The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance Read online

  His muscled chest felt rough against her fingertips, all man, just like his woods and pine scent. He studied her like she was his secret treasure, his most secret fantasy. He let her look at him, let her learn him fresh and new, and, when she raised her hands to his face, the hard stubble on his cheeks gave her sweet shivers everywhere.

  “Don’t wait any longer,” she said, her voice barely audible, her skin a blazing misery waiting to be soothed.

  Carson lowered his head.

  Groaning, not wanting to survive another second, she pressed his face into her breasasted her nipple, and her entire body throbbed in response.

  “Harder,” Leah murmured, wanting the flames, craving the rough bite as he nipped, then started to suck. She arched into his body and felt his cock against her leg, thick and warm, soft yet as hard as tempered steel.

  Perfection.

  She wanted him now. She wanted him fast. Then she wanted him all night and the next day, as much as she could take, as long as she could take it.

  He toyed with her, switching nipples, then switching again and again. Leah couldn’t stop the trembling, couldn’t hold back the moans. His low growls of desire echoed through her centre, doubling her pleasure, pushing her towards frantic.

  “Incredible,” he said, quiet and definite, and bit her nipple, and bit it again, erotic pain, erotic pleasure blending until she had to run her fingers through his dark hair and grab and pull. Each time he sucked her breast, she pressed him closer.

  She’d had other men, but she’d never had this – not even with Carson those first times so long ago.

  This was passion. This was excitement. The words had meaning now.

  I’ve been waiting for this man.

  Carson bit her nipple again, shoving her right to that edge – then stopping. She moaned and pulled his hair harder.

  He laughed at her, a deep rumble in his throat. Then he ran his tongue down her belly, all the way down. She spread her legs wide, and he pushed her thighs even farther apart as he tasted and teased, teased and tasted, leaving her gasping and damned close to begging.

  “So good.” She shifted her hips, taking more of his mouth, but he grabbed her thigh and held her still. She was so swollen, so ready, that the gentle brush of his lips and tongue almost made her scream.

  “Sweet.” His hot breath was almost the last straw. And then, “I have to have you. I have to have all of you.”

  Leah’s thoughts lost coherence as Carson moved and settled between her legs. She didn’t realize he was sitting on his knees until he lifted her hips and slid her tight, shaking body towards him.

  Hanging on the sharp edge of need and want, Leah opened her eyes.

  Carson’s untamed stare rocked her essence as he held her absolutely motionless, then drove into her, deep, deeper, pulling her hips forwards. They moaned together, turning loose years of frustration with such a total union. Leah felt him inside her, felt him everywhere around her, felt the connection deepen as he brought her hard against his next thrust, and the next, and the next.

  “Don’t stop,” she demanded. “Never stop.”

  Freedom. Release.

  Finally.

  Leah’s back arched as he lifted her again, again, filling her, plunging into her, driving away everything but the heat, the joining, the ecstasy.

  “More.” Begging now. She didn’t care. “Carson, more!”

  On fire. Burning up. Closer. So close now.

  When she looked at Carson, she saw a matching heat on his face. His muscles glistened like he’d been rubbed with oil. His dark eyes seemed to grow deeper with each movement, each breath.

  When she felt herself clenching, Leah screamed and didn’t feel shy about it.

  “So right,” Carson rumbled. “You’re everything, Leah. Everything.”

  Grace Mountain could have crumbled around Leah. She wouldn’t have known. She wouldn’t have cared. All she could feel was Carson and the liquid fire searing every inch of her body, inside and out. All she could hear was him calling her name as he fell off the edge of the world with her, both of them tumbling and tumbling, and neither of them caring at all where they fially landed.

  Twelve

  “You’re serious.” Leah looked from Carson to Robert Jenkins.

  In his suit and tie, Carson’s ATF supervising special agent seemed totally out of place in Carson’s “criminal decor” living room. It had only been a few weeks since Leah drove up Grace Mountain to spend one night and just sort of stayed, and it had taken all of her self-control not to clean the place from top to bottom and completely wreck Carson’s whole badass motif.

  Jenkins tugged at his collar and tie, fighting the summer heat. “I’m very serious. I think it’s a natural.”

  Leah studied Carson for a few seconds, and he picked up her unspoken question. “Nothing changes. You’re still here only as long as you want to be here. No strings. However things work out between us, we can play it off with my cover and yours, too, if you want to keep working with the ATF.”

  Jenkins nodded. “We need somebody in that police station. After Jeff Dale – well, you know we do.”

  “A lot of folks won’t like me being hooked up with a known criminal.” Leah gestured to Carson, not quite sure how Jenkins thought this would work.

  “From all the gossip, half the valley’s expecting it,” Jenkins said with confidence. “The other half’s surprised it didn’t happen the day you got back to town. Trust me. It’ll fly.”

  Leah wanted to believe the man. Her mind spun in big circles, trying to be sure she didn’t miss any details, any catches in the offer Jenkins had made her. “Where will you send Alicia and her family?”

  “They can choose Seattle, Phoenix or San Francisco. We’ve got potential positions for David in all three cities, decent schools for Kevin – and if your sister has a reoccurrence of her cancer, she’ll be able to get first-rate care.” Jenkins smiled at her, and he seemed sincere. “We’ll manage all contacts and visits. It’s not as restrictive as Witness Protection, but we have to be careful.”

  That sounded good to Leah. Better than good. “Just one more question, then. When do I start?”

  Jenkins’ smile got a lot bigger. “As soon as possible.”

  Carson shrugged. “How about now? You said we needed to go to the grocery store.”

  Leah felt her pulse pick up.

  Could she really do this? Was she finally getting her chance to make a difference in Walker Valley?

  “I’ll try it,” she told Jenkins.

  He held out his hand, and they shook. “There’s paperwork,” he said. “I’ll get it to you fast.”

  A few minutes later, as Leah and Carson watched Jenkins drive away, Leah couldn’t quite believe she had just been hired on to work undercover with the ATF.

  “Let me get this straight.” She turned to Carson, keeping her eyes locked on his. “I play bitch to your bastard. We have lots of hot, sweaty sex. We act like bad guys, but we secretly get to take them down.”

  Doing his worst cowboy imitation, Carson drawled, “We’ll clean up this town.”

  Then he grabbed her and kissed her until her knees got wobbly. When he pulled back, he grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Want to practise? Try this out.”

  He turned her loose and tried to look mean and rotten. “Get in the truck,” he said, too loud, too harsh, but he winked when he said it. “Now.”

  She scuttled towards the big black Ford, jumped in and fastened her seat belt. When he got in, she said, “You take on the bastard role with gusto, don’t you?”

  “It’ll be a pleasure, ruining your reputation. And it’s all in a day’s work, honey.”

  Leah pointed her finger and shook her head. Oh, no. No, no, no. If you call me that again, I’ll kick your balls through your nostrils.”

  Carson started the Ford. He hit the gas and sent them roaring down the driveway, no doubt planning to jump every kerb in Walker Valley to draw as much attention them as possible.

&nb
sp; Leah held the panic grip, shaking her head.

  He was laughing.

  The jerk was actually laughing, but the best part was, she was laughing, too.

  Sorcery

  Cathy Clamp

  The door knocker was heavy, a throwback to when the castle was built. I had to use two hands to lift it but it barely made a noise when it fell. Again I picked it up and put all of my frustration and fear into the downward strike.

  The echoing boom that resulted made me want to run but my fear held my feet in place as surely as if they were part of the stone. The night seemed to close in around me and made me feel very small and lost.

  Footsteps then, soft as a padding cat, but then louder as they grew closer. And still I stood, my heart beating like a trip hammer and a cold sweat springing from my brow. The door opened on oiled hinges, silent and smooth.

  “Beth?” His name was Ethan and we’d gone to school together. He’d been rich, handsome and popular and I’d been poor and plain. But then his family’s fortune took a nosedive and now he was a servant, tending to the needs of one who could afford the luxury.

  He leaned out, looked around, panic and worry etched across his face. “What are you doing here? Go home before he sees you.”

  “I have to see him, Ethan. People are dying. I might be the only hope.” He tried to shut the door, make my choice for me, but I put a foot and hand to stop it from happening.

  A deep, accented voice came from down the hallway. “Who is at the door, Ethan?”

  “Nobod—”

  I called out over the top of him. “A witch, sir. From the village. I must speak to you.”

  In the pause that followed I could hear our heartbeats in counterpoint, mine fast but Ethan’s racing to catch up. Then the voice again, filled with a warm and eager anticipation. “By all means, come forth. Ethan, show her the way.”

  “Leave.” His whisper urged, pleaded in just a few tones. The grip of his hand on my wrist matched his wide eyes.

  I shook off the hand. “I can’t. Take me to him.”

  The pain on his face was real and there was no denying there was cause. Anton Zell was a vampire – ancient as the pyramids. Legend told of his fierce appetite and his equally terrible temper. But he was also renowned to know everything there was to know about spells and magic and I needed that knowledge tonight.

  At whatever cost.

  Ethan tugged his black butler’s uniform and straightened his bow tie before opening the door, his hands trembling enough that I had to stop looking or I’d lose my nerve. Finally he turned the knob with a deep breath. But before it opened he gave me one last look, filled with compassion, empathy and … sympathy. “Please?”

  But I just looked straight ahead, clenching my hands so tight my fingernails dug into my palms. I couldn’t answer because I wanted to scream, Yes, please! Help me run away, push me out.

  But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I squared my shoulders and gave him a simple nod. His eyes closed, defeated, and he opened the door.

  Where the hallway had been dim and cold, the room was filled with warmth. The fireplace blazed and lamps on the tables madthe room seem like any other house in town. I took two steps inside and jumped a bit when the door closed behind me.

  Movement caught my eye and I turned to see a tall, elegant older man walking towards me. Dark hair with silver highlights crowned a face that was sharply angular but not unattractive. He dipped his head when he stood in front of me and held out a flattened palm. “I am Anton Zell. Welcome to my home, Miss—” There was a questioning lilt.

  I put my palm on his, unsure of the proper custom. His hand was soft and uncalloused, with long, tapered fingers that were nicely manicured. “Beth Malus.”

  His fingers squeezed lightly and he lifted my hand to his lips. The moment his lips touched a shock ran through me. I was suddenly aware of the cooler temperature of his skin. He let his mouth press down, and the pressure of lips and teeth against me, the slight wetness of his saliva, caused a frantic fluttering of my heart. The bone under soft flesh was sharp, demanding. A long moment passed while he tasted me, smelled my skin and made my fear a living thing apart from me. “A distinct pleasure, Beth Malus. What can I do for you?”

  He’d released my hand but I hadn’t noticed and was still holding it in the air, as frozen as a statue. I shook my head and smiled, trying to get back in control of the moment. I tried to make my hand part of the conversation by pointing towards the door. “I’m hoping you’d allow me to look at your library.”

  He raised his brows and crossed his arms over his chest. “Indeed? For what purpose?” Reality seemed to coalesce around me once more and the room was just a room. I looked around for a place to sit. It was a long story.

  He remembered propriety with an embarrassed expression. He instantly swept a hand to a pair of chairs near the fire, across from one another and separated by a thick wooden coffee table. “Please. Do sit down.” A hand on my lower back to guide me brought the awareness again in a rush so strong I nearly gasped.

  But then it disappeared once we were seated in chairs. I blinked and put my feet firmly on the floor and stared at him. His face was passive, interested – not at all terrible or frightening. Another deep breath and I was in control once more. “There have been deaths in my town. I don’t know if you’ve heard.”

  He nodded, with what appeared to be an actual expression of sadness. “I have heard. Disease is a terrible, devastating thing. I am grateful some days I’m beyond such possibility. Is that what you hope to find in my books? I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I have little in the way of medical texts.”

  “But you have books on sorcery. Is that right?”

  His brows rose with interest and he crossed one leg over the other. “You’re a sorceress?”

  I nodded, feeling a little awkward at the interest. “I’m a witch, yes. One of a long line of healers. I believe that where there is no answer in the scientific world, there might be a cure in the magical.”

  His lips curled into a wide smile and now I could see the actual fangs. His canines were elongated and came to a sharp point. A thread of fear grabbed my stomach and made me squirm in the butter-soft leather seat. “Which are you? Witch or sorceress?”

  I shook my head, not understanding. “They’re the same thing.”

  “Are they?” He paused and stared at me, waiting. For what? I thought about it while his eyes bored holes into my head. My shirt began to itch and with it, my bra, making my skin twitch and move.

  His arms were resting lightly on the padded rests, both thumbs pressing and rubbing against the index finger over and over. While he stared.

  “I think so.” Was that really my voice … so breathy and low? I shifted in my seat once more because now I restching there too. And wet. What was happening to me?

  “Tell me.” It was similarly low, nearly a whisper, and I wasn’t sure what we were talking about any more. His legs uncrossed and I couldn’t keep my eyes from them, nor the way the tailored cloth created shadows that spoke of the fullness of flesh underneath. “Let’s speak of witchcraft … and sorcery.”

  The fingers kept turning and twisting, creating a direct reaction in my breasts. It was as though I could feel his fingers kneading my nipples, making them tighten, harden. They began to ache. I shifted in the seat again and now the lacy bra abraded the sensitive nerves. A sudden contraction between my legs made me tense and shudder. And he watched.

  I needed to get back to the subject, keep my mind on task. “Sorcery is just another word for witchcraft. Spells are spells. I’ve always been good at practising magic.”

  Another smile but this one more bemused. “You are indeed right in one respect. Witchcraft is the practising of magic. But—” He leaned forwards and let his lips open slightly, making my eyes follow as his tongue flicked out and slowly wet them. “What is sorcery?”

  “It’s the same,” I breathed out and shifted again, the wetness between my legs causing my body to tighten and
swell. My fingers dug into the leather, feeling very much like the skin of his palm. I rubbed it unconsciously and twisted my upper body, trying to find relief from the bra that had trapped my pebble-hard nipples in the holes of lace – captured them as surely as his movements mimicked. I couldn’t keep my eyes from following his fingers because now he’d changed them slightly. One hand was rubbing, while the other thumb flicked incessantly against the middle finger, creating a new spasm inside me with each twitch. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. He responded instantly by leaning forwards and pouring a glass of clear, chilled water for me.

  It broke whatever spell was on me and I leaned forwards to grab the thick crystal like a lifeline. It poured down my throat, slowly at first and then in gulps until the icy temperature cleared my head. I put the cold goblet against my forehead, letting the cool seep into my skin. I held the glass long after the water was gone and it warmed to the touch.

  Zell’s eyes bored into me through the crystal and I couldn’t escape the look of a predator lurking inside the innocent depth of blue.

  What would those icy fingers feel like on my skin … my nipples, or inside me? How long to warm other parts of him to the touch?

  He smiled slightly, as though reading my thoughts. Heat rose to my cheeks and I shook my head, trying to erase the image. I wasn’t a virgin but the thought of letting myself run amuck with a man such as him … No. I let my voice return to normal. “Are you willing to let me borrow the books? It’s for a good cause. I promise to bring them back when I’m done.”

  He raised his hands with a politely sad expression. “I’m very sorry, but I cannot allow the books to leave the house. Some of them are very ancient and all are irreplaceable. However, you’re welcome to look at them here. Those, that is, that will let you look.” He raised his brows significantly and I took the bait.