Time's Enemy: A Romantic Time Travel Adventure (Saturn Society Book 1) (39 page)

“We do. But... What do you think about revealing a person’s future to them? Do you think it’s wise? Safe?”

“What are you getting at? Do you know something about me?”

“Your brother. I’ve met him before.”

“You have? When? I didn’t think you’d gone back between the time you rescued me and now.”

“I haven’t. I met him in my time.”

“You can’t be serious. He’d be over a hundred years old!”

“He was. Charlotte... he knew who I was. And he remembered meeting me in this time.” He wet his lips, then chewed on the lower one.

“He told you something about me,” Charlotte guessed.

“Yeah.” His jaw tensed.

“What?” She squeezed the steering wheel. “Tony...”

“I shouldn’t tell you. Because it might not happen.”

“Tell me. Maybe if I know... if it’s something bad, maybe I can prevent it.”

Tony clenched his teeth and stared out the window for a long moment before he finally answered. “He said... the second time I came back to this time... you disappeared. Like when you were a little kid, but... you never came back.”

“And he concluded I died.”

“Yeah. That’s why I can’t come back. Ever.” His voice was choppy, choked. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. It’s not your time. Maybe I can’t be with you, but... you still have a lot to do—”

“Did he say it was because of you?”

“He didn’t come out and say it like that, but... yeah.”

Her world crashed, her heart ground to dust beneath its weight. Tony was never coming back. She glanced up as they passed the Gibbons Hotel, where their idyllic week—the happiest in her life—had started.

The week that was drawing to an end. “Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“I say we make the most of our last night together.” She squinted at him in the dim glow of the streetlamps. He looked lost in thought. “Starting with what you said you’d do as soon as we get home.”

She parked in the alley behind her house. Something rustled in the bushes as they hurried to the back door. Probably one of the cats. A guilty thought that she hadn’t fed them in a week slipped from her mind when Tony’s fingers slid under the belt of her dress. He had the belt untied before she unlocked the door.

They tumbled inside. She took two steps into the kitchen, then hesitated when she neared the table. She paused. Turned. Heat rose in her cheeks as he approached. Her lips parted, and the tip of her tongue traced the edge of her upper teeth.

A little voice shrilled in her head.
Don’t do this!

What? How could she—

It’s too dangerous! Let him go now!
An unsettling suspicion reared within her that what she’d heard in the bushes wasn’t a stray animal but something far more insidious

(like Caruthers)

and far more threatening.

Charlotte wet her lips. “No,” she whimpered.

Tony stopped. “Charlotte? What’s wrong?”

The little voice. The feeling of
must
. It was the same one that had told her—no,
made
her—go back and warn Papa. It was her future self, reliving this moment.

Her future self had been wrong—oh, so wrong—that other time.
Don’t change anything. It won’t work. Whatever will happen here, you’ll only make it worse,
her now-self told the little voice, that other presence.

“Charlotte?” One of Tony’s brows pressed down. “Are you okay?”

She drank in the sight of him before her. Her future-self fled, and desire rushed in to fill the void. She reached for the switch to turn off the light over the table—she hadn’t had a chance to turn it off, Theodore had pulled her away so quickly—but Tony grabbed her hand. “Leave it. I want to see you. All of you.”

He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her against him. Warmth seared through her dress wherever his body met with it. She ached for his touch, wanted him to feel her, taste her all over like he’d promised, from the top of her head, to her toes, and everywhere in between. She tipped her face up for a kiss, but instead of taking her mouth, he brushed aside the curls at the top of her forehead and kissed her there. His lips left a wet trail down one side of her face as he caressed her other cheek with his hand. Her heart swelled. “Oh, Tony...” He snatched his hands to her hips and pulled her against him harder.

She giggled when he ran his lips down her nose, then pressed his mouth to hers when he finally reached it. Their lips molded perfectly, wet and moving against each other, the way she longed to do with her entire body. She leaned into him but he gently pushed her back. He dragged his tongue down one side of her neck—she whimpered—then the other, making two trails of wetness that joined at the base of her neckline, above the quarter hidden beneath her dress. His teeth tugged at the top button a moment before it came free, then he drew his tongue down, around the quarter, until he came to the next one. He stepped back. “This is taking way too long.”

Charlotte mumbled an agreement. Bubbles of excitement rose inside her. He flicked the rest of the buttons open with his fingers and peeled her dress away to reveal her bra, garter, and...

“Oh. My. God.”

She turned a falsely-innocent smile to him, her voice higher pitched than usual. “What’s wrong?” Play it for all she could, repay his delicious torture.

“You’re not wearing any...” He bit down on his tongue, then loosened his belt and undid his trousers, muttering something about being ready to bust.

She glanced down at herself in mock surprise. “Oh. I didn’t pack enough underwear, I’m afraid. And I didn’t want to spend our last day together doing laundry.” It was the truth, though she hadn’t realized it would be such a delightful mistake.

“Like hell.” He let his slacks fall to his ankles, whipped off his shoes and socks, then stepped out of them.

He reached behind her to undo her bra, while her gaze landed on the protrusion in his drawers. She longed to be one with him, savor this last night... She gave him her best demure smile. He grabbed her around the waist. With a grunt, he lifted her onto the table, then swiped the bra off the rest of the way.

He stepped back, and his adoring gaze made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, never mind she sat on a cheap, wooden kitchen table, wearing nothing but a hat, garter and stockings. His eyes roved over her like she was a feast, and he hadn’t eaten in weeks. She drew her tongue across the inside of her lower lip.

He lavished her shoulders, her throat, her arms with his tongue, then sucked each individual finger, eliciting more delighted giggles and sighs before he turned his attention to her breasts, traced his tongue around their hyper-sensitive tips. Lord, she could never get enough of his touch... yet she had to. Take this night for all it was worth, wring every bit of pleasure from it, then she’d do the same for him.

His lips and tongue trailed down her belly, her hips, her thighs. Each touch made the happiness inside her swell. He would do anything for her. Anything to make her feel good. Anything to pleasure her.

He knelt. A man, on his knees for her, and not just any man, but the one she loved, more than she’d thought possible. But what—

She gasped when he lifted her left leg and licked the back of her knee, drew his tongue up her inner thigh, almost to—good heavens!—then stopped and did the same on her right. This time his tongue continued upward, until he slipped it into the wetness between her legs. She thought her heart stopped when jolts of electricity shot through her in undulating bliss. He drew back. Lord almighty, she’d thought he was joking when he said everywhere! But oh, my... She fell back onto her hands. “Ho- holy shit!”

“I’ve never heard you say that before!” His lips drew into a wide grin. “You okay?”

No one had ever touched her there, given her such pleasure. “Oh my gracious... yes!”

He dove back in, until her thighs tightened around his neck, her hips arched, she couldn’t stop herself from shouting his name as her insides quivered and waves of pleasure soared through her entire body.

He stood as her breathing slowed again. “My heavens, that felt so good it should be illegal!”

“It probably is in this time.”

He took her big toe into his mouth. The gentle suckling sent more sparks through her. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him up. “That’s enough,” she said. “Now it’s my turn.”

A grin split his face as she hopped off the table and grabbed his hand. In the living room, she pulled him to the floor, in the center of the area rug. “This will suit my purposes better than the table.” Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, slid it off, pushed his drawers down. Once she’d relieved him of the clothing, she pressed his shoulder. He took her lead and lay on the rug.

She dotted tiny kisses over his bristly face, his neck, his arms, his chest. The small, wet spots glistened in the light from the table lamp she’d left on... a week ago? Each touch of her lips elicited another tiny groan from him.

She hesitated when she reached below his waist. Louie had once made her take him in her mouth, like the European prostitutes had done when he was a soldier in the Great War. It had been degrading, something she felt she had to do, something dirty and horrid. But she wanted to do it to Tony, wanted to give him that pleasure and watch him squirm with delight. He wasn’t demanding, she was offering, and it wasn’t dirty. It was the body of the man she loved, and it was nothing but wonderful. “Should I...?” She looked up from beneath the tiny brim of the hat she still wore.

“If you want,” he grated.

She drew her tongue up his smooth, silken shaft in a cool, moist line, then tentatively explored the other side—

He clamped his hand onto her shoulder. “I’m not going to last another minute if you keep that up.” She pulled back, and he released her.

She knew what he wanted, and lowered herself onto him.

He held her hips and rocked slowly beneath her. Heavens, she could never be with another man, no one would ever compare. “Charlotte...” He drew his hands over her breasts, her sides, her back. She concentrated on the warm roughness of his palms. Tried to imprint them on her memory, for after tonight, memories were all she’d have left.

Too soon she clenched around him. He rolled her onto her back. She pressed against him as tightly as she could, wanting to become one with him, for their skin to bind them together. One last time would never be enough—

Her stomach lurched as dizziness swamped her. The room spun, faded into...

Concrete?
Huge, round pilasters loomed behind Tony’s shoulders, and roaring sounds above. Cold, roughness grated against her bare back. Still joined with her, Tony raised up, looked around. “What the hell?” A huge dark expanse above blocked the moonlight. Overhead, something rumbled. What on earth?

She grabbed Tony’s shoulders. Concrete buildings to the right. To her left, streetlights cast spotted reflections on the river, its surface dimpled by rain. Something whizzed by in front of her, and a horn blared, lowering in pitch as it sped past.

A spaceship! Round, smooth, shiny. Something like she’d imagine in
Buck Rogers
, only on wheels.

No. A car. The highway, the concrete... Just like Tony described in his time. But it couldn’t be! Icy claws trickled down her throat and gripped her from the inside. It wasn’t possible to jump into the future!

“No way,” Tony said. “No, not yet!”

Still dizzy, she squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingernails into Tony’s back. “Think about my living room!”

She opened her eyes. Almost sobbed in relief at the familiar, plaster ceiling above him and the softness of her area rug beneath her back. Then she forgot the dizziness and the strange sights as he moved above her and the sensation of their bodies joined together overwhelmed her. She clenched around him, and his body responded in kind.

He rolled off of her and they lay together on the rug, her head cradled in the hollow beneath his shoulder, his heartbeat in her ear. Her hat had come off and lay a few feet away, next to the radio. “Tony... I love you.” Her voice hitched.

He didn’t look at her. Probably couldn’t. The side of his face blurred. I love you too, she could hear him say, although when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. She wouldn’t press. He loved her, she knew he did. “Me too,” he finally managed. She forced back her tears. She couldn’t cry. Had to be strong. It was what he’d want.

She wasn’t afraid to die. Not if she could have the comfort of drawing her last breath from within his arms. But if he returned and something happened to her, he’d feel responsible. She wouldn’t ask him to bear that burden.

She wanted to remain there on the rug with him all night. All week wouldn’t be long enough, but every few minutes his lips curled into a grimace, and he pressed a finger to his temple. The pull was hitting him harder. He wouldn’t be able to put it off much longer, and then he’d have to get out of her sight so he could leave. For good.

Someone knocked on the door.

Her body went rigid. Who on earth would call at such a late hour?
Go away!
Whoever it was, she wouldn’t let them steal one moment of what little time she had left with Tony. Thank heavens she’d left the drapes closed, though if the visitor tried, he’d probably see everything through the lacy fabric.

The insistent visitor knocked again. Louder. “Expecting someone?” Tony asked.

“No,” she whispered.
Go away!

The person at the door called out. “Charlotte!” A man. One she’d heard before. But not Dewey, or man next door. Not Theodore. The man yelled again, and a sword of fear sliced down her windpipe as recognition hit. Caruthers! “No!” Her hand clenched at Tony’s chest.

“Who—” he began, but the man at the door shouted again.

“Charlotte! I know you’re in there. If you don’t open the door, I’m coming in!”

Tony tensed, but Charlotte lay paralyzed until the doorknob began to turn. She hadn’t locked the door! Theodore had yanked her out so fast she hadn’t had time.

The doorknob clicked. She rolled away, dimly aware of Tony bolting for the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He’d be safe, the pull would take him home.