Page 9 of Cottage in the Mist (Time After Time #3)

Sucking harder, he caressed the other breast, unable to get enough of her, secretly willing the night to last forever.

Her fingers twined in his hair, urging him onward, her body like a fine bow, primed and waiting.

Waiting for him . He smiled at his own rhetoric, wondering when he had become a bard.

Slowly he inched downward, his tongue tasting first the soft skin of her belly and then, lower still, trailing soft kisses along her inner thighs, his tongue stroking her skin, his desire demanding he take more, that he taste all of her, that he make her once and forever his.

Shifting slightly, he pushed her legs apart and bent to kiss her, lapping at her delicate softness, drinking in her sweetness. Her hands tightened in his hair, her body arching joyfully upward, meeting him, wanting him.

Using his tongue and his fingers, he drove her closer and closer to the edge, feeding on the soft sounds of her passion. And then her body tensed, arching up off the bed.

“Bram,” she cried.

Needing her now more than life itself, he slid upward again, covering her mouth with his as her hand closed around him. Fire raged through him and he thrust his tongue into her mouth, the moist, hot feel almost his undoing.

God’s blood, he wanted this woman. Wanted her with a fury unlike anything he had felt before.

Her hand slid up and down, stroking, squeezing, caressing, the pain sweet, his need burgeoning into white-hot desire. With a groan, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. With a crooked grin, she sat up, straddling him. And then slowly lifted and slid down again, taking him deep inside her.

He sucked in a breath, wondering if there could be anything better than the feel of her hot and wet against his taut skin, only to lose the thought as she began to move, her hands on his shoulders, her long, wild hair falling like a screen around them.

Grasping her hips, he helped her set the pace, slow and easy, each upward motion almost separating them. She licked her lips, her eyes glazing over with passion.

“Now, Bram.”

Her words bit into him, as much an aphrodisiac as her movements. He increased the pace, driving deeper, harder, with each stroke. She threw back her head, her body glistening from the exertion.

Lost in the moment, she rode him for all she was worth, her eyes closed, her face beautiful in her abandonment.

He stroked her breasts, his hands cupping and fondling as together they climbed higher and higher.

In, out, in, out, harder and faster, until there was nothing but the motion, the friction, and the incredible union of their bodies—their souls.

Finally, standing at the edge of the precipice, he dropped his hands back to her hips, timing their movements for one last powerful thrust. She cried his name as she tightened around him, and he felt the spasm of her release, the ecstasy driving him higher, taking him over the edge until there was nothing but heat, and light—and Lily.

Lily yawned and snuggled closer into the warmth of the bed, lost for a moment in the magical seconds between sleep and the conscious world, a place where everything was possible and nothing bad could ever happen.

But, as always, it slipped away as her mind became fully awake, reality slamming home with painful finality.

Her parents were dead.

Her life would never be the same again. And now, now she was truly alone.

But then another thought pushed its way front and center.

Bram.

She’d spent the night making love with Bram.

On the surface it was insane. But in the cold, pale light of morning, she felt no sense of regret. Last night had been magnificent. And no matter what happened next, she wasn’t sorry.

Sucking in a deep breath, she opened her eyes and rolled over, but Bram wasn’t there. The bed was empty. Her heart constricting, she sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. Everything else was as she remembered. The fireplace. The bed. The only thing missing was the man.

The gray dawn through the cottage windows proved that the storm had passed, although there was still no sign of the sun.

She could see coals glowing in the fireplace, and her clothes had been spread across a chair to dry.

So it hadn’t been a dream. The cottage was real. And that meant that Bram was real, too.

And he’d left her there.

Except that even as she had the thought, she rejected it. Bram wouldn’t just leave her on her own. No matter how he felt with the morning’s light, he wouldn’t just walk away. Would he?

With a shiver, Lily pulled the fur closer around her, running through the things they had said. The things they had done. Her cheeks burned as a blush stole across her face, and she shook her head, trying not to let her thoughts grow maudlin.

Last night had been amazing. Never in her life had she considered that lovemaking could be like that. So powerful, so explosive, yet at the same time so gentle, almost worshipful. With Bram she’d been fearless. Willing to trust him in a way she’d never dared trust anyone else.

But there had been no promises. No words of love.

She and Bram had both admitted feeling a strange connection.

As if they’d known each other for more than just a few hours.

But even as she had the thought, she realized how foolish it sounded.

How was it possible to establish that kind of intimate connection with someone in so short a time?

Her fingers closed around her ring, and she remembered her mother telling her once that she’d known Lily’s father was the man for her the first time she’d set eyes on him.

And that she’d never doubted that first impression.

She’d known, even then, that they would spend the rest of their lives together.

So maybe this was her moment. Her man.

Except that said man was currently missing.

The cynic inside her whispered that he was long gone. Taking what he wanted and then heading for the door. But her heart wasn’t as certain. Their lovemaking had been too powerful for it to have been all an act.

Something beyond the physical had passed between them. Something that bound them together in a way she had no words to explain. Which meant that he was coming back.

Feeling decidedly more positive, Lily threw off the covers and quickly crossed the room to pull on her clothes.

Her skirt and blouse were thankfully dry, although stained with mud and grass.

She doubted they’d ever come completely clean.

One of her shoes lay by the edge of the bed, but even after kneeling to look at the floor underneath, she couldn’t find the other one.

And impatience was beginning to gnaw at her stomach.

She needed to find Bram. To prove to herself that he felt the same as she did about last night. And the simplest course of action seemed to be to go outside and look for him.

To heck with the shoe.

And so, clutching the one she had found, she strode barefoot across the room and threw open the door. The mist still swirled across the clearing, but it had been relegated to the ground now, and was already beginning to dissipate. The air was crisp and fresh. Cleaned by the rain.

There was nothing left to show the fierceness of the storm but a few puddles and a broken branch or two on the neighboring trees.

She supposed she ought to go and check on the rental car.

But only after she’d found Bram. She hadn’t seen his car last night, but she presumed there must be one.

Maybe he’d gone to get help. Or maybe he’d gone for breakfast.

Or maybe he’d just gone , the little voice in her head insisted.

“Bram?” she called, her voice sounding hesitant. Why couldn’t she just sing it out? If she believed he was here, then why was she suddenly so afraid? Because Justin left you , the little voice goaded.

“But this is different,” she whispered fiercely. This was Bram.

Again she felt as if the words held more meaning than just the things that had happened between them last night. Even now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow they had always known each other.

“Bram?” she called again, this time with more conviction.

From somewhere within the trees that surrounded the cottage she heard a noise. An answer. With a smile she walked across the clearing, stepping into the shadow of the trees, just as the sun burst out from behind the clouds.

For a moment everything was quiet, and then the hairs on her neck stood on end. Turning slowly back toward the cottage, she found herself holding her breath without understanding why.

For a moment the clearing before her looked the same, and she started to turn away, to call for Bram again. But then her mind made sense of the reason she’d felt so uneasy, and she turned again to face the clearing.

The empty clearing.

Where only moments ago there had stood a stone cottage, there was nothing but vines and weeds accentuated by a tumble of stone where once, at least in her mind’s eye, there had been a chimney.