Grave Phantoms
Page 57
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“I didn’t lose anything. It was mine to give.” She pointed a thumb at her chest. “My decision.”
“And you gave it to him? While I was stuck here, making myself sick imagining another man’s hands all over you?” And unable to do anything about it. He was angry now, remembering how impotent he’d felt. How panicked.
How devastated.
“I was trying to get over you!” she snapped.
A distant part of his brain raised a warning flag, but he ignored it and charged Astrid in two strides. “You will never get over me. Do you hear me? Never! You will never be free of me, because I won’t let you go. I will put a bullet in any man who touches you. I will go to jail for you. I will die for you. My ghost will haunt you from the grave.”
Her pupils expanded, black overtaking all but a ring of blue around the edges. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly. She made a tiny noise that his body recognized: surrender. A switch flicked inside his head. His ability to reason shut down. He flung an arm around her waist, roughly pulled her against him, and captured her mouth with his.
It was a punishing kiss, full of violence. And she gave it right back to him, digging her nails into his neck, knocking his hat off to grab the short hair at the back of his head. A fireball of lust rocketed through his body, tightening his balls and making him uncomfortably hard. He shifted his hold, grabbing handfuls of her coat to feel the swell of her buttocks beneath, and pulled her hips to his. He thrust against her below and licked into her mouth above. Trying to get closer. To get inside.
She let go of his hair, and he felt her hand dive between their crushed bodies a second before it palmed his erection through his pants. Her grip bordered on brutal. His cock was hot iron pressing against her possessive fingers. He groaned beneath her touch.
“No one else,” she whispered angrily against his lips. A threat and a vow.
He doubled her hand with his own to reinforce it for a moment, helping her hold him, and then released it to cup the curving mound between her legs through the fabric of her dress. The whimpering noise she made was intoxicating.
“No one else,” he whispered back.
Her hand slid away and she threw her arms around his neck. A second later, he was encouraging her legs to part and lifting her off the floor as she jumped upon him, thighs circling his hips, dress hiked up. He stumbled one step as she clung to him. Reached out for support and toppled the changing screen, which clattered to the floor with a muffled bang.
He winced at the sound, but Astrid just gave a little gasping laugh, her eyelids heavy with lust, breath coming fast. It only made him want her more. He walked her two steps to a single narrow shelf, knocked off a pincushion and a wooden hanger with one hand, and set her down with her back against the wall.
She didn’t quite fit. Her coat was too bulky. He wanted it off. He wanted everything off. Wanted to take her right here, right now. Years of wanting could be erased in a blink. His mind and body roared for it. Demanded it. The intensity of his feelings was terrifying.
Trying to slow himself down, he slapped both hands on the wall to either side of her head and let his forehead drop against hers. His chest heaved. The stitches in his side protested. His cock ached.
“Astrid,” he begged, but he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. For her permission? For her to stop him? For her to assure him that everything was going to be all right between them—that their passionate vows to each other weren’t empty promises?
“You belong to me, Ah-sing,” she whispered. “You have always belonged to me.”
His heart lifted right out of his chest and soared.
He dropped grateful kisses on her nose and eyelids, tasting kohl and the salt of her skin. He paid attention to everything, so that he could remember it later: the fluttering of her pulse when he pressed his lips to her temple, the warm promise between her legs as he nestled his erection against the silk of her chemise. The crack of the wooden shelf beneath her backside . . .
The shelf snapped off the wall.
She fell and pulled him down on top of her.
They tumbled to the floor with loud bang!
Everything hurt. He’d surely torn his stitches and ruined all the progress Velma’s poultice had made. But he really didn’t give a damn. He could bleed all over the floor as long as she was in his arms.
“Are you all right?” he asked, but she was already laughing, and that only made him want to kiss her again.
The fitting room’s heavy velvet curtain flew open. They turned their heads in unison to see the white-haired attendant, frumpy store manager, and three wide-eyed customers gaping at them.
Not missing a beat, Astrid smiled and smoothly said, “You can put that on my charge account.”
TWENTY
They knew Babel’s Tower was open the following night when they saw the cars lining the street and golden lights twinkling from a two-story brick building. Astrid didn’t think it was the kind of club that had a coat check, so she stashed her fur in Bo’s trunk and hopped over the curb. Despite threatening clouds and gray skies, it hadn’t rained all day, so even though water still ran through the streets, the sidewalks were fairly dry.
She didn’t know what to expect to find in the club tonight. Mission or no mission, she chose to think of this as a rare night out with Bo, and had dressed accordingly in a two-piece amethyst tunic dress with chalk white beads and a scalloped hem. The dropped waist covered up hips that were a touch too full, and the latticework design of the beading plumped up a bust that was a touch too meager. A silver clip held back the waves of her blond hair on one side and matched Bo’s watch on her wrist.
“And you gave it to him? While I was stuck here, making myself sick imagining another man’s hands all over you?” And unable to do anything about it. He was angry now, remembering how impotent he’d felt. How panicked.
How devastated.
“I was trying to get over you!” she snapped.
A distant part of his brain raised a warning flag, but he ignored it and charged Astrid in two strides. “You will never get over me. Do you hear me? Never! You will never be free of me, because I won’t let you go. I will put a bullet in any man who touches you. I will go to jail for you. I will die for you. My ghost will haunt you from the grave.”
Her pupils expanded, black overtaking all but a ring of blue around the edges. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly. She made a tiny noise that his body recognized: surrender. A switch flicked inside his head. His ability to reason shut down. He flung an arm around her waist, roughly pulled her against him, and captured her mouth with his.
It was a punishing kiss, full of violence. And she gave it right back to him, digging her nails into his neck, knocking his hat off to grab the short hair at the back of his head. A fireball of lust rocketed through his body, tightening his balls and making him uncomfortably hard. He shifted his hold, grabbing handfuls of her coat to feel the swell of her buttocks beneath, and pulled her hips to his. He thrust against her below and licked into her mouth above. Trying to get closer. To get inside.
She let go of his hair, and he felt her hand dive between their crushed bodies a second before it palmed his erection through his pants. Her grip bordered on brutal. His cock was hot iron pressing against her possessive fingers. He groaned beneath her touch.
“No one else,” she whispered angrily against his lips. A threat and a vow.
He doubled her hand with his own to reinforce it for a moment, helping her hold him, and then released it to cup the curving mound between her legs through the fabric of her dress. The whimpering noise she made was intoxicating.
“No one else,” he whispered back.
Her hand slid away and she threw her arms around his neck. A second later, he was encouraging her legs to part and lifting her off the floor as she jumped upon him, thighs circling his hips, dress hiked up. He stumbled one step as she clung to him. Reached out for support and toppled the changing screen, which clattered to the floor with a muffled bang.
He winced at the sound, but Astrid just gave a little gasping laugh, her eyelids heavy with lust, breath coming fast. It only made him want her more. He walked her two steps to a single narrow shelf, knocked off a pincushion and a wooden hanger with one hand, and set her down with her back against the wall.
She didn’t quite fit. Her coat was too bulky. He wanted it off. He wanted everything off. Wanted to take her right here, right now. Years of wanting could be erased in a blink. His mind and body roared for it. Demanded it. The intensity of his feelings was terrifying.
Trying to slow himself down, he slapped both hands on the wall to either side of her head and let his forehead drop against hers. His chest heaved. The stitches in his side protested. His cock ached.
“Astrid,” he begged, but he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. For her permission? For her to stop him? For her to assure him that everything was going to be all right between them—that their passionate vows to each other weren’t empty promises?
“You belong to me, Ah-sing,” she whispered. “You have always belonged to me.”
His heart lifted right out of his chest and soared.
He dropped grateful kisses on her nose and eyelids, tasting kohl and the salt of her skin. He paid attention to everything, so that he could remember it later: the fluttering of her pulse when he pressed his lips to her temple, the warm promise between her legs as he nestled his erection against the silk of her chemise. The crack of the wooden shelf beneath her backside . . .
The shelf snapped off the wall.
She fell and pulled him down on top of her.
They tumbled to the floor with loud bang!
Everything hurt. He’d surely torn his stitches and ruined all the progress Velma’s poultice had made. But he really didn’t give a damn. He could bleed all over the floor as long as she was in his arms.
“Are you all right?” he asked, but she was already laughing, and that only made him want to kiss her again.
The fitting room’s heavy velvet curtain flew open. They turned their heads in unison to see the white-haired attendant, frumpy store manager, and three wide-eyed customers gaping at them.
Not missing a beat, Astrid smiled and smoothly said, “You can put that on my charge account.”
TWENTY
They knew Babel’s Tower was open the following night when they saw the cars lining the street and golden lights twinkling from a two-story brick building. Astrid didn’t think it was the kind of club that had a coat check, so she stashed her fur in Bo’s trunk and hopped over the curb. Despite threatening clouds and gray skies, it hadn’t rained all day, so even though water still ran through the streets, the sidewalks were fairly dry.
She didn’t know what to expect to find in the club tonight. Mission or no mission, she chose to think of this as a rare night out with Bo, and had dressed accordingly in a two-piece amethyst tunic dress with chalk white beads and a scalloped hem. The dropped waist covered up hips that were a touch too full, and the latticework design of the beading plumped up a bust that was a touch too meager. A silver clip held back the waves of her blond hair on one side and matched Bo’s watch on her wrist.
