Trolls in the Hamptons (26 page)

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Authors: Celia Jerome

BOOK: Trolls in the Hamptons
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Did people die of too much lovemaking? If so, okay. I'd lived a full life, after this. When he got up to use the bathroom, I rolled onto my stomach, arms and legs spread across the mattress. Every cell in my body had declared surrender and refused to fight another second to stay alive, or awake. I could smother in the pillow for all I cared, without the energy to lift my head. My brain wasn't talking to me anymore, my blood had surely boiled over, and my bones had turned to mush. Maybe I was dead already. I hoped someone threw a sheet over me before calling 911.
Grant came back with a towel for me. “Go away,” I think I mumbled.
His deep laugh sounded next to my ear. “Never, sweetheart.” Then he started to pet my rear end and the back of my thighs, molding the planes, firming the skin in his hands. “The most perfect butt in the universe.”
My ass was too big; the muscles not toned enough no matter how much I jogged. I huffed.
“True. I don't lie, remember. You are exquisite, from the tips of your toes”—somehow he had one of my toes in his mouth; I never felt him shift—“to the top of your gorgeous curls.” His hand fingered through my hair, combing it smooth.
“Flattery won't get you anywhere, buddy,” I said into the pillow. “I am brain-dead at the least. Kiss me good-bye when you leave in the morning.”
He laughed again. “The morning is hours away. You don't really want to waste them in sleep, do you?”
His hand was following the curve of my spine, up my neck, down my tailbone, then reaching lower, between my spread legs.
“Go away,” I repeated, trying to put some conviction into my voice.
“I'll let you be on top.”
“I'd fall off and land on the floor.”
“I'd hold you tight.”
“Not good enough.”
Now he bent over me, nipping love bites on my tush, then my thighs. I moaned.
“How about if you stayed just like this and I did all the work?” His fingers were reaching beneath me.
“That's necrophilia. Are you into kinky?”
“I am into you.”
With my last ounce of life, I drew my legs together and pulled the pillow over my head. “If you have so much energy, go take the dogs out. They can use the exercise.”
“You are a hard woman to please, Willow Tate.”
“No, I was too easy to please. You obviously didn't expend enough effort on it if you have this much in reserve.”
God, I loved his laughter. Even in my comatose state, my heart warmed at the sound.
“Are you complaining?” he asked. “I thought I'd done a fine job. Those groans and whimpers sounded authentic, but maybe you were pretending. I could try harder next time.”
“Don't beg, Agent Grant. It's beneath your image.”
“Damn, all I want is you beneath me again. I'd beg on my knees if I thought it would work. Watching you come has to be the most satisfying, most stimulating sexual experience of my life. You think I could just roll over and go to sleep?”
“Alvin always did.”
“I thought his name was Arlen.”
“Him, too.”
“I know what you need, and that's food. I do, too. I can't remember when I ate last. I think I grabbed a croissant at the airport while I waited for the rental car.”
I had a sandwich for lunch, but I had no idea how long ago that was. Two days, at least. I needed sleep more. “I stopped at the grocery store. There's a box of macaroni and cheese next to the stove.”
“That's what you were going to have for dinner? No wonder you have no stamina. As soon as I get back we'll start you on a proper regimen. Healthy food and good aerobic exercise like sex.”
I rolled over to look up at him. “You are coming back, aren't you? I mean, what if someone identifies your bad guy and you go arrest him?”
“I'm hoping it's that easy, but I doubt it will be. But, sweetheart, I'd come back if there was no missing boy, no misplaced troll. I waited my whole life for you, it feels like. Do you think I'd just walk away?”
Everyone knew a man said anything before, during, or after sex. Or when he hoped for more of it. I let his almost-promise pass. I tried to memorize it, though, for tomorrow. “He saved my life, you know.”
He was bent over, fishing his jeans out from under the bed. He bumped his head on the mattress frame and winced. I'd forgotten completely about his injured skull. I know I had my hands wrapped around his head at one point. “Does your head hurt?”
“Who saved your life?”
I don't know how Grant managed to look and sound like a man in black when he was naked, but he did.
“And when?”
“Fafhrd did, this afternoon, in the storm.”
“You saw the troll again? And didn't tell me?”
“You didn't exactly give me a chance to say anything, did you?”
Grant zipped his jeans—no boxers or jockeys beneath them. I made a mental note to check under the bed later, before the cleaning crew came in tomorrow, just in case. Then I watched as he smoothed out his blue chambray shirt and put it on. He left it unbuttoned, which gave me a great view of his flat abdomen and the dark line of chest hair that arrowed toward the low waist of his pants. Maybe I had a smidge of stamina left after all.
Grant was all business. “What did he do? Did he communicate with you?”
So I told him how Fafhrd held up a falling tree so my car could get by safely. And how he nodded to me before dropping it afterward. “He had to have been waiting there, looking out for me. I wasn't thinking about him at all, only about getting back here in one piece. I never drew him with an oak tree in his hands, so I didn't call him up. He came on his own, to protect me.”
“I don't like it.”
I repeated, slowly: “He saved my life.”
“He's not human. Who knows what he's thinking, what he wants from you. Bloody hell, he could be a deranged stalker for all we know.”
“I know he would never hurt me. Don't ask how I know, but I do. He's young and playful, and sweet.”
“Sweet? He's got to be stronger than an elephant and stupider than a stone if half the stories are true. And mean.”
“Fafhrd is not mean. Maybe some trolls are, or maybe they just got a bad rap. He held up a tree for me, for crying out loud. How could that be mean?” I didn't mention the electric wires Fafhrd ignored. That might have been stupid, but how was a troll to know?
“He's never stopped to introduce himself, to explain what he's doing here, why he picked you, has he? You cannot trust him. And do not go getting attached to him like you're getting attached to your mother's dogs. You cannot keep a troll, Willy, no matter if no one else can see him.”
“I don't want to ‘keep' him like a lost puppy. I want to help him get home. The old ET bit. I owe him that help.” I pushed hair out of my eyes to get a better look at Grant, who was scowling and stomping his feet into his shoes. His socks had to be somewhere else, too. The cleaning ladies would have a field day.
“And I don't see what has you so pissed off about it, other than you're jealous I can see him and you can't.”
“It's not that.”
“Then what?”
“I'm jealous, all right, damn it. Jealous that some vanishing myth got to save you. That's my job.”
“That's dumb.”
“So is being jealous of an invisible troll that you like better than me.”
So then I had to show him that I didn't really like Fafhrd better. Grant's blue jeans landed on the ceiling fan this time.
CHAPTER 25
I
THINK I FINALLY EXHAUSTED HIM. He was all spread-eagled and limp on the bed beneath me, with a big grin on his handsome face. Yippee-ki-ay.
He was right about pleasure begetting pleasure, too, because bringing him to the peak, then sending him over, was just about the best aphrodisiac I'd ever known. And the most reinvigorating. I kissed him on the lips, just to see what he would do, but my stomach growled. I was starving. We both needed sustenance if this evening was any indication of the long night ahead.
Before I could get up, though, he reached for the necklace that was dangling almost in front of his eyes. He studied the intricate design on the front, and the diamond pendant, then asked where I got it.
“It was my mother's wedding ring, from my father. The diamond was from her engagement ring.”
“It's a lot older than that.”
“That's what Mom said, too. An antique or something.”
“The design is ancient, not just antique.” Grant was trying to read the inscription on the other side, pulling the chain, and me, toward the bedside lamp. “Do you have a magnifying lens?”
“That won't help,” I told him. “My mother had it to a jeweler who couldn't decipher the words, either. We think it's been handed down from bride to bride for so many generations that the engraving has worn off. I'm surprised the gold didn't get so thin that the ring broke.”
“If I'm right, there's more than gold holding it together. We need to show it to Colin. He can see things no one else can.”
“Like elves and fairies?”
“No, like words that have been erased, or parchments so faded no one else can read them.”
“Can he translate them?”
“No, but he can copy them out, and I or another agent can see if we can interpret the writing.”
“There are more of you?”
He smiled, showing a dimple. “None as good. Remember that.”
“What about your father? The library had one of his books.”
“I learned from him, but he had to quit his studies early because of other responsibilities. I kept on, and keep up with every new advance. New technologies my father never had make it easier.”
He did not question how I knew about the book, as if he accepted that I'd gone snooping. I wish I had. I never did get a chance to check the Internet for Grant's background and, now, the idea of putting Grant's name in a Google search felt somehow disloyal. We were lovers, not adversaries.
I knew that was just naive. Everyone checked out everyone else, usually before they became intimate, not after. Then again, I doubted the Department of Unexplained Events let their agents' real bios show up for public viewing. DUE was so secretive, so private, I'd bet they blocked access to most of their records. I'd look tomorrow. I knew enough for tonight. And macaroni and cheese was sounding better.
“There's ice cream, too.”
“Ah, another food group.” He set the necklace back against my breastbone, then let his fingers rove lower. One of his eyebrows raised in silent query.
I shook my head. My stomach was growling, I needed to pee, and I wanted to check the dogs. I rolled off him and headed to the bathroom, without bothering with the terry robe, on purpose. Teasing felt good, now that I had no reason to feel self-conscious. The man had looked at, touched, and licked every inch of my body already. He seemed to like it, very well, so what was the point of modesty?
He wasn't looking. With his hands behind his head, he was staring at the ceiling. “You know, you could make a drawing of the front design, then enlarge it. Maybe your rocky pal could recognize it and start to communicate back. We need to know what he's doing, and why.”
I'd already thought of that, but without the words, I couldn't see where it would make much difference. “I've been trying not to think of him, not draw him. I haven't worked on my book at all. I figured he'd stay away if my mind didn't somehow reach for him, but that's not working. Fafhrd's way more independent from my thoughts than I feared at first. That's good, isn't it? I mean, now I can go back to work, without worrying I'm conjuring up a monster.”
He thought about that. “I think it means he's more comfortable here, used to coming and going so he can do it by himself. Or maybe Nicky is calling him too, getting closer. I'd still like you to try establishing a way to communicate. So you do what feels right to you. Trust your instincts, but be careful.”
“I know, no elves or fairies.”
“And no fauns.”
I came back and sat on the bed next to him, playing with the dark curls on his chest. “What have you got against baby deer?”
“No, f-a-u-n-s. Hairy interbreeds, you know, cloven hooves, horns on their heads, and horny as hell.
“And you're not?” I looked, but he had the sheets and blankets in his lap.
“Not right now, thanks to you. Later? Only for you. I don't want anyone else sniffing around you.”
“So you're not worried about Fafhrd in my story?”
“I don't like your being involved at all because of the danger, but my contacts say that things are coming closer to a climax. Not this week, but after that. I'll be back in time.”

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