Converse shoes, but today he paired them with a nice long-sleeved pullover.

He led her downstairs, through the breakfast area, and toward the registration desk. Becca got a whiff of waffles and eggs before something fritzed in her brain. Her legs stopped working. She tried to call out for Holden, but everything went quiet and dark.

“Rebecca?” Holden glanced over his shoulder, and his stomach leapt into his throat.

Rebecca collapsed on the floor like a crumpled doll.

He knelt beside her. “What’s wrong?” Then he saw it. The link in the necromancer’s spell, the one Dani had said was too weak, had been corrected, and the magical blowback had knocked poor Rebecca for a loop. It meant the necromancer was getting stronger. And closer to summoning the demon into Rebecca.

Holden lifted Rebecca, who felt lighter than ever, into his arms and swept her through the lobby to a love seat near a picture window. Hands shaking, he arranged her head on an embroidered pillow.

No. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready. Holden needed more time to track down the necromancer responsible, more time to stop him.

When he thought of the way she’d dropped her walls with him last night and gave herself completely to him… His throat tightened, making even breathing difficult.

He couldn’t lose her.

“Everything okay?” the girl at the front desk called. “Do you need an ambulance?”

“Grams?” Holden whispered without looking away from Rebecca.

“I know, bubba. I know.” She appeared at Rebecca’s head. “I’ll do what I can, but you’ve got to hurry. I can’t hold it off for long.”

Holden nodded. Time. There was never enough of it.

Grams’s image shimmered and then disappeared in a burst of white light.

Rebecca curled in on herself, coming to with a groan. “What happened?”

He exhaled with relief, slumping a little. He’d thought he’d lost her. “The bastard strengthened his spell.” He helped her to sit. “How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy.” She massaged her temples with the heels of her hands. “Everything got real dark. Did I pass out?”

“Sort of.”

“What happened?”

“Grams is shielding you. She’ll keep the demon out until we find the caster.”

“How long?”

Holden studied the spell marks floating around her head and shoulders, at the dark cloud hovering over her, and at the very thin sliver of white light that was his Grams.

“We have to move.”

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Rebecca’s office building was dark and locked at 7:15 a.m. Most days she was here by six thirty. And her staff, hand-picked go-getters, were here by seven at the latest. Things had changed. Today she was the first to unlock the front door and turn on the lights.

The whole place felt cold and devoid of life. Just a sad, quiet office, half-packed and waiting to be replaced by a frozen yogurt café or a pageant-wear boutique.

A few weeks ago there had been half a dozen agents working for her plus her own loan officer, two secretaries, her personal assistant, and a computer tech. Now it was a ghost town.

Acquiring the business license and the property and then decorating the place, not to mention staffing it, had been a lot of work. But what was the point? Take away the desks and the lilies and the stylish wall art, and it was simply a room.

It would be a relief to finally close the doors at the end of the month and start fresh.

Except, of course, for Holden. If only Rebecca could figure out how to take him with her to Raleigh. Or say good-bye for good. She’d be working way too hard building a bigger, better business in Raleigh, and she’d have even less free time than she had now. It would be months, maybe years, before she worked fewer than seven days a week. She wished she could find a way for him to fit, like she’d promised, but how? Without giving up too much?