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The Witch's Journey Page 13
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“There isn’t even a television,” Faolan observed.
“Honeymooners aren’t usually interested in watching television.”
“We could go for a walk,” he said, but a fierce wind now blew and cold-looking drizzle spattered loudly against the window.
“That’s not very appealing,” Angelique stated.
“But you are,” he said, stepping closer.
“Faolan…we can’t.”
“Can’t share a bed or can’t fight this attraction?”
His scent was so damn intoxicating, his eyes so sensual, she closed her own.
Her phone buzzed again; she pulled it from her handbag.
Like I said, you can thank me later.
She called Newt but it rang out. She left a message.
“You need to get back here now.”
Her phone buzzed again.
Three nights. Don’t be so old-fashioned. Remember, we seldom regret what we’ve done as much as what we’ve not.
She text back. I might never speak to you again.
Her phone buzzed again but she didn’t look. She’d already dropped it in her handbag and tossed it on the dresser. She resignedly took off her coat and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack.
“Would you like champagne?” she asked picking up the bottle.
“I’ve only seen it on television,” Faolan replied.
“It’s kind of a bubbly wine.”
“Isn’t it too early to be drinkin’?”
“Probably.” She continued peeling the foil, then noisily popped the cork.
She poured champagne into two tall, fluted glasses, passed him one, then sat on the narrow, almost miniature love seat, covering up with a warm throw.
“Should I start a fire?” Faolan asked.
“Sure,” she said.
He set his glass on the mantel, crouched by the fireplace and pulled back the screen. His muscles strained against his shirt and his ass looked insanely sexy in his tight-fitting jeans, fueling her desire as surely as the kindling creating the flames. Adding logs, in no time, he had the fire roaring beautifully and romantically. It crackled in the silent room.
“Isn’t it customary to toast to somethin’ when drinkin’ this?”
He sat beside her clinking his glass against hers.
“To bein’ friends if that’s all you wish for.”
“To friendship,” she replied.
She drank the glass, poured another, drank it, too. Taking several deep breaths, she stood, pulled her sweater over her head and threw it on the chair. He stared disbelievingly at her lacy black bra.
“What in the name of God are you doing?”
“I doubt it’s in his name. What I’m doing should be fairly obvious. Let’s finally just get this out of our system, get it over with.”
“Get it over with?” he said, his eyes uncertain as she removed her socks, unzipped her jeans and pulled them off, too. He stared hard at her matching lacy black bikini panties, then turned away.
“Having sex…you ravishing me; whatever it is we’ve been leading up to since we met.”
“You wish to get it over with like it’s somethin’ you’ve been dreadin’ and want out of the way?”
“I haven’t been dreading it, but mostly avoiding it. I’ve never had sex because I actually wanted to. Chris was sixteen and perpetually horny; I eventually gave in. Ewan was a bad boy with a motorcycle. Drunk at a party, I thought sleeping with him might get Dad’s attention. With Jake, sex was just expected and really disappointing. But with you…”
“You do want to be with me?”
“Of course I do. You’re the epitome of masculine perfection. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything this much, which scares the hell out of me.”
He looked at her again, his expression obviously tormented.
“Put your garments back on…please.”
She felt her jaw drop. “I’m accused of never being spontaneous. Now, I’m trying to be and you’re what…turning me down? You’ve openly suggested this a dozen times since we met.”
He didn’t reply.
“Maybe it would be terrible anyway and ruin how amazing I’ve imagined it. This way we’ll never know.”
“Do you think it would be terrible?” His light blue eyes stared at her so intently it was like he saw into her soul.
“No—I think it would be fantastic.”
He stood and stepped nearer.
“Do you have any notion how enticing you are?” he asked gazing at her body, but only gently touching her hair. “I’ve never wanted a woman as I want you now.”
She grasped his shirt, pulled him to her and eagerly kissed him. He fervently responded, taking her in his arms; his hands trailed down her back. Her skin tingled; his touch further igniting her desire. His firm erection pressed against her stomach. He kissed her neck and shoulders, making her shiver.
“Where are the fasteners on this fiendish garment,” he asked grazing her bra.
She pointed to the front clasps, and he then undid them. The bra opened and he hungrily stared at her breasts, but didn’t remove the bra. She gasped as his lightly calloused hands fondled both nipples and they peaked instantly. As he kissed her again, his tongue explored her mouth and he placed his hand in her panties. She moaned as he intimately touched her, his fingers well inside her. She cried out and writhed against him. Through his jeans she grasped his erection, moving her hand up and down. He groaned; his touch became more urgent. Probably on the brink of orgasm, she was dumbstruck when he suddenly moved his hand and stepped away.
“I’m sure to regret this the rest of my life,” he said his voice raspy with desire.
“Regret this?” She looked into his eyes, not understanding.
“You’re beautiful and desirous, Angelique. But you’re too special, too exceptional—not the kind of woman I could bed and leave behind. And sure I must soon leave.”
“I don’t want to be freaking special or exceptional. You’re really just stopping…now…when we’ve been building up to this since we met—when you’ve ensured I’m so damn horny I’m liable to go certifiably insane if you don’t…fuck me now.”
She knew he didn’t approve of her speaking like that. Maybe she wanted to annoy him because he’d certainly annoyed her. He sat down, turned away, promptly guzzled his champagne, too, and poured another.
“Trust me to summon a pirate with a conscience—or maybe you’re just all talk and no action, Faolan Mahoney.”
After hurrying to the bathroom, Angelique closed the door. She removed her bra, tossed it on the counter, pulled off her panties and kicked them across the floor. Turning on the cold water, she stepped into the enormous shower, letting the frigid water rain down upon her. Taking several deep breaths, she heard him there. She should’ve locked the damn door.
“By Christ, this water’s ice cold!”
“That’s the general idea of a cold shower,” she snipped.
“Make this confounded gadget change it to warm.”
“I want it cold.”
“If you’d like me to comply with your very well-affirmed desires, I will need the water warm. Cold water doesn’t afford a man what’s necessary to service a woman and if you want…”
“Oh no; don’t do me any favors, Captain.”
“Woman! Make this water warmer straightaway!” he growled demandingly.
“Does barking orders serve as foreplay with women in your time?”
“We’ve been partakin’ in foreplay since the moment we met, Angelique,” he said, evidently figuring out how and adjusting the water temperature himself.
He stepped in, brusquely pulled her into his arms, kissing her so fiercely, it took her off guard. Pressing his naked body against hers he swiftly lifted her to him. She gasped at the suddenness and urgent intensity of penetration as he claimed her. She locked her arms around his neck and cried out as he repeatedly thrust within her, each stroke deeper, harder, more deliberate as the water poured upon them.
<
br /> “Next time I promise this will be done more to your favor, but now—as you say—we must simply get this over with, for I’m goin’ mad needin’ you.”
She was experiencing her own madness. Nothing else mattered at that moment but him and her, and him inside her. She cried out, her pinnacle hastily but ecstatically met. She’d never climaxed before and she trembled as the rippling surge of rapture overtook her.
Was it because she’d summoned him as her ideal man? Because he was truly masculinely perfect? Was it his vast experience as a lover that ensured her crest or…because she’d already fallen in love with him?
She’d little time to consider it when she was overtaken by another intense orgasm. She screamed out as he firmly suckled her nipple. A testament to his strength, he easily held her even while her body blissfully quivered.
She’d known female orgasms had to be real; they were discussed enough. Every magazine seemed full of pointers on how to achieve them, but Angelique hadn’t actually believed in the much-longed-for multiple orgasm…until now.
He finally held her against the shower wall and continued to propel himself within her with a ravenous voracity she’d only read about in her naughtiest novels. Succumbing to his own release, he moaned enthusiastically, didn’t close his eyes, but stared deeply into hers. That was definitely new for her, too.
He moved, set her to her feet, his firm arms rested against the shower wall on either side of her, his spectacular muscles bulging.
“How soon could you do that again?”
He smiled, passionately kissing her.
*
Angelique didn’t remember leaving the shower; didn’t know if it had been turned off. She only knew they were in bed and the heated lovemaking continued. Faolan was demanding but also attentive in ensuring she was well and thoroughly pleasured. True to his word; he made her favor every kiss and caress, every gratifying thrust.
“I want to taste your sweetness,” he whispered.
“My sweetness?”
He arched his eyebrows sexily. Pulling the covers over his head, he kissed her breasts, her stomach and moved farther down.
“Oh…my sweetness,” she said never experiencing that before either. “Ohhhh,” she moaned, sighing ecstatically at what he was doing now. She clasped the bedsheets as his mouth and tongue worked their magic on her clit, ensuring she orgasmed yet again. He moved and entered her once more. Moving faster and harder, she arched her hips, eagerly meeting his thrusts. He stared into her eyes as his low groans signaled his intense crest. She sensed his warmth released within her, his breathing now ragged.
It was the first time she felt aroused enough or safe enough to allow someone to take her to these heights without thought, without regret and—without condoms. Somehow that didn’t even matter. She’d wondered how people could become so completely carried away, they’d throw intelligent reasoning away. Now…she knew.
Faolan moved, but held her close. Apparently not wanting to be distanced any more than she did.
“Well?” he finally asked.
“Well?”
“Was it so terrible you’ll never want to do it again? Do you suppose it’s out of our systems?”
“There are no words for how fantastic that was and no—not if I lived forever and we spent every minute in bed.”
“Then we are of like minds,” he said, kissing her again. “Your heart’s beatin’ fast, Angel.”
“You obviously have that effect on me,” she said.
Wholly exhausted, they both fell asleep.
Chapter Fifteen
She awoke to moonlight beaming through the window. Her stomach growled. They hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s early lunch. Angelique glanced at the nightstand clock—4:14AM. They’d been here for thirteen hours. In that time her world had been irreparably changed.
She watched Faolan as he slept. He was such a magnificently attractive man. Staring at him, she couldn’t help crying. She hadn’t made a sound, but he seemed to instinctively know. He awoke. She could tell her tears deeply affected him.
“Are you regretful?” he asked tenderly wiping her tears. “Do you feel I’ve dishonored or disrespected you?”
“I don’t regret it. You haven’t dishonored or disrespected me. You’ve made me feel and experience something I never have before.”
“And you, me,” he said taking her hand and kissing it. “Now, I’m needin’ food to restore me.”
“Me, too. There were muffins and cookies downstairs that might hold us till morning.”
“I want to hold you till morning. It’s doubtful I can manage anythin’ beyond the holdin’ just now.”
“I don’t imagine you can. You’ve already wowed me with your virility. “I’m tender anyway.”
“I’ve hurt you then?”
“I’m not hurt. We’ve just shared a lot of very intense sex.”
“I’d never want to hurt you, my angel,” he whispered and the fact he referred to her as his made her stomach do crazy summersaults and her heart soar.
“Why do you weep if you don’t rue our time together?”
“I said I didn’t want to fall for you when I’ve always known you must go back, but now…”
“I feel the same,” he said. “Maybe I don’t have to go back.”
“And if that changes history?”
“I’d rather not think of that. Besides, my stomach’s protestin’.”
“I’ll get some muffins.” She used magic to turn on the lamp, saw their clothes strewn everywhere. “Actually everyone will be asleep.”
She closed her eyes and summoned two cranberry muffins and four white chocolate cookies from the glass containers on the table downstairs. He smiled and sat up. She noticed scratches on his shoulder and looked to see they were down his back as well.
“My God, did I do that?”
“Well it wasn’t Janelle,” he said. She stuck out her tongue and he grinned. “You were much feistier than I expected, which only made me want you more.”
“Feisty? I was ravenous. I think you’ve placed a spell on me, Captain Mahoney.”
“Could you create a spell so we never have to be parted?”
“You’re really feeling that way, too?” she said biting her lip. “It’s not just because women typically…”
“I’m feelin’ it, too, Angel.”
He devoured the cookies and a muffin, while she ate a muffin. She got them each a bottle of water from the dresser, oddly completely comfortable being unclothed. Sitting together naked, eating sweets in bed, Angelique had never felt more content.
He stared at her breasts then caressed her nipple. Both became pert in response. He smiled.
“You shouldn’t do that. You’ll make me want you again.”
He kissed her shoulder, making her tingle. He lay back and took her in his arms. Her head resting on his chest, he kissed her head, then traced the raised mark just below her breast.
“What caused this scar?” he asked looking at the white line.
“I don’t know. It must’ve happened before Mom adopted me.”
He looked perplexed as though trying to remember something.
“What?” she asked.
“It was caused by a blade.”
“Maybe. I have no idea what occurred in my early life. That’s probably a good thing. I suppose you’d recognize that type of wound.”
“When I touch the scar, I feel I should recall something. It happened near the sea. However, it wasn’t done to harm you but to save you.”
“How could stabbing someone in the chest be done to save them?”
“That does seem most unlikely,” he agreed.
*
They spent three gloriously romantic days together. Browsing the shops, walking hand in hand by the ocean, drinking wine before roaring fires, sharing delightful conversations over breakfasts, going to dinners of abundant seafood, talking and laughing endlessly, showering together and making love often…very, very often. It was making love—
not just primal passion, although it was most definitely that, too. She’d never felt so thoroughly cherished, desired or gratified.
When she’d finally checked Newt’s last text message, he’d informed her there were condoms in the nightstand. They used them after the first day and night, which still left probably—and impressively—eight or nine times they’d had unprotected sex. Angelique wouldn’t dwell on that. She only wanted to revel in their happiness.
Now, they walked together collecting shells on the beach, the sea breeze blowing her unbound hair.
“It must be time again,” Faolan said pulling her from her thoughts and his smile captured her heart.
“You can’t be serious?” She laughed and he grinned.
“I’m not certain I could bed you again. You may have finally utterly exhausted your man, Angel. I was thinking you might want more lobster.”
“I suppose we have time before Newt arrives.”
Faolan found a flat stone and skillfully sent it skipping across the water.”
“Wow! You’re apparently very good at everything,” she said picking up a stone herself.
She tossed her stone to create only two skips. Using her magic, the next stone skipped as far as they could see.
“Now, that’s cheatin’ Angel,” he said but grinned.
“You have a good arm, Faolan. I should teach you how to play baseball.”
“Do you suppose I could remain in your time for another moon?”
“Why one month? Why only one more month?” she rephrased.
“I need to know you don’t carry my child.”
“We’ve been using condoms after the first night.”
“There’d still be more than a few chances you might have become with child.”
“And if I was pregnant?”
“Then I won’t leave.”
“A baby couldn’t be the only reason you’d stay. I’ll go to the library when we’re back in Boston, see if I can find anything about you in history books—whether you marry and father children in your time. Maybe someone in Ireland could check church records.”
“When we speak of me leavin’, the sea becomes stormier,” Faolan said and Angelique agreed.
“It often reflects my mood. It’s always been like that. If you stay till the following full moon, would we remain lovers?”