Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

He rose to his full height again and said, “Sit.”

On the boxes? No way. With jaw set, I shook my head.

He placed the cup on an end table, took me by the shoulders, and turned me to face the black hole.

“This is just a space,” he said, easing closer behind me. He wrapped his arms around my stomach. “It means nothing.” He bent and kissed my collarbone. My neck. My ear. “It’s your space. Not his.”

Earl Walker. He was talking about Earl Walker.

He pushed a box aside, sending it crashing to the ground. My stomach flexed in response, so he tightened his arms and held me until my nerves calmed. Until the crack in my shell began to mend.

“Point taken,” I said, making the time-out signal with my hands. “Play time is over.”

Ignoring me, he reached out and pushed another.

I bucked against him, but his hold was unbreakable. He kept me pinned to the spot and pushed another box off the mountaintop. It tumbled to the ground. Then another. And another. All the while keeping me locked against him.

The heat emanating off him soaked into my clothes and hair, the scent earthy and rich. His corded arms and strong hands held me so tight, fear didn’t really have a chance to take over. When he pushed another box and three plummeted to the ground, not a single drop of adrenaline escaped into my nervous system.

He reached a bare foot around me, kicked one out of his way; then we stepped closer and he kept pushing and shifting boxes with one hand while holding me to him with the other until only one object remained in Area 51. The chair.

This time, adrenaline did flood my nervous system, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it even though it was like any other chair. It belonged to the small table I’d tucked into a corner in my kitchen. Cheaply made with rickety legs and a rounded back.

Reyes wrapped me tighter with both arms and took another step closer. I put my foot on the seat and pushed to keep my distance.

“It’s just a chair,” he said, his voice careful, soothing. “It’s your chair. Not his.”

“And I’m just a girl,” I said, trying to explain to him that while I might have some supernatural standing out in the universe, here on Earth, I was just as human as anyone else.

He wrapped a hand around my throat and whispered in my ear. “Yeah, but you’re mine. Not his.”

He bent over my shoulder and slanted his mouth across my lips.

When I reached between us to caress the bulging outline in his jeans, his breath caught in his chest. He tensed to a marblelike hardness, then broke off the kiss and stared down into my eyes. His glittered with an emotion unsettlingly close to anger. “Are you in love with him?”

“Who?” I asked, basking in the sting of ecstasy pooling between my legs.

“The one from the asylum.”

“Donovan?” I asked, breathless.

“If you are, you have to send me away.” He buried his fingers in my hair and held my head back against his shoulder, his determination impenetrable. “You’ll have to do it. I’m strong enough to leave now.” He groaned when I brushed my hand over the outline of his erection again. Grabbing hold of my wrist, he stared down at me, a warning in his eyes. “I’ll not lie with you if you love another.”

His dialect took on that old-world quality it sometimes did despite his years on Earth, reminding me he was from another place, another time.

I reached up and pulled him down until his mouth was on mine again. If I loved anyone in the universe, it was this man, this god who’d risked his life for me countless times. Who’d asked for nothing in return. Ever.

He gripped my hair and tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss, his tongue teasing and exploring as he sent a hand up my shirt. In one lightning-quick move, my bra hung unfastened and he cupped Danger in his palm. A shiver of pleasure raced over my skin with his touch. With his other hand, he unbuttoned my pants and pushed them over my hips. My abdomen tingled with excitement as he broke off the kiss again to peel my clothes off completely with an impatient fervor. Cool air washed over my skin, but he stepped close again, enveloping me within his warmth. Then he edged me closer to the chair.

With one knee, he nudged my legs apart and sat me down facing the back. I gripped the wooden slats, no longer worried about what the chair represented but electrified by the prospect of what could happen in it now.

He leaned over my shoulder and questioned me with his expressive eyes.

We’d never been here, in this place. Not flesh to flesh, physical form to physical form.

“It’s been a very, very long time,” he said, his deep voice less certain than usual.

I reached up and traced my fingertips along the outline of his mouth, full and sensual. He kissed my fingers then parted his lips and grazed his teeth along the sensitive tips. The heat of his tongue scorched my skin as his own fingers slid up my thigh, causing my nerve endings to quake with the rush of elation his touch evoked until he reached the apex between my legs and pushed inside me.

I gasped. Liquid heat flooded my abdomen. He slid his other hand down my back and gently pushed me forward, coaxing his fingers farther inside me. I tensed as a ravenous desire rippled through me. Gripping the chair harder, I spread my legs even more.

With a growl, he covered my mouth with his own. The rhythmic rocking of his fingers that matched the thrusts of his tongue was almost my undoing. A biting arousal stirred and churned, pulsating like a cauldron of lava in my abdomen. Sweet tendrils of ecstasy spread throughout my body, stinging with a hungry need.