Page 25 of Secrets of the Highwayman (Immortal Warriors #2)

N athaniel shivered her touch as much as her words. Was she right? He felt as if he wasn’t quite as much in the dark as he had been, that the path was becoming a little less difficult to follow. He was on Pengorren’s trail and soon he hoped to catch up with him and deal with him. Perhaps he wasn’t doomed to wander forever the between-worlds with Teth after all.

“Nathaniel?” She was still stroking his cheek.

His gaze dropped to Melanie, and he tried to stop his breath from catching. She was dazzlingly beautiful. He felt his body go hard, instantly, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. She was like a siren in a fable, able to lure men and ensnare them with a single glance from her glittering blue eyes.

She knew he was in trouble, too—he could see the knowledge in her face. She just didn’t know why.

“What’s different about me?” she asked with a mixture of irritation and worry.

Carefully Nathaniel rested his hand on her shoulder, letting himself feel the warmth of her body through her sweater. The sensation was so intense he very nearly groaned. “Do you feel different?” he said, his voice gruffer than usual.

Melanie thought a moment. “Yes,” she admitted. “I feel lighter, somehow, but also stronger. As though I’m more together than I’ve ever been. As if all the pieces that make me have fused into one. It sounds ridiculous, but that’s how I feel . . . There’s more, but I don’t know if I should tell you about that.” She looked at him sideways.

Nathaniel’s hand was still on her shoulder and he brushed the skin of her neck with his fingertips, then slid them around to her nape, massaging the tight cords and muscles. She gave a soft sigh and tilted her head forward to give him better access. He moved closer, his body almost touching hers, and felt the iron control he had clamped on himself begin to fail him—like cracks appearing in a pane of glass just before it shatters.

“I thought we weren’t going to have any more secrets from each other?” He stepped in even closer, until he felt bathed in the heat of her body. His fingers trembled with the strain, but he kept stroking her, caressing her. She leaned back into him, her bottom nestling against his groin. She must have been able to feel how aroused he was, but she just pressed closer.

“I feel sexy,” she confessed. “I feel like I’m breathing sex. Like I’m suddenly one of those incredibly sensual women who just oozes it from her pores.”

She turned, and she slid her arms about his neck and clung there, gazing up at him with half-closed eyes, her pale skin flushed, her lips parted.

His mouth came down, but with an effort that was truly beyond human he stopped himself, held himself back, although every fiber of him was screaming with need.

Her breath was warm and sweet against his lips. “I’ve never been a woman who felt sexy about herself,” she confessed. “I’ve always been too much aware of what was happening around me, too much in my head to really let go and feel.” She nuzzled against him, licking the skin between jaw and throat, using her teeth to scrape the stubble. “But now . . . whenever I see you, whenever I touch you, I’m burning up.”

She was on fire for him, that was true. He could feel her blood throbbing in her veins, and she was so alive, so desirable. Nathaniel knew he’d now gone past the point where he could stop himself again.

“Melanie,” he groaned, and lowered his mouth to hers.

He felt her breasts through the thin sweater, swollen and peaked, and when he slid his palm underneath and cupped her full flesh, she arched against him.

She was breathing fast, reaching down to his breeches and forcing his buttons open with more brute strength than finesse. Before he could catch his own breath her fingers were on him, stroking him. When he tugged open her jeans, she didn’t even seem to care, other than to push them down her long legs as quickly as she possibly could and kick them aside.

He slid his fingers inside her. She felt hot and slippery, and he’d barely flicked at her swollen nub when she came, shuddering and gasping, her body like a bow, so that he struggled to hold her upright. He gritted his teeth, cursing beneath his breath, trying to maintain some sort of control. He reminded himself that he was a gentleman, the son of a gentleman, and he was better than this. Where was tenderness, where was finesse?

But in truth he felt like an animal. Like a beast wanting to mate.

Hot waves of lust were rolling over him, and he wanted to explode. There was a primitive voice in his head. Take her, it was saying, take her now, she’s yours.

Once again it was almost impossible to resist that primal urge, but he did. This wasn’t how it should be—they were being manipulated. He threw back his head and fought against whatever it was that had been unleashed between them, and after what seemed a very long time he could hear the soft sound of her breathing and feel her lips, tender against the arch of his throat.

“Nathaniel,” she whispered. “I need you now.”

With trembling arms he laid her down on the ground where the leaves were thickest, and began to caress her with his fingers and his mouth. She was on fire again, insatiable for him, so he made her wait even though it was agony for him. But he needed to feel he was in control, he needed to believe he could stop at any time and get up and walk away.

Being with Melanie meant something more to him than just sex, and he wanted to prove that point to whatever was playing games with them.

In the end the waiting made it better for them both. When he thrust himself into her at last and came in an embarrassingly short time, he felt as if his head had been blown off by a French cannon. And when he was able to breathe again, think again, he realized Melanie was clinging to him, her face pressed to his shoulder, weeping hot tears that had soaked through his shirt to his skin.

“You’re safe,” he said.

“Safe from what?” she asked huskily, and wiped her face with a shaking hand. “Safe from who?”

Not me at any rate, Nathaniel thought with wry humor. He wanted her again. He should have been exhausted, but he wasn’t. Nathaniel held her close to his side, feeling every contour, every inch of her, his own body stirring, readying itself for her again.

Eddie had seen the change in her, too, so Nathaniel knew it wasn’t just him who was drawn to her. The poor bugger had hardly been able to keep his eyes off her—and whatever he’d been feeling had frightened him. Nathaniel wasn’t frightened, but he was very aware of what was happening to him and very aware of his limitations when it came to resisting her.

This couldn’t be natural. There was something happening here that was beyond the mortal world.

Pengorren.

He sensed his enemy’s interference.

“This is your fault,” Melanie murmured sulkily. She was watching him through her lashes.

Deliberately, he bent his head to look into her face. Aware of the raging need, the wildness only just kept at bay. It was like riding Neptune in the storm, with disaster only a hairbreadth away. For Nathaniel the risk taker it was sheer heaven.

“How can it be my fault?” he asked reasonably, as if they weren’t lying half-naked in each other’s arms in the middle of the park.

“My life was perfect until you came along.”

“Your life was dull and boring, Melanie. I’ve brought excitement into it. You should be grateful to me.” He found he had her breast in his hand, fondling, kneading.

“No, you’re wrong,” she went on, but there was a husky tremble in her voice, and she lifted her thigh across his.

He reached down and stroked her skin, and the strong, long line of her leg. He knew just how close he was to pushing her onto her back and taking her, again, and it was important to resist. To show himself he was the one in control here.

“My life was just as I wanted it,” she protested. “I knew everything that was going to happen to me. There were no surprises, nothing out of the ordinary ever happened . . .”

“It doesn’t sound like much of a life,” he murmured, trailing his fingers over her hip and then over her soft belly toward the cluster of pale curls.

She held her breath, willing him to go farther, but he didn’t.

“Nathaniel, please,” her breath was ragged, squirming against him.

“Be patient, Melanie,” he mocked, but the sweat was standing out on his brow.

She turned on him then, digging her nails into his hand, her eyes flashing like silver. Looking into them he felt light-headed and weak-kneed, as he did sometimes with the queen of the between-worlds.

Nathaniel jerked his hand away from her nails, feeling the sting where she’d cut him, and rolled on top of her. She was pinned beneath him now, and he didn’t scruple to make use of his larger size and weight to hold her down.

“You can’t live like that, Melanie.” He was breathing fast, looking intently into her eyes. “That’s not living. You were protecting yourself from being hurt, but where was the happiness? If you’ve removed all risk, then everything seems dull and bland. You need some spice.”

“Oh, and you’re the spice?” She was glaring up at him. He had hold of her wrists, and he could see her fingers clenching, wanting to get at him. There was a violence in her that had never been there before. He’d felt it himself, the wild animal beneath the skin, panting to get out.

“This is Pengorren’s doing, isn’t it?” she asked in a voice that shook. “He’s making this happen. I’ve seen him having sex with a woman, brutal sex. Maybe that’s part of what he is. Maybe he sees sex as something more than a physical act, maybe he needs it to stay alive. And now he’s using us for whatever it is he gets out of it.”

Melanie was angry, and she was scared.

“If we stay in control, then he can’t use us,” Nathaniel said, and licked at the tear that was rolling down her cheek. “We can defeat him.”

“How? Look at us!” As she said it she deliberately arched her hips, and he felt his cock brush the apex of her thighs.

He groaned, pushing her back down into the soft leaves. His voice sounded as if he’d stopped breathing. “Instead of having ‘brutal sex’ we make love. Then we win. Pengorren doesn’t understand tenderness or caring or sacrificing yourself to make someone else happy. Melanie, he doesn’t understand love.”

Melanie’s eyes filled with tears, and she closed them. Immediately Nathaniel felt his own strength returning. He began to kiss her, lavishing himself upon her. With a sob, her mouth opened beneath his, and they lost themselves in the sheer wonder.

Nathaniel slid deeply into her, felt her tremble, and began to move. She picked up his rhythm, slow and steady. Her hands were under his shirt, following the planes and curves of his back, caressing him with a studied gentleness. The effort made her shake, but he sensed she was back in control again. They both were. They were together in this, giving each other as much pleasure as they were taking.

Her body lifted against his, and she cried out, a moment before he reached his own climax. They lay gasping, rocked by the sheer force of their experience.

Melanie opened her eyes and smiled at him, and he felt that ache in his chest. “That was wonderful,” she whispered. Her smile faded. “Do you think we’ll be all right now?”

“I don’t know . . .” he began, and then he groaned and covered her eyes with his hand. “Close your eyes, Melanie, please. I can control it, I’m trying, but just for now I need you to close your eyes . . .”

She didn’t try and push his hand away, but lay there obediently. “I felt like that when I first saw Pengorren,” she said in a small voice. “I discovered that if I closed my eyes, or didn’t look directly into his, then it was all right. Nathaniel,” she went on in a rush, “I’m so sorry this is happening—”

He chuckled. “Don’t be, Melanie. I promise you, I’m well up to the task.”

Her mouth curled at the edges beneath his improvised blindfold. “I didn’t mean that. I’m not sorry for that .”

Nathaniel bent and kissed her smiling lips. “Good, because I don’t think this is the end of it, Melanie. Not by a long way.”