“Then let’s stop trying.” I reached out. He took my hand, and some of the fluttering in my stomach quieted. “So if we can have only twenty people at the ceremony, who are we picking?”
He smiled. “You go first.”
“All right. One name at a time.” I took a deep breath. “Cherise.” Safe. He nodded.
“Lewis,” he said, which surprised me, but I supposed it shouldn’t have. He and Lewis had known each other long before I ever set eyes on David.
“Um—Paul.”
“Rahel.” He gave me a quick, apologetic smile. “I can hardly leave her out of the invitation. She’d only show up if we didn’t invite her.”
She would, just to be a pain in the ass. Djinn. What can you do? “Fine,” I said. “How many is that?”
“Counting us? Six.” He studied me for a second, eyes going gentle again. “Seven with a minister. Do you want to invite your sister?”
“Oh hell no,” I said. “Psycho sister Sarah is not welcome. She’s caused me plenty of trouble without this. I’ll go with . . . Venna.”
David’s eyebrows twitched, either in surprise or amusement, or maybe some of both. Venna was a Djinn, but she was on Ashan’s side of the fence; she’d done both of us favors, but as with most Djinn, I couldn’t peg her as good or bad, really. Still, she was always . . . interesting. “She might attend,” he said. “It might interest her. But she wouldn’t come alone.”
“You are not inviting Ashan.”
That got an actual laugh. “It would be politically wise.”
“And personally stupid because if I see him again, I swear I’ll rip off whatever passes for his—”
He kissed me. It was meant to be a shut-me-up kiss, quick and sweet, but it turned warmer, richer, and I melted against him like chocolate on a hot plate. “I’m asking Ashan,” he said when he let me up for breath. “And you’re going to play nice if he shows up. Which he won’t. But it will be wise to ask him.”
I made a noise that brides-to-be probably shouldn’t make, according to Miss Manners. He kissed me again.
We had so much to talk about—flowers, cakes, catering, dresses, tuxedos. . . . We didn’t talk about any of it. Instead, David pressed his lips to the pulse at my neck and murmured, “I’m bored with planning the wedding. Let’s plan the honeymoon. Better yet, let’s rehearse.”
I’d been recovering for weeks, and my libido had taken a serious beating along with my body, but when he said that, I felt a fast, hot flush of desire. Aside from some gentle play, he’d been careful with me, knowing I was fragile.
Now he sent waves of energy flowing into me, curing the lingering aches and exhaustion, and I caught my breath in true, deep pleasure.
“Right here?” I asked. “In the car?”
“I think I said before, the seats do recline.” Being a Djinn, he didn’t even have to crook a finger to make it happen. My seat slipped back, nearly level, and I made a sound low in my throat as his warm hands moved over me, sliding the strap of my top down my arm, folding back fabric. . . .
“Wait,” I said, and sat up again. “There’s a motel half a mile back.”
He looked surprised, and a little disappointed. I kissed him again.
“I’m not saying no,” I promised. “I’m saying . . . I want lots of time, and a bed. If it’s a rehearsal, let’s make it a full undress rehearsal.”
“Oh,” David murmured. “That’s all right, then.”
Chapter Five
The rain hit while we were lying twined together, sweaty and completely satisfied, on the motel bed. It was a nice motel, nothing sleazy, and the rooms were actually quite lovely. Big ocean views. We’d drawn the curtains, though, for privacy. No matter how much fun it is, some things really aren’t meant to be shared with strangers on the beach.
I listened to the patter of drops on glass and rested my head against his bare chest. He had a heartbeat, and his lungs worked just like any man’s. In fact, he was all the way human in every way that I could sense, including his postcoital drowsiness. His fingers combed lazily through my hair, leaving it smooth and shining, the way it had been when he’d first seen me.
“How’d we do?” I asked, and his hand left my hair to softly stroke my arm, skim my side, wrap possessively around me.
“I think we need more practice,” he said. “I don’t think I quite had that last part right.”
“The Russian judge gave it a nine point five,” I said. “And you nailed the dismount.”
I loved it when he laughed. Djinn didn’t laugh enough, and they had little enough to laugh about, in general. His happiness was contagious, like fever, and I basked in its warmth. We kissed, long and slow, and I heard the low vibration in the back of his throat. Still hungry. Still wanting.
I knew how he felt. The passion between us wasn’t fading; if anything, it was strengthening as time went on, as we learned each other and found new ways to please. I loved surprising him, loved the mixture of shock and wicked delight in his eyes.
When my cell phone rang, I flailed for it and switched off the ringer, but I couldn’t resist taking a quick glance at the lit-up display. Lewis, of course. And I had to answer. Otherwise, he’d do something stupid, such as send the cavalry to bust down the door and catch me doing something morally questionable.
David groaned, deep in his throat, and buried his face against my neck. “You have to get it,” he said. “Right?”
“Afraid so,” I said. “Put the porno movie on pause for a second.” I caught my breath, tried to pretend I was fully clothed and businesslike, and answered the phone. “Lewis?”
“Took you long enough,” he said. He sounded tense, which wasn’t good. Lewis was one of the most relaxed people I’d ever known, in general. “Okay, we’ve got the package in containment. Jo—there was also a card.”
“A card? Like, a greeting card?”
“You’re not going to like it,” he said. “It’s a congratulations card. On your wedding. It had a message inside.”
I went short of breath, and it wasn’t for any of the reasons that it would have been a minute before. “What kind of message?”
He ignored that question, which didn’t bode well. “Who knows you’re getting married?”
“I—not that many people. We haven’t officially—I don’t know. I didn’t think it was a state secret! My God, I was about to order invitations!”
“I think we’d better talk,” Lewis said. “All of us. Warden HQ in New York. There are some things you need to see.”
“Now?”
“Tomorrow. Let David drive if you’re taking the car.”
I bit my lip. Not that I didn’t love being in the car with David, but even at the speeds he was likely to travel it would be at least a fifteen-hour trip. Then again, it kept us mobile, and Weather Wardens generally didn’t do too well in airplanes. We draw storms the way a bug zapper draws moths.
“See you there,” I said, and hung up. I dropped the cell phone back on the nightstand and rolled back toward David. “Where were we?”
His fingers slowly stroked the column of my throat, down the valley between my breasts, and across to circle the hard cap of my nipple. “That depends,” he said, low in his throat. “How much time do we have?”
“How fast can you drive?”
He laughed. “You wouldn’t believe how fast I can drive if I’m properly motivated.”
“Any particular thing you find motivational?”
He put his lips close to my ear. “Your mouth.” His tongue traced the folds of my ear, drawing shivers. “I love the way you use it.”
“I’m guessing you aren’t talking about pleasant travel conversation.”
I couldn’t see his smile, but I felt its dark power. “Don’t want to give it a try?”
“Dude, there are laws, you know.”
“Laws against driving above the speed limit, too, but I don’t notice you objecting to breaking them.”
“You are a very bad”—I caught my breath convulsively and pressed against his fingers, which had wandered lower—“man. And we should get dressed and on the road.”