Timeless Moon (32 page)

"Sure. Why not?"

He reached down, dunking the cloth in the water. He pulled it out, squeezing it over her shoulders, so that the warm water ran in rivulets between her shoulder blades and down her spine. Slow and easy he moved the cloth in his left hand over her skin, first down, and then up. His right hand trailed down his own body until it held his hardening cock. When the cloth was clear of the water he "accidentally" dropped it. It disappeared beneath the bubbles.

"Oops. Guess I'll have to look for it, hunh?" He let go of his swollen member and began "searching" for the cloth with his right hand, a search that had his fingers trailing gently along her shin, then between her thighs, as he bent forward to kiss her. It was everything a kiss can be, slow and deep, the muscles of his mouth working hers open, his tongue exploring, savoring the warmth and taste of her. She gasped when his fingers found her opening beneath the water. He stroked and teased her, the water making her body even more sensitive by washing away her natural lubrication.

Her hands traced down his chest, fingernails scraping against the raised smoothness of scars before moving slowly downward to stroke more delicate flesh.

Moaning, he pulled back from the kiss. His mouth moved to her throat. As he took the skin of her neck between his teeth, he bit down, hard enough to bruise
but with not quite enough force to draw blood. He kissed her again, shifting position so that he was kneeling on the floor. Gently, carefully, he slid his hands beneath her ass. She slid her arms around his neck, letting him lift her from the tub.

She expected him to take her on the floor or carry her to the bed. Instead he lifted her until her rear was barely perched on the edge of the countertop. She leaned back, putting her hands flat on the cold tile surface for balance as she bent both knees to wrap her legs around his hips. He stepped forward, hands guiding his erection into her opening as his mouth pressed burning kisses onto the flesh of her breasts.

Josette
whimpered, her body writhing at his touch. She opened her mouth to tell him she was ready, but he was already there. With exquisite control he slid the whole length of him over her sensitized clit, then pulled out. Again and again, his rhythm sped with every cry from her lips, every movement of her body against his.

Faster and harder, he drove himself into her, his balls slapping against her opening at the end of each thrust. She felt a great tension building inside her. She was close, so close. Her magic flared against his, and his shields crumbled so that she felt what he felt. She felt him slide in her, but at the same time, felt her body closing on her member, squeezing every ounce of pleasure from his body, which was her body, too. It was as though they were one person, one body,
caught in an almost unbearable loop of physical ecstasy.

The orgasm hit them both at the same moment, drawing cries that were not quite screams from their lips.

He pulled himself out of her reluctantly, physically, and psychically, until they were once again two separate people. Breathless and sated, but definitely separate.

The bathroom was a mess. They hadn't broken anything, but things had definitely been knocked around a bit. There was water everywhere, and even a bit of blood. She didn't know or care if it was hers or his. It had to have been a minor injury, and it would certainly heal, as would the sore and stiff muscles.

"Wow." The word came out a little breathy. She was still having a bit of a hard time pulling herself together. "Remind me to have you scrub my back more often."

Rick laughed. He stumbled over to take a seat on the toilet stool. She could tell he was still a little breathless himself. "Any time, any place. Just say the word."

The phone started ringing. The two of them looked at each other. Neither seemed particularly inclined to move.
Josette
wasn't even sure her legs would hold her yet. She was still having little mini-orgasms.

"Oh hell. That must be our wake-up call," Rick complained.

"You get it."

"Why me?" He grumbled, but staggered to his feet. He managed to stumble out of the bathroom and dive across the bed for the phone.

"What time did you put down that we wanted breakfast?" The bedsprings squeaked in protest as he rolled over.

"Six-thirty. I figured that would give us a half hour to get cleaned up." Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself until she stood on the bathroom floor. "Carly is supposed to get here about seven."

"We'd better get moving then." He said it, but she didn't hear him actually
doing
anything. She, on the other hand, was taking a minute to climb back into the tub. She needed to rewet her hair, because it was starting to dry badly. Besides, it would be rude to greet the Alpha Female of Albuquerque smelling of fresh sex.

She didn't linger over the bath this time. The water was cooling rapidly, the bubbles were nearly gone, and Rick needed time to take his shower. Grabbing one of the least-damp towels from the pile that had fallen to the floor she dried herself vigorously and walked out into the bedroom carrying the hairbrush she'd picked up at the convenience store the night before.

"Next." She gestured to the bathroom door on her way to stand in front of the mirror hanging above the dresser.

Groaning, Rick rolled off of the bed and padded
into the bathroom. A moment later she heard the shower running.

Carly arrived at the hotel room door at 6:45 juggling two suitcases, a garment bag, and her purse. Apparently, she believed in coming prepared. She looked lovely as always, impeccably dressed in a suit in a shade of coral that complemented her complexion. The skirt was short enough to show a long expanse of shapely leg. The high heels she was wearing made her legs look even longer.

Josette
stepped aside, allowing the other woman to enter. "Good morning. Breakfast arrived with a pot of coffee. Would you like some?"

"Coffee would be lovely," Carly admitted, looking at them dressed and ready with a little surprise. "I got in very late last night, I haven't even had the chance to go to bed. Is Rick in the bathroom?"

Josette
nodded her affirmative as she poured coffee into one of the hotel mugs for her guest.

"Yes. He'll be out in a second."

Carly hefted each bag onto the bed in turn. "The blue one is for you, the black one is Rick's." She accepted the mug, taking a long, slow drink before continuing. "Nothing's open yet this morning, so I had to make do with clothes from my son's closet."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."
Josette
answered.

Carly gave her a meaningful look over the rim of her coffee mug. "You haven't seen the way my son dresses. Colt is fifteen, and he has a very
…
distinctive
style."
She reached over to unzip the bag. "Take a look."

Josette
reached into the bag. The three T-shirts were pretty much what she would've expected a modern teenage boy to wear. They were black and emblazoned with colorfully violent images and the logos of bands she'd never heard of. There was one long-sleeved black thermal shirt with olive green topstitching and an olive green skull and crossbones that didn't seem too bad. It even went well with the pants she had laid out on the bed: black jeans with huge wide legs, attached metal chains, and more buckles than a belt factory.

"You see what I mean."

Josette
was spared having to comment as Rick chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom.

He looked at the pants for a long, silent moment. Looking inside the bag, he found a pair of black satin boxers. It took real effort not to laugh when he pulled them out and discovered the crotch was emblazoned with a bright yellow smiley face.

"Look on the bright side. At least they won't bind like the ones yesterday did." She managed to keep a straight face as she said it, but she couldn't conceal the amusement in her scent. It overrode everything else in the room, the coffee, his irritation, Carly's embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry!" Carly began apologizing again.

"It's no problem." Rick picked the clothes up from
the bed and headed back into the bathroom to dress. "I'm fine."

He emerged, fully dressed, a few minutes later.
Josette
expected him to look silly, but he didn't. Young, it definitely took years off of his appearance, but the shirt clung in a way that emphasized just how broad
h
is shoulders were, how muscular
h
is chest. The pants hung loose, allowing him freedom of movement, showing just a hint of the satin boxers at the waist.

The look in his eyes dared
Josette
to say anything untoward, but she wasn't even tempted. "All you need is a pair of sunglasses and we'll be getting mobbed for autographs."

"Josie." There was a growl of warning in his voice.

"Am I wrong?" She turned to Carly, who was staring wide-eyed. Her scent was changing, getting more than a hint of musk.
Josette
didn't blame her a bit. Rick might feel like a fool, but he looked
hot.
"You've got rock star written all over you."

She cleared her throat. "My son does
not
look like that in those clothes."

"Be grateful,"
Josette
suggested. "Otherwise you'd already be a grandmother."

"You're so right." She agreed.

Rick relaxed fractionally, mollified more by the scents in the air than their words. "What did you bring for
Josette?"

Carly gestured toward the second bag on the bed.
"We're close to the same size, so I brought some things I had in the closet that I haven't had the chance to wear yet."

Josette
unzipped the garment bag. Inside were a pair of designer suits. The first was tomato red, the second, daffodil yellow. Both had been cut in such a way that
Josette
knew they would hug every curve of her body, making the most of her compact figure. The jackets were meant to be worn either with or without a blouse. With would be more professional. Without, more sexy. Catching a glimpse of Rick's expression she knew which look he would prefer.

"There are hose, underwear, and shoes that match in the other bag."

"Red or yellow?" She asked Rick his opinion.

He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh, red. Definitely the red."

"Red it is." It was her turn to gather up the clothes and go dress. Yes, she could've changed in front of Carly and Rick. But she didn't want to. She wanted to step out that door like he had, making an impression. It was silly and vain, but true nonetheless. It was also worth every bit of trouble when she saw the look on Rick's face, smelled his scent on the air.

Carly looked from one to the other, her expression indulgent. "You two! Put your eyes back in their sockets and settle down your scents. We've got to get you to the airport. You've got a plane to catch." She took one final gulp of her coffee before setting it onto
the table. Reaching down, she began zipping up the luggage.

Rick reached across the bed and under the pillow. He withdrew Raphael's gun and holster from its hiding place and held it out to Carly. "I can't take this to the airport. Be sure to tell Raphael thanks for letting me use it. It's a sweet weapon and it came in damned useful."

"I'll let him know." Carly reached down to where she'd let her purse drop on the floor. Opening it up she put the gun inside. She managed to close it, but it wasn't easy, and the bag bulged oddly.

"Is my identification in there?" Rick asked.

"Oh, my mistake." She opened the bag again, withdrew a large brown envelope and placed it in his waiting hand.

Slitting it open with a fingernail, he tilted the contents out onto the table next to Carly's empty cup. There was a well-worn passport, a battered brown leather wallet, and two typewritten pages. All bore the name Richard Atwood and listed a date of birth of May 21, 1983, and a New Orleans address. Flipping through the wallet Rick found everything from a library card to family photos. It was an absolutely brilliant bit of work, particularly considering the short timeline. Rick slid the passport and wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. The pages he folded in fourths and stuck in his front pocket. He'd study them on the way to the airport then destroy them.

"Everybody ready?" Carly glanced at the delicate gold watch adorning her wrist. "We really do need to get moving."

"We're ready when you are." Rick threw the envelope in the trash and picked up his duffel from the night before and the suitcase Carly had given him.
"Josette,
do you want me to get your luggage, too?"

"No, I've got it." She stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt in an automatic gesture. She put her left arm through the straps of her purse, draped the garment bag over the top, and picked up the suitcase with her right hand. "Let's go."

It was a quiet drive to the airport. Rick was memorizing his identity in the backseat.
Josette
was trying hard not to think about the day ahead. She hated flying. She truly believed that if God had wanted her in the air, he would've had her born into a raptor family. He hadn't, so she didn't believe she had any business flying anywhere. Whenever there was any chance at all of traveling by any other means, she would. But this was an emergency. She had to fly if she was going to save her friends and family. That didn't mean she had to be happy about it. She sat in the front seat of Carly's Camry doing the breathing exercises she'd learned in her yoga classes, telling herself that she was not going to be sitting in a glorified tin can floating God knew how many miles above the ground.

When Carly pulled to a stop at the curb in the passenger loading zone,
Josette
leaned across the seat to give the other woman a hug. "Thank you so much."