Black As Night (Quentin Black Mystery #2) (6 page)

Then it immediately heated my skin.

I felt him relaxing into me...then opening all around me.

He held me tighter in those silent few seconds, stroking my hair as he opened that part of himself more. I felt relief on him now, a near exhale along with that leaning into me, a relaxation of his walls that felt bound up in that relief.

More than any of that, though...compulsion lived there, along with a heavier feeling, one that held more emotion, although I couldn’t make sense of what that emotion meant exactly. It might have been grief, or even depression...loneliness. Or maybe it was simply a more mundane product of isolation, alien only in its intensity and whatever it was about it that made it feel strangely organic to me. Whatever it was, whatever caused it, his presence seemed to weave into mine like a drug, making it difficult to think, to even care about anything else.

Before I could recover from that, he kissed me.

It wasn’t a particularly gentle kiss.

His hand slid deeper into my hair as he did it, his fingers clenching as he opened his mouth against mine, using his tongue when I softened against him.

I think I kissed him back in shock as much as intention...the first time at least.

He ended that first kiss long enough to press his face against mine, to wrap his arms around me tighter, letting out a gruff, almost longing sound right before he kissed me again.

That time, it felt like I was leaving my body totally.

I felt that pulling sensation start––the one I remembered from the one time we’d kissed before. Some part of him pulled on me, on my mind...pulling me out of myself. At the same time, his presence strengthened...flooding into me, warming my skin...and then I was gripping his muscular arms. My fingers wound into his hair moments later as I leaned up on my tip-toes because of his height, kissing him back.

He groaned against my mouth when I used my tongue.

The next thing I knew, he’d slammed my back up against the door, his hand fisted in my hair. He kissed me again, harder.

That one seemed to last a much longer stretch of time.

I didn’t try to dial us back at all until he already had my robe undone.

His hand caressed my bare skin around the bathing suit, right before he slid his palm and fingers around to my ass, yanking me tighter against him. I felt his erection as he pressed it into me, and let out a surprised sound even as he let out a lower groan.

Only then did I pull away.

I ended our kiss long enough to meet his gaze, pushing him back lightly with a hand.

He let me, moving back without resistance, but I felt a coil of... something... slam into me, a denser heat that cut my breath all over again.

“Gods,” he said, his voice still half a groan. He closed his eyes briefly, his hands tightening on my skin. “I don’t think I can wait until after we eat. I’m going to lose my mind if we don’t fuck soon... it’s all I can think about...”

Shock rippled through me, even as other, more specific memories rose in my mind.

I remembered he really wasn’t like other men.

Not just in terms of the psychic thing.

Physically. He was actually different physically.

He’d shown me that the last time we got into this with one another.

“Don’t be afraid of that,” he said, still breathless, that denser pulling in his voice. His arms wrapped around me tighter and again I felt that compulsion on him, that wanting to pull me inside of him as much as the physical wanting that rose with it.

When I didn’t resist his hold, he let out another low gasp.

“Miriam... you’re going to love it. I promise you. You’ll fucking beg me for that later... I promise you...” His desire worsened, blinding me briefly. “Gods. You have no idea how badly I want to do this. I’ll make it so good for you. I swear I will... I’ll make it take hours if you want. Hours and hours... it won’t hurt much at all by the time I get you there...”

Fear had already taken ahold of my mind though.

Not just fear around his body, although that was definitely there, too.

I remembered the rest of it, as well. How he’d avoided me after what Ian had done. How he’d disappeared. He said he wanted this now, but he’d vanished... for weeks.

I hadn’t heard a single word from him.

When he lowered his mouth that time, I turned my head.

Frustration seethed off him as soon as I did.

I felt that frustration grow more intense, even as his arms tightened around me. He held me against his body and I felt his heart beating almost audibly against my chest, even as that more distant feeling of vulnerability worsened. I was about to try and talk to him again when another flood of...something...left him. That time, it felt like physical pain. I felt that pain somewhere in my lower belly, strongly enough that I gasped, putting a hand there. I felt it in my heart too, in my throat, even my hands. It grew more intense as I gripped his arms and waist.

It wasn’t just pain though. I felt desire woven into it. That desire hurt worse than the nearly-physical sensations that first cut my breath. Moreover, I felt so much of
him
inside both feelings it took me another few seconds to disentangle myself all over again.

“Please,” he murmured against my ear. “Please... fuck...
please...”

“Black,” I managed, realizing only then I hadn’t said a word since he’d grabbed hold of me on the other side of that door. “Black... no.” I shook my head. Pushing against his chest, I started to pull back for real. “No. We can’t just––”

“Please,” he murmured, pulling on me harder. He let me push him back physically but whatever he was doing with his mind grew more intense. “Don’t be afraid of this, doc... please. You have no idea how far I’m willing to go to accommodate you here... I’ll do anything you want. Anything...”

But somehow, that only hardened my resolve.

I stepped out from in front of him, still fighting to get free of the rest of him. Not his body so much as that suffocating presence, and that intense pulling that only seemed to worsen the further I got away from him physically.

I managed it, but I could feel my own resolve wavering. Even so, when I spoke next, I managed to keep my voice and expression completely calm.

“We need to go eat,” I told him firmly.

I looked up at his silence, meeting his gaze, my jaw nearly clenched.

“Black?” I said, sharper. “We need to get food. Somewhere else.”

After a bare pause where he only looked at me, his gold eyes glassed, he nodded, closing his eyes longer than a blink. Only then did I feel him dialing it back for real.

“Of course,” he said.

We both just stood there for a moment, staring at one another.

I realized both of us were still breathing too hard.

I felt my jaw clench again.
 

“Wait for me in the hall,” I told him, my voice blunt.

There was another pause, then he nodded again.

That time, he averted his gaze for real.

Four

FIRE AND WATER

WE ENDED UP at an umbrella-shaded table by the pool, which worked for me. It was outside, at least...and public enough that I could sit across from Black without worrying about a repeat of whatever the hell just happened in my hotel room.

Somehow I’d managed to forget how completely different Black could be.

Especially when he...

...well, when he was in the mood, I guess you could say. He turned into a totally different person when it came to sex. I knew that, having glimpsed that side of him before. Yet somehow I’d managed to forget the sheer intensity of that in the weeks since. Moreover, I still had no idea what do with that information. I definitely had no idea how personally I should be taking it.

Assuming I could take it personally at all.

Even now, I found myself looking at him a lot too often. I fought not to stare, especially after he sprawled out on a deck chair, wearing sunglasses and with his shirt open as he gazed silently out at the pool, glancing periodically at an open newspaper he rested on one bare thigh. When I’d finally left my hotel room, he’d already changed into swim shorts and a white button-down shirt.

His legs were muscular, I couldn’t help noticing. I’d never seen them bare before, at least not in direct sunlight. He didn’t have a lot of body hair there, either.

Presumably he’d had the pool in mind before he brought me up here, given his clothes, but he hadn’t gone in. Rather, he’d ordered a beer, even though it couldn’t be eleven in the morning, and kept staring between the front page of that newspaper and the water. With the mirrored sunglasses I couldn’t even tell if he was reading it.

I caught myself staring at his chest more than once after we’d ordered food and he still hadn’t spoken to me. Looking at him felt compulsive too, which borderline angered me for some reason. It didn’t help that I definitely wasn’t the only person in the vicinity of the pool checking Black out, even this early in the morning. The sunglasses blocked the strangeness of his eyes from view, which prevented any of the usual confusion some of those admiring stares might have garnered. As it was, the dense muscles of his chest combined with that perfect jaw and well-formed mouth drew long looks from both men and women.

I honestly couldn’t tell if Black himself even noticed.

I couldn’t remember the last time something like that bothered me.

The fact that it bothered me now both annoyed me and caused me to withdraw from him. Some part of me wanted to pick that apart too, maybe in the hopes of making the unwelcome feeling go away.

In the end, I just tried not to look at him.

Eventually, he glanced at me, as if remembering I was there. Turning slightly, he tossed the newspaper onto the table in front of me.

“There,” he said. “Headline story.”

I flinched, then dropped my eyes to the paper.

It was in English, but the words weren’t what drew me. Rather it was the picture of a small, blackened body that made up the front page photo. I grimaced as I looked at it, but some part of me couldn’t help recognizing what I saw, too.

“It’s like the girl,” I said, picking the paper to look at it more closely. Immediately, my whole body tensed, including my throat, which wanted to close. “Is it Ian?” I said, my voice low as I glanced around us. “Is he killing here?”

When I glanced up, Black faced me with the mirrored sunglasses. He exhaled as I watched, and I saw some of the tension leave his face.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, once. “I don’t think so.” Leaning closer, he tapped the column of words to my left of the picture. “Read it, doc. Different m.o.”

I scanned through the print, picking out the details.

Immediately, that sick feeling in my gut got worse, not better.

“Children,” I said. I looked back at the photo. “This is happening to kids?”

When Black didn’t answer, I tore my eyes off the photo once more. He was watching me; or I assumed he was, given the direction his sunglasses aimed.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” I said, shaking my head.

“It’s not.” He paused. “...Or, I don’t believe it is.”

“But you don’t think it’s Ian?”