Copper Beach: A Dark Legacy Novel (14 page)

“Yes, yes,
yes,
” she whispered.

He pulled back just long enough to tug off his T–shirt. With her fingertips, she traced the outline of an elegant bird with wings of fire that covered his left shoulder.

“It’s a phoenix, isn’t it?” she said.

“Yes.”

“You know, I would never have pegged you as the type to get a tattoo.”

“I was nineteen,” he said.

He cradled her jaw in one hand and used his thumb to tease open her mouth, tasting her, drawing her deeper into the embrace. The world spun around her. It took her a few heartbeats to realize that Sam had picked her up in his arms. He angled her carefully and carried her down the hall, through the dimly lit living room and into the darkened bedroom.

He tumbled her down onto the bed and sprawled heavily on top of her, anchoring her with his weight. His mouth moved over her as if he craved her.

She could feel the damp warmth gathering between her legs. He had done little more than kiss her, but her body was already preparing for him. The sheer urgency of her need should have made her hesitate, pull back. And somewhere a faint alarm was sounding, warning her that what she was doing held all manner of unknown risks.

But she was in no mood to pay attention to the weak protests that
emanated from the part of her mind that was still trying to think rationally.

Sam dragged his mouth across hers one last time and then wrenched himself free. He rolled off her and sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Give me a second here,” he said. His voice was low and husky, and his breathing was rough. He stripped off his pants and fumbled briefly in a pocket. “Damn. My hand is shaking so hard it will be a wonder if I can get this thing on.”

She exulted in the knowledge that she was the reason he was having problems with the logistics of the situation. A sense of her own feminine power arced through her. Tonight she was a goddess.

Sam managed to sheath himself in the condom. He came back down on top of her, crushing her into the bed. In the darkness, his eyes were ablaze with a desire that crossed the spectrum from normal to paranormal. On his right hand, his ring glowed with a muted coppery radiance.

Her own senses were spiking wildly now. She was unbelievably sensitive to the slightest touch. She flinched when he pushed her nightgown up to her waist and pulled it off over her head. And then his mouth was on her breast, and she would have screamed with the intense pleasure of it all if she had been able to catch her breath.

“You are on fire,” he said. The words were filled with wonder and awe.

“So are you.” She stroked the contoured muscles of his back. His skin was streaked with sweat. “You’re burning up.”

“Never felt better in my life.”

A sliver of uncertainty pricked the lush fog of sensation at last. She clutched his taut upper arms.

“I’m not sure this is normal,” she said.

“So what? Neither of us is exactly normal.”

He was right, she thought. She pushed the concern to the back of her mind and abandoned herself to the exhilarating resonance of the energy in the bedroom.

He cupped her hot core and stroked her. Fire and ice sleeted through her. She twisted beneath his touch, straining into the embrace, trying to pull him into her.

He kissed the curve of her shoulder. “I can’t wait any longer. I need you now.”

“Yes,” she said. “Now.”

He moved, making a place for himself between her thighs. She gasped when she felt him pushing slowly, heavily, into her. Once again she thought she heard a whisper of warning.
This isn’t normal.
Something more was happening here, something she did not fully comprehend. Whatever it was, the meaning was still encrypted.

But he was inside her now, filling her completely, and it seemed to her that their auras were resonating together in some unimaginable way. Then she could not think about anything else except the overpowering need that was building inside her.

Sam began to move. She raised her knees to let him sink deeper. Until tonight, she would not have believed that she was capable of experiencing such intense sensations.

In the next heartbeat, her release cascaded through her in waves of energy that defied easy descriptions of both pleasure and pain.
Not normal,
she thought again.
But incredible.

She cried out and sank her nails into Sam’s back. He went rigid, and then his climax broke free, surging through him in heavy waves. His fierce growl of triumph and satisfaction echoed in the shadows.

In that senses-shattering moment, she could have sworn that the flaring ultralight currents of their overheated auras had established a harmonic link, a breathtakingly intimate resonance.

She had just time enough to think,
Such a thing isn’t possible.

And then they were collapsing together into the damp sheets, and she could not think coherently at all.

SHE AWOKE TO THE INTOXICATING FRAGRANCE OF FRESHLY
brewed coffee.

Sam.

She opened her eyes to the early light of a Seattle summer morning and bolted upright on a tide of adrenaline.
Sam had spent the night in her bed.

She knew he had not gone back to the sofa, because she had a distinct recollection of him returning from the bathroom after the heated lovemaking. Mentally, she corrected herself:
the heated sex.
No love involved on either side. They barely knew each other.

It came down to a one-night stand. She never did one-night stands. Too risky.

Newton was nowhere to be seen. A shiver of alarm shot through her. He was always there to greet her first thing in the morning.

As if on cue, she heard Newton in the hall. He trotted into the bedroom, put his front paws up on the bed and licked her hand.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” she said.

She rubbed his ears. Newton gave her another perfunctory lick on the hand and bounced off, tail high. He disappeared back down the hall, as if he had more important things to do.

She forced herself to focus on the chain of events during the night. When Sam had returned to the bed, he had pulled her close and fallen into a profound sleep. She had expected to spend the short time left until dawn lying awake, worrying about the weird, unsettling sensations she had experienced and the possible ramifications of what had happened.

But the exhaustion that had come over her had been beyond any normal postcoital languor.
Probably because there had been as much paranormal as normal energy involved,
she thought. She had never before engaged in sex with all of her senses wide open. Until last night, she would not have believed such an encounter was even possible.

Her phone chimed, snapping her out of her reverie. She scooped it up off the nightstand and glanced at the screen. The familiar caller ID calmed her. Ralph, the day doorman.

“Good morning, Ralph,” she said. She glanced at the clock again. “Early-morning package delivery?”

“There is a gentleman here to see you.” Ralph spoke very quietly into the phone. “A Mr. Strickland.”

“Dawson? Are you sure?”

“Says he’s your brother, but you never mentioned a brother.”

“Dawson is my stepbrother,” she said. She spoke automatically while she tried to think. “What does he want?”

Sam came to stand in the doorway of the bedroom. Newton was at his heels. Sam had obviously showered and shaved. His dark hair was still damp. He wore a charcoal-gray pullover and a pair of black trousers. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and a little heat in his eyes. She was suddenly very conscious of her wild hair and the faded nightgown.

“Mr. Strickland says he wants to talk to you,” Ralph said, his voice still barely above a whisper. “But if you’d rather not see him, I’ll be happy to tell him that you’re not at home. After all, you were scheduled to be out of town this week, anyway.”

She smiled a little at Ralph’s protective tones. He knew she had spent the night with a man and that said male was still under her roof. The door staff knew everything that went on in the building. He was trying to shield her from any possible awkwardness that might result if her stepbrother walked in on the situation.
As if Dawson has ever shown any
interest in my social life,
she thought. So long as she kept a low profile and did not embarrass the clan, Dawson and the rest of the perfect blended family pretty much ignored her.

“I appreciate that, Ralph, but it’s okay,” she said. “Tell Dawson that I’m just heading into the shower. I need about thirty minutes to get dressed. If he wants to wait that long, you can send him up then.”

“Let me see if he’ll wait,” Ralph said.

There was some mumbled conversation on the other end of the connection. Ralph came back on the phone.

“Mr. Strickland says he’ll go down the block to Starbucks and get a latte,” Ralph said. “He’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Thanks, Ralph.” She ended the connection and tossed the phone down onto the nightstand. She looked at Sam. “Dawson will be coming up here in thirty minutes.”

Sam walked to the bed and set the coffee on the nightstand. “Who is Dawson? Or should I ask?”

“Technically speaking, he’s my stepbrother. He’s the son of my father’s current wife by her first marriage.”

“The man standing next to you in the back-cover photo of your father’s new book.”

“Right.”

“I get the feeling you’re not close.”

“No kidding,” she said. She grabbed her robe off the foot of the bed. “Which is, as Gwen has pointed out, a real shame, because Dawson is the heir to a fortune on his mother’s side. His Strickland ancestors made a ton of money in the lumber industry and later did some very shrewd investing in commercial real estate here in Seattle.”

“Dawson is connected to those Stricklands?”

“Yep, those Stricklands. His grandmother, Orinda Strickland, controls the family money now. Dawson and his mother, Diana, are the only heirs.” She pulled on the robe and picked up the mug. “Thanks for the caffeine.”

He gave her a slow, sexy, intimate smile that raised the hairs on the back of her neck in an exciting way.

“Any time,” he said.

She flushed and looked toward the dresser, searching for a distraction. The old herbal was gone. Suspicion slashed through her. She whirled around.

“Where’s the book?” she asked.

“In my duffel bag. Figured it would be safer there.”

“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘safer’?”

“By ‘safer,’ I meant a little more secure than it was lying on top of your dresser.” Sam’s voice hardened. So did his eyes. “I’m not planning to steal the damn thing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She reddened. “I didn’t mean to imply that you would do that.”

“Sure you did. It was the first thing that popped into your mind when you noticed that the book was missing.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “That was rude.” She sipped some coffee.

“Do you always wake up this suspicious after a date?”

Shocked, she choked on the coffee and sputtered for a few embarrassing seconds. Eventually, she managed to compose herself.

“That wasn’t a date,” she managed weakly. “Not exactly.” She fumbled to a halt.

“Let’s see, there was tea and conversation, a kiss in a garden, and there was sex. Really great sex, I might add. I admit that the late-night prowler in your living room, the burning herbal and taking the dog out for a walk at two in the morning were a little unusual, but aside from that, I’d say we met most of the requirements for a date.”

“Or a one-night stand,” she said.

“Or that,” he agreed, a little too readily.

She was feeling cornered, and she knew she sounded surly. She did not dare look in a mirror. Her face was probably scarlet. She drew herself up and squared her shoulders.

“Excuse me. I need to get into the shower and get dressed,” she said.

She fled toward the bathroom.

“Coward,” Sam said behind her. He sounded amused.

She closed the door very firmly.

SAM DID A QUICK SURVEY OF THE FREEZER, CUPBOARDS AND
refrigerator. The refrigerator was mostly empty, but he located half a loaf of bread and some eggs. He unearthed a package of frozen soy sausages in the freezer and scored a jar of peanut butter in a cupboard.

Newton sat alertly in the middle of the kitchen, watching each step of the breakfast preparation process with rapt attention. Sam tossed him half a slice of toast slathered with peanut butter. Newton snagged it neatly out of the air and wolfed it down.

Abby finally emerged from the bedroom. Sam punched the button on the microwave to nuke the pale gray sausages. He glanced at the clock.