As I start to move up and down, my ears attuned to the sounds of pleasure coming from this gorgeous creature, I vaguely feel his fingers thread gently in my hair.
“Ah, Finley,” he rumbles thickly. “You’re the only thing in this world and the next that makes me feel powerless.”
While his words surprise me, I don’t believe them at all. Carrick Byrne doesn’t know the meaning of the word powerless, but it’s a sweet endearment for him to say to me.
It’s soon forgotten, though, as I get lost in his taste, the velvet softness of his skin on my tongue, and the way he throbs in my hand. His breathing gets hard and labored as he struggles to hang on, but he soon tips over the edge.
As he roars out his release, I think I’ve been forgiven.
I also know I won’t mind pissing him off in the future if this is how I get to work out my apologies.
CHAPTER 16
Finley
Carrick is just a little too good at picking out sexy outfits for me to wear. While this one covers far more than the pile of black straps I wore in Faere, it seems even sexier. The gold silk hugs every curve and is cut low in the front with barely-there spaghetti straps holding the light material on my shoulders. The lower part of the gown is cut at an angle, so one leg is completely exposed up to the top of my thigh while the other one is covered. But what really makes it sexy is that there’s essentially no back. It’s cut all the way down to the top of my tailbone, and, if it weren’t such a snug fit, I’d be worried my butt crack would show.
As it stood, the way the dress was made, it’s impossible to wear any undergarments. Not such a big deal down below because all my goods are adequately covered, but my nipples are clearly evident even though I did everything I could to will them away. But damned if the silk isn’t so soft against the sensitive skin that I know I’ll be sporting them all night.
This is a dress I absolutely would not have chosen nor worn out to any other event. But, apparently, Otto Von Schmidt has quite the eye for two things—women and jewels. There’s no doubt I’m the eye candy on Carrick’s arm, meant to disarm and distract the evil sorcerer we are seeking.
I suppose most women would be miffed to be used in this way, but not me. Not when Carrick walked into the hotel bathroom earlier as I was starting my makeup and saw me in the dress. The appreciation and desire in his eyes fulfilled me in a way that has never happened before with a man. He looks at me like I’m the last female on Earth, and while I’ve never thought myself vain, I can’t deny that his approval boosts my confidence.
We’re in a swank hotel in Berlin getting ready for our evening out. Carrick is in the other room, lounging on the bed as he waits for me to finish. His outfit is very European with dark gray straight-leg pants, black patent leather chukkas, and a slightly lighter gray dress shirt.
Leaning toward the mirror, I dash on my last coat of mascara before pulling back and checking my work. My hair is perfection—wild and untamed—since Carrick told me this is the way he prefers it. My makeup is good. No, maybe even great. Definitely as good as Fallon could have done for me, which means I’d paid attention all those times I let her paint me up.
The pain of her loss hits me, but it’s not as sharp and doesn’t last as long. It means I’m moving deeper into acceptance, but that doesn’t make me feel better since it’s been replaced with the pain of knowing I’ve lost my true twin.
Carrick and I had arrived in Berlin earlier this afternoon. We bent distance, but I didn’t attempt it on my own. I just held on tight to him, and we stepped from his condo right into a suite at the Ritz-Carlton on Potsdamer Platz. He explained that a German associate—code word for a daemon probably—had secured this room for him earlier in the day, which is where he usually stayed when in Berlin.
To my delight, he dropped the small duffel he’d brought with us on the bed and pulled me right out of the room. Carrick knew I’d never been out of the United States before, and he spent the next four hours giving me a quick tour of such a beautifully modern city despite how steeped in history it is. He showed me Checkpoint Charlie, and I touched what was left of the original Berlin wall. We toured the Reichstag building, and the domed ceiling was mind-boggling. Of course, we had to see the Brandenburg Gate and the Holocaust Memorial, and we ended the afternoon watching the sunset from the Berlin TV Tower where, after getting the most fabulous three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the city, he kissed me breathless. There was more snapping—another piece of our puzzle clicking into place and a sense of security settling over me like a blanket. I have no clue what these feelings of bonding are or why they’re so acute when he touches me. I only know that each time it happens, I feel more complete, like pieces of me were missing, and Carrick is building them back up.