Betrayed: Days of the Rogue (20 page)

Once again he tightened his grip
with the intent of moving her, only to still the motion when he
felt her spreading her fingers out across his chest, tracing the
curve of muscle and bone before travelling up to his neck. When she
touched his bare skin, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, the
warmth from her fingers taking a super highway straight to his
groin.

When he opened his eyes, she was
staring right at him, the look of temper now replaced with desire.
Somewhere deep inside, he felt a tug of recognition, a calling that
he was unable to resist. Without pausing to decide if it was right
or wrong, he took her head in his hands and kissed her. It was a
hard kiss, expressing his worry and anger as well as his desire; he
half expected her to protest the unexpected onslaught.

Instead of resisting, Eve raked her
fingers through his hair, soft needy sounds coming from her throat.
She kissed him back with an equal fervor, opening to him,
encouraging him. He accepted the invitation, stroking and
exploring, tracing the soft skin on the inner side of her lip with
the tip of his tongue.

A gentle buzz started in his brain,
a pleasurable tingling that travelled down his spine and settled in
his groin. God, he should stop. He really should. Instead, he drew
her body closer, running his hands up and down her back, growling
in frustration when the cold, wet material kept him from accessing
her bare skin. She wiggled in his arms her thigh brushing his
erection as it strained against the damp denim of his jeans. Heat
flared through him, and he was about to roll over and trap her
beneath him when a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder
caught his attention.

They were in a puddle, in his front
yard, making out like some lovesick idiots.

“Eve.” He pulled away, panting,
struggling to think.

“Hmm?” She began to nuzzle his
neck, licking and nipping. A shiver ran over him that had nothing
to do with the weather or his wet clothes.

He put his hands on her shoulders
and tried to ease her away. Fighting for control, he reminded
himself that one of them had to be sensible. “We should go
inside.”

Eve shimmied on top of him and he
bit back a moan as the movement stimulated his already aching
flesh. “Inside?” She trailed her lips along his jaw. Her warm
breath puffed softly against his flesh, while her fingers teased
the nape of his neck, angling his head until her mouth met his.

Another long kiss passed between
them and he felt himself being pulled even further under her spell,
drowning in the depths of desire. With his last remnant of sanity,
he wrapped his arms around her and surged to his feet. Somehow he
made it to the house without falling and, once inside, released his
tight grip to shut and lock the door. She slid down his length, and
when her feet touched the ground she blinked as if only then
becoming aware of her surroundings.

God, he wanted her. He was shaking,
trying to hold back, yet desperate to feel the endorphin rush of
bridging his mind with hers. He couldn’t do it, though, not if he
wanted to be able to live with his conscience afterwards.

Tenderly, he brushed the strands of
wet hair from her face, then stepped back, forcing his arms to stay
at his sides. No more touching, at least not until they talked. He
needed to explain some things to her, how it was between Fae. It
would feel like he was taking advantage of her otherwise.

After losing the support of his
arms, Eve wobbled for a second before regaining her balance. She
seemed dazed, drugged even, as she stared at him owlishly. Her
reaction provided him with further proof, if he’d needed it, that
she had no idea as to the effects of two empathic minds
meeting.

“We should dry off.” He forced
himself to look away, and glanced at the floor. Water was streaming
from their wet clothes and pooling at their feet.

Eve looked down too and wiggled her
toes. Her sodden shoes made a wet squishing sound on the tiled
entryway. “I should get a mop.” She spoke distractedly, as if it
were hard to gather her thoughts. Glancing about, she tucked her
hair behind her ears with trembling hands.

“Don’t worry about it.” Rafe kicked
a throw mat into place so it would absorb the worst of the mess
then pulled off his shoes and socks. Grabbing the edge of his
shirt, he peeled it off, grimacing as the cold wet material clung
to his skin, momentarily resisting his efforts, before allowing him
to remove it. He was unzipping his pants when a sound from Eve had
him pausing. She was staring at him, or more specifically at his
abdomen. In other circumstances her wide-eyed expression might have
made him smile.

“Sorry.” He dropped his hands to
his sides. “I’m used to living by myself. I’ll change in the
bedroom. You use the bathroom and take a hot shower.”

“No, that’s not it.” Eve licked her
lips and then tentatively stretched out her hand. “What happened
here?” She touched his abdomen where the line of his scar showed
through his gaping zipper. Her fingers barely skimmed his flesh,
yet his skin quivered from the contact. “I’ve noticed it before,
when you’re exercising, and I’ve wondered about it.”

“A fight.” He watched her face,
wondering how she’d react. Would she be shocked at the idea of a
doctor involved in a physical fight?

“Do you get into lots of those?”
She stroked the roughened skin, her fingers dipping lower. His
breath hitched in his throat and his cock began to harden again. He
caught her hand in his, holding it in place against his body,
preventing it from moving further.

He considered his answer. Did he
get into fights? It didn’t seem typical for a psychiatrist but then
again, his wasn’t a typical sort of job. Sometimes, when a rogue
was brought in, there were…altercations. At least until he
established himself as the leader of the clinic. Actual fights
however… “No. Not often.”

“Good. I don’t like the idea of you
being hurt.” She raised her eyes to his and he found himself being
drawn into twin pools of swirling blue and grey. He’d thought she
might have begun to recover from their intimate encounter, but
apparently he was wrong. Her mind was still reaching out to his;
soft tendrils stroking the edges of his awareness, promising and
teasing, making him recall the heady rush of moments before. His
senses sharpened; his awareness of her scent, her breathing, the
warmth of her hand…

“Eve…don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” The tip of her
tongue slipped out and wet her lips.

He swallowed hard, fighting for
control, striving to keep his own mental wall intact. She didn’t
understand how the need for another endorphin rush was affecting
her; he did. The task of being responsible fell on his shoulders.
“We need to…talk.”

Eve stepped closer until their
hands were sandwiched between their bodies. “About what?” She
dipped her head forward and licked his nipple.

His breath caught in his throat,
and he used his free hand to grab her hair and pull her head away.
He couldn’t take much more. “About how you—and I—are feeling right
now. It’s not what you think.”

“How so?” She arched her back,
straining to get closer, the hard points of her nipples grazing his
skin through her wet shirt. A seductive smile graced her face, the
look of a siren leading the unwary into dangerous waters.

He wasn’t unwary though. He knew
the pitfalls of continuing down this path. Releasing his grip on
her hand, he moved to push her away. Free of restraint, Eve slid
her fingers into his pants and grasped his hardened flesh.

Desire slammed into his body, all
his mental barriers crumbled, and the empathic bridge between their
minds quickly began to form, layer upon layer knitting themselves
together. Everything she was feeling swept into his mind, the hot
need, the sensual ache. It combined with his own, one feeding off
the other, growing and spreading, wrapping his mind in a passion
filled haze.

Oh God, it felt so good. Her
feelings and his, ricocheting back and forth; each slide of her
hand along his length pushing him closer to the edge. Who could
withstand such an assault?

Rafe pulled her head to his,
crushing her lips with his own, invading, taking without asking,
just as she was doing with him. Each stroke of her hand was
mimicked by his tongue; the light raking of her nails on his
sensitive flesh was rewarded by a nip. When she gently squeezed
him, he caressed her breasts, thumbing her nipples, kneading the
gentle slopes.

Need clawed at him, stripping away
his civilized veneer leaving only raw, bare passion. He began to
pull at her clothes, ripping her wet shirt, dragging her bra from
her body. When one strap tangled on her arm, he forced her to
release him so he could remove the offending material. Nothing was
going to separate him from this woman. He wanted every inch of her
flesh for himself.

Once her shirt and bra were
disposed of, he roughly stripped off her jeans and panties and then
pulled her bare body against his. He ran his hands down her back,
tracing the indent of her spine, cupping her ass, revelling in the
feel of her. She wiggled against him, her hair brushing his skin as
she licked his collarbone, her hands fumbling with the waistband of
his pants until they slid over his hips and down his legs.

When his shaft finally sprang free,
he groaned in relief and pushed against her belly. She raked her
nails down his back, tongued and bit his nipples. The stinging pain
made him gasp and he grew harder than he thought possible. Wanting
to return the favour, he lifted her so he could suckle at her
breasts and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands
gripping his shoulders.

Eve purred as he teased her flesh
with his mouth, paying homage to first one breast and then the
other. Wrapping a steadying arm around her waist, he slid his hand
downward, tracing her crack then dipping his fingers into her
folds. She was hot and wet and ready for him. He stroked her
slickness; each gasp of delight sliding over their mental bridge
and ratcheting up his own desire.

“Please,” she panted. “Please, oh
please.” She was shivering in his arms, aching and empty; he could
feel her need, knew its sweet agony as if it were his own. Turning,
he pushed her against the wall, grabbing both her thighs and
lifting her up so his aching cock was poised at her entrance.

Eve wrapped her arms around his
neck. Their foreheads rested against each other, their breath
intermingled. Eyes locked, he felt could see her soul, feel her
heart pounding, knew her desperate craving to be filled. Slowly, oh
so slowly, he lowered her down onto his harden flesh, the invasion
of her body unbearably sweet. His legs almost buckled as he
experienced the sensations with her.

She was so tight, so hot. Her eyes
widened and her breathing hitched as he buried himself deeper and
deeper, her body gently resisting his size. A whimper slipped from
her and he watched as she bit her lip, a slight vertical line
marring her brow. Through their emotional connection he knew she
found him large, that he stretched and filled her as never before.
The knowledge awakened a primal pride in him, as if he had somehow
claimed her body as his and his alone.

Kissing her deeply, he soothed and
petted her, giving her time to adjust. When he felt her begin to
relax, he knew it was his cue to move.

Grasping her hips, he set up a
rhythm, rocking into her, revelling in the slide of his aching
flesh against her slick walls. The sounds and scents of sex
surrounded them. Eve’s gasps each time he thrust, the slap of skin
against skin, the musky smell of desire. Outside lightning flashed
and thunder rumbled; rain beat relentlessly against the window
panes as the heart of the storm passed overhead, but inside a
different storm was reaching its peak. One of heated desire and
desperate need as he took her against the wall.

Over and over he possessed her,
pulling her down against him harder and faster. She was approaching
her climax, he could feel it himself, knew how her focus was on the
joining point of their bodies, how the tension was coiling inside
her.

Eve panted and whimpered, arching
her back, clawing at his shoulders. Her heels dug into his butt,
urging him on as she strained towards the edge, wanting more,
demanding more. His own breathing was ragged, his control almost
gone. He could feel his balls drawing up, saw Eve’s mouth open.
Again and again he pumped into her until a scream ripped from her
throat and she came apart in his arms. With a shout he followed
suit, her body milking his as ecstasy raced through their bodies
and minds.

Somehow he managed to slide down to
the floor and prop himself up against the wall, Eve cradled in his
lap. An endorphin high was sending euphoric shock waves up and down
his spine, all worries and cares erased. He shifted Eve in his
arms, noting the pink flush on her cheeks, her slightly parted lips
all red and puffy. Their joining had put that blissful expression
on her face, and his own lips curved in satisfaction. Propping his
chin on her head, he half dozed enjoying the slow downward drift to
reality. It was a much longer ride down than if he’d just had sex
with a human. He stroked Eve’s back and played with her hair
thinking it would be almost impossible to contemplate normal sex
after this experience.

A slight sinking feeling invaded
his happy realm. He’d had sex with another empath; a Fae who
obviously didn’t know all the rules of the game. They’d formed a
temporary bridge during the experience; a bridge that Eve hadn’t
even known was possible.

Reality settled in his gut, cold,
heavy and bitter. The wall he was leaning against was cool, the
tile under his butt was hard. Wet material from their discarded
clothing was pressed to his thigh and a storm raged outside. In his
arms, Eve stirred and Rafe quickly slammed his protective mental
barrier into place. What the hell had he done? After all his fine
self-talk about leaving Eve alone until she knew the full story,
what did he do? Fuck her like some randy teen. Disgust at his
behaviour, at his abuse of his abilities, and her trust, filled
him. Eve would be furious—and rightly so—once she learned what he’d
done. Invasion of privacy was a betrayal of his vows as an empathic
psychiatrist.