Charmed (Second Sight) Page 3

  I couldn’t have misread her that badly.

  Or maybe he’d missed her call.

  He took out his phone. He’d just turned it on when he heard a key in the front door. He set the phone on the counter, aware of the gun holstered under his jacket, though the key had to be Isabelle.

  “Mac?” she said, as she opened the door and stepped through.

  Even if it hadn’t been for the look on her face, he’d known from her voice that something was wrong.

  “I’m here,” he said, stepping into the living room.

  Her eyes immediately landed on him and she took a tentative step toward him, then remembered the door and her purse. She let the purse drop to the floor and closed and locked the door.

  “Isabelle?” he said moving toward her. “What’s wrong?”

  But her only response was to turn from the door, quickly close the distance between them and thud into his chest. He immediately closed his arms around her as she buried her face and hugged him tightly.

  “Isabelle,” he whispered into her hair. “What is it?”

  She shook her head but didn’t say anything.

  He sensed, without really knowing, that this didn’t have anything to do with what happened this morning. But as he waited for her to say something, a familiar fragrance drifted into his consciousness.

  He knew it from somewhere.

  Wait. He knew exactly where. The anger that had boiled under the surface all day quickly rose.

  He took Isabelle by the shoulders and held her at a distance.

  “You were at the commune?” he said. She refused to look up at him. “Isabelle?” he said sharply.

  “Yes!” she said, quickly raising her head to glare at him through tear-filled eyes. “Yes, I was at the commune.”

  He glared back, his fingers gripping her tight.

  “After what I told you? After what I said?”

  She shook loose from his grip, hugged herself around the middle and backed up.

  “Yes!” she said, jutting out her chin. “Maurice is some kind of scientist, not a doctor. He and Geoffrey are arguing.”

  “Arguing,” Mac nearly yelled, seizing on the word. “For god’s sake, Isabelle. They use guns there, remember?”

  “They don’t suspect us,” she shot back. “I was perfectly safe.”

  “Is that what you call it?” he yelled, unable to stop himself now. Isabelle flinched. “Do you want to have the shock wand again? What is it going to take to convince you?” He paused. “Hold on,” he said, staring hard into her eyes. “You did a reading?” He felt heat pouring into his chest and his heart pounding in his ears. “Did you?”

  Isabelle didn’t answer but that told him everything he needed to know.

  “Who did you read? What did you read? Did anybody see you?”

  “No!” she finally yelled. Then she looked at the closed door. “Well, not really.”

  “What?” he yelled, stepping toward her. “Someone saw you?”

  “I couldn’t help it,” she quickly yelled. “They had no idea. They–”

  “They who?” he demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders again. But the odor he’d smelled on her had finally registered. He knew who. “Geoffrey,” he seethed. “You were with Geoffrey.”

  “He had no clue,” she said. “And I wasn’t with him. You make it sound–”

  “I can smell him on you,” he said. “What happened?” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  Mac fought hard for control but the smell made it hard. He pictured Geoffrey’s toothy smile. The way he’d leered at Isabelle. All the children that he’d fathered. Mac’s vision turned red.

  “What did he do?” he yelled as he shook Isabelle. “What did he do?”

  “He kissed me!” she screamed, pushing him back and he let go. “When I couldn’t see! He kissed me. All right?” Tears streamed down her face and her voice shook. “I ran from the room!” She hugged herself but focused on him. “I drove seventy miles an hour to get here,” she sobbed. “All I could think of was you! I just wanted to–” She shook her head quickly. As she sniffed, she wiped her eyes. “Never mind,” she said, turning away. “I don’t know what I–”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.

  “Don’t–” he started.

  And though he’d meant to say ‘don’t turn away,’ the words caught in his throat when she winced. Her eyes were red and puffy, probably from crying all the way home. Her lower lip trembled. Though she was trying to choke off a sob, she wasn’t succeeding. And as the tears in her eyes overflowed, the frustration and fury he’d let fester during the day suddenly dimmed.

  He hadn’t meant to make her cry. And as her words finally began to sink in, he realized she’d run to him.

  “Don’t…cry,” he finally said, but she was past that.

  Though she nodded, a broken sob escaped her lips.

  God damn Geoffrey.

  His leering face rose up between them and Mac saw his fist planted in the man’s oily grin. Rage roiled in Mac’s chest, churned in his stomach, and burned at the back of his throat. But when he felt Isabelle’s shoulders shake, something wild snapped inside, something completely feral. As her glittering eyes searched his, the rest of the world fell away. The amber flecks came into sharp focus. Her nostrils flared. Her jugular jumped to life as he watched.

  Suddenly, animal need rampaged through him as anger blurred with desire. Blood rushed in his ears. His muscles strained against themselves. His fingers tensed, pressing into her soft flesh, and he could no longer tell who was shaking. As tears slipped down her face and moistened her quivering lips, he claimed them.

  •••••

  As Mac’s mouth fell on hers, he kissed her so hard their teeth clicked. Fiery heat unlike anything she’d ever known consumed her lips. It poured from him. Shaken, she’d have backed up if his massive arms hadn’t instantly wound around her. But no sooner had he tugged her to him than he forced her back and their mouths separated with a quiet smack. His hands flew to her face as he pressed his forehead to hers and she gasped for air.

  “You,” Mac breathed, his chest heaving, “make me crazy.”

  His mouth captured hers again before she could reply. Not that she would have. Her mind reeled as the hungry urgency in him translated into a vicious twist of his lips on hers. His arms around her again, he kissed her deeply, forcing her head back, squeezing her tight. She couldn’t breathe, could barely respond, when suddenly he pulled back again.

  One arm around her waist and a hand at the nape of her neck, he leaned into her, both of them breathing hard.

  “Don’t,” he whispered hoarsely, “do that again.”

  She only had a moment to gasp as his mouth covered hers again, his head tilting one way and then the other. His tongue lashed hers and then pinned it down and then thrashed against it. He was wild, on fire, and she couldn’t keep up, could barely manage to cling to him as he leaned her further back. He pulled her tighter to him, the hard muscles of his chest pressing into her, his lungs sucking the air from hers. Only his hand behind her head kept it from tilting back. Only his arm kept her from falling. His mouth separated from hers with a loud smacking sound and his fingers dug into her hair.

  “Promise,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Promise you won’t do that again.”

  His blue-green eyes drilled into hers as their chests heaved together. His skin was flushed, his eyes fevered, and, to Isabelle’s shock, his face was pained.

  Oh my god. I hurt him?

  New tears sprang into her eyes.

  Of all the things in the world…

  “I pro–”

  Mac’s mouth cut off any more words.

  •••••

  Isabelle’s muffled voice trailed off in his mouth as he gave into the madness that swept through him. He devoured her, capturing her swollen lips, salty with tears.

  He inhaled deeply but then he stopped.

  He smelled Geoffrey.


  As he quickly drew back, his upper lip curled in a snarl of disgust.

  Isabelle’s eyes fluttered open as he jerked her into a standing position. Without a word, he tugged her toward the bathroom. He flipped on the light, opened the shower door, and quickly spun the central dial. Water gushed down over the arm of his suit.

  Whether Isabelle understood or not, he didn’t know, but she didn’t protest. And he wasn’t about to stop. Quickly, he stripped her, his movements ungentle as she swayed with the tugging of the fabric. Though his arousal swelled at the sight of her, he didn’t pause. Not even her naked body could stop him. He drew her past him, into the steamy shower, and watched her adjust the dial as he yanked off his tie and peeled off the rest of his clothes. He kicked her dress into a pile in the corner and threw his clothes to the floor in front of him. By the time he got into the shower and closed the door, she was rinsing shampoo from her hair.

  Water poured down the front of her, gleaming streams that streaked her smooth, olive skin and ran in rivulets from the tips of her breasts. Though he never took his eyes from her, he automatically reached for the soap. He lathered it up between his hands and started at her shoulders.

  Isabelle gasped and jerked at his touch. But he caught her around the waist as she stepped out of the water and opened her eyes, sputtering a little.

  “Mac,” she gasped.

  But he ignored her, rubbing the soap up her neck, across her shoulder, and down her arm. She swayed with his movements but steadied herself with a fist on the tile to her left. He worked the soap across her collar bones and then down her breasts. She inhaled sharply through her nose and though Mac knew how incredibly sensitive she was, he couldn’t stop. He had to finish this. He needed that smell gone. With swirling circles, he smoothed soap completely over the front of her torso, his large hand dwarfing her narrow waist and the flat abdomen between her hips.

  Though her skin slipped by between his fingers and her soft flesh gave easily under his hand, he started to use the soap bar on her body as well, needing to be done.

  “Turn around,” he whispered hoarsely.

  She spun slowly under his touch, his hands gliding effortlessly on her body. He washed the back of her neck, watched the suds run down her spine, spread more lather over her back and then finally her hips and butt. The tension in his own shoulders began to relax and his hurried scrubbing slowed down. He put the soap back in the dish.

  Though she began to turn to him, he used his chest to nudge her forward into the water and wrapped his arms around her.

  Mac inhaled.

  The steamy air was filled with the fragrance of her shampoo and the crisp smell of the soap. There was no trace of Geoffrey or the commune or anything else from the day, only a fine spray of cleansing mist.

  As he exhaled, tension released somewhere inside him, at his shoulders, and along his back. And finally, as his arms unfolded, he allowed himself to touch Isabelle–really touch her. His hands found her breasts first.

  But Isabelle’s body was rigid, arms at her sides. He paused. Only now, as the insane, red blur of anger faded, did he grasp what he had done.

  Good god, what was I thinking?

  But that was the problem, he hadn’t been thinking–as though his brain had entirely switched off. Gently, he cradled her backward into his chest, ducked his head down next to hers, and slowly rocked her.

  “Isabelle,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  It was as though she woke up.

  “You’re sorry?” she said, turning her face to him. She was crying again. “I’m sorry. If only I’d…”

  “Ssh,” he said, lowering his face to hers. “It’s all right.” He kissed her lips lightly. “Please don’t cry.” As the tears continued to come, he moved his mouth behind her ear. “Ssh,” he whispered and kissed the damp skin there, moving lower. He kissed her neck. “Don’t cry,” he murmured against her throat and then nibbled the skin near her collar bone. As she tilted her head, he felt her take in a long, shuddering breath. Her head leaned back against his shoulder and, as the water coursed down over the front of her body and over his hand, he cupped her. Her arms relaxed at her sides and her back slowly began to arch.

  The soft, slippery, and warm flesh gave easily under his grasp. He massaged her, using both hands, gently squeezing the tender mounds. Her hips pressed backward onto his already stiff arousal. It throbbed and he had to keep his hips from pumping forward.

  He dropped one hand to her mound and pulled her back against him while the other plumped her breast and his fingers closed around her nipple.

  Isabelle gasped, barely audible above the sound of the pouring water, but the arching of her back was clear.

  As he lightly plucked the silky, smooth nipple, his other fingers slipped to the cleft between her legs. He felt her stance widen, followed quickly by a shiver that shook her entire body. His heart quickened and now his hips did pulse forward. Hers moved backward, stroking him, as the peak of her breast tightened under his fingers.

  She moaned as his shaft throbbed against her smooth, slick flesh. His other fingers found the tiny pearl of flesh at her entrance and fondled it. Isabelle moaned again and her hands slowly reached up behind her and went to the back of his neck.

  “Oh god,” she whimpered, as her grip tightened.

  It was a reading.

  •••••

  The white tile and streaming water disappeared as Isabelle’s vision went gray. Though she’d only meant to hold on to Mac, the heat of the moment had made her forget she wasn’t wearing gloves.

  Insane jealousy coursed through her. Mac was barely containing it, his mind filled with a jumble of images that wasn’t like him. Unlike the smooth readings of their past, his emotions exploded inside her. She jerked her head back into his chest as he pictured putting his fist into Geoffrey’s toothy grin, saw her naked and lying on the bed, watched blood run from Geoffrey’s mouth, thrust his throbbing arousal into her, felt Geoffrey’s nose crunch, plunged upward to her center, claimed her body, possessed her completely, came inside her.

  “Yes,” she whimpered as warmth flooded between her legs.

  Just then, his fingers pressed into her sweet spot.

  Her hips bucked forward and she nearly slipped but he caught her. As her hands came loose from his neck, he spun her around, her back in the water and she felt him reach around and turn the shower off. The stream turned into a drip and, though she waited to hear the shower door open, it didn’t. Instead, Mac’s mouth landed on her nipple.

  Isabelle gasped and nearly grabbed Mac’s shoulders but his hands were quickly on her wrists. She couldn’t see him through the gray but his mouth worked feverishly. Over and over, his lips devoured the sensitive peak, sucking and pinching, kneading into her.

  “Oh god,” she gasped.

  Mac moved her wrists into the small of her back and pulled her to him. She felt her tummy press against the hard muscles that had to be his chest. She could visualize him, see the mounded bunching of his pecs, the corrugated leanness of his abs, and the corded waist that led to his narrow hips. With barely an ounce of fat, his skin was taut over the steely contours. She felt him flex against her, powerful, lithe, and hard.

  Her hips pulsed forward at the contact and Mac’s mouth moved to the other breast.

  Her abdomen quivered as he sucked the already aching nub into his mouth. It swelled under the frantic lashing of his tongue. Tingling and burning erupted at the engorged tip and her hips bucked upward as Mac’s lips tugged on her. She moaned at the tension, the pull of his mouth. The haze began to fade and the back of the shower began to emerge. But just as she was about to look down, Mac’s mouth released her.

  As he stood, her hands automatically went to his shoulders. He picked her up around the waist as she wrapped her legs around his and her eyesight disappeared again. His thoughts were moving at double speed, slamming into her consciousness, just as his arousal found her entrance. Like a jolt of electricity, Isabelle’s entire b
ody jerked. She felt his aching need, the swelling of his member to the point of pain. He nudged inside and the ecstasy of the contact burst into her mind like a blow. Her head snapped back. It was too much. She had to let go. With his arms tight around her, she did just that–and sank down.

  She grasped her own hands, her arms resting on his shoulders as his penetration plunged upward. A deep ‘unh’ flew from her lips as the powerful fullness suddenly filled her. Mac’s hips immediately began pumping, pivoting up under her in sharp, staccato bursts. He thrust deep, as he had in her reading, his breath coming in short grunts.

  Her hips tried to respond but she could hardly move as his thrusting lifted her and their bodies collided with soft thuds. Her sweet spot vibrated with each connection and his hips pivoted harder underneath her. Between her thighs, she felt the sinewy muscles at his waist flexing and writhing just as her legs began to quake.

  Suddenly, she heard the shower door open and felt herself sway sideways.

  •••••

  They were both dripping wet but Mac didn’t care. Isabelle had stopped touching him and he knew the back-to-back readings had to have taken their toll. His wild need for her had taken its toll as well but it had yet to be slaked. He stepped over his clothes, into the hallway, and quickly padded into the bedroom. Isabelle’s harsh breaths streamed over his shoulder and down his back. As he lay down with her on the bed, propped on his elbows, her head rolled back into the comforter and her amber eyes stared vacantly past him.

  His arousal, still stiff inside her, throbbed. She was completely vulnerable, her parted lips an invitation, her entire body waiting for him. But as she slowly blinked, an image of Geoffrey kissing her came unbidden to Mac’s mind. He clenched his jaw.

  “Mac?” she whispered between gasping breaths.

  “Isabelle,” he hissed and plunged upward into her.