Charmed (Second Sight) (10 page)

Her tongue entered him, slipping between his parted lips. The sweet invasion was brief but mesmerizing and she found herself repeating it, stroking his mouth. Though his arms finally wound around her, she found her hands suddenly on his hips, then her fingers tugging up his shirt. Her heart began to race as her gloved hands fumbled with the bottom button, slipping this way and that. As his lips parted wider, her tongue found his and she tore her gloves off. Mac barely moved, except for his tongue curling with hers, but her fingers moved steadily upward, unbuttoning his shirt.

As the last button opened and she spread his shirt wide, Isabelle ended their kiss and drew back. Her eyes took in the broad chest and lean waist. Fine hair dusted his mounded pectorals and a dark line of hair, just visible above his belt, divided the rippled tightness of his abdomen. For a moment she hesitated, not sure where to start. But, without thinking, her fingers pressed into his chest.

•••••

Mac watched Isabelle’s pupils dilate as her second sight took over. Gently, he combed his fingers into the silky hair at the nape of her neck. Her lips parted as she drew in a deep breath but then suddenly, she pulled her hands back.

“You’re worried about a secret clearance?” she breathed, her eyes darting one way and then another. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m not working on anything classified,” he said, stroking her neck.

“But still,” she said. Then she paused for a few moments. “Can you give me my gloves?”

She tried to look up at him.

“I
could
,” he said. “But I won’t.”

“Mac, I’m not joking. Could you please hand me my gloves?”

He swept his hands down her back and pulled her against him.

“I’m not joking either,” he said. Her hands were caught between them but she’d been careful to turn them away from him. “The way you touch me,” he whispered into her ear. “I can’t imagine not feeling that.” He nuzzled into the hair behind her ear. “Feeling
your
skin feel
mine
,” he said lowly. “I won’t give it up. I can’t. The way I can’t give
you
up.”

He’d been ready to go on but apparently Isabelle didn’t need more convincing. She turned her hands around and her fingers brushed across his nipples. His pecs jumped involuntarily and his arousal thickened within the confines of his pants.

“Take them off,” she whispered.

He quickly did and watched Isabelle strip her dress and underwear. They landed on top of her gloves, though she couldn’t see that. As she shook out her hair, his eyes covered every part of her body. Completely unselfconscious, not able to see him watching, she moved gracefully. Her skin seemed flushed, the sometimes dusky rose of her nipples a smooth pink. Her breasts bobbed a little with her movement and, as she stepped toward him, her rounded and creamy hips tilted one way and then the other.

She reached out to him, staring blankly.
 

Rather than take her hand, he stepped into her path and her hand landed on his chest. She smiled, though she wasn’t able to see him grinning.

“Yes, I can,” she said, pushing him back to the bed and then onto it.

As he lay back, she crawled over the top of him and then straddled his hips. And as her fingers ran through the hair on his abs and then up his chest, spreading over his pecs, her smile disappeared and so did his.
 

“
God
,” she whispered. “I love how you feel.”

Mac felt her moist entrance along his shaft, pressing it down along his abdomen. As her palms pressed into his already taut nipples, his arousal throbbed hard. His fingers dug into her waist, ready to align her hips, feel himself slot into her. He didn’t want to rush her but, just as he thought it, he realized she would know.

Her fingers kneaded into his chest as she leaned forward and wriggled her hips into place. The tip of his erection nudged into her and, as she leaned further forward to accommodate him, he gently pushed her hips back and slid into her.

“Oh god,” she whispered.
 

“That feels so good,” they said together.
 

His buttocks tightened and his hips slowly rose as she moved back to accept him. Sweet warmth began to envelope him as she widened her knees and sank down. Slowly she took him inside and he felt the tight tug of her on his hot, distended flesh. The tension was exquisite, the engorged shaft aching for her, straining higher. Steadily, maddeningly, her moist flesh slid by him.

He kneaded her breasts and lightly plucked the sensitive peaks.
 

She leaned further forward, her long hair drifting over his face, her hands twisting on his nipples, her eyes closed though he knew she saw his thoughts. He rolled the hard little tips of her breasts between his fingers. She bit her lower lip and moaned, moving lower on him, sheathing him, inch by incredible inch. His own nipples were on fire and it was everything he could do not to let his pelvis fly upward. Instead his abs tightened, as well as his legs, and still Isabelle sank lower.

Then, as she finally sat back, sheathing him completely, they moaned together.

•••••

Mac’s anticipation fueled her own and Isabelle sank down with all her weight. Though his hands still encompassed her breasts and his fingers kneaded the tortured tips, her hands could no longer reach him. Instead she sat back, her hands pressed down on her own abdomen, where his enormous erection bulged inside her. The iron hard shaft drove upward, stretching her walls, and she gasped as Mac’s hips lifted her. The movement was slow but unrelenting as he arched steadily higher, taking her with him. His molten member impaled her, the fullness taking her breath away. The peaks of her breasts began to burn and a familiar tension began to build in her mound and still Mac lifted her higher. Her sweet spot crushed against his rising groin and her hips quivered in response–jerky, erratic, already out of control. Quick and shallow, her panting breaths only tugged her breasts in his hands, but she needed to move. With her knees no longer touching the bed, her back began to arch. His arousal thrust up into her, threatening to split her, her hands pressing down hard over the top of it. Her pebble hard nipples stung, her sweet spot vibrated with the quiver of her hips, and, as she groaned, Mac pushed even higher and pumped his hips in a small circle.
 

She swayed with the movement, their hips revolving together. Deep within her, his stiff flesh pushed forward and, for a moment, she felt him beneath her hands.
 

“Oh god,” she whimpered.
 

Mac circled again, this time a little faster, then again, faster still. The movement was hypnotic but the tension at her sensitive spot was rapidly coiling higher, warmth flooding between her legs, the moment of oblivion just out of reach. Her torso flexed around the swollen length of him and, as he revolved again, she felt his rigid flesh beneath her hand and pressed down.

Mac’s breath caught, his fingers pinched her nipples hard, and he jerked inside her.

She cried out as the yearning in her sweet spot suddenly connected with the desperate need in her nipples. Her entire body convulsed as Mac’s hips suddenly released.

Her knees landed on the bed and the pressure inside her eased but as he immediately thrust upward, it seemed to double. Another cry escaped her and Mac’s hands grabbed her hips, keeping them together just as her pelvis began to jerk to and fro. The quivering erupted into a frantic thrashing and her head tilted back. Mac’s hips fell and thrust up again, the collision forcing air from her, and suddenly her sweet spot was trapped between them.

A vicious clench claimed her, throwing them both into overdrive. As her hips fought for release, his upward plunges took on a fierce and pounding rhythm. The headboard started to bang against the wall. Mac hissed and bucked beneath her and she arched atop him as they collided in unison. Frantic pumping and thrusting claimed them, primal and unstoppable. Tension coiled up inside her as Mac loudly moaned and her breathy gasps became whimpers. Suddenly, her lower body erupted in a frenzied chain of spasms and his thrashed uncontrollably beneath her.

Their convulsive release was simultaneous.

“Isabelle,” he groaned, his fingers digging into her waist.

“Mac,” she gasped breathlessly as a ferocious clench made her double over.

His hot seed slapped upward, searing into the deepest part of her.
 

Wave after wave of pulsating pleasure swept through her abdomen as her hands landed on the bed near his shoulders. Ecstasy peaked and throbbed in her sensitive spot as Mac ground savagely against it. She groaned and clenched, almost unable to stand it, when Mac’s swollen shaft jerked again inside her as he cried out.
 

A great shuddering, clenching spasm ripped a scream from her and she pitched forward, her mouth against Mac’s throat. A tidal wave of pleasure swept upward from their connection, rushed through her, and outward to her extremities. The tremors of it shook her. Waves of it burst inside her. And, though she lay on him, she barely felt Mac’s profound shudder beneath her.
 

But finally, as the last glorious tide peaked and then mercifully ebbed, they both came to rest. Except for Mac’s heaving chest lifting her, they lay limp and still. Despite their labored breathing, deep peace settled in her chest even as Mac’s ragged sigh echoed it.

At long last, Isabelle mustered the energy to move. But just as she began to lift her head, Mac threw his arms around her.

“No,” he breathed. “Not yet.”
 

His hand moved to hers on the bed and then under it as their fingers intertwined.
 

As her vision grayed, she suddenly felt it: passion, desire, and
love
. It permeated Mac, coursed through him, flowed outward, and into her. Quickly, his love filled her, brimmed to the top, and then overflowed. And as she floated away on it and her eyes began to close, she whispered against his chest.

“I love you too.”

ISABELLE WOKE IN nearly the exact spot she’d gone to sleep–cuddled up next to Mac’s side, head on his chest. All through the night he’d held her. Whether he woke up when she moved or it was completely subconscious on his part, Isabelle didn’t know. But it was something that she’d adored about Mac from the beginning–he was always in contact.
 

Her prohibition against touching people invariably led to them not touching her. Though it was something she’d become aware of slowly over time, not a single friend or lover had been immune.

Except for Mac.

Maybe last night he’d held her more than usual.

She had to smile.

“I like it that you smile first thing,” he whispered. She smiled all the more. “Just like that,” he said. “I can feel it.”

She could hear his deep voice rumbling in his chest and he shifted to put his arms around her. But, as he did, her gaze fell on his suitcase and she couldn’t help but stare at it. He raised his head to see what she was looking at. Without warning, he rolled her to her back and settled on top of her, on his elbows.
 

“No looking at that,” he said, smiling down at her.

“I was just thinking we need to make some room in the closet,” she said quickly.
 

“Oh, really,” he said, his tone clearly non-believing, but still he smiled.

“Really,” she said, grinning back at him.

“Well then, I’m all for it. It’s one of those things
couples
do.”

For a few moments, she just stared up into Mac’s face. How she thought, even for an instant, that she could do without this, she didn’t know–didn’t
want
to know. But somehow they’d peered over that precipice and managed to come back–together.

His eyes drifted to her lips and then lower.

“You know what else couples do?” he asked.

Slowly, she brought her hands up from where they lay next to her on the bed.
 

“Things couples do…” she mused, as she touched his chest and her vision went gray. “Let me see.”

•••••

Maurice shook out a couple tablets of acetylsalicylic acid, popped them in his mouth, and downed them with a small beaker of water. More commonly known as aspirin, they needed to work quickly. He set the beaker down on the lab bench. Hangover or not, there was a lot of work to do.

He surveyed the lab from his perch on the stool.
 

Much would be lost.

“But that’s the nature of a clean slate,” he said, buoyed by the thought of starting fresh.
 

And it
would
be clean this time. Completely blank. He’d learned his lesson–finally.

They would
all
die this time, including Geoffrey.

Maurice smirked.

Especially
Geoffrey.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

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Previously in the series,
join psychic Isabelle de Grey and FBI profiler Gavin “Mac” MacMillan as they hunt a serial killer in the heart of Los Angeles. Even as the search grows dangerous and they race to save lives, fiery passion quickly consumes them in Books 1, 2, and 3 of the Second Sight series. Get them now at Amazon!