The Reunited (28 page)

He caught his weight on his elbows and one knee, keeping the impact of his body from crushing her. “There,” he murmured, lowering his head and nuzzling the curve of her neck. “This is right about where I’ve wanted to be for maybe a hundred years. And that’s not even an exaggeration.”

“Get off me, you stupid git,” she snarled.

“Stupid git?” he echoed, lifting his head and staring down at her, amused. “How is it you can insult me and still sound so proper doing it?”

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “How proper does this sound? Get the fuck off of me, you sodding wanker.”

“Hmmm. Sounds sexy as hell.” He dipped his head to hers. Two seconds later, he jerked his head. “Ouch! Damn it, you mean little brat.”

Licking his throbbing lip, he eyed her closely. She lay there, still. “Try to kiss me again, and I’ll do more than bite you. I’m done with you, do you hear me, Crawford? Done.”

He felt something drive into his heart . . . claws, maybe. Too jagged and rough to be a blade, and a knife couldn’t shred him to pieces like this. “No.” Shaking his head, he leaned in, pressed his forehead to hers. “It’s not done. It can’t be . . . don’t you see? We never even started. How can we be done if we never even had a chance to start?”

Her body lay below his, a long, rigid line. “It would never work. You don’t bother to look at anything but what you see with your eyes, even though you damn well have the ability. If you can’t do that . . .” Something dark and tormented danced through her eyes. “I’ve got enough to deal with, just on my own. I don’t need your crap, too.”

“I’m sorry.” He laid his hand on her neck, fingers spread wide so he could stroke his thumb along her lip, feel the graceful curve of her neck under his hand, the silk of her hair along his fingers. “It’s not an excuse, but you need to understand . . .” He trailed off, tried to figure out the best way to explain the truly fucked-up mess that was his head. “The gifts that are in my head aren’t . . . mine. And I’m little screwed up over them at the moment. Actually, I’ve been screwed up over that for a while now and it’s . . . I can’t think clearly. Nothing’s clear. Except how I feel about you. And I know it can’t be over, Dru.” Dipping his head, he took a chance, a quick kiss, desperate as hell, pressed to her mouth. “It can’t be over. It never started.”

She twisted away from him, staring at the headboard. Very intently, it seemed. Probably so she wouldn’t have to look at him. A soft shudder racked her and he groaned, feeling the rippling of her body under his. Killing him, damn it. Just killing him . . .

“Let me up,” she whispered. And something in her tone got to him.

Rolling away, he lay next to her on the bed, eyes closed, hunger and heartache burning in him until he couldn’t think.

“What . . . what exactly do you mean the gifts in your head aren’t yours?” she asked.

He hesitated for a minute. “Are you going to talk to me? Tell me what’s going on and why you’re so determined to walk away?”

“What, it can’t be because you acted like an
ass
?” she pointed out.

He lifted his head, craned it around to look at her. But she wasn’t looking at him.

Unwilling to let her block him out so easy, he rolled onto his side, hovering over her. “I felt what you were feeling, Dru. Shock. Fear. And I heard you. You kept thinking,
He’s one of them
. At first, I thought you were just afraid, but looking back, that’s not what it was. You were
pissed
. You didn’t think anything better of me than I was thinking, so don’t go pulling this high-and-mighty routine. Somehow I don’t think hypocrisy is your style. We both fucked up. We can deal with it and move on or make ourselves miserable. Which one are we going to do?”

She turned her head, glaring at him.

“
I
can’t read minds,” she snapped. “If I could . . .”

“It’s common courtesy not to go barging in without permission.” Lifting his hand, he laid it on her chest, felt the rapid beat of her heart against his hand. “And you’re shying away from what the problem is. Are you going to talk to me or not?”

“I’m not in the mood for this shite, but fine, you bloody moron. I’ll tell you, but then you’ll have to leave me be. And you’ll explain yourself first, you hear me?”

“Why are you so determined to leave?” he asked.

“Because once you hear what I have to say, you’ll
want
to,” she said, her voice thick and heavy. “Trust me.”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Yes.” She jerked on the cuffs. “Undo these. I’m not talking to you like this, like I’m some sort of prisoner.” Her eyes darkened. “I let myself be treated like a prisoner for too long. I’ve been investigating this for two years, but for more than twelve months, I’ve lived, slept, and breathed this case—I couldn’t do a damn
thing
without him watching, and every move I made, I worried it would be my last. It’s
done
now.
I
am done.”

*   *   *

O
NCE
the cuff fell away, Dru sprang away from the bed, desperate to get away from him. Before she let herself lean on him.

The dream had left her shaken. She couldn’t even explain how deeply it had rattled her. It felt like the very foundation of her world had been shattered, and she was still trying to find solid ground to stand on.

Joss seemed so very solid.

But it was an illusion—she knew that. He’d proven it already.

“Talk,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and turning to stare at him.

He still sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, hair mussed from sleep. With his head bowed, she let herself take a longer look at him and oh . . . what a lovely look. That body of his was absolutely delicious, she decided. Hard and strong and muscled. She’d always gone for a sleeker, leaner look, but there was just something so lovely about his strength. She wanted to climb on top of him and just spend hours learning that body. Hours she didn’t have.

Fuck it all.

“I’m probably the most screwed-up kind of psychic you’re ever going to meet,” Joss said, his voice flat, his head still bent.

She pursed her lips. He was . . . strong. She knew that much. The burn he left on her brain was almost too much, almost too intense, but she didn’t see what was so fucked up about it. “How so?”

“Well, right now . . . I can talk to the dead, I’m telepathic, there’s some precognitive abilities, retrocognitive abilities, psychometry, and telekinesis. Plus, a very, very weird ability to manipulate matter in a way that I can’t quite comprehend. All psychic abilities have a root in science . . . there’s a way to explain them. But I can’t explain this.”

“You are what you are,” Dru said, frowning as she studied him. This wasn’t exactly what she’d expected. Joss had struck her as a little more self-assured. Self
-aware
, but he was bemoaning his abilities?

“No. I’m not
this
,” he said, finally lifting his head. He held out a hand and the cuffs he held rose, hovering above his hand, held by a force she couldn’t see. But she felt it.

It was almost like the charge she’d felt in the air when Tucker had been doing his thing, but not quite.

“This isn’t my gift, you see,” Joss said, smiling a little. “It’s borrowed. I’m what you’d call a mirror. I pick up gifts. Or rather, I’m paired with whatever psychic I need to be paired with. We call it syncing. I’m synced with another psychic, given a particular gift set, and then sent to the job. Sometimes the person who has the gift we need just doesn’t have the right . . . skills for the job. Or the right sex. The two psychics I was synced to were females. They couldn’t have done this job.”

Dru stared at him. About five seconds later, she realized her jaw was hanging open. Snapping it shut with an audible click, she shoved a hand through her hair, only to realize it was still in the braid from yesterday. Yanking it out, she snapped the band onto her wrist and started to finger-comb her hair. “You . . . so, you’re basically just . . . what, like an SD card or something?”

He flashed a grin at her.

“Actually, that’s exactly what I am. I take in data. I can take in any skill I need, take it in . . .
use
it, for however long I need to.” Then he blew out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. “The problem, though, is this last sync was bad. The psychics, well, it’s not their fault. Both of them have control and everything. It’s complicated and confidential and I can’t explain it all, but one of them . . .” He lowered his hands, curling them into fists. “She’s got too much inside her. She can handle it. I was getting a handle on it. But I needed more time. Didn’t have it. Between that, the dreams . . . all the ghosts . . .”

“Ghosts?” she echoed. Now there were ghosts in the mix.

“Hell.” He shoved upright and started to pace, prowling the room like a caged, angry tiger. “I sound like a fucking pussy. Yes. Ghosts. The other psychic communicates with the dead, and this case is
crawling
with ghosts. I hear them everywhere. All they want to do is rest, and I can’t . . . I couldn’t help them do that until I did what I needed to do to help the others. But their voices were inside my head all the time. It was just too much, and all of it, you, the dreams, everything . . .” He trailed off, jerked his shoulder in a shrug. “I started to go a little crazy and I wasn’t thinking well.”

Then he turned, shot a glittering look her way. “I messed up.
I
was messed up, but that’s no excuse. I screwed up and I’m sorry. I’m still fucked up, I’m still tired, but I’m not surrounded by death and ghosts and screams right now, and I’m also not torn in ten thousand different directions while I try and understand what’s going on with you. This
isn’t
done.”

As he came toward her, still moving in that sleek, easy way, predatory, dangerous . . . deadly, but oh so fucking sexy, her breath caught in her throat. He shoved a hand into her hair, tangling as he tugged her head back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his rough voice even rougher. His eyes searched her face. “I hurt you and I’m sorry, and I want to spend the next fifty years making it up to you. But I’m not ready to give up on
us
just because of a couple of mistakes we made while we were involved in a very, very bad situation. You can’t tell me that’s what you want, Dru. You weren’t a coward in the last life . . . don’t be one in this life.”

It wasn’t about being a coward. But he wasn’t going to want her . . .

The shame, the misery, twisted inside her.

As he lowered his mouth to hers, she groaned and opened for him.

Maybe . . . maybe just once
, she thought. Couldn’t she have just once?

He slid a hand around her waist, pushed it under her shirt.

Damn it, yes.

He’d be angry. Maybe he’d hide it, maybe he wouldn’t.

She didn’t know, and just then, she didn’t care. She’d been shoving everything she wanted, everything she needed, off to the side for too long. It was time she took something she needed. Something she wanted. For the first time since she’d started working this bloody job, she’d take what
she
deserved.

Pushing him back, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and jerked it off. The harsh intake of his breath echoed through the room. Staring at him, she stripped out of her sports bra. But as she reached for the waist of her running tights, he beat her to it.

Big, strong hands caught her around the waist, hauling her up against him.

“Dru, I already told you I was going a little crazy . . . are you trying to push me completely over?” he snarled against her lips as he stripped the clinging black tights away.

“Maybe.” Tipping her head back, she stared at him. “Do you care?”

“No . . .” He spun around and put her back up against the wall. “I don’t care at all.”

She was ready for him to just unzip his jeans and take her. Ready for it to just end that fast. But he surprised her as he dipped his head, skimming his lips along her shoulder. Along the curve of her collarbone. When he went lower and caught the tight bud of her nipple in his mouth, Dru gasped.

Too much time had passed since anybody had done anything like this . . . Reaching up, she gripped his shoulders, sinking her nails into them.

Gentle, slow tugs with his lips, then his teeth. Teasing strokes with his tongue. Back and forth, and each stroke sent an arrow of pleasure darting down between her legs until she was rocking her hips restlessly, the ache there about ready to make
her
go crazy.

Her breath caught in her throat, lodged there as he went to his knees, trailing a line of burning kisses straight down her torso. When he reached her pubis, he pressed his mouth to her and Dru tensed, her entire body tightening. One hand stroked up the back of her thigh, possessiveness in every touch.

As he guided her legs farther apart, she stared down at him, watched his dark head, so intimately close.

The sight of it was so beautifully erotic, she felt herself cramping from need, aching for want of him. He nuzzled her curls, his breath ghosting over her clit. Not even a touch and it was too much. Then he flicked his tongue against her . . . and she shattered.

Too much need, too much sensation, and that light touch was all it took.

She heard a rough groan from him as she erupted with a cry and his hands came up, gripping her hips, holding her steady as he teasingly flicked his tongue over her, again, and again, pushing her higher . . . oh. Oh . . .

It ripped through her, brutal and fast and wicked. The heat of it, the intensity of it, all of it was too much. She shuddered her way back to earth, and if she’d had five seconds to think, she just might have been embarrassed.

But there was no time to think, or even breathe. Strong arms came around her waist, hauling her up. Too dazed, too breathless, she stared down into Joss’s face as he carried her over to the bed. The soft, smooth sheets were cool against her back as he laid her down, her hips on the edge.

“Stay there.” He bent over to kiss her, his voice a ragged growl in his throat.

Stay here . . . I can do that
, Dru thought, her brain barely operating. Getting up. Moving . . . not going to happen.