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  Her lashes swept down, then up. She waggled her eyebrows. “Sam, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sam grunted. “You sure know exactly what to say to a guy to get him hot.”

  “Damn, you’re easy.” Cait grinned, glad they’d gotten past the hard stuff. Now it was time to play. They both needed to blow off some steam. And the way the pulse at his temple jumped, she knew it would only take a few tweaks of her tail to get Sam to go all caveman on her body. A shiver ran over her skin. She was so ready for that. Just plain greedy for his rough touch. “You’re not so complicated, Detective Pierce.”

  “Believe that,” he growled, “if that makes you feel safe.”

  Safe. That was the last thing she felt right now. Not the way he looked, his jaw grinding shut. Not with his hot gaze raking her and his chest expanding with his deepening breaths.

  “I want my shirt back.”

  Oh, she loved it when he gave her orders in that crisp, no-nonsense tone.

  She pulled up the sheet, did a sexy little striptease, and tossed the shirt at his head while clutching the sheet under her armpits—just to keep the playing field even. “Your turn, Detective.”

  Sam edged off the bed, all six feet two inches of him looming over her as he toed off his boots. He followed by unbuttoning his shirt, taking his own sweet time.

  When the garment finally fell away, Cait couldn’t help ogling every inch of tanned, ripped hotness. “I ever tell you that you’re just about perfect?”

  “Baby, I’m not perfect.”

  Baby. Lord, she loved it when he called her that. The word hot and sweet, and said in his graveled voice—pure hot buttered rum.

  She shivered, gooseflesh prickling her skin. Nipples tingling. She came up on her knees, still keeping the sheet, and reached up to comb her fingers through his chest hair, tugging gently and then roaming lower. Her gaze locked with his while she flicked open his belt and slowly unwound it from the waistband of his slacks. “This a pity fuck?” she asked softly.

  He grabbed one of her hands and held it over the hard ridge trapped against his thigh. “Only one who needs pity right now is me.”

  She giggled and then pressed her lips together, because a high-pitched sound wasn’t something a thirty-three-year-old woman intent on seduction should ever emit.

  His lips twitched, and he let go of her hand to stand still while she lowered his zipper and reached inside.

  “Yeah, you’re perfect, Sam Pierce,” she whispered in an awe-filled tone as her fingers closed around his shaft, straightening it in the opening. “Feel better now?” she drawled.

  He growled and shoved down his pants, stepping on them to wrestle his legs free. Then he pushed her, causing her to sprawl at an angle across the bed, and crawled right over her. The sheet was the only thing separating her from his furnace-hot skin.

  Sam slid a finger under the edge of the cotton sheet. “Can we lose this now? It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

  Cait gripped it and wriggled under him to push it down. He didn’t make the task easy because he refused to rise up, but she managed with a lot of silly contortions, breathing hard by the time they finally lay skin-to-skin.

  “This is almost the best part,” she said, sighing beneath that big, hard blanket of warmth.

  He settled on his elbows, his gaze dipping to the tops of her breasts, which were mashed against his chest. “Better than when I’m inside you? I’m insulted.”

  “Don’t be,” she said, giving him a little shiver. “I like the anticipation. Love your weight pressing down until I’m breathless.”

  “I like making you breathless. When we’re like this, you under me, I almost feel in control.”

  She arched a brow. “Almost?”

  Sam leaned down and pressed her lips with his, rubbing softly before drawing back slowly. “Sweetheart, you always manage to push just the right button to make me lose it.”

  Cait smoothed her hands up his back to cup his shoulders, enjoying the feel of the hard muscles she squeezed. “Losing control’s a bad thing?”

  His hands glided down her sides, then under her ass. His fingers dug into the soft globes. “Just once, I’d like to do this my way. Without rushing to the end. But I’ve got a short fuse when it comes to you.”

  She stuck out her tongue and licked up the side of his neck, up to his ear, where she whispered, “Maybe I like it fast. Maybe I don’t like to wait.”

  He drew back and frowned. “See? You always have to be in charge.”

  Cait pouted. “How about I promise to lie very still? Will that help you with your problem?”

  “Baby, all you have to do is breathe and I’m lost.”

  “Why, I do believe,” she said, giving him a Scarlett drawl, “that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, suh.”

  He grunted and shifted his hips. “Enough with the fore-play?”

  A smile stretched across her face. “Already crying uncle?”

  All humor left his face. His gaze was hard and bored into hers. His body was tightening, muscles beginning to ripple from chest to groin.

  But it wasn’t the tension in his large frame making her sweat. His cock was thick, heavy, digging into her belly. She could feel it pulse, remembered all too well its unique stretch and burn. She melted beneath him, her pussy throbbing. No one had ever left her as raw and undone as Sam Pierce. She undulated her hips beneath him, inviting him to make his move.

  Sam’s breaths shortened. A flush crept across his cheeks. When his pupils dilated, she knew she had him.

  He lowered his head until his mouth hovered over hers. “Open your legs.”

  The hoarse growl made her shiver. She eased her legs from beneath his, then slid her feet up the sheet, knees bending until her hips curved upward, forming the perfect cradle for his.

  He glided between her folds, warming her sex and grazing her hardening clit. “Baby, you’re wet.” With a slow move, he eased back his hips and nudged her with the tip of his cock.

  Her breath caught the moment he found her center. She tilted to capture him, then pushed up again to take him inside.

  A low rumble vibrated through his chest. “Always so impatient.”

  “Why drag it out? It’s what we both want.”

  His lips curved at the corners in a small, tight smile, and he heaved up his body unexpectedly and gripped her waist, turning her roughly until she lay facedown on the mattress.

  “A little impatient yourself?” she gasped.

  “Don’t crow just yet.” He came over her, pressing her to the bed, blanketing her again. He grabbed both her hands and glided them up, wrapping them around the wooden slats of her headboard. “Don’t let go.” Then he rooted between her legs, found her opening, and slid right inside her.

  Only in this position he couldn’t slide quite deep enough to satisfy her. “Let me up.”

  “I’m not ready for this to be over,” he whispered, his mouth gliding over the top of one shoulder, then moving across to kiss the other as he gently rocked against her bottom.

  A nip against the ball of her shoulder made her cry out. To gain leverage, she increased her grip on the rungs and moved beneath him in short, shallow grinds, wriggling her bottom to tease him.

  His movements gained momentum. His thrusts deepened, churning the cream sliding down her channel. “God, Sam, please…”

  “Please what?”

  “Please, I need more.”

  “Getting there. Promise.” His hands came under her and grasped her breasts, kneading them, fingers pinching the beaded tips.

  Tension coiled in her womb, releasing a wash of liquid heat. The strength of his short thrusts increased. The bed surged forward and back, the mattress springs squeaking and groaning.

  Cait gave a tiny, mewling cry. Her entire body began to quiver. But before she could complain again, Sam lifted off her back and grasped her hips, pulling them up.

  She got her knees benea
th her and shook back her hair, which stuck to the sweat on her shoulders. His thrusts were deeper now—steady, pistoning lunges that tunneled through her hot walls.

  Cait reveled in his pure masculine strength—the bruising grip of his hands on her hips, the steel of the muscles slamming against her thighs and buttocks. His quickening thrusts broke apart her breaths, which gusted into panting moans the faster and sharper he drove straight toward her core.

  When he reached around her hip and slid a calloused finger against her clit, she cried out and pushed backward to meet the pounding motions that banged the headboard against the wall. With the next hard plunge, she came apart—tension unraveling in an explosive fireburst. Her breath caught. Her skin prickled as a wave of heat washed over. Her womb convulsed, spasms rippling down her channel. She gave a keening cry that echoed around the room, then collapsed, her torso dropping to the mattress, stretching her arms because she hadn’t let go of the rungs. He hadn’t told her she could.

  Behind her, Sam’s motions slowed. He adjusted his hard grip on her hips and hammered against her, his cock powering into her, chopping her breaths into soft, gusting sobs. When she didn’t think she could take any more, he gave a hoarse shout, slamming inside once more, then holding. Come jetted inside her, scalding hot, in short, pulsing bursts. Deeply joined, they rocked together before slowly coming to a halt.

  Sam dropped a kiss on her shoulder, licked at the sweat, then growled into her ear. “You can let go now.”

  She released the rungs, groaning her pleasure, then let him turn them to spoon his body around hers while his arms gathered her close.

  “Like I said,” she rasped. “You’re just about perfect.”

  “Baby, we’re damn good together.”

  She didn’t argue. Here, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world held at bay for just one night, they were perfect.

  Cait walked down the narrow alley, her boot heels clicking on the pavement. The sky was an ominous black, thick clouds roiling above, moving too fast to be natural. But she wasn’t afraid. It was just the magic she’d invoked to find him.

  She reached out for the doorknob, felt the familiar tingle, and turned the knob. Stepping inside, she breathed in the scents of candles and chamomile.

  A figure stepped out of the shadows.

  “You’ve come back,” Morin said, smiling, his arms opening.

  Relieved he was acting like he always did, she fell against his chest and gave him a hug. “How could I stay away?” How indeed? He consumed her every waking thought.

  She hid her smile against his shoulder but glanced toward the book, lying open on the stand, opened to the spell she’d cast. Did he know what she’d done? Was he teasing her? Or was he about to lecture her about using magic for selfish motives?

  “Your mother, she’s well? I haven’t seen her.”

  Cait shrugged, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “She says it’s best we stay away for a while.”

  His lips pursed, and he shook his head. “She doesn’t know you’re here?” he asked, disapproval in his deepening tone.

  “Of course not. She’s been acting funny. Asking me questions about my lessons.”

  “Perhaps she’s right.” Morin stepped back, his easy smile dimming. “We should probably suspend our lessons for a while.”

  “No! I love coming. I’m learning so much.”

  His head canted. “Your eagerness has nothing to do with the kiss we shared?”

  Cait dipped her head, unable to meet his knowing gaze. “She thinks I’m too young, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m seventeen! I wanted my first kiss to be with someone I cared about and who knew what he was doing. Not some jock slobbering all over me.” She raised her head to find him grinning. “What’s so funny?”

  “The image of any ‘jock’ trying to steal a kiss from you. You’d have his arm twisted behind his back quicker than he could cry uncle.”

  She sighed. “I’m not very girlie. Mom says it was my dad’s fault. He taught me to fight.”

  “He wanted you safe.”

  “Sometimes I don’t want to be safe,” she whispered.

  Morin touched a finger to her nose. “I know that look. The last time I saw it you forced a kiss on me.”

  She tilted her head to look at him from under her eyelashes, giving him a flirty glance like the girls at school did to the boys they liked. “As I remember it, you didn’t exactly shove me away.”

  “How could I resist? You had me bespelled.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  He laughed. “You think I didn’t feel the pull? I tasted the ground chicory in my tea.”

  “You knew?” She sharpened her gaze. “Wait…it worked?”

  Morin laughed and grabbed her hand, tucking it into the corner of his arm as he led her back to the kitchen. “I told you that you have gifts. The spell was rudimentary, but you got your kiss.”

  “Morin.”

  Cait awoke, hearing her own voice. She glanced to the side to find Sam leaning on an elbow, staring down. Good Lord, had he heard her say her old teacher’s name? “What time’s it?” she asked sleepily, hoping to deflect the dark intent gripping his features.

  “I’d ask what you were dreaming about, but I might want to choke a certain asshole if you told me the truth.”

  “I was dreaming about when I was younger. When I was still his student.”

  “The way you said his name…”

  With longing. She remembered. “I was dreaming about something that happened a long time ago.” When the hard set of his jaw didn’t relent, she drew a deep breath. “I cast a spell to make him fall in love with me. He cast his own prophylactic.”

  Sam’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “It’s not sounding any better.”

  “He was my first kiss, Sam.”

  “Was he more?”

  She considered changing the subject and even out-and-out lying, but Sam deserved better. She sighed, lifted a hand, and touched his cheek.

  He pulled away from the touch. “Was he more, Cait?”

  “I don’t ask you about your old girlfriends,” she muttered.

  “My old girlfriends aren’t some deep, dark secret. And I sure as hell don’t moan their names when I’m in your bed.”

  The way he said it, grinding his words, made her wary. Sure, she’d seen him possessive, mildly jealous even, but never this furious. But then, she’d never had eyes for anyone else when she’d been his. Perhaps he was fighting the same feelings she was. Just as confused about where they were heading.

  “Fine. But my relationship with Morin isn’t some deep, dark secret. I was young and stupid. I’d just as soon forget.” Only she never really had. And that was the whole point, wasn’t it? “I was in my last year of high school, and there was a lot of drama. My mom didn’t like my growing attachment, but Morin…” She shook her head, embarrassed to admit her first crush. “He was addictive. Every spare minute I had, I was at his shop, learning to make magic. I fell in love with him.”

  Sam’s expression didn’t relent, but he swallowed hard.

  She met his gaze head-on. “I’d cast a spell to make him kiss me. That kiss was so lovely I wanted more, but he resisted. Told me it was wrong to go against my mother’s wishes since they were friends. But I seduced him.”

  Sam’s jaw tightened. A little muscle jumped along the edge of his jaw.

  She touched it, tried to soothe it with her thumb, but he pulled back again.

  By his steady glare, he’d wait until Christmas for her to continue.

  With her stomach dropping to her toes, she gave in. How could she explain her fascination with an older man? Especially one who even now seemed never to have aged. His smoldering intensity, the way he’d made her sexuality come alive…

  “I lived a secluded life. Home, school, back home—Morin’s shop. My mother worked after Dad was killed, so at first she was glad I spent so much time with him. But then she found the chicory.” At his blank expression, she smiled softly. “Grin
d up chicory seed, sprinkle it in tea, say the magic words, and you have a love spell.”

  Sam’s expression hardened.

  He held so still she couldn’t detect a single breath. She cleared her throat, a little nervous to continue, but she knew he wouldn’t budge until she told him everything. “Mom thought it was funny. The spell. And she wouldn’t leave me alone, wanting to know who I’d cast the spell on. When I told her…” Cait stopped, remembering the shock. “She slapped my face. She’d never done that before. Struck me, that is. Things were never the same again between us.” A heartfelt sigh escaped.

  “I want to hear more about firsts, Cait.”

  “Are you sure? Because it’s embarrassing, telling my ex-husband how I went about losing my virginity.”

  Sam’s upper lip lifted in a grimace. “He’s part of the life you hid away. I want to know why.”

  “I’ve told you why I left. Magic killed my mother.”

  “I thought she committed suicide. Drank poison.”

  Cait blanched. The truth wasn’t nearly so cut-and-dried. And she’d borne the guilt of what really happened ever since. “You want to know about me and Morin? I’ll tell you. But it’s so far in my past, it doesn’t mean a thing anymore.”

  “He still looks at you like he cares.”

  “That’s because he does. That emotion doesn’t mean there could ever be anything between us ever again.” Cait rolled onto her side, away from Sam, because she didn’t want him studying her face like he would a criminal’s. “I lied to my mother. I told her I had a date for the prom, but I didn’t. She bought me a dress, even let me choose something she thought was inappropriate because she was so relieved I was going out with a boy.

  “It was this…Grecian thing…one strap on the side, a brooch was all that held it up. I didn’t want pastels like all the girls were wearing. I chose a pretty, dark green satin with a filmy overskirt. She did my hair, put it up high with ringlets falling from the crown. She said I looked like a goddess.” A twinge of guilt tightened her chest. “Then she dropped me at the gym because I told her my date didn’t have a car and would meet me there. As soon as she left the parking lot I hired one of the cabs that had just dropped off some kids and had the driver take me to Morin’s.”