Out of Time 01 - Out of Time
out and stepped around her. He stalked back over to the chair and sat down heavily. “Not this.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. But nightmares are normal. They—”
“This isn’t some subconscious manifestation of my fears. They’re real, Elizabeth. The things I see in them,” he said in low rasping voice. “They will happen.”
She’d never heard him so desolate. The agony in his voice, the defeat was sweltering. Her hands trembled, but she couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. She walked over and knelt before him, taking his hand in hers and waiting.
He sat perfectly still for a moment, warring with his fears before turning her trembling hand over. “So small,” he marveled. His fingers traced slowly over her hand, gently caressing the skin. His touch soothed her, even as his words sent cold shivers up her spine. “A boat,” he said softly, “sometimes fire, sometimes smoke. Each dream is different, but they all end the same way.”
She squeezed his hand and forced him to look at her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t think I could bear it, if...”
She gripped his hand more firmly. He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. His eyes shut tightly against the overwhelming emotions.
Elizabeth slipped into his lap. His arms tightened around her, and he let out a long breath before opening his eyes. He tried to smile, but faltered and it fell away. She kissed the corner of his mouth and felt his mouth open to hers. His kiss was quietly desperate. Without words, he eased his hand under her bare legs and carried her to the bed.
He made love to her with surprising slowness. The dark intensity in his eyes drilled into her, but he moved gently, trying to prolong each touch. Instead of ravishing her, he worshipped her.
Each moment was a study in contrasts. Desperate for release and fearing just that, burying himself inside her and enveloping her at the same time. The heat of his breath on her neck mingled with the cool sheen of perspiration that coated her skin. Long fingers dug into her shoulders, only to ease, and then grip again.
Elizabeth savored every touch, every motion. Her skin was burned by the roughness of his unshaven cheek, then soothed with supple kisses. His body, long and hard, moved over hers with gentle pressure. Strong hands stroked her with barely restrained passion. Every brush of his fingers, every facet in his eyes called out to her. It was amazing to be loved so much, to be needed with such consuming desire.
She could feel the riptide of his need, pulling her under. She went willingly into the depths with him. Each thrust was a deep breath, filling her. But nothing lasts forever, and the moment he’d tried to stave off came like a wave crashing over them. His body tensed in a silent cry as he spent himself inside her.
The moment was gone and the oneness slipped away.
Dawn’s bright light sliced through the window and heralded a new day. All the things they’d run from, the solace they’d found in each other’s touch, were gone. She’d tried to rationalize his dreams about her, but he’d sounded so certain about them. He was so sure they’d come to pass. The one thing he seemed to believe in was the one thing she refused to. Simon was a man with issues. Big, fat issues. No wonder they came out in his dreams. So what if the dream about his grandfather had come true? That didn’t mean these dreams were portents. Did it?
Eventually, exhaustion took hold of her body and she snuggled closer to Simon. She could feel him watching her. And she knew, when she awoke again, he would be watching her still. Watching and waiting.
Chapter Twenty
T he next night at the bar, Simon’s mood was black even before King appeared. Sleeplessness and worry had conspired to shorten his fuse. The smug, far too gratified smile that curled King’s lips as he took his drink from Elizabeth made Simon’s stomach churn. It wasn’t enough that he hadn’t been there to protect Elizabeth, but to have this creature be the one who came to her rescue gnawed at him. Being beholden to anyone was uncomfortable enough, but to owe her life to King was impossible.
Simon jabbed at the piano keys, indifferent to the romantic melody. The set seemed to drag on endlessly, as he waited for the moment he’d been dreading. The thought of thanking that bastard forced the bile to rise in his throat. But if there were a chance to draw attention away from her, he’d take it. If
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