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“You decided to come back?” he said.

Myra circled the sofa, and with great care eased herself into the chair across from him. “For tonight.”

“Then what? You’ll move in with Lizzy?”

“I never intended to impose on you this long. Or at all for that matter. ‘Tis for the best, I think.”

“That’s it? Hi, let me take over your life for a couple weeks, turn it upside down, and make you take cold showers. Then you give me some far-fetched tale about being from a different time, sent here to save the world from some evil witch, and I’m supposed to believe that? And that’s it?” His tone was cold, bordering on cruel.

“What do you want me to say?” she cried. “I know you don’t believe me, and there is nothing more I can do to convince you that what I say is true.

All I can do now is thank you for helping me.” Myra slowed her breathing. “But it isn’t enough, is it?

“No, it isn’t,” he spat out. He spent the entire day going over the Magicland tapes, searching for any sign that what she said was a hoax. Instead of being able to debunk her story, he found everything lining up.

All of it.

Her story behind her arrival, Tara McAlister’s disappearance, the question behind who Gwen Adams was. He re-studied every piece of evidence so many times his eyes were crossed. He came up with no other plausible explanation, except that what she had vowed to him was the truth. Twisted, crazy, un-deniably insane truth. A truth he had to be nuts to believe.

That wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part, the absolute most horrendous part was the fact that he sat in his home unable to get a hold of her for the last couple of hours, worrying that maybe she’d left. That she’d returned to her time without as much as a goodbye.

He’d never desired a woman as much or with such fierceness as he did Myra. What in the hell was wrong with him?

“I should go to bed.” She moved passed him.

His arm shot out, stopping her.

“No.” His tone was deadpan. Slowly, he backed her into the wall. She wasn’t going to walk away, not yet. Not when his blood pumped the way it did when she was around.

Unable to form a single coherent sentence, he did what he had wanted to do every night since they met. He took.

Chapter Nine

His mouth came down in a searing assault, sending endless shock waves through her limbs. She hadn’t had time to think or process what he was doing. The simple fact that he was holding her, kissing her and branding her as his own was overwhelming. He wanted her. The way his hands roamed over her body, crushing her to him felt desperate, stronger and more fierce than any other time he had touched her.

As his hands thrust through her hair and his mouth probed hers for entry, she felt his hard mass lean into her soft fragile curves.

Then something turned on inside her. Like a switch, her body ignited into flames, burning him and engulfing her.

Her lips opened to his, welcomed his warmth, his moisture. Without thought, her hands traveled to his back, pulling him closer. She hesitated briefly at his waist, not certain how much liberty she should take in his arms. Where were the rules dictating what she should and shouldn’t do? She felt his hands skim down her neck. His thumb traced the outline of her breast.

“Oh, God,” she moaned when his lips left hers.

It was then she realized there were no rules, only passion. Their bodies reacted, guiding them to do what came naturally. God help her, she wanted what came next.

When she dropped her hands lower and brushed down his thighs, heat punched his stomach, leaving him breathless. When he filled his hand with her breast, she didn’t pull away but molded into his caress. She moaned at his touch.

He pulled her shirt from her pants, desperate to touch her flesh, to feel it against his. He wanted to devour her in one long gulp. His day of pacing and fear powered his adrenaline now. He managed to shed her of her top.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. He trailed his lips down and feasted on her breast.

She didn’t push him away, instead she seemed as anxious as he to shed her clothing.

He started to move toward the sofa, backing her up. They should go to his room, but the thought of walking that far disturbed him. He wanted her there, now.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Todd told himself to slow down. This was her first time, and he wanted her to taste heaven, needed her to enjoy every pleasure he knew he could give. But she was tugging his shirt out of his jeans, and he was helpless, lost to her.

A deafening crash outside the front door was like ice-cold water tossed over an open flame. Her nails, clawing at him in passion, suddenly gripped him in fear. Her gasp edged toward a scream.

His head shot up while the rest of him froze. He looked down at Myra and put a finger to her lips demanding silence when the second crash came.

He tugged her to the floor. Staying low, he inched over to her shirt and thrust it into her hands.

Myra hurriedly dressed and wedged herself between the wall and a divan.

Todd crawled on his hands and knees to where he left his gun. Crouching on the balls of his feet, he clicked off the safety on his nine millimeter and clasped it with both hands. With his weapon in front of him, he edged his way to the side of the massive picture window.

He saw a large shadow and pulled back. What the f**k?

“Stay here,” he whispered as he passed her.

“Stay down.” He ducked into the kitchen and headed to the back door.

Cowering in the corner and completely helpless, Myra shut her eyes and opened her mind. Her head ached with a familiar pain of someone looking in. Whoever stood outside was crawling around in her head like a parasite, sucking up information.

Instantly, she shut him out. He was powerful. Druid or witch, she wasn’t sure, but his intent was evil.

She felt his presence hiding in the shadows, she saw the stranger looking at a brick he held in his hand. Waiting and wanting to hurt them.

The chain that latched the back door slid open.

Myra knew Todd was walking into a trap. Rushing to the back door, she screamed. “Stop!”

Todd turned, and pulled her down when she reached him. “I told you to stay.”

“Shhh...”

Another crash outside had him covering her body with his. Myra closed her eyes and concentrated, opening her mind to the intruder outside.

Her breath came out in a rush, as if she had held it for hours. “He’s gone.”

“What?”

“Thank God.” She rested her forehead on his arm and caught her breath.


Tags: Catherine Bybee MacCoinnich Time Travel Trilogy Science Fiction