Dangerous (19 page)

But he had asked himself these questions already. Dozens of times. In the secretive, speculating parts of his brain that had considered crossing the line with her, he had imagined what it might be like and had found himself insanely titillated by the thought of it. But he had known for quite some time that his sexual tastes did not run toward the mild or mundane.

“And you didn't think I had ever considered that?” he asked her with amusement poured into his voice as liberally as syrup onto pancakes.

“Well, I . . .”

He could almost envision the gears turning in her head, as well as the soft flush rising on her skin as she began to breathe a little more quickly. However, he knew she would overthink, just as he would overthink if given enough time to do so. It was intriguing to realize how much they had in common. And if she was like him, then she worked best thinking on her feet and in the moment.

Liam darted forward to catch her mouth, kissing her powerfully as his hands swept down the front of her body, over her breasts and ribs and belly and around her hips to the backs of her thighs. He roughly hauled her feet off the floor by sliding her up between his body and the solid press of her bedroom door. The wood clattered in its frame as he did so, but all he heard was the ragged inhale of her breath as he wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Now I think I'm going to fuck you right here. Because I'm tired of waiting for it. And I know you are too. There's only one restriction I'm going to put on you, Devon. When you mark me, as I know you will, don't do it where my men will be able to see.”

Devon was not offended by the request in any way. It meant enough that he was breaking all the rules to put his hands on her. He wasn't the sort to fly in the face of his own ethics easily. That made the feel of his hands and the urgent press of his body all the more arousing. Once her legs were locked around his hips, he gripped her around the throat with the left hand and pushed his right back between her legs where it had been before she'd thrown him off her.

“I'm going to make you scream until I see those fangs of yours flashing in the moonlight,” he promised roughly against her lips as he swept his thumb against her clit and boldly thrust two fingers into her body. She was more than wet enough from their earlier play and he went in easily in spite of the incredible muscular resistance that greeted him because she was taken off guard and because, he imagined, she was Morphate. Every inch of her was custom designed for strength. And it only took a few moments of touching her to understand that every inch of her was designed for mating as well.

She came alive like something dormant suddenly granted consciousness. Her long legs gripped him, her body curved against him, and he felt the sharp bite of her strengthening claws pricking into the skin of his shoulders.

“Within the borders of a T-shirt?” she asked him breathlessly and a bit belatedly.

“That'll do just fine,” he agreed as he began to work her clit and her channel at the same time, in an aggressive rhythm sparked by the arousal claiming him as her true nature was finally unleashed. There was no longer any hint of passivity in her. She grabbed onto him like a thing gone wild, working her own body into his touch, her breath coming quicker and quicker as she took an insistent part in her own stimulation. It made him hard all over again and then some to feel her come alive like that, to discover all the promise of potential sexuality that he had seen fulfilled at last.

Devon growled raggedly against his ear, her whole body writhing, forcing him to bang her back against the door hard in order to keep them on balance. She was gasping for breath, her head cocked back, those gorgeous fangs on wicked display. Somehow the sight of them made her even more beautiful than ever. Almost as if they had been missing all along, the last thing needed to perfect her. And that was probably because on some level he had wondered where they were and how he could get her to show them to him. Knowing Morphates as he did, he knew it would take either extreme violence . . . or this. The height of lust and passion. Her eyes, glowing yellow-green in the darkness, slid closed as she began to moan, punctuating that ever-persistent, underlying growl.

Devon had not felt this level of pleasure in so many years that it had been forgotten. It had been so powerfully dismissed because she had chosen to live among humans and had lived a life where few could be trusted even to know what she was, never mind to bring this out of her. She ought to have resisted even now. She shouldn't trust herself
or
him. It was an act of insanity. But right then she needed to be a little insane. She needed to let herself run wild more than she had ever needed anything in her life. And even though she had had couplings with other Morphates since her alteration those fifty years ago, none of them had attained the degree of intimacy and wildness that threatened her now.

She began the fall into orgasm as if she were falling off a bridge, giving herself over to it completely, welcoming the inevitable. Liam let her fall, holding her securely in every other way so she didn't have to worry about anything else but rolling back into her pleasure. She shuddered mindlessly, amazed at what she was feeling, at the power of it even without penetration of her body, or her fangs.

She reached to grab the back of his head with one hand, the short spikiness of his hair crackling beneath her fingertips even as the long tips of her claws tapped against his scalp in a way that made an erotic shudder skip down his thick spine. She was panting hard in his ear, feeling the ache of her protruding fangs and the savageness of her hunger. Her tongue felt like it was sticking to the roof of her mouth with the thirst she had for him. For his blood. But she needed something else even more. The hollowness of her body was exacerbated as he pulled his hand free of her and moved to make hasty work of his belt and his jeans. In her haze of need she wanted to claw into him, forcing him to her and inside of her. Forcing him to move faster to his goal. Then she remembered his only request for reserve.

There could be no marks for his people to see.

Liam felt her hand suddenly scraping down inside his jeans over his left buttock, her grip sharp and painful as she urged him forward, pushing the denim down and away at the same time. She would better be able to control her hunger later on, after it wasn't so keen, but for now . . .

He was of no mind for slowness or patience either. They'd danced around what they had really wanted long enough. His cock in one hand and her weight supported in the other, he lined himself up to enter her. All it would take was a single savage thrust. But there was something about holding on to this ferocious little wildcat, her nails digging deep into his backside and scalp at the same time, her breath chuffing out of her in staccato growls of demand that made him want to savor the moment even more.

“Do it! Fuck me. Do it hard, Liam, and fast,” she demanded in fierce little gasps.

He thought about toying with her, but he was fast reaching his own breaking point. Rubbing the head of his cock all around her wet slit for a moment, dousing himself in creamy wetness, he then moved straight to the cusp of her vagina, nudged, and then in a great forward surge, he rent her eager yet resisting flesh. That she wanted him there was no question, but he could tell with strange surety and immediacy that she had not seen use in quite some time. The thought was fascinating and compelling. It made him thrust harder into her, banging her back into the door and making her cry out.

His name. She cried out his name. He would never forget the sound of it in that animalistic growl, accompanied by the further press of her claws into his flesh. The pain was a perfect sort of pleasure. And it propelled him into one thrust after another. Each one slamming their fervent bodies against that shuddering door. He was risking their discovery with such noises and racket. It promised to attract the attention of the guards walking the other levels of the house. He reached out a hand to add balance to their weight against the door, pushing it steadily into the jamb even as their coupling continued to bring them back and forth against the wood. It didn't eliminate the noise, but it brought it down several notches. And it was a fix he didn't have to concentrate on. A fix he could use to bear into her harder and deeper. She was tight and burned like fire around him, her body heat unbelievable. He couldn't give her but the briefest of hot kisses, his attention fully focused on other connections. But she had little interest in kissing now. She became undeniably fixated on his throat . . . on the powerful pulse she saw beating there in his strong, thick neck.

He promised to be oh so delicious. He promised to be explosive and hot and divine. But she had made him a promise as well, and she was forced to drag her attention down from the exposed length of his neck to the more easily concealable yoke of his shoulder. It was a thick, meaty spot. As good as any, when it came down to it . . . and a delicious access to a rich supply of the fevered blood within him. Leaving the control of the thunderous rhythm he had chosen up to him, she shot forward like a cunning little serpent honed in on a perfect target. The perfect morsel to be devoured.

Liam felt her jerk forward, but it took a moment longer for him to register the sudden burning pain of being bitten. His first instinct should have been to rip free, to tear away from the source of such piercing pain, but instead all he could feel . . . all he could do . . . was come. The violent need to ejaculate was on him and beyond him before he could even think to control himself. He threw his head back and gritted his teeth to keep from shouting the overwhelming pleasure out so loud that the whole of his protective detail came running. He pinned her hard to the door as he jetted into her in long, scalding streams of release. He was aware of her open mouth on him, the warmth of her tongue swirling over his skin to cup up the blood he was losing into her. The sound of her swallowing was somehow the most erotic thing he'd ever heard in his life.

She was climaxing as well. The power of it trebling with every mouthful of Liam she took into herself. She did not throw herself fully into it as she would have loved to have done. A Morphate in true release became almost vicious sometimes, a single bite not always satisfying. Their partner often surfacing with multiple bites and a body tracked with random, fervent claw marks. But she knew she could only go so far with a human lover. Especially when that lover wished to keep evidence of the coupling secret.

Just the same, she rushed with pleasure. Pulsed and clenched with it. Burning off her need and craving for him well enough to satisfy herself. Well enough to satisfy him. As she panted for breath, slowly licking at the worst of the wounds she had created, she found herself smiling against him.

“Jesus God,” Liam growled out against her ear, his breath coming hard and his big body actually trembling within the vise of her arms and legs.

Her smile grew wider. He felt the exposure of her teeth against himself and felt in his spirit just how well pleased she was with herself . . . and perhaps the situation at hand as well.

“I can feel the shit-eating grin, I'll have you know,” he whispered against her ear, his own smile irresistible. He seemed to have rediscovered the expression since getting to know her. Not that he had been a sad or miserable person, but quite a serious one. Given the nature of his job and his life and all the lives he became responsible for, it wasn't any wonder. But something about her had brought back his ability to smile, even so. It was a daunting idea. The implications of which he wasn't quite ready to sort out.

“Is there anything wrong with my being pleased with myself? Or with you?” she asked him coyly.

His smile grew.

“Not in the least. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

He had never spoken truer words.

When Devon woke the following morning, it was with an automatic smile on her face before she even opened her eyes. She felt warm male all along her body and under her cheek. She opened her eyes to find Liam sprawled over a large percentage of the bed on his stomach, and she was lying over him like his own personal blanket, her cheek nestled in the center of his back between his shoulder blades. She tilted her nose up and she could see the fine hairs that had grown back since his barber had last neatened the cut of his hair on the back of his neck. Her left leg was thrown over the backs of his thighs, her belly curved over his backside. How he could sleep comfortably with almost all of her weight lying along his back was fascinating to her. She was also surprised to realize she was quite comfortable herself. She smiled against his skin and reached up to brush her fingers over the previously noticed hairs on the back of his neck. They were soft and prickly at the same time and she gently stroked them into the same direction.

She had never made a habit of sleeping with males. Perhaps when she had been younger and more trusting, but once she had begun to learn the hard lessons of the world they lived in, she had grown very cautious. Yet it seemed caution had abandoned her along with everything else as far as Liam Nash was concerned.

A human male. And yet she had felt more pleasure under his kisses and engulfing hands than she could remember ever feeling with the unmemorable Morphate males she'd encountered since her change. That was saying a great deal, considering the extent of her lifetime. What was it that made him different? Certainly the acts had been familiar enough . . . and then again, not. Her entire body tingled to life with the mere memory of how Liam had burned her body with his combination of passion, humor, and candor of response.

Devon breathed in deep the warmed scent of their bodies. They combined well: Liam smelling of maleness, grass, and the lightest trace of gun oil; she of her own femininity, herbal shampoo, and the touch of her favorite perfume. Among all of that was the unmistakable eroticism of their sexual activities the night before, a heady musk as classic as time and mating itself. The remnants of perspiration and arousal were tangled in the laundered scent of the bedding.

For a species that thrived on its senses, it was a banquet of pleasure all in itself, stimulating and easily stirring the sensations of the night before back to life. Devon slid her palm down over Liam's shoulders, careful of both the dressing she had placed on one shoulder and the fresher wound she'd created on the other, gliding along his back and the smooth expanse of tight, firm skin and muscle. There wasn't an inch of fat on him that she could find last night or even now. Every pound was pure sinew, shaped for form and function both, tempered for flexibility and speed as well as power. She sighed with contentment and delight as her hand slid into the narrowing of his waist and the lower dip of his spine. She went on easily to the rise of a firm, wonderfully shaped buttock. She smiled with satisfied pleasure as she fondled the sexy shape, the marks she had left there as well, and then smoothed her way to his thigh.

“You know, in some countries taking advantage of a person while they are unconscious can be construed as rape.”

Devon snorted out a laugh at the idea. Liam had mumbled out the accusation from among his pillows, but she didn't stay her exploration. She reversed her path now, and, since he was awake, added the lightest touch of nails to her travels.

“I guess that makes me a criminal then,” she mused as she lingered over the now-flexed muscles of his backside. One of these days, she would have to take a bite out of his extremely gorgeous ass. She licked her lips in anticipation of the very idea. “And you my hapless victim,” she added.

“Oh, no you don't,” he said, quickly sounding fully awake. His hand slid back and seized her at the waist, but she had the advantage since he was pinned down under her weight. “Devon, I can tell by looking out the window that I'm late,” he tried to reason with her. “The kids'll be looking for me soon, if they aren't already.”

“Mmm, and finding you naked in my bed would be a bad thing . . . for all involved, or so you say,” she chuckled. “But I have to tell you, it seems to be working pretty good for me. You too, I think.” She supported the observation by sliding her hand between his hips and the bedding, fingers seeking evidence of her claim. She purred in contentment when she found him suitably hard and heated, her hand curling around him as he absently lifted his hips to accommodate them both. She didn't think he was even aware of making the movement and it made her laugh in soft triumph.

“Hey, that's . . .” He stopped long enough to groan at the play of her hand. “That's not fair. It is morning you know, and men just wake up that way.”

“Yes, I know. How accommodating of you.”

Liam grinned into his pillow, feeling her wriggle along the length of his body. He timed his reaction just right, waiting until she partially lifted her own weight as she tried to move. With a single arm he pushed them both up. Normally he would have done it already, but he had to be cautious of his stitched shoulder. Besides, he was amused by the idea that she thought her weight was capable of keeping him pinned to the bed.

However, he proved her wrong, hauling himself up so fast that she was dumped off of him with a squeal, rolling right off the edge of the bed. He left her there, swinging up to his feet as she scrambled to hands and knees with an indignant sputtering of curses. Liam stretched, grinning ear-to-ear, and walked into the bathroom without so much as a backward glance.

“You are going to pay for that!” she promised his back furiously.

Devon got to her feet, dusting off her indignity with a frown of consternation. Men! One minute it's flat out seduction and lust, the next they threw you off as if you barely existed! She looked at his scattered clothing on the floor and contemplated throwing it out a window, but his belongings were right across the hall, and she didn't think it would faze him in the least to cross the hallway naked.

Well, fine
, she thought as she snatched up her robe,
two can play this game
. She drifted into her robe and marched across the hall to his bedroom suite, smiling when she thought of him emerging from the master bath and wondering where she'd disappeared to. She went into his bathroom and stripped again, taking a moment to survey the masculine tidbits of a shaving kit, aftershave, and comb. He'd find her soon enough when he came in search of a shave. Meanwhile, she'd enjoy a shower.

Devon drenched herself under the multiple sprays with a sigh of exultation. The hot water felt good as it worked out the kinks of her unusual sleeping position. She regretfully washed away the traces of their night together, feeling as though it hadn't lasted nearly long enough, wondering if Liam would want to return to her bed tonight as well. The pure fact of the matter was she enjoyed him. Like no other before him. And she longed for him even now. It would be interesting to see if he would continue to fascinate her and her carnal appetites. Honestly, she didn't see his humor or personality disappointing her anytime soon, so that left the simple question of whether his human stamina would bear up under her very inhuman sexual needs.

Devon's Morphate hearing picked up the sound of the bedroom door opening and she smothered a laugh. She heard his footsteps padding across the carpet, but she didn't notice anything wrong until just before he reached the bathroom door. Too late, she realized the step was lighter than Liam's and encased in heavy boots. She certainly didn't think Liam would put his boots back on just to cross the hall . . .

“Hey Liam, the troops are wondering where you are. Shake a leg, bro!”

Colin walked into the bathroom without so much as a knock. And why should he? It was Liam's room and he was Liam's brother. Apparently privacy was not expected between the two siblings.

Devon hit the taps and turned just as Colin screeched to a shocked halt in the center of the bathroom floor. He stared at her through the transparent glass, his mouth dropping the long distance to the floor and his gray eyes going incredibly wide. Devon slicked back her wet hair and smiled when she saw the color rushing up the soldier's neck.

“Morning, Colin,” she greeted, stepping out of the shower. “Could you toss me a towel?”

Colin took a long beat, then reached for the nearby pile while he continued to stare at her. She didn't think it had anything to do with her body, because his eyes never dropped from her face. It was merely the inconceivable idea of her being in his brother's shower that floored him. Colin tossed the towel at her just as Devon heard Liam enter the bedroom. She quickly wrapped herself up as he approached the bath.

“Hey, babe, where'd you . . .” Liam stepped through the door, a towel around his hips, and stopped short when he caught the tableau before him, “. . . disappear to,” he finished automatically and unnecessarily. His gaze swung from her to Colin and he frowned in a way that darkened his eyes deeply. A tick developed in his tensing jaw almost instantly.

“Colin, my hair,” Devon scolded gently, snapping her fingers to grab his diverted attention. Colin dutifully grabbed another towel and threw it at her, his aim off as he divided his attention between her and Liam.

Liam couldn't believe his eyes, or his luck. Of all the people to catch him in illicit behavior, Colin was the worst choice. Devon could clearly care less as she casually made a towel boy out of his brother. Amusingly enough, Colin obeyed her without so much as a questioning blink. Now over his initial surprise, Liam hid a smile and took Devon's cue for casualness.

“Morning, Colin,” he greeted easily as he reached behind his brother for a second towel as well. He moved to his shaving equipment, drawing the towel through the steam on the mirror. “I'm running a little late, I know,” he said. “Surely you guys can survive without me for a few more minutes?”

“Of course they can,” Devon said as she settled herself on the vanity seat and dried her hair in squeezes and pats, crossing long, shapely legs. “They aren't children, Liam. And, after all, they functioned for three whole days without you.”

Liam threw her a look over his shoulder, knowing full well she was being a wiseass because he'd thwarted her earlier attempts to seduce him. “That they did,” he acknowledged. He glanced at Colin as he prepared for a shave. “Unless something is wrong?” he prompted, wondering when his brother was going to snap out of his speechless shock.

Colin shook his head.

Liam sighed.

Devon snickered through her nose, covering it under a poorly disguised cough. “Well, I have a busy day ahead,” she said breezily. “I'll see you boys later.”

Devon got up and waltzed out of the room, stifling the urge to giggle as she rounded the door. However, her amusement ebbed a bit when she thought of what would pass next between the two brothers. Liam had been so specific about his desires to keep his travels across the line of his ethics quite private. She had just ruined all their attempts to do so. Of course, crossing the hall in nothing but a towel, displaying the tracks of her passion on his body, was not exactly the highest form of secrecy on his part. It made her smile a little. Subconsciously, Liam could give a damn about being discovered as her lover. But it was a measure of carelessness neither of them could afford.

She sighed and looked at her bedroom door, opting to linger and make use of her excellent Morphate hearing.

“So this is why you didn't want me staring at her!” Colin blurted out first thing when he heard the door shut behind Devon. “Liam, I can't believe you're diddling the client!”

“Keep your voice down,” Liam snapped in warning. “And for that matter, watch what you say. This isn't an invitation for you to speak about her disrespectfully.”

Colin swallowed, knowing full well how serious Liam was about issues of respect. Despite the issue at hand, Colin would not disrespect anyone or anything . . . least of all his brother's wishes. “You're right. Sorry about that.” Colin shook his head. “If I hadn't just seen otherwise, I'd swear that woman has a set of rocks on her the size of bowling balls. She didn't bat an eyelash when I walked in and found her—”

“What do you mean ‘seen otherwise'?” Liam demanded, turning around to glare at Colin.

Colin stammered and flushed. “I thought it was you in the shower,” he said in a voice barely above a squeak. He cleared his throat, improving his pitch. “Honest, Liam, I never thought in a million years . . .”

“No, you didn't, did you? You never think about my privacy. You've been strolling in on me since the day you learned to walk. And I've gotten used to it.” Liam picked up his razor and sighed. “In a way, this is my own fault for not making an issue of it sooner. And, obviously, there's no reason why you'd expect to need caution in this particular venue.”

“How about we not make this about me?” Colin countered. “Liam, are you out of your mind? Skipping the fact, for the moment, that you look like you've played the part of a chew toy, what's the first tenet of this work that you ever drilled into me?” he demanded.

“Not to get personally involved with your principal. And I don't need you to remind me of that, Colin,” he retorted sharply. “Besides, it's not like I'm out to marry the woman.”

“Oh, so it's just a sex thing?” Colin clarified sarcastically.

“Not that it is any of your business, but yeah.” Liam focused on the path of his razor for a moment. “Look, I'd have switched out with Julian or Kadian before this, the moment I began to realize I was attracted to her, but they are already on assignment.”