Owen popped open the button, then drew down the zipper. He lifted his hips, and I peeled the jeans off him. He wore nothing underneath, and I stopped a moment to admire his muscled body, and his erection that was already waiting for me. I started to lean down and put my mouth on him, but Owen grabbed my arms.
"Not yet," he whispered. "Let me take care of you first."
I didn't have time to protest before Owen rolled me over onto my back. He took a little more care with my borrowed clothes than I had with his, but they disappeared soon enough. Owen's lips scorched a path down my neck before his mouth closed on my right nipple. Over and over, he ran his tongue over the peak before gently scraping his teeth across the tip. He repeated the process on my other nipple until I wanted to scream with pleasure and frustration. I arched up off the bed, already wanting to feel him moving inside me.
Owen had other ideas. His tongue moved from my br**sts and dipped into my bellybutton before sliding lower. I opened my legs, and he put his mouth on me, flicking his tongue against me with exquisite precision, ratcheting up my desperate need that much more.
Where he had been gentle, patient even, before, now he became as hard and wild as I had been, his tongue driving deeper and deeper into me, making me thrash and moan beneath him.
"Owen," I rasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "Owen."
Finally, just when I thought I couldn't take any more, Owen got up on his knees and pulled me up to him. Our arms locked around each other, and our bodies melded together.
Now we were both out of control-our passion for each other, our desire, our need, burning, burning, burning. Our hands were everywhere, kneading, caressing, stroking, and our tongues dueled back and forth as we moaned into each other's mouths.
Finally, I got the upper hand. I pushed Owen down onto his back, straddling him. I took his hard c**k in my hand, thumbing the wet tip before lightly raking my nails down the whole length of him. He shuddered with pleasure under me, his muscles straining.
I reached over, opened the nightstand drawer, and drew out a condom from the box there. Of course, I took my pills, but we also used extra protection for a variety of reasons.
Owen arched an eyebrow. "You're always prepared for everything, aren't you?"
I smiled down at him. "The cabin is nothing if not well stocked."
Using my hand and then my mouth, I teased his c**k a little more, until his hands were fisting the sheets just as mine had been a few minutes ago, before I unrolled the condom over his straining shaft.
"Gin," Owen murmured. "My Gin."
"Oh, yes," I said. "You're mine. And I want you-now."
I went up on my knees, then sank down, taking him deep inside me. Owen pulled me down on top of him, and we rocked back and forth, thrusting against each other as hard and fast as we could. Until everything that we'd both been feeling tonight-all the fear and agony and passion and love-exploded inside us like a shower of stars falling from the sky.
Chapter 24
The next day dawned all too quickly, bringing with it another round of snow-and most likely my messy death at the hands of Mab Monroe.
Last night had taken its toll on us all, physically and emotionally, which was why everyone was still asleep when I slipped out of Owen's warm arms around ten the next morning.
Everyone except Jo-Jo, that is. The dwarf sat at the kitchen table, wrapped in her pink flannel housecoat and sipping a cup of lavender tea. The fragrant fumes filled the air, making it smell warm and soothing. I breathed in, drawing what comfort I could from this safe, quiet moment. Because all too soon, I knew it would be gone-and perhaps me along with it.
"Shouldn't you be asleep like everyone else?" I asked Jo-Jo, as I opened the kitchen cabinets to see what supplies were on hand for a late breakfast.
"I slept plenty before I spelled Sophia from guard duty," Jo-Jo said. "Now, I'm restless, just like you are."
I grunted. Restless wasn't quite the word that I would use to describe my mood. More like resigned. I pushed the feeling aside and started pulling ingredients out of the cabinets. Flour, sugar, salt, and all the other nonperishable staples that Fletcher had packed the cabin with. If I was going to go out today, then I wanted a good breakfast to help me along.
"I grabbed fresh milk, berries, butter, and a few other things from my fridge before coming over here last night," Jo-Jo said. "Just in case you were inclined to feel like making breakfast this morning."
I arched an eyebrow. "Got a glimpse of that with your Air magic, did you? Your precognition?"
Jo-Jo grinned.
"Tell me," I murmured, opening the fridge and grabbing the milk. "Did you happen to see whether I manage to kill Mab today before she kills me? Because right now, I'd take any good news I could get."
Instead of answering me, Jo-Jo stared down into her tea, as though she could read something in the leaves in the bottom of the mug. Hell, maybe she could, given her Air magic. After a moment, the dwarf seemed to decide something because she nodded and looked up at me with her clear eyes.
"Did I ever tell you how I first met Fletcher?"
I shook my head and moved over to the counter where I'd placed the rest of the ingredients.
"It was a week after Sophia was kidnapped."
I jerked around in surprise, and the milk almost slipped from my hands. "Sophia-Sophia was kidnapped? When? By whom?"
Jo-Jo's hands tightened around her mug. "It happened almost fifty years ago. There was a sick, sadistic bastard by the name of Harley Grimes. Half giant, half dwarf, and all mean. Grimes and the rest of his clan of miscreants lived way up in the mountains, even farther up than Warren's store, Country Daze. He saw Sophia one day, and he decided that he was going to have her. When I wouldn't give her to him, he came into my salon and took her. Busted up the place, beat me real bad, then beat Sophia when she tried to stop him."
Breakfast forgotten, I slid into the seat across from Jo-Jo.
Jo-Jo's eyes clouded over, like she was reliving that terrible day-the day that her sister had been taken from her. I knew what she must be feeling all too well. The rage, the frustration, the helplessness. They all pulsed through me with every beat of my heart.
"I went after Grimes, of course, but I couldn't find my way up the mountain to his hideout, and I couldn't get past all the booby traps that he had strung through the woods. Besides, my magic is for healing, not killing. But I'd heard stories about someone who could help, who could kill, for the right price."
"The Tin Man," I whispered Fletcher's assassin name.