Will held open the heavy apartment door, and Erin slipped past him, leaving in her wake a scent that was half woman, half cannoli. Entirely too sweet by his usual standards, but like hell if he didn’t want her anyway.
“I’m gonna put these in the fridge. I can’t eat another bite. Want anything?”
“Sure. Grab me a beer while you’re in there.”
“Okay.” She nudged off her shoes and headed toward the kitchen. He liked that she was making herself at home. She probably didn’t even realize she was doing it, but the fact she would made sense. Ollie had told him that Tess’s inhibitions had been lower when he was around because in her mate, she found unequivocal comfort. Ollie was the net that would catch her if she fell, and in him, she found home. Perhaps Erin was in that same place and just hadn’t put the pieces together yet.
“I’ll meet you out on the balcony,” he said.
“Okie dokie. I think I’ll get one, too, and I won’t have a lick of guilt about getting a little drunk.”
“Why would you feel guilty?”
“Because if I have time to sit around drinking, I have time to make something of myself, right?” She laughed and disappeared around the wall.
“Is that what your father tells you?”
“No, but I kind of have a pretty good gut feeling of what he might say in response to any situation. Trust me, if he saw me chilling on the sofa with a beer in hand, he’d try to guilt me into doing some tedious kitchen chore, like taking nuts out of their shells or picking those tiny little stem bits off raisins.”
To Will, Mr. Petersen sounded like one of those micromanagers who was obsessed with making sure everyone around him was productive. Will had never put much stock in other people’s ideals of productivity, because being active looked like different things to different people. Just because a person was sitting still didn’t mean they weren’t working. Sometimes, thinking was work. The heaviest work.
He slid the balcony door open and stepped out into the night. The traffic had slowed, so there were no moving cars to be seen, and only a few residents strolled in the business district. Their gaits were leisurely, but obviously purposeful. They all had someplace to be, even if they didn’t need to be there so quickly.
He’d missed that in all the years he’d been away from Norseton. Where he’d lived, people were always moving so quickly that they never paid attention to anything besides what was directly in front of them…and sometimes, not even that. He’d been guilty of that, too. Being tied in to the Afótama web again made that impossible. He couldn’t help but to be aware.
Erin stepped out onto the balcony, agape and wide-eyed. “You can see everything from here. The mansion, the gates, some shops… Man, I could sit out here for hours, just watching.”
She handed him both beers and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I couldn’t find the bottle opener.”
Chuckling, he set one bottle on the small metal table that had come with the rental and used the hem of his shirt to protect his hand as he twisted off the cap of the second beer.
“There you go.”
“Thanks.” She pulled one of the chairs closer to the railing, and sat, bending at the waist to peer down at the street below.
He popped open the other beer and took a long swig. “If you like the view that much, you’re welcome to come over and enjoy it whenever you like.” If he had his druthers, the only reason he’d let her leave in the next couple of days would be to pack a suitcase or two. Mr. Petersen’s head would probably explode.
Oh, well.
“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. So…” She turned and set her beer on the table behind her. “You were going to tell me some things.”
“Was I?”
She gave him a slow nod. “I think you were. Of course, there’ll probably be some kind of distraction, right? Every time you start to tell me something, we get thrown off course.”
“No more distractions. Tell me what you want to know.”
She narrowed her eyes, drummed her fingertips against her thighs, and made a hmm sound. Then she stood. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She hurried past him and into the apartment, and returned seconds later with his binder.
“That thing?” He’d assumed she’d get down to the nitty-gritty and ask him about the partners he’d alluded to, not fetch his research book. She opened it onto the table and flipped to the blue-tabbed section.
“I scanned ahead,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“Oh?”
“Yep. I’m so curious now, so will you humor me?”
“Of course.” He suspected saying no to her would become an increasingly difficult thing. Bound Afótama couples were compelled to fulfill each other’s needs and wants. The best Will could tell, it was due in part to their psychic abilities, and the rest was magic none of them could really describe. The happiness of each person was tied up in the other person being content, and feeding the joy was in the best interest of both.
“Okay. I like this one. Do you have psychic abilities beyond telepathy?”
“Yes.”
There was a quiet exclamation of surprise in her brain, but she soldiered on without expressing it aloud. “Um. Under which category would you classify them? Aura reading? Astral projection? Clairvoyance?” She ran her index finger down the list of abilities. “I’m assuming you know what all these things mean.”
“I do.”
“Fuck, I don’t. I’ve never even heard of some of these things. Dowsing and bilocation? I’m gonna have to look them up, or the words are going to niggle at my mind all night.”
“There’s a glossary in there. At least, the first draft of a glossary. I intend to laminate the page and refer to it when I’m conducting interviews.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
“That’s what I get paid for.”
“Nerd.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“So, which of them apply to you?”
He pulled the binder closer and pointed to Retrocognition and Telekinesis.
“Seriously?”
“Mm-hmm.”
The pages of the binder fluttered wildly and she slapped her hands on top of them. “You did that! There’s no wind.”
“That was me.”
“Holy shit! I mean… Oh, my gods. Shit.” She found her page again and scanned down to the subquestions. “Does anyone in your immediate family exhibit similar abilities?”
“Yes. My mother. The retrocognition, though, I suspect is from my father. The gift isn’t quite as congealed for him, but the genealogical records suggest it’s typical for his line.”
“And that’s what you’re doing. You’re seeing what’s old, and what’s new.”
“Most of the magic is old. It was just suppressed.”
“It’s coming back more to some people than to others. Have you figured out why?” Her genuine curiosity was appealing to him. He was so tired of women pretending to not be interested in things, especially things that directly affected them.
“Not completely. I interviewed Ótama, though. That was one of the first things I did after I formally accepted the job months ago. Most of the folks at the mansion suspect that the power is being distributed in a trickle-down fashion, filtered through the queen and chieftains. The people nearest them on the Afótama web would obviously get more than the folks on the fringes.”
“Like Ben.”
Will brought his beer to his lips and chose his words carefully. “I wouldn’t be so quick to assume that he’s on the fringes, and I wasn’t interested enough in him to determine otherwise back at the restaurant.”
“But, you’ll have to interview him. Or one of your assistants.”
“Someone will, I suppose.” Likely, not Will. It was impossible for him to do sound research on someone he was hostile to. As rational and logical as he was, Erin was meant to be his other half. Being evolved didn’t mean he wouldn’t perceive the other man as a threat. Ben would be a threat until Erin understood who Will was.
“He’s way down on your priority list, huh?”
Will shrugged, and set his beer bottle on the table. “The folks in the mansion and their immediate families will keep me busy for a while.”
“I bet. Ready for another question?”
“Sure.”
“From what distance are you able to participate in a telepathic conversation?”
“Conversation? About a mile, depending on who it’s with. Obviously, I’ll have greater ease with one of my parents than someone who isn’t related to me. For simple thought conveyance of a word or two, a couple of thousand miles.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Seems to be about average, from what I’m finding.”
She scoffed, then pressed her palms to her eyes and rubbed them. “That makes me well below average, then. I can’t even do the mile. Story of my life. Gods, what is fucking wrong with me?”
“It’s all right. It’s a petty thing.” He eased behind her and put his hands onto the table at both sides of her waist. Pressing his chest against her back, he tucked his chin over her shoulder and put his cheek to hers.
She let her hands fall and blew out a long breath. “Why do you feel so good?”
“I shaved this morning.”
She gave him a playful nudge with her ass and laughed. “Not what I meant, and you know it.”
He gave her a poke back of his own, though no one could call it playful, by any means. Her mere proximity made him painfully hard, and it was a situation he was entirely unused to. His control was usually immaculate, but he couldn’t help wanting to touch her. If she gave him an inch, he’d take everything.
She bumped him again. “Quit it, or you’re going to get yourself in trouble.” She turned a page, but she wasn’t reading what was in the binder. She was broadcasting on every available frequency, “Think of something. Think of something. Blahblahblah.”
He chuckled and tickled her earlobe with the tip of his nose. “You think that works on me, huh?”
“Damn it.”
“What kind of words are you trying to cover up?”
“I’ll never tell you.” She cleared her throat. “What was the duration of the longest telepathic conversation you’ve ever had?”
“You don’t really care about that, do you?” Slowly, he slid his hands off the table’s edge and tucked them just beneath the hem of her shirt. Her body tensed, and breathing hitched, but she didn’t try to move away. She curled her fingers loosely against the binder pages and looked over her shoulder.
“I’m curious, so yes. I’d like to know.”
“I think there are things you’d like to know more about. Am I right?” He hooked his thumbs inside her waistband and pulled the elastic out a couple of inches.
She swallowed and looked down. “There’s a lot I’d like to know.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m not as interesting as you.”
“I think you actually mean that. That’s a pity.” He slipped his hands into her panties and pulled her back against him when she reflexively jerked away. “Be still.”
He inched farther, slowly, until his fingertips came together at the apex of her thighs.
“Smooth.”
“Habit.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.” He worked a thumb over her clit, strumming it slowly as he moved a finger into her cleft. He danced his fingertip up and down the opening as she pushed back against him more and spread her legs. “Tell me,” he whispered.
“I…fuck.” She tipped her head back and sucked some air in through her mouth.
He increased his sensual assault on her sex, sweeping faster across her nub and working his index and middle fingers into her up to the second knuckles.
“Tell me,” he repeated.
“I…sometimes I teach swimming. So, I shave.”
“You shave that completely?”
“If I’m…oh, gods.” She pushed her shoulder blades together and writhed away from his body, but there was nowhere for her to go except over the table.
Over the table.
With his free hand, he yanked her pants down below her ass and leaned her onto the narrow surface.
She whipped her head left and right, darting her gaze down to the street and to nearby buildings, but even if there was anyone who could see, Will didn’t care.
He pulled her earlobe between his lips and let his free hand take over the attention to her clit while using his other fingers to tease her tight hole. “Do you think you’ll like being watched as much as you like watching? You’re so wet. I think you would.”
“I think it would depend on who was watching.”
“Fair enough.”
“Are we going to…”
He added a third finger to her sheath, and she stretched onto her tiptoes and nearly squeezed him out.
He stilled his hands, and after a few seconds, she wriggled against them.
“Don’t stop doing that.”
“Are you sure? Seems like you’re trying very hard to get away.”
“No.”
“Finish your question. Are we going to do what?”
“Are you…going to have sex with me?”
“No.”
She tried to slip away from him, but he hooked his leg around hers and pinned her between his body and the table.
“I bet you would like that. The mix between pleasure and fear, wondering if the people upstairs or downstairs can hear your moans. Wondering if the people on the street can see what I’m doing to you.” He fluttered his fingertips against the front of her channel and gave her clit a tug.
She hissed.
“But I’m not going to do that. Not now. I’m fairly sure I can convince you there are other ways to receive pleasure.”
“I don’t doubt that. It’s just been…”
“So long? All the more reason to wait, I think.”
He could hardly believe he was thinking such a thing. He’d never been the kind of man who liked waiting. While he didn’t necessarily demand instant gratification, he liked knowing when exactly he’d be reaping the benefits of his good behavior.
But, Erin was his partner. He knew it to be truth just like he knew the day of the week. It was incontrovertible. He wanted the moment he was finally inside her to be when she realized that he was the last man she’d ever have, or would ever want.
He turned her, slowly, and sank carefully to his knees, keeping his gaze turned up to her.
Her cheeks were almost as red as the glowing stoplight down on the corner, pupils large, and breath thready. He tugged her stretchy pants down to mid-thigh and, wrapping his fingers around her ankles, he pushed her feet a bit farther apart.
Again, she flitted her gaze around their surroundings, and while she checked to ensure the coast was clear, he spread her down-below lips and flicked his tongue against her clit.
“Will!” She grabbed his hair as if to urge him away, then gasped when he drew her nub into his mouth. “Oooh, gods.” She tipped her head back and slipped her other hand into his hair, not to pull, but to hold on, it seemed.
With the tip of his tongue, he rubbed her clit in firm, persistent circles that had her thighs quavering beside his head, and her attempts at mind-to-mind discourse little more than fragmented thoughts. The mental equivalent of a stutter, perhaps.
“You should be touched and often,” he thought at her and slipped his fingers inside her once more.
“I…I agree.”
“It isn’t good for us to go so long without being touched.”
“Mmmmm, mm-hmm.” She rocked her hips and passed more of herself against his tongue, his lips. “No argument from me. Do I get to touch you, too?”
He didn’t answer beyond increasing the speed of his fingers and thrusting his tongue against her against and again.
“Fuck! I’m… Oh, my gods. Please…please tell me that half of Norseton can’t hear my thoughts right now.”
“Don’t worry about that. Worry about making me happy. I want you to come on my tongue.”
Her thoughts were far too scattered at the moment for even a telepath of considerable strength to discern, so he found it highly doubtful that anyone else would be able to figure out what she was up to. When they were more closely bonded, he could help her learn to shield herself and how to close off her thoughts when she needed to, but for the moment, all he could do was reassure her.
She rolled her hips again and pushed some air through her clenched teeth.
He licked, flicked, fluttered, and smiled when she clamped her thighs against the sides of his head and swore loudly and violently as her sex contracted against his face and around his fingers.
A door slid open downstairs, and the neighbor called up, “Everything all right?”
“No worries.” Will gave Erin one last lick to lap up all the delicious cream, and rolled his gaze up to her. Her usually narrow eyes had gone hilariously round. “Just a stubbed toe.”
“Oh, man,” the guy said. “You gotta be careful with the balcony furniture. If the pointy corners and legs don’t give you tetanus or damn near shear off one of your pinkie toes, the paint will flake off on you. I’m pretty sure there’s lead in it.”
Erin let out a little scoff and pulled her panties up. Briefly, Will regretted not having a chance to undo the ties at the sides, but then his mind rewound to his new neighbor’s absurd statement. “Lead?”
“Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya, man. I’m a doctor. My sense of humor could probably use a little work.”
Will pushed up an eyebrow at Erin. “Know him?”
She shook her head. “Must be a returnee like you. We had three doctors to serve the entire community and one was nearing retirement. The folks at the mansion might have convinced a couple of the younger émigrés to come back.”
Will nodded. “You keep being you,” he called downstairs.
“I’m sure my roommate wishes I wouldn’t be. Chris Holst. I guess you just moved in?”
“Still moving in. Will Valle.”
“Nice to pseudo-meet ya.”
“Likewise.”
“Hey, why don’t you come on down for a beer or two? It’s nice knowing Paul and I aren’t the freshest meat in the building anymore. Maybe the old-timers will start hazing you instead.”
“Hazing?”
“Yeah, man. They’re real fuckin’ creative. If you’re lucky, you won’t step outside barefooted to grab your newspaper and find out someone has smeared chocolate pudding on your hand-me-down welcome mat. The savages…”
Erin clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn’t quite stifle her laugh.
Will gave her chin a chuck and grinned at her. He hadn’t been in the company of very many women in the past few years whose first instinct in response to such a silly thing was to laugh. Most he’d known would scoff, roll their eyes, or both. Or perhaps they’d mutter something about immature adults and how they wished people could act their ages.
Sometimes, acting one’s age was just the hardworking martyr’s way of waiting to die.
“What kind of beer do you have down there?” Will asked.
“It’s this weird home brew one of the guys from my high school graduating class brought over. It’s not bad, but the aftertaste has got a bit of a funk about it. Sorry. I haven’t had a chance to shop yet.”
“I’ve got a case of Modelo.”
“Sweet baby Thor, bring it.”
“Mind if I bring a guest?”
That red flush spread up Erin’s neck to her cheeks again.
“Yeah. The more the merrier. See you in a bit.”
The door downstairs clicked shut.
Will brushed his thumbs across her flushed cheeks. “Feel like making some friends?”
She shrugged. “I can’t imagine having anything in common with them, but I like to be able to put faces to names.”
He grabbed their half-empty beer bottles from the table and led her inside. She probably thought she didn’t have much in common with Will, either, but there they were. As a researcher, he’d learned pretty quickly that most people assumed they were more different than alike. They looked for dissimilarities to excuse themselves for not connecting with other people, when it only took one little kernel of commonality to start a relationship. Once they had that, finding ways to relate was easier and easier in time.
Will didn’t presume to know how a woman so fully knit into the Afótama web could be so blind to possibilities, but he fully intended to help her open her eyes.
One touch at a time, if need be.