My heart lifts. “Hello,” I manage, barely above a whisper.
She steps across the threshold into my room, and the floor lamp’s glow creeps up her like a spotlight, searching.
“How are you here again?” I ask, taking a single step toward her. “I didn’t hear the car.”
Her hands twist together. “I guess Sage is used to having other people take care of whatever she drives, because the Jaguar’s tank was near empty. I made it to the airport fine, but there weren’t any open flights. I drove to the marina to see if I could find Sage and ask for a ride—I mean, this is pretty much her fault—but she wasn’t there. So… I came back. The car ran out of gas at the bottom of the road.”
We each take a step closer. Half a room apart now. I track the path of her gaze, which roams over my bare torso. Her hands stop their twisting as she clasps them hard, an upside-down prayer.
“I’m glad you’ve returned,” I confess.
She nods faintly, eyes wide and trained on mine.
“Areyouglad you did?” I add.
Another nod, which morphs into a shrug, then concludes as a headshake in the negative. “I don’t know yet. That depends.”
A silent half-minute passes as we study each other.
I cross the room to stand before her. “I’m going to do two things. First, I’ll apologize.” I cup one side of her face, barely making contact. My thumb traverses her lower lip, which is dry as if she’s been nibbling at it. “I’m sorry, Talia. You’re absolutely right—it was childish of me to pretend such nonsense. Insulting to you, insulting to Sage. Will you forgive me?”
She takes a slow breath but doesn’t offer absolution. “What’s the second thing you’re going to do?”
My gaze moves from one of her eyes to the other. “I’m going tomake you say it.”
“Make me say what?”
“Your truth. No more of these games. Tell me what you want. Stop forcing me to guess, then punishing me when I get it wrong”—I move my hand to the back of her neck and take a handful of her silken hair—“and punishing me evenmorewhen I get it right.”
She steps back and I open my hand. Her hair trickles free of my fingers, and for a moment I’m certain I’ve offended or frightened her, or both.
She goes to the bedroom door and shuts it, then returns. “You know what I want. You knew it even when we were nameless strangers.”
I lift my chin, looking down at her with a touch of imperiousness, a part of me vexed that she isn’t asking for more than that.
Have I gone mad?
My left hand spreads at her lower back and I pull her close. The other hand rakes into her hair again, holding her firmly.
“No more than a tumble, delicious witch?” I ask, closing in, inches from her lips now. “Just a repeat of our night in Abu Dhabi?”
I can’t resist echoing the words she threw at me in Montréal—their barbs dug into me like foxtail seeds, though she couldn’t have known it at the time. I wanted so much more from her then but didn’t know how to admit it. Letting her walk out that evening was a mistake. Tonight, there’s no way I’ll be so careless.
She angles her hips to fit seamlessly against me. The cautiousdeference in her face evaporates as she narrows her eyes, blue and alive as burning copper.
“Maybea bitmore,” she counters. “Because I’ve never had you in my mouth… and I want to.”
The phrasing may be demure, but her expression is all heat and knowing. Without hesitation, I pick her up and carry her to the mirror where I was undressing. I place her on the cool tile floor and rotate her to face the reflection with me. My cock, straining against my trousers, settles into the valley of Natalia’s curvaceous ass, and I brace her hips with both hands, pulling her against me.
She watches me in the mirror as I slide one hand up her body. I trail a fingertip along the line of her buttons, caress the generous breasts beneath the filmy fabric, and spread my fingers between her collarbones to gently manacle her throat in the V of my hand.
“Why are you looking at me?” I ask. “Look atyourself. What a fucking masterpiece you are.” My thumb and forefinger trace the column of her neck. “Kings would once have launched ships to war to see this face lost in pleasure.”
Her eyes drift closed, head falling back. The fingers of my other hand dig into her hip. She gasps, and her eyes fly open again.
“Pay attention, kleine Hexe,” I say near her ear. “You love to play the little spy, yes? Peeking into windows, prying into souls, spinning your stories.” I undo the top button on her dress. “So watch yourself now. Enjoy the sight of that angel face pained with rapture as you come.”
Her focus darts back to my eyes, startled.
