A Knight in Her Arms (A Sexy Time Travel Novella) Page 4

  He didn't need to wait long. Together they reached the peak of release. She screamed his name and shuddered on top of him as they rode out the wave of pleasure as it pulsed from him into her. When she finally collapsed onto his chest, her breathing still erratic, she sighed contentedly and grabbed hold of his hand. He didn't know how long they lay there entwined, spent, their breathing finally slowing to a normal rate, but it was perfect.

  She lifted her head off his chest. "I could stay like this all day," she said, her mouth quirking into a delicious smile.

  "A tempting offer." He kissed her and she slipped off his chest to cuddle beside him in the crook of his arm, her head rested on his shoulder. His hand drifted down along the side of her warm body and landed in the coolness of her sheets.

  His eyes opened then darted from the brown sheets, to her windows and all around the room. The sinking feeling in his stomach was quickly replaced by a rise in his heartbeat. Something had to be wrong. Terribly wrong.

  *** *** ***

  Hannah traced the scar along Gavin's cheek. In the sunlight it looked even more painful, even more sinister. "I don't know what your plans were for today, but I thought I'd take the day off and show you around the city."

  The thought shocked her. She couldn't remember ever taking a day off to flit around the city. But nothing was more shocking than waking up next to a man she barely knew and loving every decadent second of it.

  His neck muscles tensed when he moved to sit up. "Plans? I wasn't expecting to still be here today."

  He finger-combed his unruly black waves of hair before his hand came to rest on the morning stubble of his chin. The look suited him, the thought of him unshaven under that helmet of his sent a wave a tingles through her core. If she didn't get out of this bed quickly, she'd be more than tempted to stay here all day.

  "You're going home today, then?" She asked finding it hard to hide the disappointment in her voice.

  Of course he would be going home today, that would just her luck.

  "No. You don't understand." He swung his long legs over the side of her bed, his eyes searching hers. "I'm not from here, Hannah."

  "I know."

  "I thought after last night you would come back with me."

  "Whoa, slow down. What are you asking me?" Shaking her head she grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around her naked body as she got off the bed. "I am not moving to England with you. I barely know you. I mean, I don't really know anything about you, like what you do for a living."

  "And I thought my sword would give me away," he said, raising his brow.

  She loved his accent, the way he spoke, the dry humor.

  Or was he being serious? She had no way to tell, nothing to gauge it against. She'd jumped into bed with a stranger for God's sake. Maybe if she played along it would lighten the moment?

  "Medieval re-enactor?"

  He shook his head. "I don't expect you to understand when I don't myself. But yes, Hannah, I'm a knight. You have my clasp. I was sent here to find you." He stood and started to pace beside her bed.

  It was her turn to sit. To make matters worse, she wasn't sure where to look as Gavin stalked back and forth in front of her, naked. "That's right, fate and destiny." She rolled her eyes.

  "What if I can't get home?" He asked on the way to her window. Fisting his hands in her curtains, he looked down toward the street. "I can't stay here. What if I'm needed in battle? I took an oath. Being here now is wrong. I don't belong here."

  Well this was a new one. She had a gorgeous naked man standing at her window, with whom she'd had sex with twice in the last twelve hours, and he was slowly proving himself to be nuts. She pulled the sheet up around her neck.

  "Look, I get it. You're on vacation. We had a nice time. End of story. Right, wrong, whatever. You're free to go. You don't have to play the chivalrous knight."

  "You must help me get back," his voiced thundered around her, the scowl on his face intimidating. "That witch and her magic. This is not my time, I cannot explain how this came to be or why the witch has not broken the spell, but I cannot stay here. You must believe me."

  "I'll call you a cab to the airport." She forced the words from her dry throat and tried not to look at his well-formed physique. Even though she knew he was politely blowing her off, she trembled at the sight of him, ached for him to touch her one more time. She looked away and headed toward the bathroom. From the corner of her eye she saw him turn from the window to look at her, but she headed quickly for the door.

  Why am I about to cry? I don't even know him. It's because of all that destiny and fate bullshit, that's why. Big, hunky dope. He could take his damn sword and shove it up his ass.

  "Hannah," he called. "How can I make you understand?" he asked, as she shut the door and leaned her back against it.

  "I told you. I get it." She reached for a tissue and let the sheet fall to a puddle at her feet. "If you want to take a shower, you can when I'm done. Or feel free to let yourself out. Don't worry, I'll tell Susan you were a perfect gentleman."

  Hannah sat for a few minutes wrapped in her sheets before deciding she needed the shower to wash away the memory of his touch. People had one-night-stands all the time. She'd learn to live with herself in time. In the shower, Hannah lathered up her hair with more force than usual. She scrubbed her scalp and cursed out Susan. The man was obviously crazy and living in some delusional world.

  With the hot water beating against her face and her chest, she opened her eyes and there he was. Right next to the glass tub doors she'd installed herself when she'd bought the co-op last spring. In all his naked glory, he stood proud and tall with his arms folded across his burly chest staring at her.

  "I told you, I cannot leave." He uncrossed his arms, pushed open the glass door separating them and stepped in beside her. He held his hands out under the spray, then touched the showerhead. Eyes wide, he smiled, "I've much to learn."

  "Gavin-"

  "Shh." He put a finger on her lips. The next thing she knew both his hands were on the wall behind her shampoo covered head and his lips were inches away. Water cascaded from the black hair on his head down his wide shoulders as he leaned in close to her. Steam swirled around them and still her nipples pebbled when his chest touched hers.

  She wished he would make up his mind. She'd never been good at the subtleties of attraction. "Either you're in or you're out. Just make up your mind." Cause damn I want you, but my heart can't take it if you leave and I never see you again.

  Shampoo dripped from her hair down the sides of her face, but she stood there in silence, waiting for him to kiss her. His large body took up more than half her small shower, and her traitorous clit throbbed as water rivulets plunged down his chest like an arrow pointing to the main attraction.

  The thought occurred to her that this was her shower. Her apartment. Her life. It was time for her to take charge. Give him a reason to stay. Whoever the witch was that had her hooks into him wasn't standing naked in a shower with him. So Hannah met Gavin's sea green eyes and decided to go for it. She reached out and took his cock in her hand and pulled him up close. "Do you really want to go home now, Gavin?"

  He coughed. She knelt on the shower floor, held her head back to rinse the last of the shampoo from her hair before taking him in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the tip of his erection and smiled. His hands were now fisted in her hair.

  "Perhaps I need to stay longer," he said, kneading his fingers into her scalp.

  She slid her tongue up and down his shaft, completely covering him with her mouth. She walked her fingers up to his abdomen; an excited rush pulsed through her when he shuddered in response.

  "Perhaps?" she asked with a laugh before taking him in her mouth again.

  "Enough, woman," he groaned. In one swift motion, he lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her back hit the slippery tiles on the wall and he impaled her right there where they stood. Their wet bodies came together as the hot wat
er rushed over them. She kissed his neck and her hands traveled the length of his rock-hard body. In return his hands explored every inch of her wet skin. Breathing harsh and uneven, together they reached for the pinnacle.

  He clutched her to him, holding her flesh tight against him. Buried inside her, he plunged deeper with each thrust. Through her wet lashes she watched his face twist from passion to the agony of release and back again. Moans of pleasure escaped her own throat as the quick, intense pulses of her orgasm sent her over the edge.

  Gavin groaned her name and they collapsed against the back wall of her shower.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "You're sure?" Hannah asked him one last time before they left her apartment.

  "Woman, I agreed to leave the sword, but do not ask me again to go without my mail." He looked outraged that she would even consider asking him.

  "I'm just saying we can make a quick stop at the store and get you a pair of jeans, that's all."

  He snarled. "No. Whatever these jeans are, I don't want them."

  She closed the door behind them and dropped her keys into her purse. "Have it your way."

  At least she got him to leave the gauntlets and the helmet behind along with the sword. Out on the street, Hannah hailed a cab and pushed a reluctant Gavin inside before giving the driver their destination. "Rockefeller Plaza, please." The car slowly left the curb, pulling out into the sea of traffic. Her fearless knight gripped the seat with one hand; with the other, he laced his fingers with hers and held tight.

  "Where do we go?"

  "No trip to New York in December is complete without seeing the tree."

  "They have trees where I live." He looked out the window, his eyes narrowed, gaze intent on everything going on in the street and on the sidewalks. He occasionally looked up at the mirrored buildings and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. His fingers absently rubbed circles inside her palm, giving birth to frequent jolts of excitement and little hitches in her breathing.

  "Trust me, you don't have trees like this." They exited the cab; she paid the driver and turned to see the awestruck expression Gavin's face. The eighty-foot Alberta Spruce was a sight even to a New York native. She never tired of seeing the tree in all its holiday glory. She made a point to see it every year. Goosebumps pricked her arms, and a swell of pride filled her chest. This was her hometown. One big hometown, but at this time of year size didn't matter. The tree connected everyone, a little piece of the holiday every New Yorker shared. And she wanted to share it with Gavin.

  Anxious as a schoolgirl on her first date, she grabbed Gavin's hand and led him through the aisle of trumpet playing angels and leaned over the railing to watch the skaters down below. Still beaming with pride, she said, "So, you have trees like this back home?"

  "We have plenty of large trees."

  She poked him in the arm, grinding her finger into the mail covering the muscular shoulders she knew were underneath. "Like this?"

  "This is a special place, Hannah," he said, and then treated her to a grin. "Thank you for taking me here. I will remember it always." A wide smile spread across his face, tugging at the edge of his vibrant green eyes. So natural and warm, she smiled too.

  Yesterday she'd thought the man never smiled. She'd been wrong. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her palm, which was much more erotic than she cared to admit. Hand in hand, they left Rockefeller Plaza to walk along Fifth Avenue. Gavin stopped at the department store windows and marveled at the grand displays, the lights, and the movements.

  She bought him a warm pretzel from a street vendor and she'd never seen anyone eat so fast.

  "Explain to me again the fat red-coated man and his connection with toys," he asked with his arm slung over her shoulder, holding her tight. "And do I smell chestnuts? The chestnut vendor must be close by."

  Just like a man to smell the food. "You just had a pretzel."

  He licked his lips. "It was quite good. But I do love those chestnuts."

  Hannah shook her head and retold the story. "Santa Claus. He brings good children toys on Christmas Eve made by his little elves at the North Pole," she said, as she tugged up the collar on her coat. Either the man had grown up in a cave somewhere, led an extremely sheltered life, or he really believed he came from a different time. Who didn't know about Santa Claus?

  "The elves have sworn their allegiance to this man to make toys for him?"

  "Forget about Santa. Looks like snow, feels like snow. How about we get warm inside St. Pat's? There's usually a chestnut guy around there, so don't worry, you'll eat."

  "A man who brings toys to children, not an armed man in sight, so many things I don't understand about this time and place where you live – like why I was sent here to protect you. Why do you need me, Hannah Falcon?"

  The question stopped her dead in her tracks.

  "Why does anyone need anyone?" She'd known him for twenty-four hours, she enjoyed his company and was definitely attracted to him, but she didn't need him.

  When he stopped beside her on the sidewalk and rested both his hands on her shoulders, his eyes bore into hers like lasers, demanding the truth. "I need to know why you need me to stay with you."

  "Well, for starters my friends and my father think I need to spend less time in the museum and more time being social." She shrugged out of his grasp and walked with the crowd in the direction of St. Patrick's Cathedral.

  "What about you? Why would you have to come all the way to New York for a date? Isn't there anyone special in England?" Hannah snuggled closer to him, wondering how this undeniably attractive man could ever be lacking in the dating department.

  He tightened his grip around her shoulder, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. "My life is not my own. I've sworn my sword and my life to my liege lord and my protection to the men who've sworn allegiance to me. The crusades have kept me from my home and I've not yet looked for a suitable wife. Maybe it's time I paid more attention to that."

  "Too much fighting, not enough love?" She couldn't believe how easy it was to play along with his game. She tried to imagine him in a business suit or anything other than his mail, and she couldn't. He seemed every inch the battle-hardened knight he believed himself to be.

  "Maybe too much killing and not enough new life." He gave her arm a squeeze and her skin goosebumped under layers of wool. "And yet the witch thought I deserved a reward."

  "You sound skeptical. Everyone deserves good things, don't they?"

  "The reality of war is harsh, Hannah. To be given an opportunity to grasp a different life is a reward I could never have imagined. Everything good comes at a price."

  He held her close and she glimpsed his profile while they walked. The scar that had intrigued her yesterday somehow didn't seem as menacing today. His prowess in the crowd, the way he moved effortlessly wearing pounds of metal, made it easier and easier for her to believe his time-traveling tale. He seemed so resigned and committed to a lifestyle she'd only fantasized about from the artifacts displayed at the museum and shown in history books.

  "Forget St. Pat's. I've got another idea." She headed in the direction of Central Park.

  "Have you been good, Hannah Falcon?" he asked with a definite tease to his rich voice.

  "Relatively speaking, I guess." She shrugged her shoulders. "Unless you count the last twenty-four hours. I think that might be classified as being bad." She laughed.

  "You don't sound convinced. How will you convince this Santa man to bring you a worthy gift?"

  She buried her head against his shoulder to keep the wind off her face. "A worthy gift? Hmmm. You don't know my father. I've been trying to be good enough for him to take me on the digs for years, but he won't budge."

  "Maybe he's protecting you, keeping you out of harm's way. You are his responsibility you know, until he finds you a suitable husband."

  She tightened her hold on his waist. "You know he'd probably like to be the one to choose my husband." She laughed
again. "But don't worry, he probably wouldn't think you were good enough either."

  "And he'd be right. I'm not. I've killed and left men dying at my feet. But I am good at what I do. I am good at honoring my promises. And I am quite good with a sword."

  She stopped on the street and looped her arms around his chain mailed waist and hugged him. Just like yesterday, she touched his scar and traced it with her finger. "Do me a favor? Don't bring the sword when you meet him, okay?"

  "As you wish." He kissed the top of her head. They crossed Central Park South at Sixth Avenue and she stopped to talk to the first man she saw with a horse-drawn carriage. The white horse behind him snorted, his breath billowing out into the frigid air, and his tail swished back and forth. The driver looked Gavin up and down but must have decided it wasn't worth losing the fare, so he didn't say a word. He picked up the wool blanket and covered their laps once they were seated inside the carriage.

  "Now this is the way I want to transport my Lady." Gavin drew her up close to him on the cushioned seat.

  The horse clip-clopped along the pavement, and they entered the park as the first snowflake landed on her nose. He leaned in and kissed it, the feel of his lips warmed her face. Postcard perfect. Shimmering white flakes drifted around them, making everything sparkle and added to the magical feel of the moment. A moment she didn't want to end. Her knight in shining, shimmering, snow-covered armor. She lifted her face to the flakes, the cold droplets moistening her skin, hiding the tears. Long distance relationships rarely worked. And if he were telling the truth, this would be way more than long distance. She rested her head on his shoulder and he brushed a snow covered curl off her brow.

  "Thank you, Hannah Falcon, for this tour of your city," he said against her head.

  "Well, Sir Gavin of Rogueforth, it was my pleasure."

  She rubbed her hands along his red and black surcoat, sensing his muscles rippling beneath the mail. Wanting to feel the strength of his body against hers one more time. When his hand moved against her thigh under the blanket, moist warmth flooded her panties and she squirmed next to him. He leaned in and kissed her with the fierce desire she'd come to expect. She captured his face between her hands and held his lips close, nibbled the edges and felt the sting of tears track down her cheek. He lifted his head and his deep green eyes studied hers. The rough pad of his thumb gently swiped away a tear.