Page 29 of Pike

“It’s fine.” She ran her hands down his arms. “I don’t mind the weight. I was just thinking about the first time I met you.”

“On the street? Smoking with my friends? You caught me in a bad moment.”

“Okay, the second time, when I finally got a good look at you. It was at that party on Thirtieth three years ago. You remember? And every glimpse of you I caught, I wanted to swallow you whole. Enigmatic and dark. Dangerous. You weren’t like any other man I’d ever seen. Then you turned to me, watching me with those black eyes until I was so confused and turned on I had to leave the room.”

“Oh?” He arched a brow.

“You didn’t even know who I was. Beyond the crazy girl who ran up to you on the street going on and on about being psychic. But you were staring at me from across the room. And not like I was out of my mind. Like I was somebody worth knowing.”

“Because you were. You are. I remember, you know,” he said, tapping her on the nose. “You were wearing some horrible little button-up shirt with those short pants. What do you call those calf-length slacks? Britches?”

Lavinia shuddered. “Worse. Gauchos.”

“Ah yes, the gauchos. Hideous things. I saw the shape of you beneath them, thin, streamlined, perfect. I noticed your amazing head of hair, full and black and thick enough I wanted to tangle my hands in it. I tried not to think about what might be underneath the buttons on your shirt.”

Her smile was slow to come. When it did, it refused to leave. “Are you serious? I thought you were staring because I’d spilled mustard down my front.”

“Well, the mustard was more like a homing beacon. It drew my eyes in the right direction. But you, my dear, you are the one who captured them and held them. I couldn’t stop watching you. Then you had the terrible run-in with—”

“The harpies. Ugh, don’t remind me. But I didn’t know you were really looking at me, actually seeing me. I can’t explain how it makes me feel to know that. I’ve felt like such a fool, wanting you yet thinking I couldn’t have you.” Lavinia let her eyes close, let her head drop back, and giggled. “Wow! It’s amazing! Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Never thank me.”

She didn’t want these feelings to stop. Not when Pike sat up, drawing her onto his lap and seducing her all over again.

“I have a crazy idea,” he murmured through kisses. “How about I grab a bottle of something bubbly and we get drunk. Piss-ass drunk. Then we can have each other until we can’t walk.”

As long as their night didn’t end so soon. Her stomach rumbled and she jumped at the chance to spend more time with him. Did it make her pathetic? Probably. She wasn’t about to hide it.

“That’s an idea I can agree with. Wait, what are you doing?” She stared after him, laughing when he sprang to his feet and jogged into the kitchen, naked as the day he was born. A hint of a smile flashed over his shoulder.

“See anything you like?” he called.

Lavinia shook her head, propped up on her elbows to watch him saunter toward the refrigerator. She felt exactly right. Sitting in the opulent living room, surrounded by modern furniture and windows open to the night skyline. Cool air caressed her overly heated skin. She took a moment to appreciate the absurdity of it, her body delectably sore. Arms wide, she flopped onto her back, a sigh caught in her throat.

“This is insane,” she muttered.

Pike kissing her. Pike tasting her, touching her, and running to grab a bottle of champagne. She could see him in the kitchen, rummaging about. He looked impossibly handsome, the dark chestnut of his hair silvered by moonlight. His skin golden and face lit up with a smile. Then his gaze fell on her across the room and magic passed between them. A power so confusing and intense it robbed her of the ability to breathe. For a split second, she could have sworn she saw the air sparkle between them.

With the uncorked bottle in one hand and two champagne flutes in the other, Pike walked back to her, set everything on the nightstand, and then lowered to his knees. “I want to kiss you. I can’t resist, and I’m not even going to try.” Then he claimed her mouth in a touch that burned.

The heat turned gentle the longer they held contact. It became something sweet. Something tender. Something she knew she would cherish long after their night ended. Pike swept her up in his arms, her head cradled against his shoulder while still balancing the bottle.

Lavinia wondered how many other women Pike had brought back to his place. How many others he’d caressed and seduced. That thought brought a bitter taste with it.

“Champagne,” she demanded.

“As you desire.”

There would be no more thoughts about others. Only his warmth, his weight. The delicious bubbles pouring freely.

Later, she told herself as she became lost in Pike again, later she would think about how crazy it seemed. How it felt to be a psychic, a part-time prophet, who hadn’t foreseen falling in love with an unnamable supernatural creature.

Falling in love? Yeah right.

She was well beyond the falling stage, Lavinia admitted. She’d loved him from the first night they met. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

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