Your Wish Is My Command (24 page)

For her part, Jamie surrendered without a whimper. A moan or two, and a definite shudder of desire, but once his mouth was on hers, she did nothing to fight off his invasion. In truth, she'd never wanted anything so badly in her entire life. And the reality was proving to be so superior to her limited imagination, she wouldn't have stopped him now for any amount of wishes granted.

She gripped his shoulders, which prompted him to slide his arms around her waist and—dear God, he felt good—pull her tightly against his body. This had to be wrong, wrong, wrong. In her experience, anything that felt even a fraction this good could only be really, really bad for her in the long run.

It didn't say much for her emotional growth that she cared not one whit about her dismal learning curve. He'd pressed his tongue inside her mouth and pulled her hips tight against his. Learning curves be damned!

His hand slid up her waist and cupped beneath her breast. Jamie instinctively started to pull away, not wanting to spoil the moment by having him realize just how little that particular foray was going to reward him with. But his fingers were strong, his mouth even stronger. He took her mouth more deeply, demanding she rejoin the attack. Her hand fell limply to her side as his thumb slipped up over her nipple and wrenched a low moan of total acceptance from somewhere very deep in her throat.

“I don't suppose someone would like to assist me in running this business.” Jack's voice entered her brain about one second before the man himself entered the back room. She broke away from Sebastien's kiss in
time to see her cousin's surprised expression turn to one of approval.

“Well, now, we are woman, hear us roar.” He gave a little golf clap of approval. “It's about damn time. Don't you worry, I'll handle things out front. You handle … well, everything you can, sister.” With a little wink at Sebastien, he sashayed dramatically back out front.

Turning more shades of red than she knew were humanly possible, Jamie disentangled herself from Sebastien's arms and stepped away, clearing her throat in a desperate attempt at reclaiming a shred of her dignity.

“Jamie—”

She put up her hand to stop Sebastien's advance. “Really, you have to go. Now.” She stared at him. “Please.”

Sebastien swore under his breath. It was mostly in French, but Jamie didn't think she needed a translation book to get the gist.

“I will return here tonight. We will talk. And not about your cousin.” He muttered something about “if I let him continue to draw breath,” then walked to her and lifted the heavy braid from her shoulder before she could back away. “I want to see this hair unplaited and spread across my pillow. Perhaps across my bare chest.”

She trembled as the air left her lungs completely.

“This cannot end here,” he said quietly. “We will finish what we've begun.” He dropped her braid and ran the backs of his knuckles along her breast, making her shudder despite herself. “And I believe you understand how successful I am when I put my mind to something.”

Jamie found her voice, shaky though it was. “I am not a victory to be claimed.”

He smiled then, and it was so wickedly carnal that
Jamie just might have stripped naked and offered herself to him right there on the shelving cart. Had he asked.

“This victory will be shared by us both. That I promise you.”

When he was gone, Jamie leaned weakly against the closest shelf and fanned herself. Dear God. She should be really sorry she'd let that happen. Really, truly regretful. After all her carefully built-up resistance, she'd crumbled under the first real assault on her defenses.

This could only lead her down the path of destruction. Again. She absolutely knew that to be true.

Which did nothing to explain the shiver of anticipation that raced over her—much less the smile that curved her own lips as she slowly began unwinding her braid.

The battle might have been lost, but the casualties hadn't been counted. Not yet. The line had been crossed and she'd let it happen. However, if she was going to suffer anyway, she was damn well going to make it worth the pain.

S
ebastien paced his rooms like a caged animal. One hour left, then he would claim her as his own.
Mon Dieu,
what a spell she had cast upon him. He had never been like this, the anticipation alone all but destroying his control. He had enjoyed the affections of many women, yes, but always he was the one in control, he the one seducing, the one dictating the course of pleasure.

Until tonight.

Yes, he had directed what had happened at the store. Lord knows she'd been a more than willing receptor to his advances, so much so he'd almost lost himself right then and there. But since leaving her, the waiting—and truth be told, the worrying—was killing him. Would she come with him? Would she run once again? Did he dare attempt to find her again if she did?

Never before had these kinds of concerns plagued him. His women had always been willing. His biggest concern was getting them to leave when he was through with them, not worrying if they would show in the first place.

He flung himself down on his bed with a growl of frustration, then jumped right back up again and resumed pacing. Even if Jamie refused him, there would be no other companion joining him in her place.

He sat abruptly on the end of the bed, feeling as if the wind had suddenly left his sails. Here he'd been the one mounting the campaign, and yet she was the one with the victory. She'd managed to capture all of his attention. And there was no one else he'd care to share it with, were he to reclaim it.

Ah, foxed and be damned.
He dragged himself upright and went downstairs to the courtyard. The night air was thick and redolent with the scents of the nocturnal flowers that were opening beneath the full moon. The rich earthiness of it all did little to settle his nerves.

He tortured himself with thoughts of what she would smell like when he took her in his arms, what her lips would taste like when he tipped her chin up and kissed her once again.

With a groan, he sank into one of the chairs and contemplated the pale moon above. He had boldly decided to disregard his personal rule by being with her. He wondered if there really was some cosmic penalty for what he was about to do. It would not stop him. Or he would have not taken her into his arms in the first place.

He rubbed his hands over his face. He wanted to possess her so badly—what was becoming of him? Even in his days of plundering with Dominique, he'd never needed the victory or required the spoils. It was the chase that roused him.

Was that her allure? That she had not fallen victim to his charms so easily? That she resisted them even when he knew he was weakening her will?

Non,
that was not it at all. Yet it was damn hard to admit it. The image of her face swam into his mind. He saw the sparkle of wit, the flash of temper in her eyes; he heard her voice in his ears, bold and direct. He pictured her movement—strong and certain, always so unaware of her femininity. This went far
beyond physical attraction. Before, were he to contemplate the essence of a woman, his mind would have instantly strayed to her plentiful, womanly bounty, to her full, succulent lips, the sway of her well-rounded hips and bosom, the knowing looks of desire she'd have sent his way.

None of those things had come to his mind when he thought of Jamie. And yet his attraction to her was all the stronger for it. She hadn't captivated only his body, she'd captivated his spirit, engaged his mind, his—

He veered away from that course of thought; it was a far too dangerous path to traverse this night.

It was time to go to her. Had he found any humor in it, he would have laughed at the magnitude of his own insecurities as he left the courtyard and made his way to the bookstore.

As he drew closer, his worries only increased. Perhaps he should have come well before closing time, to ensure she did not run off. Bah, he thought immediately. He was being a fool now. She would be there.

If she was not, he realized he'd spend the rest of the night hunting her down. If she was going to refuse him, then she would refuse him to his face.

That thought brought him to a full stop just half a block away. He could see the store up the street on the corner. The lights were still on inside. He looked to the upper floors and found her apartment dark. He knew her bedroom was the corner room. He'd sat in it, watching her sleep, that long first night after they'd met.

He'd spent too many nights dreaming about the soft pile of pillows and the thick duvet that tumbled across her bed. More specifically, he'd dreamed about tumbling her into that soft pile.

He shifted his weight but didn't resume walking. He stopped thinking about his needs for a moment
and thought about Jamie's. Another path he'd never taken before. Had he taken advantage of her? Unjustly swayed her to accept his advances? She'd made it clear she was attracted to him, but she'd made it equally clear that she was not ready for involvement with anyone. He had spoken truthfully that he thought she was, but had that been his own desires speaking for him? Blast and damn again! This was too bloody complicated, and he was damned if he needed the aggravation. It would be easier all around if they both did as she initially bade them—which was to steer clear of each other.

After all, he could hardly promise her anything, certainly not a future together. That thought alone sent another series of shocks through him. Had he planned on promising such a thing? Even in his mortal life he'd never been compelled to do more than promise another evening of delight. Beyond that, he remained eminently unpromised to anyone. In any way. So why in hell had he thought it?

He knew why, though it brought him no comfort. Because she was not like any other woman. She had a strong heart and a generous soul, both of which spoke to his in a way no other woman ever had. He was compelled to talk to her, explain himself. He found himself wanting—nay, needing—her approval, her understanding. It should have been mortifying to admit, but it wasn't. It actually felt … good. This need to be needed. By her.

Yet she had been hurt, and badly, by cads who had taken her heart then tossed it aside like refuse when they were through with it.

Was he such a cad as well? Would he unknowingly take her heart with his actions tonight? And could he live with damaging that heart further when it was his time to go?

It was all too much to contemplate! Never had any
woman been worth this amount of aggravation. He rubbed his temples, then started when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around—and found Jamie standing there before him, still dressed in her work clothes, grinning like a cat who'd just trapped an unsuspecting bird.

“Finally!” she crowed. “I didn't think it was possible to sneak up on you. You looked a million miles away.”

“That and more,” he muttered, thinking he'd never felt more unsure and out of place. A definite anomaly for someone living the rather fantastical life he did. One look at her and his entire body leapt in anticipation. Just the reality of her presence both calmed him and sent his heart racing. She hadn't run.

“Why have you come looking for me?” He ached so badly to touch her that his tone sounded far more tense than he'd intended.

Jamie's smile faltered somewhat and she shifted under his scrutiny. He did not avert his gaze. If she was to be his this night, he had to know she was doing so with full knowledge and responsibility for the decision. It was the only way he could protect her, shy of leaving her. And that he simply was not strong enough to do.

“I …” She cleared her throat and stood taller. “I believe you said you wanted … um … wanted to … see me. This evening. I was closing the shutters when I thought I saw you down the street. When you didn't seem to notice me approaching, I ducked across the street and came up behind you.” The corners of her mouth quirked slightly. “Sorry, I just had to do it. Have I ruined the mood now?”

Had Sebastien not been such a roiling mass of uncertainty, he'd have laughed at her brassy inquiry. As it was, he could not muster even a smile. He stepped closer and shifted toward the building, silently beck-
oning her out of the path of the evening's pedestrian traffic. She followed but said nothing more. Under his steady gaze, her smile vanished once again.

“The mood has shifted,” he said softly, “but not to a lessening degree of need.” He saw the spark of desire leap to her eyes then and finally felt some semblance of his control return. This he understood, this he could deal with. And yet there was so much more driving his desire for her. Was it the same for her?

He watched with great interest as she mastered her own needs and possible insecurities and looked him straight in the eyes. “Then why are we wasting time here on this sidewalk?”

Ah, but she was his match. Hadn't he always known that? It seemed so at this moment.

She went to turn back toward the bookstore, but he stayed her with a hand to her shoulder. She looked back at him questioningly.

He lifted a long lock of her unbound hair.

She ducked her chin, then looked up with a half shrug. “You said you wanted—”

“I know what I said. Thank you.” He let the strands filter through his fingers. “Finer than spun gold.”

She cleared her throat and laughed a bit nervously. “Is this where I'm supposed to do the clichéd your-place-or-mine thing?”

“I care not where we go,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes from hers. “Whatever brings you the most comfort.”

He felt the finest tremor pass through her at his earnestly spoken words. So tuned to his touch was she! Ah, but the ache between his legs—as well as the one in his chest—grew to new proportions.

“Then I think I'd like to go to your place. If that's okay.” Her voice deepened slightly and took on a rough edge, as did the look of need in her eyes.

He did not release her. Instead, he turned her fully toward him. “It is more than okay. I would be honored with your presence in my home, and in my bed.”

Her eyes flared again, and he actually thought he felt a hitch in his knees. Oddly, he enjoyed the sensation.