Page 24 of Dream Weaver (Spellbound in Sedona #3)

COOPER

As crappy as the start of my Saturday had been, the day ended very…er, pleasurably.

But that was only after hours of conferring with Ingo on what had transpired at Devil’s Bridge. He was in the process of calling in more ADMSA agents to Sedona and insisted we leave the rest of the investigating to him.

Fine with me. I was a firefighter and part-time blacksmith’s assistant. I also had a night off, and so did my boss — Abby.

Of course, Abby was Abby, and she’d insisted on squeezing in a few more hours of work that Saturday afternoon. We’d repeated our candlelight dinner, but not the sex on the workbench part. The minute we got back to my place, however—

We stripped and, Zing! I pulled the shower curtain shut behind us. It was a tight squeeze, with both of us crowded in together, but I didn’t mind.

Not in the least, my bear hummed as I rubbed soap over her curves.

So, not the most efficient shower, but a damn memorable one. My back had never been cleaner. My dirty mind, on the other hand, was already fast-forwarding to what might come next.

Eventually, the water ran cold, and we moved to the bed.

“I call the top,” Abby murmured, pushing my back into the mattress.

“So bossy.” I shook my head in mock dismay, while my hands snuck around her waist.

“I know, I know. Nothing but suffering for you today. And I’m about to be even bossier. Condom, please.”

I wiggled my hands. “Can’t you see I’m trapped here?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Oh, poor you. So helpless. You want help?”

Boy, did I, even if her definition of help was more like torture. Deliciously slow, teasing torture. But somehow, I endured.

“Now, if you don’t mind…” she murmured, straddling me.

I had a good comeback. I really did. But it vaporized the moment Abby sank down, taking me deep.

So, no. I didn’t mind. Not in the least.

As far as conversation went, things deteriorated from there. But we reached new highs in every other sense.

“Oh… Yes…” Abby rocked over me once we’d fallen into a rhythm.

Her eyes slid shut, and her hair swayed.

I might have uttered a few exclamations myself. A few feral sounds too. Not that Abby seemed to mind.

She likes me! my bear cheered again and again.

She did. But did she love me?

The question kept flitting through my mind, but I pushed it away every time. Love might be on one side of a Venn diagram and sex on the other, but figuring out where they overlapped was not something you accomplished in bed.

“Oh…” Abby groaned, tipping her head back.

Her hair was still wet from the shower, and a drop landed on my chest. I half expected it to sizzle from the heat we generated.

“More…” Abby murmured, close to coming.

My hands were tight on her hips, but if I really stretched…

My thumb found the nub at her core, and she cried out. Again and again, until she rocked into an orgasm. I drove up to meet her with one last, hard push, barely holding back the roar that thundered through my mind.

Mine! My mate! my grizzly declared.

My human side was ready to echo that. How could she be anything but?

My eyes slid open a little before Abby’s, and what a sight. Her chin was up, her face a mask of concentration. Her hair was a mess, with a few strands caught on the corner of her lip.

Gorgeous, in other words. Just gorgeous.

Mine. My mate… I nearly whispered out loud.

What would she say if I did? Would she bolt, or would she echo the words?

I strained for her answer, though I knew she couldn’t have heard.

Or maybe she had, because when she opened her eyes, they were aglow, like a shifter’s, and pulsing. Mine. My mate.

I prayed it wasn’t wishful thinking. Did witches even know about mates? Was half-dragon heritage enough for her to understand the depth of that kind of bond?

I swallowed hard, hoping.

“You are so beautiful,” I whispered in awe.

She hunched, then slowly relaxed, lying down over me. “Wow. Sex so good, you’re delirious. I’m a mess.”

“A beautiful mess,” I insisted.

Incredible, my bear agreed. Will you be mine? Please?

She grazed a kiss over my lips, then settled down with a happy sigh.

I held her close, only to grumble and roll away to dispose of the condom. Then I snuggled up again.

Someday, I vowed, we would be doing this skin-to-skin.

Someday, I would convince her she was the beauty I knew her to be.

Someday, I would work up the courage to love her out loud, and she would echo my words back to me. I love you, my mate.

But for now…

I kissed her, closed my eyes, and let myself dream.

* * *

We had a candlelight dinner on the porch at sunset. Pasta.

We made love afterward. In bed, missionary-style, though we made enough noise to make a missionary blush.

That was followed by another shower, with just a dribble of warm water running over my back while Abby dropped to her knees and brought me to heaven.

And what we got up to next… Well, that would have made a missionary frantically flip through his Bible.

But, hey. We were making up for very long dry spells — both of us. Plus, I was a bear shifter, and I’d found my destined mate. It was my job to love her, and love her well. Or, as Abby put it…

“Harder… Faster…”

Only Abby could order a man around while belly-down in bed. In fact, when I’d paused to check that she was on board with where things were headed…

“Have I ever made it anything but abundantly clear when I don’t want something?” she’d chided.

I chuckled. Definitely not.

“So let’s operate on that principle, shall we?” she’d continued. “Because I will die if you don’t screw me right now.”

So, really, I was just doing as I was told. And doing it to her (very) deep satisfaction, judging by the happy sounds she made.

Cowgirl was great, and missionary always worked. But nothing beat the sheer power of this position. And since Abby liked it too — no surprise, since blacksmiths were all about hard banging…

I closed my eyes and gave it everything I had. Abby had lit a bunch of candles, and although they had burned low by then, they all started flaring again. I just hoped she didn’t inadvertently burn the place down.

Then again, I was a firefighter.

The first time I’d noticed the candles, I’d been thrown for a loop. She was a witch, right?

Now, I decided I preferred woman with unique abilities . A woman who made me feel complete.

After all, I was a bear shifter, but I was a regular guy too. And hopefully, I made her feel complete.

In any case, the special effects were a sign of her approval — and kind of a turn-on. What guy wouldn’t love knowing he was responsible for creating a few fireworks?

Every time I thrust, she squeaked, and the candles pulsed. Every time I pulled back, the candles hesitated, in the same way that Abby held her breath. Then when I slammed in again, the fireworks exploded. Over and over until—

Abby let out a sharp cry, and fire blazed through my veins. Real fire, it felt like. I gritted my teeth, extending the sensation as long as I could. Then I went limp over Abby, and the candles dimmed to tiny, glowing dots.

Abby recovered before I did, patting my thigh softly while I panted over her shoulder. Eventually, I got myself together long enough to clean up, then spoon together. I held Abby close, nuzzling her shoulder. Marking her as mine, even though I wasn’t aware of it at first.

“Okay, I have a new favorite,” Abby murmured.

My mind was still a little hazy. “Favorite what?”

“New favorite position, dummy. What’s that called anyway?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You plan on discussing this with someone else?”

She snorted. “Yes. My sisters, their fathers, and all the secret lovers I’ve been keeping you in the dark about.”

I chuckled and fessed up to my limited sex vocabulary. “Lazy dog? Jockey, maybe?”

She stuck a finger at my chest. “Aha. Someone has been discussing it.”

My cheeks heated. “Just overhearing. You know, locker-room talk — a co-ed locker room,” I added quickly. “Female firefighters can be worse than guys sometimes.”

“We are not!”

I grinned. Spoken like a true firefighter — you could leave the job, but the job didn’t leave you.

“You absolutely are,” I insisted.

“Are not, and I’ll prove it.”

I waited.

“What starts with the letter F and ends with uck ?” Her eyes danced.

I laughed, sliding a hand over her hip. “Not obvious?”

“It’s fire truck .”

I rolled my eyes.

“See? You have a dirty mind,” she concluded.

“If I do, it’s because you’re rubbing off on me.” Which might have been my own fault, what with all that nuzzling.

Abby nuzzled back — enough for me to work up the courage for a question.

“So, these tattoos…” I murmured, touching her arm.

She looked down, then sighed. “I was going through a stage, I guess.” She touched her own skin, then whispered. “I like them, though.”

I grinned. “I like them too.”

She went still, then kissed my arm in about the same place. Sometime after that, I drifted into deep, blissful sleep. So deep, I didn’t wake until seven in the morning, and even then, I snoozed for a while.

It was eight before I gave the day any thought at all. Sunday. A day off. One I ought to make the most of, because as soon as the first real fire of the season came around, the rest would follow hot on its heels.

Ha. Hot on its heels. I chuckled at my own pun.

“Hmm?” Abby turned slightly.

She was still spooned against me, gently stroking my arm.

I grinned. “Laughing at a bad joke. So bad, you don’t want to hear it.” Then I stretched. “More importantly, I was thinking about the best way to use my day off.”

If my hand grazed her breast, it was an accident, not a hint. I swear.

Abby grinned. “Let’s see. Sunday… A whole day to do whatever we want.”

We. I liked that part best.

I nodded. “Even if it isn’t much. No work, no rushing around.” I glanced at the clock. “What time do you have to pick up Claire?”

Even if it was early, that would be all right. Claire was a great kid, and it would be nice to do something with her and Abby outside the metal shop. If Abby was ready for that, of course.

But Abby went stock-still.

I nudged her gently. “What?”

“Claire…” Looking aghast, Abby jumped out of bed — worse, out of my arms — and started rushing around the cabin.

Whoa. Was she late to pick up Claire? It was only eight a.m.

I sat up. “What’s wrong?”

Abby fumbled with her bra, then pulled on her shirt — and cursed, because it was inside out. She yanked it off and tried again, muttering the whole time.

“I have to go. Shit. I have to go.”

“Right now? What time do you have to pick her up?”

“Lana is bringing her to Sedona after lunch.”

“So why—”

She whirled and glared like a woman possessed. “Because I forgot about her.” She pointed at the bed, like that was Exhibit A. “I didn’t think of her once, all night. I only thought about myself.”

I patted the air, trying to calm her down. “Abby, it’s okay to—”

“It’s not okay!” Her blazing eyes practically pinned me to the headboard. “It is not okay to forget your own child!”

I got it, but wasn’t she kind of overreacting?

“Every parent deserves a little time to themselves,” I said. “One night off while your kid is at a sleepover doesn’t make you a bad mother.”

“But I forgot her. Totally. How could I forget my own daughter? Oh God…”

“You didn’t forget her. You knew she was okay, so you let yourself relax for a while.”

“Sure. Relax.” She kicked her legs into her jeans, then rummaged around for her socks and boots. “So much, I let my brain turn off.” She stopped long enough to bury with her face in her hands. “God, how could I be so irresponsible?”

That was when it dawned on me that this wasn’t about her and Claire.

“Abby, you’re not irresponsible. And you are not your father.”

“You bet your ass, I’m not!” She jumped to her feet. “But instead of putting my daughter first, I’ve been messing around with a guy…”

My gut dropped, and I growled. “This wasn’t messing around. This was more than that, and you know it.”

My heart hammered. Surely I wasn’t the only one who felt that way?

But Abby was not to be reasoned with. She went back to fumbling with her boots, muttering the whole time. “Do I? How can I be sure?”

Now, that hurt. Still, I did my best to keep my cool.

“Because I’m not Jay.”

That stopped her cold, and she shot me a long, mournful look. “I know you’re not. But I’m me, and I make mistakes.”

“This wasn’t a mistake.”

“What if it was?”

“I swear, it isn’t.” My heart and soul went into those words, and hope caught in my throat.

Abby looked at me a moment longer. Then a bird whistled outside, and she gave herself a shake. “I have to go.”

I wanted to scream. Go — now?

Her eyes were huge. Sad. Regretful.

“You don’t have to,” I insisted, willing her back into my arms.

She could stay. We could talk. She would get herself together and see this didn’t have to be a big deal.

But I was just a bear shifter, not a magician.

Abby turned and headed out the door, whispering, “I have to.”

Do something! my bear yelled.

“Please, Abby. Don’t g—”

The door slammed.

My legs burned to run after her. To stop her before it was too late.

But Abby was a mustang with one scar too many. Forcing her would only make things worse.

Outside, her car roared to life, then died. She cursed, then started it a second time. Seconds later, gravel scattered.

Paralyzed with shock, I listened to her speed down the drive and out of earshot. Even then, I strained for some hint of her swinging into a U-turn and rushing back.

Seconds ticked by. A minute. Two. Every tick of the clock chipped another piece off my heart.

I listened for a long, long time, but the only sound outside was the mournful wail of the wind.