He refused to ponder the ramifications of that possibility.
Securing the condom with one hand, he strode into the kitchenette and searched for a waste can. He located it beneath the sink and pitched the condom inside. Leaning against the cupboard, he scratched his jaw. Marabella’s sweet, musky scent clung to his fingers. He could still taste her on his tongue. Hear her sexy moans and ecstatic cries ringing in his ears. The lust pooling in his groin intensified a million times over.
Time to get out of there before he did something epically stupid—like sink into her softness and stay there the rest of the night. Hell, the rest of eternity. Pushing away from the counter, he returned to the bedroom display and yanked his T-shirt on. He unwound his belt from the bed rail and noticed that he’d forgotten to untie Marabella’s wrists. Much as the thought of touching her again filled him with equal parts hunger and undiluted dread, he couldn’t leave her like that.
Could he?
Fuck. Steeling himself, he loosened the knot and eased the cord enough that it slacked around her hands. She could easily pull the rest of the way free once she woke up.
Refusing to give her delectable body a final glance that might officially kill his few remaining shreds of sanity, he shut his eyes and teleported to his GTO. After fetching his keys from his jacket, he cranked on the engine and drove to his house.
By the time he pulled into the garage, a strange wooziness was making his head spin. Shit, maybe the seal breaker had worked. That’d be a first for him—something actually going as planned and without any fuckups. Slinging his jacket over his shoulder, he steadied himself in the seat and visualized his bedroom so he could teleport again. Considering the mushy grogginess overtaking his brain, it was easier said than done. Finally he managed to concentrate long enough to fix the image in his mind.
Nothing. He still sat in his garage. Bloody hell. Looked like he’d have to hoof it the old-fashioned way. He climbed from the GTO and, with a series of half-shuffling, half-staggering lurches, made it to the door leading into the house. He struggled to fit the key into the lock, and after a dozen or so tries, gave up and thudded his fist on the doorframe.
He was pretty damn sure a year passed before the door snicked open and revealed Nikki standing in the entry. At least he thought it was her. Hard to tell with all the weird green stuff all over her face.
Maybe he was staring at an alien.
The alien Nikki reached out and tugged him into the entry. “Thank God you’re back. Cass is forcing me to play beauty shop. I need you to save me before she makes me give her a damn pedicure.”
“Yours face’s…s’green.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you drunk?”
Was he? He didn’t think so. That he could recall. “’S’going to…” What was that thing people slept on? Oh yeah, “…bed.” He untangled his arm from Nikki’s and wove his way to his bedroom, occasionally banging into a wall en route. The journey took longer than usual. For Devil’s sake, did his cousins add an addition to the house while he was out? Groaning, he stumbled toward the bed and belly-flopped onto the mattress.
Several hours later, his own deafening snores jostled him awake.
He felt like serious shit. The kind of godsawful crappiness that signaled either a wicked case of flu, or imminent death.
He suspected the latter was knocking on his doorstep. Damn, he had said he’d rather be dead than Pricilla’s errand boy. For once, it looked like his wish was coming true. Sweating like a crack addict and his head spinning, he crawled beneath the covers.
And waited to die.
Chapter Ten
Marabella shifted her head and blinked against the bright ray of sun streaming through the window. A sparkling mote of dust swirled in the sunbeam’s epicenter. Jeez, I really need to do a better job of dusting in here.
Grimacing, she rubbed her eyes and scooted into a sitting position. A cool draft from the nearby air vent breezed by her, disturbing the lovely cocoon of warmth the sun had wrapped her in, as well as tightening her nipples.
That’s when she realized she was naked—in the middle of her damn store. She’d had plenty of embarrassing dreams that’d featured unfortunate occurrences of public nudity. Just like with those, this was no more entertaining. Ducking to the floor, she scrambled to grab her dress from beneath the daybed. What in the world was it doing under there? And why had she been sleeping buck-naked on the—
With mortifying clarity, the events from the preceding night rushed back.
Oh goddess. She’d had sex with Sam. A demon.
Forget about being stripped of her white-witch status—she’d probably burn in the big fire pit down below for this offense. Battling to get the dress past her head, she dashed toward the doorway and yelped when something sharp jabbed through the thin sole of her sandal. Hopping on one foot, she gaped at the bits of clear glass littering the ground. Her gaze shot sideways and fell on the shattered remains of the table lamp. Aw crap. She’d forgotten about her magic blasting the stinkin’ thing.
Making a mental note to sweep up the mess before she opened shop, she raced toward the rear stairway. Once upstairs, she ripped the dress off again and kicked free of her shoes. After cranking the shower to the hottest setting she could tolerate, she climbed into the stall and scrubbed herself furiously beneath the spray. It was foolish to think a loofah would scour away her sinful misdeed, but it made her feel better.
Sort of.
The heaviness of everything hit her like a Mack truck. She dropped the sponge and buried her face in her hands. The pelting water was like stinging pinpricks on her skin, but even that discomfort didn’t mask her misery. Slumping against the slick tile, she stared bleary-eyed at the sudsy water swirling down the drain.
She’d grown complacent with the idea of being a virgin the rest of her life. Well, mostly. Now that she was no longer one…it felt weird.
The damnable part was she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Couldn’t share this startling new facet of her existence—being devirginized. If there was such a word. Which there probably wasn’t. Regardless, this had to remain her dirty secret. She couldn’t even tell Willa, her best friend, because there’d be the inevitable question of who Marabella’s first lover had been, and she certainly couldn’t reveal that.
Lover. The cascading water muffled her snort. If there was one word to describe Sam, it wasn’t that. He hadn’t even stuck around, for goddess’s sake. Not that she’d expected him to cuddle or anything. That sure as hell didn’t seem like his style. But it would have been nice if he hadn’t skulked away like a thief in the night. Or a guy who’d gotten his rocks off and couldn’t wait to get her out of his sight.
Not only was he a demon. Apparently he was also a huge asshole.
Too bad her hormones couldn’t get on board with that fact. Just thinking about the way his hands and mouth glided over her skin last night was enough to make her shiver, despite the scalding heat surrounding her. He’d been so masterful in conquering her body. Would any other man have been able to do the same?
She scowled at the ridiculous question. Of course they could. Because if not—and Sam truly was the best sex she’d ever experience…