Page 83 of Old Flames

He opened his door, hoping.

“I have it on good authority that we’re fated lovers.”

It was July, hand-delivered by the gods, in a bathrobe, barefoot and clear-eyed. Deep in that onyx gaze, however, danced twin flames that mirrored his own desire.

He’d gambled and won.

“What authority?” he asked.

“Elvira from the ghost tour. She reads cards, and she’s excellent at it.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, but why do you need third-party validation to confirm what you already know?”

“You give me too much credit,” she said. “Anyway, I’m here to return your robe.”

“But you’re wearing it,” he observed.

“Not for long.”

She swept past him. He kicked the door shut.

July struggled with the knot of the belt, but with one tug he got it to unravel. The bed was close, but the floor was closer. She pulled him to her, and they stumbled onto the rug. They both wrestled with undoing the rest of his clothes, pleading without words, fighting for a breath between each torching kiss. His instinct was to slow the pace, but if the cards were drawn, why fight it? His instinct failed completely when she parted her thighs. If she wanted him now, hard, fast, loud, with the wind howling outside and the trees slapping at the windows, she’d have him. But first, one ground rule: “This is not a revolving door.”

She offered up her throat for his kiss. “Don’t stop,” she said. “We’ll sort it out later.”

“No, we won’t.”

She curled her fingers in his hair. “There’ll be nothing to sort if you don’t—”

“Don’t what?”

He was sinking inside her. His mouth to hers, he took in her first gasp. He couldn’t wait, either. Her need matched his own and met his new understanding of what they were to each other. With a leg wrapped around his thigh, she guided him deeper. He was inside of her, on top of her, and tasting her, yet Leo wanted more. He demanded access into the darker tunnels, straight into the beating chambers of her heart. He wanted to find the trove of things she was hiding and wouldn’t share. But then she started to rock, and the house rattled to the studs. Leo would have forgotten his name if it wasn’t on her tongue when he kissed her. She was close, he could feel it. He shifted onto his back and gave her reign. She rode him mercilessly. When she shattered into his arms, he could taste her tears.

“July, don’t cry, love. We’re together. It’s okay.”

29

Jules buried her face in his warm neck, eager to reassure him that these were tears of relief. Her fever had broken. She pulled herself upright and, while still straddling him, ran her hands along his shoulders and down his arms. The last time she’d had this intimate view of a man, they were on her couch and her kitchen was on fire—a less than thrilling experience. Lying on his back, Leo was more handsome than the devil. His usual messy chestnut hair even messier now that she’d had her way with it, his torso rising with his breath . . . Where was she going with this?

“My God, you’re beautiful,” she whispered. “I can’t think straight.”

“If you don’t tell me why you were crying,” he said, laughter adding some bounce to his words, “I’ll think you were crying over me, and I know you don’t want that.”

She spilled onto her side next to him. “Think what you like. You’ve earned it.”

“I can’t believe you’re still dodging my questions. Is this our future?”

“Maybe.” She glanced his way. “Would that be so bad?”

Leo blinked and focused on her. “Hold on. What spell is this?” he asked. “What exactly did Elvira do to you?”

“Her name is Beverly, and the cards were clear,” she said. “I’m a fool on a quest, but there’s someone fool enough to come with me, and all signs indicate that it’s you. Honestly, you called this upon yourself. All you ever had to do was walk away.”

He absently drew circles on her hip while he puzzled this out. “I thought we were fated lovers,” he said. “Now we’re on a quest?”

“You get my point.”

“No,” he said. “You left out pertinent information. What sort of quest is this?”