Rendezvous at Midnight (4 page)

“Perhaps,” he murmured, noncommittally.

“I don’t want revenge or anything stupid like that. Selhurst got what was coming to him, in any case. His little financial deals turned bad and after he lost all his money, he killed himself. Remember?”

“A historical footnote.” Michael kept his voice deliberately soothing. Not what he was feeling inside, but that was his problem, something he’d have to take care of for himself. “The reports say Rosanna’s death was the turning point. Up until then, all his projects turned to gold, but after, his luck deserted him.”

“He was a dirty politician and an embezzler.”

“Of course.” Although, from what he’d read, the case wasn’t that straightforward. Selhurst took many of the shortcuts other financiers got away with, but his came back to bite him in the butt. Almost as if someone had cursed him. Michael believed in the power of curses and if Rosanna hadn’t died immediately, she could have laid one on him good.

“Anyway, it was over a long time ago. Thirty years, so I won’t be able to lie about my age any more. I never knew her. I was eighteen months old when she died, and they were careful not to clue me in until I was much older.” She paused. “I’m tired.” The little sigh she gave played havoc with his senses.

“You should sleep. We have an all-nighter in front of us, and we only flew down this morning. Get some rest.”

“You, too.”

He had to get out of there before he did something that might blow his chances with Lisa forever. Like grabbing her and kissing her senseless.

Somehow his hands had crept up to caress and rub her calves. Time to stop before he got somewhere more interesting. Not that it wasn’t a pleasure to smooth his hands over her silky skin.

She wasn’t helping. Lisa stretched out on her back and made a sound of deep appreciation. “Mmm. Do you charge for this?”

He should, and he knew just what he would charge. Perhaps he could just massage her legs and feet until she fell asleep and then creep out to his own room. Yeah, right.

“Lisa, I have to stop.” His hoarseness surprised him.

Her eyes snapped open. It must have surprised her, too. “Why?”

She wanted it all laid out for her, just as she lay on her bed, laid out for him. No, not that. He wished. “You must know I want you, Lisa. But you’re exhausted; you can’t tell me you don’t need to rest.”

She gave a tiny shake of her head, her hair sliding around her shoulders. “I’m tired, sure, but I’m keyed up. I won’t sleep if you leave me alone.” He watched her lift one slender hand and held it out to him in an unmistakable gesture of invitation. “Lie down with me. Let’s see where this takes us.”

He stared at her, stunned before he thought to enter the forefront of her mind and read her emotions. She meant it. She wanted him, as he wanted her. Not pity, and not as a convenient way to get to sleep.

He didn’t intrude any further but bent to undo the laces on his shoes. The gesture of acceptance seemed to ease some of the tension in the room, tension coming from their shared need. For each other, for contact, for simple comfort.

Not all of it on her side.

Michael slid onto the bed. She moved into his arms as if she’d been there before, many times, not just once this morning.

His first kiss was a greeting, closed mouth and sweet, savoring the texture of her lips, smooth and silky under his. He drew back.

“Lipstick.”

“Sorry. I probably look pretty awful.”

He touched her nose with the tip of one finger. “I wouldn’t say that.” He bent to kiss her again. This time he pressed her lips open with his own and she let him in.

Smooth, hot and wet. He touched her tongue, felt hers slide around his and explore.

Control became almost impossible. Opening his mouth wider, he plunged in. If she’d withdrawn, shown any hesitation, he would have gentled his caresses but she was as eager as he.

When he felt her fingers undoing his shirt buttons, his excitement increased tenfold. He ordered himself to calm down, take it easy. She wanted comfort and company.

But the bitch about being telepathic meant other people leaked their emotions. He felt them all the time and constantly wished they could be trained to keep their feelings to themselves. Not this time.

She poured out desire, even need, so much he longed to tell her to take care, not to show him all this, because he didn’t know if he could control himself.

When she arched up to him, he felt her hands on his bare chest, caressing his nipples, tweaking them, and he couldn’t stop. Not that he wanted to.

Lifting up, he looked down to where she touched him and then smiled. “You’re ahead of me.” He slid the button on her blouse open but stopped when she twitched nervously. “What is it? Is there anything wrong?”

She huffed. “Let me up.”

His heart sinking, he leaned to one side and watched as she sat up. She gave him a wry smile. “No, not that.” Glancing down, she began to undo the buttons herself. “Continuity.”

He rolled on to his back, laughter taking him. “I forgot. You only brought one?”

“Yes. I brought another outfit to do the intros in, and I have two of those, but we’ve started to shoot, so I’ll have to keep these reasonable.” She chuckled, joining in with his amusement. “I could send them to the laundry, but it’s probably closed.” She slipped the blouse off her shoulders and his laughter died. She shot a look back at him, over her shoulder and caught his expression and she stopped laughing, too.

He saw her swallow before stepping across the room to the closet and pulling out a hanger, which shook a little. Good. This encounter made him nervous, too. He desired her more than he could remember wanting any woman before, and if it went wrong somehow, he didn’t think he could live with himself.

When she unzipped her pants and slid them down her legs, it was his turn to swallow. She kept her back to him while she draped the pants carefully over the crossbar of the hanger and settled the crisp white blouse over the top.

With every sinew he possessed yearning to leap off the bed and grab her, Michael forced himself to lie back and enjoy the view. There was a lot to enjoy. Smooth, fair skin, curves he ached to run his tongue over and cup in his hands, only separated from him by the length of the room and her underwear. A white satin bra and matching panties. He doubted they would be as smooth as the small amount of skin they covered, but he’d enjoy taking them off.

She came back to him and his whole body sighed in relief, as though afraid she might have carried on, walking out the door. Her smile said otherwise.

“Oh baby,” he managed, before dragging her back into his arms, where, for now at least, she surely belonged.

Before he could kiss her, she put two fingers across her lips. He reached up and took them into his mouth, caressing them with his tongue. “Have you got any protection?”

His mind raced. Yes, he had, thank God. He made a sound of assent, but didn’t answer because his mouth was full. Even her fingers tasted good. He ran his tongue over her smoothly buffed nails and released them reluctantly. He could eat her up.

Perhaps he would. He lifted up on one elbow. “In my pocket. Not that I usually—well, maybe I do, but I wouldn’t want you to think—”

She laughed again, a small huff of breath touching his face. “I know. I carry them, too. These days you can never tell. It’s okay, I’m just glad we’re both careful.”

“Yeah.” For the first time, Michael wished he was a shape-shifter like Gareth. Their possession of two forms, human and mythological beast, meant they were immune to most diseases. Or rather, they caught them, but a couple of shape-shifts cured them. He pressed a soft kiss to her throat and felt her pushing at his shirt, which she’d unbuttoned earlier. He shrugged it off, careless of where it fell. Her hands went to his pants, and he closed his eyes briefly when her fingers brushed across his erection. She unbuttoned and unzipped, and unable to wait any longer for her, he shoved them down his legs, taking his underwear and socks off at the same time.

Her gasp told him she was pleased with the view. So was he, but he wasn’t looking at himself.

“I’ve wanted you since we met,” he confessed, joining her on the bed again, only just remembering to rescue the three foil packets before he dumped his pants over the side of the bed. He slapped them on the nightstand without looking. The view in front of him was much better.

“I’ve wanted you for a while. But I was stupid. I nearly let you go.”

“You were with someone else.”

“Not really, not for the last six months or so. He lost interest. I kept going because I was lazy, I guess.”

He frowned. “Lazy?”

“Or scared.” She shrugged, a delicious movement, which brought her breasts into motion. “Don’t ask. Not now.”

“No, not now.” He drew her closer and touched his lips to hers in greeting. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

The movement of her lips against his was agonizing. He wanted her to carry on talking, teasing, but he wanted to make love to her, possess her completely. Both. Everything. He wanted all of her.

Sliding his arms around her, he found the clasp of her bra. It slipped open as though it had been waiting for him, only him, to undo it.

He pushed it down her arms and off, watching her flesh become exposed. Pink. Her nipples were pink. Not dusky rose or pale chocolate, but a rich, inviting strawberry pink. His favorite.

Unable to stop himself, he bent and took her into his mouth. Luscious, the softest skin, the most delicious mouthful he’d ever had in his life. Rolling the nipple over his tongue, feeling it harden even more for him, gave him a sense of power he knew was transitory, but no less delectable for that.

Sliding his hand down over her waist, the delightful curve between breast and hip, the sharp line of her panties offended him. They might be attractive, but they didn’t feel the same. No warmth, except borrowed warmth, no reality.

He slid them off. She moaned, and he answered with a soothing sound in the back of his throat. Dare he? Could he?

He dared. He spoke to her in the most intimate way he knew. Mind to mind.
I feel as though I was made for this. I can’t explain properly, in any other way
.

Her reply humbled him. No words, just a warmth that suffused him, filled him with need and pleasure. She wasn’t psychic, but every mortal had some ability to communicate, whether they knew it or not. And she was trying to reply to him.

No longer capable of waiting another moment, he touched the sweet thatch of hair between her thighs. She was hot, wet, and ready.

No more touching, no more wanting. Fumbling the packet, he never knew how he managed to sheath himself; the fever was on him now. But he did and in the next minute, he slid between her thighs and came home.

Entering her made him feel powerful and powerless, at the same time. She owned him, but he controlled her, because she allowed him to do so.

She’d closed her eyes, but her arms went around him and her knees came up, widening her legs for his penetration. They gazed at each other, the contact as intimate, more intimate, than their joining.

“You were made for me,” she whispered. She’d heard him then, his words in her mind.

“I was made for you,” he whispered back and began to move. Inside, she quivered, her ultra-sensitive flesh accepting and returning sensation back to him.

“Michael, what’s happening?”

Ever alert to danger, he scanned her mind rapidly. No invasions, except his, and he didn’t go beyond the first level. “What do you mean?”

He pulled back and drove in, penetrating deeply, and felt her hands cup his buttocks, urging him on.

“Ah!” She closed her eyes and then opened them again, staring up into his, her attention centered on him. He felt it all, entering her mind shamelessly as he entered her body, pushed deep, waiting to sense her reaction to him.

As though a map opened up in his mind, he saw himself sliding past the sweet spot inside her, just missing. She loved what he was doing, but he could do better.

He did better. When he lifted himself up, he could see her delectable breasts and when he pushed, he felt his cock slide across the area where she was most sensitive. Nothing mattered now except stimulating that tiny spot, giving her all he pleasure he could, opening her up. Making her his.

Her legs crept up over his hips and settled around his waist, her heels resting just at the place his buttocks swelled out. Her feet pushed on the lower part, and he lost it.

No more calculation, no more working out how he could please her the most. Instinct took over. His mind opened fully, his hips pistoned in and out, pushing, caressing, forcing the response he needed.

She came, pulsing, powerful wave upon wave rippling over his most sensitive flesh, drawing his very essence into her. If she’d been the most powerful Sorcerer in the world, the effect couldn’t have been stronger. He was hers, wholly and utterly hers, and he didn’t care what she did to him as long as she gave him this.

His cries joined hers in an invocation of need, turning in an instant into fulfillment, as his body exploded into hers, giving her all she demanded, and he needed.

He fell across her, spent, and knew no more.

Chapter Four

Lisa had heard of the
petit mort
, passing out at the moment of orgasm, but she’d never experienced it before, and this time, it came as a total shock. Or it did when she awoke, hours later, to the beep of her cell phone alarm.

He sprawled across her, her legs entwined with his, her body touching his in intimate contact. She had never enjoyed that, the way bodies stuck together after the act, but this seemed natural, right.

For the past twelve months, Michael had been a work colleague, a friend, someone she liked very much. But a lover? As a lover, he was explosive. She lay back, enjoying the sensation before he gave a low groan and his eyes opened slowly. He blinked and smiled. She stared into his eyes, seeing all she wanted there.
I think I might be falling for him.

I know I’m falling for you
.