Charmed: Destiny Romance (5 page)

‘Yeah, let’s start there,’ he agreed.

By the time they’d finished wandering through the museum Mel was well and truly in a spin. On the one hand, there was a pure and simple joy thrumming through her – a lightness and ease that she couldn’t remember feeling since she was a child. Despite the fact that she couldn’t read him, she and Michael were unbelievably natural together. He’d point something out to her, she’d lean in to look, his arm would go around her back to pull her in. It just
worked
. It was as if they’d been going to museums with each other for years.

On the other hand, every time he touched her, every light flicker of his fingers against her skin sent sparks through her body. It was like the warm-bath sensation she’d experienced earlier had been electrified, sending bolts of arousal to her nipples and her clit as if his simple touches were far more intimate.

But not being able to read him was still uppermost in her mind. While at first that had made her nervous, now it was a thrill, a little like being at the top of an incredibly huge rollercoaster, poised, about to topple over the edge into the unknown. She didn’t know what he was going to do next, what he was going to say, how he was going to react.

It was an excitement she hadn’t experienced, ever.

They were heading towards the exit when a harried-looking woman raced past, calling out frantically.

‘Michael! Michael!’

It was clear she was calling out for someone else, but Michael stopped on instinct and the woman walked over to them.

Mel reached out with her mind and her probing told her what was going on just as the woman babbled, her hands wringing together.

‘Have you two seen a little boy? He’s eight and wearing a brown jumper. He’s part of the school group and we can’t find him. His name’s Michael.’

‘I haven’t seen any kids that weren’t part of a group,’ Michael said.

‘Okay, thanks.’ Her eyes were wide and she looked terrified.

The woman went to move off, but Mel put out a hand. ‘Wait . . .’ She reached out with her mind. Thankfully, there were no terrified thoughts, no scared and lonely little boys, but . . . There was a mind that was roaring, roaring like a T-Rex, clomping huge feet through the undergrowth, massive trees swaying overhead as a pterodactyl swooped and called out . . .

‘He’s in the dinosaur display.’

The woman was too concerned to question Mel’s statement. ‘I’m going to kill him!’ She turned on her heel and headed for the entrance to the exhibit.

‘He just lost track of time!’ Mel called out after her. ‘Don’t be too hard on him. He just really loves dinosaurs.’ Her voice faded as the woman stormed away.

Michael was looking at her with wide eyes.

Mel shrugged. ‘So what? Lots of kids really like dinosaurs.’

‘That wasn’t . . .’ His mouth opened and then closed as if he didn’t know how to speak. Eventually, he recovered. ‘How did you know that the kid was in the dinosaur section?’

Too late Mel realised what she had given away. Her social circle was so limited these days she didn’t take enough care to censor herself – the people she spent most of her time around knew about her abilities. But it was forbidden for her to reveal herself to someone outside the magical community. Someone like Michael.

‘I – I saw him there,’ Mel stammered in explanation. ‘When we were in there, there was a kid, just like she described.’

‘There were thirty kids just like she described.’

‘Right. So it was a good place for her to look.’

‘But —’

Michael broke off as the teacher reappeared, a sullen-looking little boy marching next to her. He’d clearly been read the riot act. But Mel was pleased to sense from him that the sulk would wear off very soon, and within minutes of being back with his friends, he’d be once again immersed in the prehistoric world of his imagination.

‘See, it all worked out,’ Mel said, forcing a cheerfulness into her voice. ‘Come on, time to head on to our next activity.’

Michael hesitated, apparently not convinced, but he seemed to decide to let it go for now.

They walked outside and over to the Imax cinema entrance.

Michael checked his watch. ‘The next one is a documentary about the world’s deserts,’ he read from the electronic board advertising the movie-session times. ‘The Egypt one isn’t showing til tonight.’

‘That’s okay, I’ve changed my mind,’ Mel said. She studied Michael’s clothing – it was almost identical to what he’d been wearing yesterday. Boots, jeans, T-shirt, shirt, jacket. ‘Is there any chance you have different clothes somewhere nearby?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Like, trackpants or shorts, that kind of thing?’

‘I have my gym gear in the car, why?’

‘Excellent.’

‘Why? What do you have in mind?’

‘Have you ever done yoga?’

‘
Yoga?
’ His expression of disbelief was an immediate answer to her question.

‘You’ll like it, I promise. Come on.’ She grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of Aunt Gertrude’s shop. Her car was parked behind it and she’d been planning to attend an evening class after the store was closed. But she knew the yoga centre did a midday session and it felt like exactly what she needed right now. Some deep breathing and stretches to realign her mind.

And it wouldn’t hurt to see Michael’s butt flex, either.

‘Yoga?’ Michael repeated, although he was walking along with her, if a couple of steps behind.

Mel smiled.

Yoga was hard. Like, really hard.

He’d never thought it would be. It was just stretching, wasn’t it? Poses and stuff like that?

A bead of sweat dripped down his face and dripped onto his trackpants. It dripped onto his pants and not his T-shirt because he was currently trying to bend his body in half and, if looking at the rest of the participants was anything to go by, failing badly. Everyone else had their chins on their knees, whereas he couldn’t even wrap his hands around his feet. He sweated and strained, while everyone else was neatly folded.

Including Mel.

In a way it was lucky the yoga was difficult. Because he needed the distraction. Mel’s lithe body in form-fitting exercise gear had nearly brought him undone. Trackpants weren’t exactly the most effective when it came to hiding an erection, so thankfully the class had got underway immediately and Michael had started sweating pretty soon after that.

The yoga teacher called out something – he had no idea, she could well be speaking a different language. He watched the rest of the room to see what they did before clumsily following.

This pose involved tucking your feet under your butt and leaning forward. Michael copied and found himself looking straight at the round globes of Mel’s very delectable bum.

He groaned.

‘It’s okay, your hamstrings are very tight.’

He jumped, startled by the voice practically in his ear. Preoccupied by Mel’s derriere, he hadn’t noticed the yoga teacher come over to him.

‘Yeah,’ he muttered. Hamstrings. That was it.

‘It’s common, especially in guys who do a lot of weight work at the gym. Just lean into the stretch, like this.’

The teacher put her hand in the middle of his back and, for a tiny woman with pretty much no muscle mass, the force with which she pushed him down into the floor was impressive. He heard a vertebra crack and the air whooshed out of his lungs as his face touched the foam surface of his mat.

‘There, that’s better.’

‘Better for who?’ he croaked.

He was rewarded with a muffled giggle from Mel’s direction.

He was broken. Surely. He’d never walk again. He’d made this random choice to hang out with a stranger for the day and the price was going to be living the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

But then, a few moments later, after they’d unfolded from the floor, the class ended and Michael was able to stand up. He felt six inches taller than when he’d first walked in. The niggly ache that was a constant presence at the back of his neck was gone. He lifted up his shoulders and dropped them, letting out a long breath. Whatever it was that had cracked, instead of breaking him, had opened him. He felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in months.

‘Wow.’

‘Good, huh?’ Mel looked up at him with a knowing smile.

‘I’m gonna hurt tomorrow,’ he said ruefully.

‘Yeah. But it’ll be a good hurt.’

‘I guess.’

Her ponytail was even messier than it had been before, and her cheeks were pink, her face a little shiny. He vaguely registered a gratitude that the class had also made her perspire, but mostly his brain was occupied with wondering if this was how her face would look after sex – all loose and sweaty and smiley.

The class emptied out around them while for a moment they stood, just looking at each other. As if Mel could read his mind, her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Michael wanted to kiss her so badly—

Read his mind?

The effort of the yoga class had momentarily made him forget about the weirdness at the museum. How had she known where that boy was? And his unease from yesterday’s reading still lingered.

‘I guess we should get changed,’ Mel said, perhaps sensing the change in his thoughts.
Damn
. Of course it was impossible for her to read his mind. But his analytical side told him that there was
something
going on.

‘I guess.’ At some point today he was going to quiz her. Get to the bottom of her tricks. He wanted to know how she did it.

‘And it’s your turn to pick what we do next. Any thoughts?’

He shook his head. ‘Not right now.’

They turned and walked out of the classroom and into a small, dark corridor that led to a unisex change room. Given the time of day, most people seemed to have changed and left the building fast, hurrying off to get back to work. There was a sudden silence as the teacher turned off the mystical Indian chanting that had been the accompaniment for their workout. The corridor and the change room beyond were deserted.

Mel turned to him. ‘You’ve got as long as it takes to get changed to decide what we do next.’

‘I’ll think of something. Maybe we’ll go to the gym,’ he said. ‘Get you to lift some weights.’

‘No way!’

‘You made me do this.’

‘And you liked it, didn’t you?’

‘Folding myself into origami? Yeah, sure, I loved it.’ He rolled his eyes.

She poked a finger at his chest. ‘You did.’

He grabbed her hand. ‘Did not.’

It had been a bad idea to touch her. Really bad. Skin against skin, even just their hands, sent signals firing all over Michael’s body. That moment descended again. A pause as they looked at each other. An assessing, heated look. She couldn’t read his mind, but she sure could read his body, because she was answering his questions without a word.

It was inevitable. They drew closer, their heads angling on approach. And then he was kissing her.

His lips on hers, teasing and tasting, trying and failing to hold back his desperation as every moment of flirtation from their morning replayed in his mind: her body pressed against his when she’d tripped outside the museum. Her shoulder under his hand and the side of her breast against his chest as he’d pull her in close to point out something in an exhibit. The tickle of her flyaway hair on his face. Her scent of flowers. Her gorgeous legs and bottom outlined in yoga pants.

At first Mel gave a muffled sound of surprise, but then she was right there with him, kissing him back with the same urgency that was thrumming through his own body.

Finally, the need to breathe made him pull back, although he didn’t break their contact, holding Mel’s hand hard against his chest.

‘Wha—what are you doing?’ she asked. She looked up at him, her eyes dark and dazed.

‘Kissing you,’ he said.
Der
.

‘Why?’

‘Because.’

And that was reason enough, really. Michael pressed her more insistently against the wall but when he leaned in to kiss her again he made more of an effort to constrain his need. He wanted to kiss her properly, not make this just a desperate groping of mouths. He nibbled at her lips, gently coaxing, running his tongue along her bottom lip. She opened her mouth to groan and that was all the invitation he needed. His tongue sought hers, stroking and teasing, as her fingers dug hard into his back.

He noticed, once again, how perfectly their bodies fitted together, the way his cock so comfortably nestled into the softness of her belly. Unable to resist, he cupped a breast in his hand, rewarded by another groan and the stronger bite of fingernails on his back.

She was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of her and all sense of time and place and the shit storm that was his life right now faded completely. The yoga had opened up his body. Mel was opening up his mind.

He slid his hand from her breast down her belly and inside her stretchy pants. She was hot and damp and all Michael could think about was how blissful it would be when they were both finally naked and he could sink into her depths.

‘Oh, God,’ she said, parting her legs so he could find her centre.

‘No, just an angel, remember?’ He smiled, remembering that bloody card that had set him on this path in the first place.

‘An
archangel
,’ she corrected him. And then she sighed. ‘There. Right there.’

She arched her neck and Michael nibbled kisses along her jaw, kissing down the slim column of her neck to her collarbone.

Then suddenly, her hand was on him. Her palm pressed against his cock, the heat and pressure of her touch an exquisite agony. The sharpness of his desire jolted his brain, bringing him back to earth, recognising their surroundings. Thank God. Because he was about to tear off both their pants and lift her against the wall so his cock could finally drive home inside her hot, wet . . .

He groaned and forced himself to remove his hand. ‘I think we should move this to another location,’ Michael whispered against her ear.

‘Why?’

He chuckled and looked at either side of them in illustration. Luckily, the corridor was still empty. ‘It’s a little too public here.’

‘Yeah. Okay.’ She blinked a few times, as if awakening from a daze. She, too, looked around and the pink in her cheeks darkened perceptibly as she recognised their surroundings. ‘Right!’