Hexed (The Gwen Sparks Series Book 4) (12 page)

Gwen hugged the covers to her chest. “You thought you’d just sneak in here and creep into my bed without even asking me?”

I smiled at her modesty. “I just intended to sleep, Gwen. Stop looking at me like I’m some panty-raiding villain.” My eyes fell to the blanket she held to herself, and I wondered what exactly she was wearing that she felt the need to cover up.

“Be that as it may, you can’t just hop into my bed without asking.”

Ignoring her, I said, “Besides, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen, kissed or licked.” I grinned at her, pulling the covers back and resituating myself on the mattress. It was just after midnight, and I was dead tired after spending all day tracking down the spirit walkers.

The light flicked off, and I heard Gwen moving beside me, either to get comfortable or from being uncomfortable with our nearness. The last time I was in this bed I’d been between her legs, drawing moans from her with each roll of my hips. I pushed the thought away, frustrated with the entire situation. I’d slept with a lot of women, but I’d never still wanted them after I had them, not like this. I wasn’t even sure if what I wanted revolved around just sex. I wanted that connectivity of our bodies, the melody of our pleasure mixing and becoming one. I’d never had that yearning with another woman before.

“You know,” Gwen said into the darkness, “you don’t always have to remind me we had sex.”

I smiled against the shadow of the room. “It’s fun watching you squirm,” I admitted, “but if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop. I guess I just hoped hearing about us would jog something in your mind.” I turned so that I was facing her. “You’re more than sex to me, Gwen.”

She propped herself up on her elbow. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I wish I did.”

“You will,” I promised. It wasn’t hope or faith that prompted that confidence; I knew I wouldn’t stop searching for a way to fix her until she was back to normal again. It was my sheer greediness for her that made me believe she would be herself again.

“Dorian,” she said softly, “Tonight, when you were telling the other spirit walkers to reap the expired souls—”

“That’s not you.” The lie fell through my lips so easily. I had to wonder if I was saying it to comfort her or if I had become so naïve and blind that I felt the need to lie to myself, too.

“But,” Gwen continued, “it’s the same thing. You said I died that day, and you replaced my soul. I’m living on borrowed time just like the others.”

I fell onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. “I just need time.”

“How long before they figure it out?”

“They won’t,” I assured her. “They’re not the ones I’m worried about. If Fiona’s bastard of a boyfriend tells the NAWC about you…” I wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, knowing no matter what, the outcome would be bad. I’d already broken a major rule by restoring Gwen’s soul, but I knew if anyone from the NAWC came for her, I’d reap their souls quicker than they could blink. And reaping souls before their time was another major no-no. Rules were a bitch.

Silence settled between us. I watched the pattern of a passing car’s headlights flash through the bedroom, only for everything to fall back into shadow once it was gone. I heard Fiona’s door shut across the hall, but there was no way I was getting out of this bed. Even if I couldn’t touch Gwen, lying beside her was enough to calm my anxious mind.

“You laid me on the counter,” Gwen said after a while. “I died at Broomsticks, didn’t I?”

My body became stiller than stone, and all the thoughts bombarding my mind scattered. I sat up, turning at the waist to look down at Gwen. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders and ended at the swell of her breasts. Her eyes reached up to my face, searching.

“You remembered?”

She propped herself up on an elbow and nodded. “Today, while Fiona and I were at the shop my fingertips brushed the countertop and that scene flashed through my head. Not everything, just my body on the counter and your hands brushing my hair away.” She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, sucking in a deep breath. “Ms. Ozland told Fiona that doing routinely things could jar my memories. Perhaps being at the store, seeing the damage of whatever happened there, was enough to help me remember.”

I didn’t say anything, just stared down at her and tried to decipher what her eyes were telling me to do. She held my gaze, no longer focused on the clouds whirling through my sockets, but my actual eyes as though they were normal. Her eyes traveled down my face, settled on my lips and then fell to my chest.

“I want to remember, Dorian,” she spoke softly, looking up to my face again. “I want to look at you and remember everything between us. I want to stop being a stranger in my own life.” She paused, sitting up so that we faced each other. “That’s why I think you should kiss me again. If just the brush of my fingertips could cause me to remember, then maybe touching you will, too.”

Her nervousness showed itself in the slight tremble of her voice and how she’d look at my face only to look away again. I lifted my hand toward her, sliding my fingers along the base of her neck. Gwen’s eyes lifted to meet mine again, this time not falling away. Even in the darkness of the bedroom, I could make out the royal blue of her eyes. I wanted to swim within those depths, fit our bodies together to watch them darken with her lust for me. But I wouldn’t go that far, wouldn’t push her past her limits. For now, I’d settle on just kissing her until the proof of our time together showed itself on her swollen lips.

I leaned toward her and watched her eyelids slip closed as she waited for our mouths to meet. I realized too late that this was a big moment. Gwen was expecting our kiss to remind her of us. It destroyed my ego to know our last kiss hadn’t caused any of her memories to resurface. What if this one didn’t either?

Gwen’s eyelids slid open, and a wrinkle formed between her eyes. “Were you planning on kissing me or just staring at me really closely?” A hint of a laugh fell from her nose. I’d never hesitated to kiss her before, never thought of what it meant beyond my own selfish needs.

“That little bit about hoping it helps you remember kinda screwed with my head,” I admitted. “It’s like when someone raves about something and then you find out that it doesn’t live up to your expectations.”

Her lips peeled back into a smile, our faces still inches away from each other. “You’re afraid you won’t live up to my expectations?”

I thought for a couple seconds. “I’m afraid it won’t cause any flashes of memory, and you’ll want me to stop kissing you,” I told her, rubbing my thumb along her collarbone. “And I very much like kissing you.”

Her eyes flicked down to my lips. “Maybe this thing between you and me is a marathon and not a sprint.”

I smiled at that and closed the last gap between us. When our lips connected, I felt Gwen’s sigh land against my mouth. She moved up on her knees, and I wrapped an arm around her waist to draw her into me. Our bodies moved on their own accord it seemed, shifting and angling while we lost ourselves in the kiss. I shifted so that my butt was flat on the mattress, legs stretched out in front of me, and pulled Gwen onto my lap. Her legs framed my hips as her behind rested above my dick, which had started hardening the moment our lips met. Our hips remained unmoving, though, as we took our time tasting each other.

I ran my hands up the sides of her waist, sprawled fingers dragging up the thin cotton of her cami. Gwen draped her arms along my shoulders, one hand coming up to play with my hair. I rocked my head against hers, deepening the kiss and tugging her body against mine. She felt so goddamn good in my hands, like she belonged within their embrace.

She broke away from my mouth and rested her forehead against mine, her heavy breath serenading the empty room. Her fingers continued to rake through my hair. I gave her only a few seconds before I claimed her again. Capturing her bottom lip between my lips, my tongue flicked out and explored her mouth again. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I lifted her up and shifted us so that she lay flat on her back, and I was situated between her thighs. My cock strained against the cotton of my pajama pants and, because I couldn’t help myself, I rolled my hips against her center. Gwen tilted her head to the side, arching her back as soft moans fell from her lips. Gripping her wrists in one hand, I pinned her arms above her head and used my other hand to hook her leg around my waist so we could be closer. . I rolled my hips against her pelvis again, gaining a slow rhythm that was driving me fucking insane, and her as well if the writhing of her body was any indication.

“Look at me, cupcake,” I demanded. Her head turned back, and her eyes lifted to my face. I searched her eyes for any unease, any sign I should get a handle on myself, but they mirrored the desire I was sure were in mine. Thrusting my hips harder, I watched as her eyelids slipped half closed and her lips parted. Her chest lifted and fell heavily with her hard pants. Leaning down, I pressed a trail of kisses along the swell of her breasts, licking and sucking the flesh until it turned a rosy pink. I was never a fan of dry humping, but at this point, any connection to her body was good enough for me.

“Dorian,” she breathed, “we should stop.”

I wanted to grumble and mourn the blue balls I’d surely have come morning, but I didn’t. Instead, I lifted my head and stilled my hips. Staring down at her, I took a moment to collect myself and stared into her eyes. She had been enjoying herself, hadn’t she?

“You wanna stop?” I needed confirmation before I removed myself from between her legs.

“Not really,” she admitted. “But…I don’t even know you, not really.”

I leaned forward, pressing soft kisses to her cleavage all the way up to her neck until my mouth rested near her ear. I sucked the meaty part of her lobe between my teeth and whispered, “Your body remembers me, doesn’t it? It craves me, tells you it wants me.”

She did this half moan, half groan noise that only enticed me further. “My body is on fire for you, there’s no question. It’s just…if we don’t stop now I may do something I regret in the morning.”

Her words were like a bucket of icy water thrown onto me. I sat up, leaning back on my heels and stared out the window. While we’d been in New Orleans, she’d mentioned that if we slept together she may end up regretting it, regretting me. Those words stung more than anything else she could have said. Though, after we had slept together I had asked if she had any regrets and she assured me she didn’t. This Gwen, the one who didn’t remember me, didn’t feel that way.

Wordlessly, I climbed off the bed and walked over to the window. Was the old Gwen still present, coming through subconsciously? Did some part of that Gwen regret what had transpired between us?
Why does it bother you so much?
I asked myself.
Other women regretted being with me, having realized they slept with a complete stranger after a couple drinks.
The answer was easy, this thing with Gwen wasn’t some meaningless hookup. I wanted her to desire me the way I did her, but something was always thrown into our path, fucking up everything. In the beginning, it had been the vampire. He’d messed up quite a bit, ruining her trust for men and keeping me at arm’s length. Then it was the knowledge that I couldn’t see her destiny. She had always been a blank spot to me. Next, it was the rogue that killed her, taking her away from me. And, when I finally gained that trust, earned her body, the universe stepped in and stole her memories of what we had. It was one obstacle after another. How many more before I got the hint? Maybe someone like me wasn’t meant to have someone like Gwen in my life. After all, hadn’t I always found relationships and emotions perplexing? We were the square peg and round hole it seemed.

“Are you mad?” Gwen asked from just behind me. I hadn’t even heard her get out of bed, but there she stood in a thin cami and cotton underwear. The hardened peaks of her nipples poked against her top. I turned my eyes away from that torture.

“No,” I said, “I’m not mad.” It was the truth, I wasn’t mad, at least not with her. I was pissed at myself, pissed I ever allowed myself the luxury of thinking I could have more. Hell, of wanting more when I knew it wasn’t in my cards. I’m the Angel of Death, not fucking Cupid. What pissed me off more was the fact that all of this had happened unwillingly. I never intended to fall for Gwen, but that didn’t stop me from doing it. And the number one clue that maybe we weren’t meant to be together was that our moment of passion hadn’t stirred up any of her memories. If she felt the kind of pull I felt toward her wouldn’t she of had a flicker of remembrance, even if it was just a sense of Deja vu hinting that us together felt familiar? Fuck, maybe I was blowing this all out of proportion. I’d been known to do that when things frustrated me.

“Dorian?” Gwen’s soft voice hit my back. I half turned to face her, if only so she didn’t think I was lying when I told her I wasn’t upset with her. I didn’t want her to think what I was feeling had anything to do with us not going all the way tonight. It didn’t.

“Will you please come back to bed and just…hold me? I like being in your arms, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I know you’re up brooding all night.”

The corner of my mouth lifted in amusement. “Death does not brood; he thinks and processes.”

“Is he also in the habit of referring to himself in the third person?” She made a face that let me know how annoying she thought that was.

“No, he is not,” I said, contradicting myself.

Gwen reached for my hand. Intertwining her fingers with mine, she guided me back to the bed and crawled across the mattress. Once she was situated on her side, she looked at me over her shoulder with a questioning brow raised. I shouldn’t climb into bed with her, feel her warm body pressed against mine or hold her in my arms. As I looked down at her, I snorted to myself. When it came to Gwen, I’d do pretty much anything she wanted. Even if that something wasn’t good for me. This was the beauty of denial, I supposed.