Demons Undone: The Sons of Gulielmus Series (37 page)

“Look, I already got the lecture from John. I don’t have time to get it from you, too. We’re trying to fly out tonight. I want to transfer some cash for you to give to Clarissa. Don’t tell her where it came from. Just tell her you got it through your usual means. I know when we show up tomorrow she’s going to want to run out and clear the shelves at Piggly Wiggly, and I’d hate for her to break open her rainy-day fund.”

“And where’d you’d get the cash?”

Charles ignored the question. He took the plastic lid off the chicken and slid it into the oven. After one more check of the window to verify Marion was still moving around inside the truck, he said, “Listen, I didn’t finish telling you about my meeting with Pop. Marion could hear me, so I had to hash my words.”

“What did you leave out?”

“He challenged me to a bit of a propagation foot race, and I refused.”

“I bet he took that well.”

“As well as you’d imagine. Instead of leaving well enough alone, he’s decided to punish me. He’s going to sic Ross on me as an overseer.”

Claude swore in that French patois he’d spoken as a child in Louisiana again.

“Tell me about it,” Charles said. “That’s certainly going to put a crimp in my style.”

“And mine. And John’s. And—”

Charles raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Everyone I care about. I guess there’s something to be said for being a loner. Didn’t have these problems before John ushered us into this happy family shit.”

Claude laughed. “And are you happy?”

Charles shoved the corkscrew he’d found into the wine bottle’s stopper and turned. He didn’t have to think about it, really. He was getting happier by the minute, and the source of it was rooting around in her purple truck for clean clothes. “Yeah. Happier than I’ve been since I was a kid. You know how long ago that was.”

“Must say I’m jealous.”

“I would be, too. Tell me where to wire the money and I’ll take care of it on the way to the airport. We’ll deal with the Ross problem when I’m on the ground in North Carolina. I have an idea that may give us all a bit of breathing room. Hate that it’s come to this, though.”

“Sure.” Claude relayed the account information, and they disconnected.

When Marion returned with a pile of clothes draped over her arm, Charles held a glass of wine out toward her. “To warm you up.”

She grinned and laid the clothes atop the table. “Thanks. That’ll hit the spot.”

As she sipped, he set about plating up the side dishes he’d purchased earlier. He knew he’d hardly taste them; he’d be too distracted by the movement of her mouth as she nibbled. The swiping of her tongue across her lips. That’s what she was, really: a petite pixie of a distraction. He’d never been so observant, so tuned in to a woman before. Then again, he hadn’t wanted to spend forever with anyone before now.

The longer he watched her sip, with her eyes narrowed in a smile, the less control he felt. That enviable cool he usually exhibited—the stoicism—had disappeared the moment he saw her jump down from her rig in Montana.

He couldn’t help himself. If time was of the essence, and he was dealing in hours and not days, he’d act while he still had a chance.

Touch, while he still could.

He reached in and took her wine glass away mid-sip, leaving her sputtering. “Charles! I wasn’t—”

He pulled her tight against his body and kissed her hard and rough. The kind of kiss women weren’t supposed to like, nonetheless respond to, but she moaned into his mouth and relaxed into his grip. He felt when her legs went limp, and he picked her up and carried her back to his bed.

Carpe diem
. He’d taken enough Latin back in Princeton, too, to appreciate the sentiment.

He had to be some kind of animal. An insatiable, hungry animal. Every time Marion thought he had to be winding down, he shifted her slightly—moving her leg just where he wanted it or slipping a pillow beneath her hips—and went at it with even more gusto.

The endearments he whispered against her ear seemed too personal, too familiar, and even though she knew it was insanity, she loved every word of it.

“Mine,” he whispered, pounding into her harder, so that with each thrust she choked out a small whimper.

“Yes,” she croaked back. Anytime he wanted it, he could have it. All his.

“You don’t know … what you’re doing to me …” he said, nipping her earlobe between his teeth and worrying at it.

Oh, she had some idea. As she was, she worried if she came again, the swimming feeling in her head would drive her to faint. Still, she wanted that O. Craved it like nothing else she’d ever had. He was so good, and so careful. He hit all the right spots, and even the wrong ones felt nice.

She clamped him inside her harder, forcing a primal-sounding growl from his throat.

“If you do that again, I’ll—”

She did it again.

He came, but not without sending her over the edge one more time with him.

He fell into an exhausted heap on the bed beside her, panting and whispering her name. “Fuck, I don’t remember it feeling like that.”

Her body wracked from her giggles as a tiny aftershock from her last orgasm rolled through her.

He pushed up onto his elbow and stared down at her with one eyebrow cocked. “You’re tamping down my self-esteem, Marion.”

She tested her muscles, fearing they’d been ravaged, and the resulting tremor made her eyes roll back in her head. No giggle this time, though. “Oh, sorry. I can’t help it. When you pull out, it feels like a tickle.”

“So, what was that last thing?”

“Hell if I know.” She sucked in a deep breath and finally her vision cleared enough for her to see Charles’s smug smirk.
Ass
. She shrugged against the sheets. “I usually come with a whimper, not a bang, assuming I come at all.”

“That a damn shame, the thought of you not coming.” His hair teased her shoulder, then her chest, as he hovered over her, working his body down hers until his mouth honed in on one puckered nipple.

She squeaked and swatted at his head. “Stop it! I don’t think I can take any more.”

He tipped his head up and wore a pout. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his held a twinkle of mischief.

“Are you kidding me? You can’t seriously be ready to go again.”

“Hmm?” His grin widened, and he shifted his hips to show her that, yes, he was indeed ready to go.

He’d given her just enough space that she crossed her legs at the ankles and slapped her hands over her bits. “Nope. I can’t. I really can’t. I appreciate the, uh …”

He was easing her hands away and the daring look he cast up the bed at her said he was interested in making her boo-boo all better. He bent lower. Lower. She watched, hypnotized by that blue gaze as his lips dipped closer to her—

She came to her senses and hurled herself off the bed, wagging a finger at him as she backed away from the stalking sex god. The way he crawled toward her on all fours, slowly, indicated he had absolutely no problem with giving her chase, and maybe, to him, it’d even be a little fun. “No. Dinner is probably ruined.” She eased toward the bathroom, never taking her eyes from his.

That grin of his—this was all so damned funny to him!

She growled. “Dammit, pay attention. It’s too late to eat. I’ve gotta shower
again
because I’m sweaty.” She clenched again at the thought and her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

Jesus!

“And then we’re gonna go to the airport,” she said. “Maybe grab some shitty fast food after we get our tickets and check in. I don’t want to miss that last flight out, so behave yourself, animal.”

“You’re so cute when you pout.” His feet were on the floor now, and he poised himself to stand, still wearing that evil grin as he sat brazenly with his legs open, his cock standing at attention.

Yes, sir
, she wanted to say, but she swallowed down the words and wore what she hoped was her look of authority. She didn’t have much practice with it. “I’m going to go in this bathroom and shower.”

“Mmm.”

“
Alone
, Charles, and I’m gonna lock the door to make sure that happens.”

Now he pouted, but it was as phony as a three-dollar bill. Even with that full bottom lip stuck out, he looked like sex on two legs.

“And while I shower, you’re gonna clean up the kitchen and pack your bag so that as soon as I walk out of this bathroom, you can go shower off the sex.”

“But what if I like the sex?”

“That’s—”

The sight of his tanned fingers wrapped around his shaft, sliding up and down, over the head and to the base, stole her words.

“That’s what?” he crooned.

“That’s … uh.” She swallowed and closed her eyes.
Unscramble, brain, damn you.
What was she complaining about? Oh. “That’s your prerogative,” she said, sounding more in command than she actually felt. The idea of him wearing her scent was actually doing as much for her as the threat of his tongue down below had. She crossed her legs at the ankles again and tried to concentrate as she patted the door behind her for the knob. Oh God, yes, that gorgeous man wanting her scent on him? A reminder of how he’d taken her hard and rough, and how she’d liked it?

Who the hell was she, all of a sudden?

She cringed, and stepped into the bathroom with relief. Before closing the door, she said through the crack, “But I’d still suggest you shower. Might be a long night and being clean is nice.”

“If you say so, my love.”

She pushed the door in and shouted, “I do say—”

Wait, his
what
?

She turned the water on yet again and rolled her eyes as she realized it. Sarcasm. Duh. That was what it was. Asshole had better be ready in thirty minutes, or she was leaving without him.

• • •

By the grace of who-knew-whom/what, they snagged the last two seats on a flight leg to Houston that connected to a flight to Raleigh-Durham. The seats were on different ends of the plane, but what mattered most was that they were
on
the plane. They regrouped briefly in Houston, only to make a mad dash to catch their quick connection.

Marion hardly had time to re-center herself from the turbulent flight that had her eyes watering more than once. If it weren’t for pinching herself on the delicate skin of her bicep as a painful distraction, she would have
really
cried. What would her seatmate think about that? She certainly didn’t want to explain to some stranger that she’d never been on a plane before and that she was
certain
she was going to die tonight from the experience.

On the second flight, the ticketing agent managed to get them a bit closer. They had two aisle seats, though one row apart. That was a little better, especially since she sat behind Charles and was able to watch his reactions to the plane’s jerky motions. Or rather, his
lack
of reaction. He was completely unfazed, so she took some comfort in that. If he wasn’t worried, she wouldn’t worry either. At least, not as much.

When they finally touched down at RDU in the wee hours of the morning, she was the sort of wired that verged on insanity. She’d need to sleep soon, or else get to somewhere that
wasn’t
thousands of miles off the ground and sit down for a while.

“We can collect our baggage and rent a car,” Charles said, guiding her toward the terminal end with his arm wrapped around hers.

She sighed. “Rent a car? What for?”

“Doesn’t make sense for me to fly into Wilmington from here. We’re really going closer to Jacksonville, and that’s just a few hours drive from here.”

“Oh.” She stopped in her tracks and hooked her thumb back toward the ticketing counter. “Then maybe I should go ahead and fly out of here. I’ll probably have more options, right?”

Some dark expression flitted across his face for a moment, but whatever he was thinking quickly receded and his usual pleasant mien returned. He got her walking again. “You’ve got plenty of time, right? And you don’t even know where you’re going. Come on down to the coast with me and get some sleep. We’ll leave you alone while you rest up. Then, tomorrow, you can figure out what you want to do.”

“Tomorrow, huh?” Sleeping in a real bed did sound nice. She’d missed out on that at Charles’s place, because what they’d been doing there was far too exerting to be classified as
sleep
.

Maybe she could sprawl out in comfy pajamas and sleep and until her eyes crusted over. That sounded nice.

“Okay, tomorrow. I need to get on my computer so I can do some research.”

He patted the hand she had rested on his forearm. “Not a problem,” he said, voice light now.

Once they’d strapped themselves into the luxury rental SUV—which, in Marion’s opinion, seemed excessive for two people and two bags—she settled low in the heated leather seat and knocked her sunglasses down from the top of her head to her nose. “Hope you don’t mind if I close my eyes for a while.”

“Not at all. Rest up.” He eased the vehicle onto the highway and snaked one hand over the center console to rest on her thigh.

She did that clench and giggle again, and hated herself for it. That had to stop, and soon, if she could figure out how.

“Clarissa will probably want to feed you when we arrive, so—”

“Feed
me
?”

“Uh …” He drew his hand back and wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel. His grip was so tight, his knuckles were white.

Marion was about to snap her fingers and ask if her presence was really all that distracting to his thought processes, when he loosened his grip and shrugged.

“She feeds everyone. It’s kind of her thing.”

“Should you call her and let her know we’re on the way?”

His jaw clenched and that viselike grip returned.

“Careful, there, Popeye. You don’t want to pop the leather.” She reached across the center console and gave his upper thigh a playful squeeze.

He tensed under her touch, his posture straightening even more in his seat, and his eyes widened.

She laughed as her hand eased closer to this hip. “What’s wrong? Suddenly shy?”