The Path to James (7 page)

I'm not wearing anything erotic, just my aqua-colored cotton jersey bra. Nothing special, I was only planning on hiking. But James looks at me as if I were adorned in the finest and most expensive of lingerie. I've never felt more desirable, more wanted, more attractive.

He tosses my shirt aside and regards me with apparent approval. I loop my arms around James' neck and sweep him on top of me. I press my lips to his, and his mouth opens to let my tongue explore.

His penis presses hot against me. I want him inside me. His hand ventures under my bra and my nipple hardens under his fingertips. I try to retreat with my kisses, to trail down his throat, to escape from this intensity, but his lips become more fervent. His stubble rubs raw against my face. His tongue surges into mine and I'm his captive.

My breathing becomes ragged, my heart rages inside my ribcage. One of his hands trails to my shorts, and he disappears from on top of me. I blink, my mouth bereft of his. He has gotten up to undo the remainder of my clothes, he unzips my shorts and tugs them, along with my panties, down my legs, fast. I gasp as I'm exposed to him. All of me open to someone I have just barely met. I shiver and fight the urge to cover myself.

Show no weakness.

I risk a peek at his face and realize he is staring at me, captivated.
He wants me
, I have to reassure myself. And since I've gotten this far, there is no going back now…

I pull my bra off, and when I fall back against the mattress I can see the longing play across James' face. The look warms me, it emboldens me, it arouses me further.

I sit up after him, I want this, I'm taking it. I grab a hold of him, to steer him back onto the bed, shoving him down onto the mattress. My assertiveness takes us both by surprise. He gazes up at me from the down comforter, grinning, and I straddle him.

He's naked—I'm naked—nothing is stopping us.

“Condom?” I whisper, suddenly horrified
. Shit, what if he doesn't have one? Would I still do this?

By my summons, James leans with me still atop him, one hip rolling deliciously up into me, reaching into his nightstand. His hand comes back up with a foil packet and I breathe “Thank God.”

His eyes glint deviously,
he does want this as badly as I do.
He tears the packet open with his perfect teeth and pulls out the contents.

He goes to slide the condom on, but I disrupt him with a heated kiss. I press against him as I take the rubber from his hands, my lips distracting him. I want to do this, I want to put it on his magnificent cock, any excuse to touch him.

I retreat, sitting back up to get to his penis. When my hand closes around him, his eyes flutter closed. His mouth opens slightly and I slide the condom onto his shaft. I can't wait for him to be inside me.

I raise off the bed, positioning him at my opening. I'm so wet, so ready. His hands find my hips to guide me. His palms are warm, reassuring, firm. I expect him to pull me down, to drag me to his level, but he comes to me. His hips raise and he slides into me.

“AH!” I gasp. He fills me. His smooth head followed by his taut shaft. Inch by glorious inch.

His thumb finds my clit, circling her as he glides into me. I can't hold myself together any longer. My breathing accelerates. My palm lands on his chest to hold myself upright. I'm losing myself.

James grabs me and flips us so that I'm underneath him. He moves so gracefully, never losing contact, his erection staying buried inside me. I'm unraveling. He pumps into me harder, faster.

I'm moaning “please.”

I don't know what I'm begging for, but James responds to my pleas by quickening his pace. I feel myself constrict against him. Everything inside me contracts, my insides stutter, and I cry out as I explode around him. My orgasm keeps coming, it grips and releases, grips and releases. James bends to kiss me, rewarding me further.

He sucks on my bottom lip before continuing along my jaw, nibbling along my ear he groans, “Are you a dream?”

His words wrap around me, pulling me under. They are too close to what I had been thinking. He is too close to everything I have ever wanted.

“I am a dream,” I grip his shoulders, holding him to me. I want him so badly, “ethereal and fleeting, have me while you can.”

He groans again, pushing deeper into me. I can't stretch to accommodate him fast enough. I'm filled. It's intense but it's pure ecstasy.

“Will you come for me again?”

My eyes roll back. There is no need for him to ask, but I answer, “Yes!” It's breathy and insistent, and he rams into me harder. I feel like I'll tear in two, he'll pound me into oblivion, into a beautiful nothing.

“I'm almost there,” he warns. His thumb finds my clit once more, and he makes certain I come while he does.

I arch my body back, my head sinking into the plush bedding, giving myself to him. Giving him everything I have. His whole body stiffens, he moans as he finds his release. He twitches inside me. The sound of his pleasure moves me to another orgasm, and I gasp as my sex milks his throbbing cock, still pumping into me.

James collapses then. Sated and sweaty. He folds over me, his arms caging me as his lips close over my mouth.

“You sorceress, what have you done to me?”

Chapter 11

This witch, this mythical creature beside me, I can't fathom what she has done. I hold her to me, I don't want her to escape. I want to keep her forever. I lift off of her just to remove this god awful condom. I toss it in the bedside garbage then roll onto my side. I wrap my arm across Alex's waist and pull her to my body. She is warm and soft. All of her is smooth.

“Can I get you anything?” I kiss her neck, just under her earlobe. “Water, wine, seconds?”

“Mmm,” she grumbles sleepily. I pull her tighter to me.

Hiking across the entire country by herself. Her goddamn ex attempting to kill her. Anger rises up in me.
What the hell is wrong with the world?
The thought of Alex being afraid, of running away in fear. My blood boils.

I've never been so protective of anything in my life, not to mention a woman that I have no right to be possessive over. I burrow my face into her hair. She smells like coconut and oatmeal, my mouth waters.

I continue to hold her, for who knows how long, after she has fallen asleep. I don't want to follow after her, to slip unconscious only to wake up with her missing. My bed empty, my heart stolen. So I stay, guarding her until she resurfaces from her dreams.

I'm about to close my eyes, let myself relax when the doorbell sounds. I jump. Alex stirs
. Please, don't wake up.
I stare at her intently,
Please.
She stills and I sigh in relief. I can't shake the feeling that the moment she wakes, she will disappear.

I scoot my arm out from under all of my dreams, careful not to disturb her. I slip on my jeans, skipping boxers, and head for the door without a shirt. I halt just before leaving the room, looking back at Alex, before reluctantly leaving, heading toward my unwanted visitor.

As I make my way down the second floor walkway, I'm reminded of myself chasing after Alex down the hall, naked and erect. I grin, rubbing a hand through my stubble. I never thought that would lead me to where I had just been taken.

I hop down the stairs, springing onto the main floor. I pass the kitchen where the smell of stir-fry lingers from lunch. I turn to go through the living room, toward the main entrance of the house. I'm so caught up in the events of today, so blissfully happy trapped in the memories of one afternoon, that I forget to check the peephole before swinging the door open. I blanch the moment I see who is standing outside.

“Jamie,” my ex-wife exhales at the sight of me.

I'd taken my time getting to the door, I shouldn't have bothered answering it at all.

My ex appears prim and proper in her white slacks and salmon blouse. Gold chains, and black Prada purse. Nude heels and perfect bottle-blonde hair. She has the best tan money can buy, perfect skin, perfect makeup. Nothing on her is out of place, everything she does is deliberate.

I grimace. “Catherine,” I haven't seen or heard from her in weeks. It is as though she has a sixth sense that tells her when I'm enjoying myself, so she can come and make me miserable. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn't answer any of my calls,” Catherine slips past me and into my home.

I take a deep breath as she strides through the living room and down to the kitchen. “Give me strength,” I murmur to the ceiling.

Catherine tosses her purse on the kitchen island and stands staring at Alex's pack on the ground. The backpack is the size of a small child, I guess it was too much to ask that she would miss it.

“What is that?”

“It's a pack, for hiking.” I rub my palm over my stubbled chin. At this moment, I'm just praying Alex doesn't wake up to wander in on this disaster currently unfolding.

“Don't be coy with me,” Catherine crosses her arms under her breasts. “What is it doing in the middle of our gourmet kitchen?”

I roll my eyes. Priggish, as usual. “Catherine, why are you here?” I ask again.

“Whose phone is this?” Catherine walks around the island to reach Alex's phone plugged into the wall. She turns it on and glares back at me while the screen loads. “Who is in our home?”

I open my mouth to respond when the picture on the home screen pops up. It's an image of Alex captured in mid-air, jumping to high-five some girl I don't recognize. I grin uncontrollably at the sight of it. She looks so happy and carefree.

Catherine catches my expression and rounds on me.

***

I open my eyes groggily. My arm ruffles the duvet as it slides up to my head, leaving a feather down angel.

“Ugh,” I groan.

I'm still so tired. I stretch out on the luxuriously comfy bed. I could sleep here forever in soft, warm, pillowed perfection…and then I realize where I am. I bolt upright.

“Shit!” I hiss at myself.

Where is James? I can't believe I let myself fall asleep.

“Jamie, who the hell is in our house!?” I hear a woman's voice echo from downstairs.

I jump, I guess he lied about not being married. I growl at myself,
“I'm such an idiot!”

I slip from the bed, looking for my shorts when I hear James' response. “This isn't OUR house, anymore.” And I fall back onto his bed. “Catherine, we're divorced, you can't show up here whenever you'd like.”

Oh, thank God.
He wasn't lying, I hadn't just slept with a married man.

“How dare you,” Catherine retorts, “we were married for three years.”

Oh, this woman is getting on my nerves. Downstairs she sounds haughty and indignant. “Three years, James.”

“And how much of that time were you faithful?”

That's it! I get up again, finding my courage. This lady has the nerve to hound James about us when she'd had an affair during their marriage. Yeah, I don't think so.

I look at my shorts reproachfully before coming up with a better solution. Finding James' t-shirt—his shirt and nothing more—I pull it over my head and leave his bedroom. I wander down the walkway, toward the stairs.

“You were gone!” Catherine spits at James.

“That's enough justification?” James' words sound strained, his voice is hushed while his ex-wife's is increasingly louder. Is he angry or anxious? Would he be worried about me overhearing this?

“Regardless,” he continues. “infidelity is enough.”

The whole situation would be kind of funny if I wasn't trapped in the middle of it. Now that I've snuck down the stairs I can see Catherine in her perfect outfit, her perfect hair, her manicured nails and gorgeous skin. She is tall and leggy in expensive heels. My hair is all tussled, I'm not wearing any makeup and I'm naked for all but James' t-shirt.

Great.

“That doesn't mean you pick up slutty hitchhikers, drive them back to your home, and fuck them in our bed!” Catherine's voice is raised, she had intended for me to hear that remark, from wherever she thought I was.

And that's it, I've had it.

“Actually he didn't drive me here, he found me trespassing on his property.” I stroll into view then. James' black t-shirt comes down to mid-thigh, and the material rubs my breasts, hardening my nipples against the fabric. I'm not wearing any underwear.

James' eyes heat, he regards me with a quirk to his lips and I think for a moment he might jump me right here in the middle of his “gourmet kitchen,” ravishing me in front of his ex-wife.

“So, you're the one sleeping with my husband.” Catherine's face is red, her hands are gripping the granite countertop.

“Ex husband.” I have no patience for Catherine, she is pissing on scorched earth that she set ablaze, herself. I have no sympathies. I lean against the kitchen counter, ignoring how that action pulls the hem of James' shirt a couple inches higher up on my thigh. “Do you have any coffee?” I smile, past Catherine, at James.