Artfully Yours (10 page)

“Hell if I know,” Jenny managed to say, “but I’m thinking demon. Go look.”

Elle eyed her. “I’m not going back in there without a weapon.”

Jenny offered her a crutch.

Elle batted it away. “I need a damn plunger.”

“It’s nine p.m. on a Sunday night. I know I didn’t bring a plunger from home. From my ex-home. Nowhere’s open to buy one. And the odds of finding one in this junkyard?”

“You found string and duct tape.”

“That was my string and duct tape, from my ex-junk drawer.”

Elle chewed her lip. “Not exactly a cup of sugar, but I guess I could go and borrow one from the neighbor,” she said reluctantly.

Elle drove the short distance to the Adams place and turned down the track to where the house was set well back from the road, surrounded by trees. She wondered if Mr. Adams still lived there. She kind of hoped not. He wasn’t a nice guy.

The lights were on in the house. Good start. The idea of getting the angry old man out of bed to ask him for a plunger wasn’t something she relished. Elle jumped out the car and jogged up the driveway. She banged on the door and waited. Banged again. No answer. “Hello?” she called. Still nothing. She went back to her car, jingling the keys in her hand, trying to decide if she had the nerve to go pound on the back door.

A faint glow of light gleaming from the rear of the house caught her eye, and she heard a metallic clanging noise. She walked around the side of the house, did a double take at the state of the backyard—almost as bad as hers—and headed over to a large barn, its door a golden cut in the night sky. Elle made it to the threshold and stopped dead.

The barn was filled with scorching light, and at the heart of it a figure was at work, bending over a twisted structure of metal. The air pressed against her skin, and she broke into a light sweat at the heat of it. Or maybe it was just the scene in front of her. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to, just stared.

This was not Mr. Adams.

The guy was big and built. He wore faded jeans, and he bent over a lot. Elle’s head tilted to the side in appreciation, and she was caught off-guard by her own faint sigh.

I’m perving on this poor guy’s ass and he doesn’t even know I’m here, but…damn.

His T-shirt clung to defined back muscles. His hands were covered by heavy work gloves and a welding helmet hid his face. He moved like he knew what he was doing, with an absorption that seemed to ripple the air around him. The practical side of her wondered if he wore adequate protection. The entirely female side of her told the practical side to shut up and appreciate the spectacular view.

Get it together, Finley.

She rapped her knuckles on the door jamb. No response. The welder’s helmet must have been muffling any noise she could make. He continued to curl over the metal wreck, intently focused. She glanced around, spotted a light switch. Should she flip the lights on and off? Or would it be better to approach him? No. It didn’t seem a great plan, considering the size of the flame he wielded. She might startle him. He could set himself on fire. He could set
her
on fire.

Lights. Definitely try the lights. She reached out for the switch, then snatched her hand back when he stilled.

He straightened slowly and turned to face her.

She gave a little wave at waist height,
you goof
, and said, “Hi. Sorry. I did knock.”

The hiss of the torch snapped off, and he set it on an enormous work bench cluttered with tools. Then he stripped off his gloves and started toward her. All this with the helmet still on. She took a nervous step back, and he stopped. He muttered something, took the helmet off, tossed it on the ground, and came toward her again.

The beard was gone, replaced by heavy scruff, but there was no mistaking his size, or the intense dark gaze that made her stomach dip and every nerve-ending she possessed spark.

“Oh, shit,” she said.

It was the gargoyle man.

Alex didn’t know why he suddenly sensed her. Just that he did. One moment, Elle was that familiar fiery rush in his blood and he was forcing the metal into the explicit curve of his fascination, and the next moment he felt her. There in the barn with him.

The hairs at the nape of his neck lifted, and a brush of icy heat stroked down his spine, prickling over his entire body. He turned from the sculpture, barely registering the rapid fade of the metal as he withdrew the kiss of the torch. He snapped off the flame. Set the torch down.

Any leftover high principles about keeping his hands off his muse, principles that had held him leashed from hunting her down since the ice cream incident, sizzled into nothing.

Elle
.

She’d come to him. She was there, right there, in the doorway. Her hesitation showed in the polite but cautious expression on her face, in the way she held herself. Wanting to reassure her, he started across the distance, only realizing he still wore his protective helmet when she took a wary step back.
No. Don’t go.
He pulled the helmet off. His face didn’t seem to comfort her much; her eyes widened and he saw her lips shape the words, “Oh, shit.”

Too late.
He’d closed the gap. He stood before her.
I’m here. You’re here. At last.

“Elle,” he said, then he kissed her.

He slid an arm around her waist to catch her as she backed up, tightened it to bring her against him, and he touched his mouth lightly to hers.
Yes? No? Do you want this as much as I do? Do you need it like I do?

She took a swift breath in; he waited a second, then—thank you, God—she reached up for him. He drew away a taunting fraction, making her follow, making her have to be the one to do it. She stretched against him and he laughed, bending his knees enough to lift her up and press her against the inner wall of the barn.

Full-body contact. Skimming a firm hand down the length of her thigh, he dragged it up and around his hip. She obligingly raised the other leg, locked her ankles, and squeezed him closer as he dropped his lips to hers again, taking in her startled breath before his mouth opened over hers, and he was in.

The world inside him realigned as he filled her, tongue sliding against hers in a deep, slow lick that made her fist a hand in his hair convulsively. Everything lit up, and all the edges of himself he’d felt splintering off into orphaned shards just…clicked back together.

He cupped her chin, angled her head, and deepened the kiss, holding her for it.

He was home.

Alex leaned his weight into her until he wondered if he was crushing her, but she didn’t make any protest, just shifted against him restlessly. He held her, steady and controlled, focused in his passionate exploration. As for Elle, she caught fire. Her hands went
everywhere
. From clutching his hair to tracing the line of his shoulders, then down his sides and, yep, she grabbed his butt. He shook with longing as she tugged his shirt clear and dragged her palms up the damp muscles of his back.

Down to his butt again.

He felt her fingers trace the waistband of his jeans and growled encouragement into her mouth.

She froze for an instant, then pulled back. “Wait!” she said, her eyes dazed, pupils dilated.

Vibrating with the effort it took to stay still, Alex stared at her. Elle’s gaze dropped to his mouth, an inch away from hers, and she bit her lip. Then she sighed and bit his, so he figured he could go ahead and kiss her again.

They strained together in a furious tangle until she pulled back again. “No. Wait.”

“No?” He moved to her neck, alternating between kisses and light nips. He sucked gently at a patch of skin, and she shuddered. “Are you sure?” His question came out in a short, harsh pant.

“No. Yes. Yes, I’m sure. I didn’t come here for this.”

He switched to the other side of her neck. Her legs around his waist tightened reflexively, and he couldn’t help himself from rocking up into her. Once. Then—it felt so good—again. And again. Slow. Hard. Deliberate.

“
Oh
, my God.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she blindly caught his jaw, directed him back for another kiss, deep and wet. Then, damn it, she broke away again. Her palm still lay on his jaw and, as they stared at each other, she stroked, subtly, as if she couldn’t help herself. The shiver that ran through her at the abrasion of his stubble wasn’t even remotely subtle.

“Why did you come here, if not for this?” His voice sounded rough and unrecognizable to his own ears. He slid a hand between them, down over her soft stomach, lower. He stopped, let it rest there.
Ask me to go lower. Say the word. Please. Say it.

“P-plunger,” she said.

He nudged her higher up the wall and went back to pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck. Plunger? Was that code for something? “Please let that be code.”

“Hah. Yes. Code for there’s a demon in my toilet.”

Alex straightened in surprise and swore when she unhooked her ankles and shoved at his shoulders. He hesitated before he set her down. She sidled sideways in an attempt to put some space between them. He blocked her exit by bracing a hand by her head,
no, don’t go
, and that was it. Wrong move.

She ran.

Alex watched as she damn near flew around the corner of the house. His entire body jolted with the primitive urge to chase her, and he gripped the side of the doorway to restrain himself. Chasing a woman through the night, unless she asked you first, was probably not a good idea. Probably get him Maced, or arrested. Or kicked in the balls. Which were in a bad enough state as it was.

Elle Finley.

He smiled as her car peeled out of his driveway, hit the road, and vanished.

He’d be seeing her again.

CHAPTER NINE

It was full light when Elle opened her eyes the next morning. She’d expected to toss and turn, be kept awake by that crazy kiss in the neighbor’s barn, for hours. Instead, she’d fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. It didn’t seem right that she’d sleep well. For one thing, the pillow was on the floor, along with the cheap sleeping bag she’d bought from an outdoor store while she waited for the bed she’d ordered. Yet she’d fallen asleep like everything was perfect in her world, and woken up with a smile. An actual smile, on her face. She could feel it stretching her cheeks. She could still feel his lips moving against hers. She could still feel
him
, moving against her.

Elle flung an arm over her eyes to cut out the glare of sun from the curtainless window.
Now
she was awake.

She’d never in her whole life been kissed like that. It was the most outstanding sexual experience she’d ever had, which didn’t say much for the relationships in her past that she could get her mind blown with all her clothes still on.

Only one other experience even came close.

Despite her best efforts to forget, she remembered that day with excruciating clarity. She’d been sixteen and doing her best to pretend that everything was normal at home, they were a stable and happy family. Her mother had split two years before, Jenny had morphed from sweet baby sister to tween fiend, and her father had decided to give himself a break and stop hiding the fact that he was a raging alcoholic.

Back then, Elle had a single goal: get to eighteen and stay off Social Services’ radar with no one finding out how bad things were and taking Jenny away. And then that boy, the one she’d seen watching her for the whole school year, just jumped on her out of nowhere.

He was a transfer student. Tall, husky, with acne. Intense. Fascinating-looking, rather than good-looking. Scary as hell, with a feral, dangerous vibe that was bone-deep, and nothing like the typical self-conscious teenage male swagger. Always getting called to the Principal’s office for giving the teachers attitude. As he was a senior to her sophomore, she never witnessed the classroom ’tude, but she could imagine it.

Despite what happened between them, she didn’t even know his name. Alan? She thought it was Alan. After the day he kissed her, everyone called him…something else. Before, she doubted they called him anything at all. He seemed like the loneliest kid in school. Or in the world. She never saw him talking to anyone, never heard him speak at all.

Elle knew he watched her. She didn’t mind it. She knew what lonely felt like. She’d even found herself turning to him a few times, thinking about going over to say hi. He was always gone before she could make a move, though. It was like he had an odd awareness of exactly where she was in relation to him, managed to stay a few steps ahead. They barely ever made eye contact.

In fact, now she thought of it, they
never
made eye contact. Not until that day. The day he crossed the hall, snatched her off her feet, and stole her first ever kiss.

It was…what was the word?
Spectacular
. She’d always imagined her first kiss would be great. What girl didn’t? But spectacular? She’d spent her entire dating life searching for something as passionate as that moment, something that pulled her clean out of reality into some other dimension of heat and sensation and, God.
Everything
.