Authors: Kimberly Kinrade
Blake pulled a
blanket from the couch and wrapped it around my shoulders. This time my shiver
had nothing to do with the cold. His hand, so warm despite his trek through
snow, grazed my neck as he pulled away, and a deep and powerful longing stirred
in me.
"Yes,"
he said, without taking his eyes off of me. "It's out county wide and not
expected to come on anytime soon. I came to make sure you were all right. We
should get the fire going before you freeze."
Without
waiting for me to reply, he collected wood from our pantry and filled the
fireplace, then lit it with a match. "Where are your candles?"
Our hall
closet held our emergency supplies. I pulled out the candles, extra bottles of
water, and our heavy blankets and carried it all to the living room.
Together, we
lit the assortment of red, black and white candles of all sizes and spread them
around the house.
I excused
myself to use the bathroom. With the power went the water, so I used some of
our emergency supplies to brush my teeth and rinse my face, then I changed out
of my sweats and t-shirt and into jeans and a red sweater, my thin leather
gloves and slippers.
Dancing flames
licked at the walls, casting shadows and creating a scene part romantic and
part sinister.
Outside, snow
fell harder, piling high against the windows, and I wondered how I'd ever get
out of my house again.
And how Blake
would get out.
A blanket of
white trapped us in a dark and quiet world, making it seem as if nothing else
existed.
Blake stood in
the center of the living room with an air of confidence and expectancy.
I peeked out
the front door. All the snow he'd shoveled away had been replaced, blocking any
way out.
Even his
shovel was buried in white fluff.
He'd taken off
his jacket and stood warming his hands in front of the fire, the hard lean
muscles under his black cotton shirt flexing each time he moved, sending shots
of heat through my belly. But thoughts of Derek flooded me, smothering that
heat with visions of the way he'd looked naked and aroused, the way he'd felt
when we kissed, the way
I'd
felt when I was with him. I couldn't move on
so quickly, not with Derek's unwilling memory squatting in my mind.
Despite his
rejection of me, my feelings for him continued to grow. I didn't blame him for
not wanting to be with me. If he'd harmed Ocean or Jasmine, stealing the light
from their eyes, I'd find it hard to forgive.
These
conflicting emotions warred in me. Lust, desire, a carnal appreciation for the
man who stood before me, and love, need, longing for the man I wished was here
instead.
Blake caught
my eye and held out his hands for me to join him by the fire.
I only took
those steps toward him to be warm, not because my body ached to press itself
against his.
We stood
there, shoulder to shoulder, staring into the flames, as the world drew upon
itself a blanket of silence.
"I should
get going," he said, after a time, though he made no move to go.
"I can't
force you back out there. You can stay the night on the couch if you'd like.
Maybe by morning the snowing will have stopped and we can dig our way out. At
the very least it won't be dark."
I imagined his
long legs and broad shoulders draped over our small couch. "Ocean's room.
You can sleep in her bed. You won't fit on the couch."
The air
between us quivered with unmet desire and sexual undertone. If only I could
free myself from Derek's hook, I could enjoy the unspoken promises held in
Blake's eyes.
Instead, I
left to get a bottle of wine and glasses. If I was to be trapped in a house
with Blake alone all night, I'd need alcohol.
Layers of
blankets covered the thick rug in front of the fireplace when I returned with
our drinks, and Blake had removed his shoes and sat down on them. "I hope
you don't mind. I thought it would be nice to sit closer to the fire. It's
going to get pretty cold tonight, and we'll both need to stay warm."
Handing him a
glass, I sat next to him and leaned against the base of the couch.
He threw a few
blankets over our laps and scooted as close to me as he could get.
I was in the
perfect position to lay my head on his shoulder, and it was so tempting, but I
didn't want to start something I couldn't finish.
I briefly
wondered what, or who, Derek was doing this night.
"Who are
you thinking about?"
The warmth of the
fire flickered on my face, leaving me too hot and too cold all at once. "Derek."
I waited for
Blake's diatribe of hate to spew itself onto me, but he just nodded and took a
sip of the wine.
"You're
not going to tell me he's a piece of shit that should be locked up like a rabid
dog?"
A look of…
something… pain, maybe, crossed his face. "No. We all have reasons for
doing what we do, and every soldier at war believes his cause is the right and
just one. No one likes to think they are the bad guy, Rose, and maybe he's not
the bad guy." He turned my face to him. "But you aren't the bad guy,
either. I hope you know that."
Tears, more
damn tears, threatened to spill out. I didn't think I had any left in me. "I
know that you… want things between us, but I have to be honest; I'm in love
with Derek. He may not want me—a fact he's made abundantly
clear—but I can't give myself to anyone else right now. Doesn't matter
anyways, my stupid power makes it impossible for me to be with anybody without
killing—"
He pressed his
lips against mine, cutting off the rest of my protests, his tongue flicking my
lower lip. A low groan rose from my chest as he placed his callused hand on the
back of my neck, deepening our kiss.
The first time
we'd sort of kissed, we'd been young, but I still remembered the way he tasted
of garlic, how his lips felt papery, as if I'd tear them off if we kissed too
hard.
Now, his lips
crushed mine, smooth but powerful, and I longed to feel those lips on other
parts of my body. He still had the flavor of wine on his tongue, but also a
nuttier undertone unique to him.
If this had
been a blind kissing contest, I would have bet everything I had that this was
not the same man who had been my first kiss so many years ago.
Even knowing
it was Blake, I wondered how one person could change so much, so suddenly. I
knew in my gut that had he kissed me like this a week ago, I'd have tasted the
garlic and felt those paper lips.
But now, his
taste was more intoxicating than the wine, and his lips moved with confidence,
dipping to my chin and neck with just the right amount of pressure.
I tilted my
head, exposing more of my neck to him as I explored his chest and ripped abs.
My hands, fully gloved, longed to be free to feel his flesh, but as my
temperature rose, I knew that was a bad idea.
As if reading
my mind, he pulled away, smiled a sinful smile, and peeled my gloves off.
"No! I
can't take them off. It's bad enough we kissed, but if we make more skin
contact I could hurt you."
He didn't let
my hands go, but held them tightly in his once my gloves had been removed. "Rose,
you can't hurt me. You might have noticed a change in me lately?"
That was
putting it mildly.
"Something
happened the night the coven poured their power into me. It changed a lot of
things. I'm protected from magical influence. Rainbow has tested this, and
nothing harms me, not even you."
He took my
hand and placed it under his shirt against his chest. The skin-to-skin contact,
the thumping of his heart, the need building in me—all of this combine to
make me want to believe him. But too much was at stake.
"How do
you know? How can you be sure?"
"Test it.
Release your power into me, Rose. You can't hurt me, and I swear I'll never
hurt you."
'… like Derek did
.' I heard those last unspoken words,
felt them like a punch to the gut.
Could it
possibly be true? Could there be a man I sexually desired who couldn't be hurt
by me?
This would
change everything in my life. The course of my destiny stood at the precipice
of this moment. I'd never be able to justify loving anyone but him if he proved
to be the only man I could be with.
The thought
terrified me and excited me all at once.
The
possibility of making love, of feeling his hard body on me, in me, bringing me
to climax without fear. The promise of surrender, total and complete.
It stirred up
years of fear, doubt and longing in me.
Could I love
him? I knew I wanted him, but would I be happy with him forever?
"Rose.
Don't overthink this, just let go. Trust me."
He released my
hand and pulled his shirt off, facing me bare chested and glorious. Then he
reached for my sweater. I froze, unable to breathe or think or stop him or help
him as he lifted my sweater up, revealing my stomach, then my ribs, then my
black lace bra. As the clothing forced my arms up, then blinded me, my nipples
hardened into small pebbles.
With one hand
he finished removing my sweater while he traced the outline of my nipple
through the lace.
"Oh, God,
Rose, you are so beautiful."
Wrapping his
arms around me, he leaned in and lowered me to the makeshift bed, bracing his
body above me and kissing me deeply.
My hands, bare
and hot, pressed into his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, and he used
his teeth on my neck, then worked his way down to my nipples.
Biting and
tugging, pain and pleasure danced in my belly. Wetness pooled in my panties as
I pushed my hips against his hard cock, finding no satisfaction in the two
pairs of jeans that kept us apart.
"Let it
go, Rose. I'm strong enough."
Power filled
me, dark as night and hungry. It sought him, sought his soul, seeping out
through my skin and coiling around him like thick smoke.
As his hands
explored my body, rubbing against me, teasing between my legs without giving
any relief, another kind of explosion rocked my core.
Fear gripped
me, and I pulled my hands away, heart racing, blood boiling with fire.
I waited for
him to fall onto me, his eyes turned to empty glass, but he surprised me by
smiling. "You can't hurt me. I can give you everything you ever wanted and
some things you never even knew existed."
I understood
the hunger in his eyes, felt it in myself, but I needed space, needed time to
consider what this meant. As painful as it was, I pushed against his chest.
When our
bodies parted, it felt like one soul ripping in half. The intensity of it sent
alarms off in my head. I was in love with Derek, so why did I feel so drawn to
Blake?
"Please,
stop. I can't—"
He moved
himself off of me and sat up, still close, but no longer touching me.
Fighting the
urge to throw myself at him, I scooted back and pulled my sweater over my head.
Exhaustion threatened to take me under after such a drain of power. "How?
How is this possible? You should be dead from that."
"I don't
know, exactly. But Rose, I've always believed we were meant for each other. If
you'll just give us a chance, I think you'll see that, too."
I wanted to, I
really did. But could I?
Ocean would
say I had to try. "What if I can't love you like you want?"
"I'm
willing to risk it. We don't have to rush it. Just, let me take you out on a
date. No strings, no commitments, just a date. Get to know the real me. Forget
everything you think you know about Blake Parker and get to know the me I am
now."
My hand inched
toward his, and I pulled it back. "No strings?"
His lips
curled up, and I wanted to bite one. "No strings."
I bit my own
lip instead. "No pressure?"
"Not
unless you ask for some."
Oh, God. "Okay,
one date. But we can't do this tonight. I'm in a vulnerable place, and now
there's so much I have to think about. I need time. And space."
He nodded. "I
can leave. It's okay."
"No, I'm
not sending you out in that. I'll just spend the evening in my room."
"It's too
cold in there. Stay here tonight, and I'll sleep in Ocean's room. I promise I
won't bother you."
The thought of
him just a few feet away all night tortured me with what could be, but I agreed
and watched with warring emotion as he chose a few extra blankets and locked himself
in Ocean's room.
I stoked the
fire, and it blazed back to life.
The spot he'd
stroked between my legs still ached, wet with need and unfulfilled release.
I glanced at
Ocean's door, making sure it was closed securely, then slipped my hand into my
jeans.