Inevitable (3 page)

He frowned. “So that means it's not just any bottle. What's inside of it?”

“Xavier said it was something he'd gotten in London. Some sort of mood enhancing potion, but it doesn't work properly. He called it Desidero.”

He gaped at her. “Did you say
Desidero?
”

The look of surprise on his face didn't help calm her nerves. “Yes.”

He grimaced. “Uh, oh.”

She stared at him. “Uh, oh, what?”

“You're sure that's what he said? Desidero potion?”

“Positive, but he says it doesn't work. You know what it is?”

“I worked a few weeks in the potions division when I started at the agency, before I was assigned as your partner. It was part of my training. Desidero was one of the potions I learned about.” He looked at the bottle she held. “Mood enhancement, huh? I guess it'll kick in any second now.”

“What will kick in?”

He shook his head. “A whole lot of trouble.”

“He said it didn't work properly.”

“Oh, it's working, all right. I can feel it right now.” He rubbed his temples again.

Her entire body felt flushed. Maybe she was having an allergic reaction to it. “Do I have to get violent to make you spit out what you know?”

Ryan hissed out a breath through his teeth. “It's a lust potion, Emma. An old one from the British Isles. There's a legend that says that this is the potion that Guinevere was given to make her fall in love with King Arthur, but it didn't work quite that smoothly. You know what happened with Lancelot, right? She fell for him instead. It's this potion's fault. And, no, it doesn't work on everyone which is why Franklin thought it was a dud. Some mood enhancer. He has no idea.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Guinevere and Lancelot?”

“You got it.”

A lust potion. That would explain why she suddenly felt so warm. Why her body had begun to tingle. Why her nipples had tightened. Why her belly twisted with a strange and difficult to ignore need. Why she desperately wanted Ryan's hands on her as soon as possible. “Lustful for…?”

He smiled, but it was shaky. “Well, I guess that would be
me
.”

“You?”

“We were together when it spilled on us.” His gaze, now heated, swept her body as he drew closer. “It's rare and dangerous stuff.”

A shiver went down her spine. “There's some left. If you stole it, you could get a lot of money for something like this.”

“I could.
If
I stole it.”

Her breath came quick, and Ryan's mouth was sud
denly the main focus of her entire world. “I feel an irresistible need to kiss you right now. Which is incredibly inconvenient considering how much I hate you,” she whispered.

“I thought you said you were indifferent to me. Put down the bottle before you break it. If any more of that stuff spills, we might have a larger problem to deal with here.”

Instead of arguing, she placed the green glass bottle down on a table next to the couch and dropped her purse to the floor. “So…now what do we do?”

She felt his gaze on her like a brand. It slid over her breasts and stomach, and her insides tightened with desire.

“Kiss me,” he suggested.

Her heart pounded hard. “Bad idea.”

“You're afraid what might happen?”

“Yes.”

He had the audacity to smile at her. “See, I
knew
you knew words other than no, Em.”

“I need to get out of here.” But she didn't move. They were alone in the library of Xavier Franklin's mansion with a party going on outside the heavy closed doors. She could hear it—the voices, the laughter, the band playing some up-tempo but classical number.

“So despite you telling me a minute ago that you're indifferent to me,” Ryan said, “what you're now saying is that you hate me.”

She nodded. “I can't stand you.”

“But you still want to kiss me.”

Yes. She needed to kiss him, to do more than just kiss him. To feel Ryan's hands on her, his hot skin beneath her fingertips. To feel him sliding inside of her, filling her the way she'd always fantasized about. Even in the
months that he'd been out of her life, she'd still dreamed about having him in her bed.

Damn.

It was Emma who closed the distance between them first. Her mind was foggy, but her body knew what it wanted. It wanted Ryan. It had always wanted Ryan since the moment she'd met him. And the Desidero potion, just a small splash of it, had heightened that need inside of her to an uncontrollable level.

Just because it was inconvenient didn't mean it wasn't true.

Ryan looked concerned. “Emma, we need to—”

“Shut up.” She took his face between her hands to pull him closer and crushed her mouth against his.

E
MMA
B
LACK
,
a woman who proclaimed to hate his guts, was kissing him more passionately than he'd ever been kissed. He could feel her desire like it was a palpable thing. It sank into him, making his cock harder than it had ever been a day in his life.

Ryan filled his hands with her thick, silky red hair, letting it slide through his fingers. Her grip tightened on him, pulling him even closer to her.

He'd wanted her from the moment he'd seen her in the middle of the party earlier, rescuing him from some random socialite who'd wanted to get into his pants. His desire for Emma had been immediate—at least, after he'd gotten over his initial shock at seeing her again after all this time. The potion simply took that desire and increased it to a level that was impossible to ignore.

He'd sought her out, hoping to talk to her, to tell her the truth—that he'd been set up, that he wasn't a thief and had been wrongfully fired—and see if that made any difference to her. See if she believed him.

He'd wanted her to believe him.

When he'd seen that horny old bastard pawing her, his blood began to boil. If Franklin had been thirty years
younger, he might have received more than a glare and a lie about being Emma's fiancé.

“You taste like champagne,” he whispered against her lips when she pulled back an inch, her breath coming fast and deep.

“I had a glass earlier.”

“You taste so good.”

“So do you.”

Emma slid her hands down the front of his shirt, over his chest to his abdomen. Her touch felt like fire. He saw the same aching desire he felt reflected in her eyes.

Proof.

The proof he needed that she didn't hate him. This was it.

Franklin said the potion didn't work for him. Likely he'd tried it on many women, hoping they'd throw themselves into his arms and bed. Dirty old man.

But the Desidero potion didn't work like that.

It didn't make Guinevere desire King Arthur. Instead, she fell hard for Lancelot. It meant that she'd wanted the knight over the king all along, but had resisted due to her situation.

Once the potion worked its special magic, she'd had no choice but to give in to her true desires. The potion simply acted as a push against any control its victim might have.

If Emma had truly hated Ryan—or even if she'd been indifferent to him as she claimed—the potion wouldn't work at all.

Emma wanted him as Guinevere had wanted Lancelot.

And King Arthur had been sent packing.

“Do you feel it?” he asked.

“Feel it?” She slid her hand down over the front of
his pants where his erection strained and she grinned wickedly at him. “I think so.”

He groaned and swore darkly under his breath. “That's not exactly what I meant.”

“Yes, I feel the potion's effects. No doubt about it.”

“You want me.”

She brushed her lips over his throat. “I hate you.”

He couldn't help but smile at the obvious lie. She didn't hate him. She might wish she did, but she didn't. “So you
don't
want me.”

She took his face between her hands and stared deeply into his eyes. “What I want is to feel you inside of me.”

He inhaled sharply as she slid her hand down over his cock again. “You have a definite way with words, Em.”

“I've been told that before.”

Any amusement on his part disappeared as she unzipped him with deft hands and reached inside his fly to wrap her fingers around his hard length. He groaned.

“Sit down.” She pushed him backward until he bumped into the couch behind him. He sat down hard.

“If you insist.” He reached for her, wanting to pull the straps of her dress down over her shoulders and bare her breasts to his touch, his mouth, but she slipped out of his reach, instead sinking down to the floor in front of him.

He eyed the closed but not locked door. “Emma…we should leave, go somewhere else—somewhere private. We shouldn't do this here—”

But he couldn't speak any more when she took him into her mouth. He arched his back, the intense pleasure crashing over him, almost too much to bear. He had to struggle to find some semblance of control or he feared he would explode right then and there. His hands shook as he pushed the vibrant red hair off her forehead so he
could see her face, watch her lush, pink lips slide down onto him. Her mouth was so hot and wet—he couldn't speak, couldn't think…he could only feel…

Finally, he was able to gather himself enough to moan her name. “Emma…
please
…” He pulled at her and suddenly her lips were on his again, hard and hot, devouring him with the kiss that held so much passion it was as if she were starving. She crawled onto his lap to straddle him.

His hands sought her full breasts, squeezing them through the top of her dress and running his hands down her sides, over her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and slipping under her skirt toward her sex. She wore panties, but they were a very flimsy barrier. Pushing them to the side, he was able to slide his fingers against the slickness of her, which earned him a shuddery breath and a moan of encouragement.

Ryan shifted a little, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock which he rubbed against her. She was so wet for him, so ready. He had to be inside of her. He would go insane if he didn't take her here, now. He'd never wanted anyone as much as this. The potion had made it impossible to deny what he'd always wanted.

Emma.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please, Ryan…”

“You want me.”

“Yes.”

“Even though you think you hate me.”

“Yes!”

When he was perfectly positioned to enter her with one upward thrust, he heard the sound.

Knocking.

“Is somebody in there?” the voice asked from the other side of the door.

Then there was the sound of the knob turning.

The very next moment, Emma had pulled away from him, scrambling back as if she'd just been hit in the face with a glass of ice cold water. She stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers and hurriedly pulled the straps of her dress back up into place.

“This was a horrible mistake,” she said, finally averting her eyes.

Then she was gone, grabbing her purse and scurrying out of the room as if the fire alarm had gone off. She passed a couple at the door who wore matching purple masks. Ryan had the chance to tuck himself away and zip up before their attention moved to him.

“Did we interrupt something?” the man asked.

“Yes,” he growled, when what he really wanted to do was get up and throttle the both of them.

They looked at each other before closing the door behind them, leaving him in the library alone.

His first inclination was to chase after Emma and talk to her. To finish what they'd started. But he knew it was too late for that tonight. She'd found a fraction of control again, despite the potion's effects.

From what he could remember about the Desidero potion, those effects would fade over time. A week at the most.

Being apart would help, but not much. His body craved her now—and he knew the feeling was mutual. If they consummated their desire, the potion's effects would fade quickly—a day at the most. If they didn't—it might be a difficult week ahead if he wanted to think about anything but Emma's touch, her mouth, her tongue, her body…

Torture.

His gaze moved to the side table where the green
bottle sat innocently and then he looked down at the floor where Emma had left behind a black tote bag.

Cinderella had left the ball and forgotten a couple items, though neither was your typical glass slipper. He was no Prince Charming, but it seemed like a fitting fairy tale at the moment.

She probably believed that she'd escaped just in time and that everything would be okay now. That she'd never see Ryan Shephard again, accused thief and liar, a man she swore she hated.

Only her desire and out of control lust for Ryan wouldn't just vanish into thin air. And there wasn't anything she could do about that, other than try to avoid him.

Emma Black desired him. The potion proved that once and for all. He knew she'd been fond of him when they were partners, but this? This was more than he could have imagined.

And she'd been the aggressor, practically throwing him on the sofa so she could have her way with him.

The thought brought a slow smile to his face.

He grabbed the tote bag and unzipped it to see what was inside. Books—about a dozen trade paperbacks, all identical. He pulled one out and looked at the cover.

 

INEVITABLE

E.M. Black

 

There was the shadowy outline of a female's naked back and buttocks to the side of the dust jacket. A male figure stood behind her, his hand curling around from behind to rest on the small of her spine. It was subtle, but there was no doubt this was supposed to be a sexy book.

Ryan couldn't help but grin. “My goodness, Emma, you naughty girl. What are you reading these days?”

He turned it over to read the story blurb on the back cover. It was about a woman who worked for a paranormal investigation agency who experienced many explicit fantasies made flesh during her cases with her partner Bryan.

Bryan.

Ryan frowned and flipped through the book to find the bio of the author. There was a black-and-white picture, but it was mysteriously shot so it wasn't obvious what she really looked like. Her back was to the camera, her face turned just a little so she was coyly glancing over her shoulder. Very enigmatic. Very sexy.

Very Emma.

He recognized her immediately and his mouth fell open in shock.

There was a card clipped to one of the book covers and he grabbed it.

Emma
wrote this book. She was E.M. Black. These were copies of her erotic novel.

Naughty, indeed.

He sat down heavily on the leather sofa and trained his gaze on the door, waiting for Emma to come bursting through at any moment to reclaim her tote bag and potion bottle.

She didn't return.

Ryan left the party at just after eleven o'clock and
grabbed a taxi to take him across the city to his hotel room. He hadn't spoken to Franklin personally about who was supplying him with stolen supernatural merchandise. This was still vitally important to him—to clear his name once and for all—but he'd decided to put that on hold for just a couple days longer.

Tomorrow he'd rent a car and head to Mystic Ridge, a town he hadn't stepped foot in since he'd been fired six months ago.

He had to see Emma again.

Tonight, however, he had some serious reading to do.