Soulless The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,48
but he held onto it, staring into my eyes. I started to count in my head, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he’d get weary and pass out. 1...2...
I pulled at it again and he didn’t surrender it, instead leaning closer to me. “It’ll be all right,” he said, bringing my hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. ...3...4...5...6...my eyes widened as he looked back up to me, cradling my hand in his. ...7...8...9...
“You should let go,” I said again, more urgently this time, but I didn’t pull away. ...10...11...12...
“I don’t want to,” he breathed, his face next to mine, the smell of his cologne mixed with the beer on his breath in a medley of strong and sweet, and he brought his lips to mine. ...13...14...15...16...17...18...I couldn’t remember what came next and it didn’t matter: there was just the smell of him, the taste of him...
He pulled away for just a second, looking me full in the eyes. “I’m like you...and you can’t hurt me. We...are made for each other, you and me.”
I took a breath, a word filling my mind with possibilities, with a legend I’d only heard of and never given much thought to; of a type of meta, my equal and opposite, the only one who could keep my powers at bay. I felt it in my head, in my heart, and on my lips, and it was beautiful; a breath of hope for someone who’d been hopeless for far too long.
“Incubus.”
Chapter 14
He didn’t let go of me, not across the lobby, not in the elevator, when the passion was rising and we kissed again, a roaring chorus of excitement building in my head and body. We didn’t part when it opened to my floor, nor when we hit the wall of the hallway. I fumbled for my room key as we staggered, blindly, one of us walking backward nearly all the time, to my door. I threw it open and we were in, the lights already on dim, as though they were set in anticipation of our arrival.
My jacket was shed instantly, so seamless I hardly noticed it come off and wondered if it had been he or I that had done it. I tossed my gun and holster onto my open bag, followed by my shoes as I ran a hand over his smooth chest, reveling in the fact that I could touch him without fear. We broke apart, breathing heavy, and he smiled at me as I fumbled to undo the buttons on his shirt. He reciprocated, much more smoothly than I, and we hit the bed, lips once more intertwined.
I felt the weight of him on top of me, his chest pressed against mine, his fingers working on the snap and zipper of my pants. No sooner had he gotten them undone than my jacket began to ring. Loud, musical, the tones a perfect distraction to the symphony of touch and sensation that was going on a few feet away. He caressed me, running a hand along my side, making me shudder while I wished he would finish what he had started and get my pants off. I let the tips of my fingers slide over the smooth skin on his back, holding him in place, pulling him closer to me.
His lips pulled from mine for a second. “Is that your phone ringing?”
I craned my neck to kiss him again. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” My hands reached up to the back of his neck and pulled him closer. I felt his tongue in my mouth, tasted the beer flavor, and then he pulled away, running gentle kisses onto my chin and then down my neck. I felt his hands as they ran over me, the touches a delight, all different kinds of pleasure running through my skin. The phone had stopped ringing, wherever it was, and I couldn’t be happier as I lay there, breathing heavy while he touched me.
The first heavy knock on my door jarred me, causing me to jerk in surprise. I looked at him, locked eyes, and I shook my head. “Just ignore it,” I said, running a hand through his hair. A second knock came, louder and more insistent than the first. I leaned back, letting my head fall against the pillow as some of the heat left me. “Oh God, why now?”
He chuckled and lay his head on my belly. “Because it’s the worst possible time.”
The knocking came again, sustained, persistent and