Fever Claim (The Sigma Menace) (3 page)

Now he’d take his time, explore her with his hands and mouth. He looked at her body. Her large breasts were topped with rosy nipples that beaded under his perusal. He leaned his head down and swirled his tongue around the tip as he massaged her other breast. He settled between her legs and heard her gasp.

“Again?” she breathed.      

Jace chuckled, “Tinkerbell, I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

Chapter Two

Cassie slept in late. From the sunlight streaming through her bedroom window, it must be late. She didn’t know what time they’d made it to bed, once they did make it to the actual bed. But Jace hadn’t been done with her then, either. She’d finally passed out in utter exhaustion in the early morning hours, wrapped in his embrace.

She sat up on the edge of bed and noted with dismay the other side was empty. Not wanting to dwell much on what happened last night yet, let alone the empty bed, she sat up and groaned, rubbing her eyes. She had a major cotton mouth she could contribute to the combo of shots and hours of screaming orgasms. A full glass of water rested on her nightstand. Cassie wondered what to make of the considerate gesture. He jetted before she woke up, but stayed long enough to leave her water? Gulping it down, she got up and stumbled to the master bath. On the way there, she snatched her favorite flannel bottoms and a tank top.

The floor of the bathroom was still wet. Jace must’ve showered not long ago. At least he didn’t leave immediately, or hadn’t been worried she’d sleep through it. Between that and the glass of water waiting for her, she felt a little better about what she’d done last night with an almost complete stranger—a mind-numbingly hot, insatiable stranger, with a
ridiculous
body. Cassie turned on the shower and hopped in, memories of last night running through her mind.

After Jace—would she ever be able to think of him without developing a full-body blush?—had his way with her in the foyer, he’d lifted her boneless body and carried her to the bedroom. He placed her on the bed and stood back to watch her through heavy-lidded eyes, and hardened again.

The moonlight streaming through her blinds had showcased his body—muscle rippled from head to toes, eight-pack washboard stomach with firm buttocks and solid legs. He was a work of art, a bronze statue of male perfection.

She had patted the bed next to her, desperate for her turn to pleasure him. His eyes darkened as he climbed next to her and stretched out. Cassie took her time roaming his chest with her hands and mouth. Jace groaned, now fully erect, and rolled onto his back giving her free reign over him. She eased further down, wrapping her hand around his fullness. He pivoted his hips up into her hand as she slowly stroked him.

Getting up onto her knees, still holding onto him, she guided him into her mouth.

“Cassie,” Jace breathed. She loved hearing him say her name, loved that she could drive him wild.

She swirled her tongue over the crown and pumped her fist at the base, using her other hand to massage his heavy sac. Jace gripped the back of her head as she matched her mouth and hands in a synchronous rhythm. Soon he urged her to straddle him.

Cassie took her time sliding down Jace’s length, with his hands guiding her backside. He watched her intently as she rode him. Her breaths came faster and faster as another orgasm quickly built. She leaned into him, arms around his broad shoulders, nuzzling his neck. Jace reached between them to rub her sensitive spot, while his other hand lightly held her head to his throat.

The orgasm slammed into her. When she opened her mouth wide to cry out, she instead bit his neck. He tensed as his orgasm hit him and he roared, bucking wildly beneath her.

Oh my God, I bit him
. Cassie shut off the shower with a groan. It’d felt so instinctual and natural at the time, but it was so unlike her. She didn’t do random and wild like she had last night. Good thing he was gone or she’d have to look him in the eye and act normal instead of searching him for her bite marks.
Bite marks!
She turned to look at her back in the mirror finding his teeth marks from when he first took her.

Her fingers trailed over the red marks fading at the base of her neck. She traced the impressions of two longer teeth, his canines. Tiny zings of electricity flowed through her each time she put pressure on the marks. The sensations were infinitesimal compared to the initial bite when her release was imminent, built up stronger than she ever thought possible. His mouth had closed on his mark and it was like lightening shot from her neck, to her center, to where he thrust inside of her.

She gave a quick shake of her head in hopes it would cease the slow throb that started between her legs as soon as thoughts of biting ran through her mind. She combed her short hair, and climbed into her pajamas. When she opened the bathroom door, she stopped short.
What was that smell? Bacon?

Cassie rushed from her bedroom to the kitchen. Surprised, she took in the scene before her. There was Jace, with his back to her, standing at her stove scrambling eggs. He wore his jeans from last night but that was all. The muscles in his broad back rippled, his biceps flexing each time he scraped the spatula. Jace, standing at her stove with bare feet lent more to any intimacy between them than anything they’d done in the last twelve hours. She should be spooked. Instead her heart fluttered at the possessiveness and domesticity of him cooking for her.

Jace flicked the stove off and glanced at her over his shoulder. His pale blue eyes soaked her in, his hungry gaze hinted that if didn’t have a hot pan full of food in his hands, they’d be repeating one or two of their previous performances. She nervously shifted her weight.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Um… yeah… I’d thought you’d left.” She hadn’t realized how much it would have bothered her had he been truly gone.

“Nope. I thought we could have a bite to eat. How you feeling?”

On cue, her stomach rumbled. She pushed her bangs off her face. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “no, I’m good. Good. Thanks for the water.”
Stellar conversation, Dr. Stockwell.

He nodded toward the table with two glasses of orange juice and two plates, each with a pile of bacon. “Have a seat. The eggs are done so we can eat.”

Apparently, he was better at this morning-after stuff than she was. She walked stiffly to her little table and sat a bit gingerly. She wasn’t as stiff and sore as she thought she should be. It’s not like she had a sex life like that with Grant.

Ah, fuck—Grant
! The memories of why she was in this situation flooded back. Well, there went reconciliation. She wouldn’t want to enter a marriage after a day’s break in the relationship that included a long, passionate night with another person. Long and passionate weren’t words she’d use to describe her love life with Grant. They’d been… compatible. At least in the beginning. Lately, even make-out sessions were few and far between. He just hadn’t seemed interested. She used the excuse they were saving up for after the wedding. To make it more exciting, right?

Cassie took a deep breath to slow her thinking and organize her thoughts. Her engagement was good and over. She’d figure out Grant’s reasons later. It was only Saturday; she’d worry about canceling wedding plans and notifying guests come Monday. Now all she needed to figure out was this bartender, who normally oozed malice and danger with his disconcerting eyes and shaved head, but thoughtfully left her water and cooked her breakfast.

He emptied the pan onto their plates and set it on the counter, then took a seat across from her. He quietly watched her, gauging her reaction. “Go ahead and eat Cassie.” Her name on his lips warmed her, the sensation moving through to her core… impossible that after last night she could be ready to go again so easily.

Jace inhaled sharply, his gaze darkened and he readjusted himself under the table. “Let’s eat, first. Then we’ll…” he eyed her breasts, her nipples hard under her top, “talk.”

She nodded dumbly and picked up a bacon slice. After the first bite, she inhaled the food, completely famished. She was swallowing the rest of her orange juice when she looked back up at him. His plate was also empty, his hands folded in front of him, quietly watching her, amused.

Searching for something to do that wouldn’t betray how nervous and awkward she felt, she picked up her glass and plate, and collected his dishes, too. His eyes trailed over her body and she swore she could feel the heat of the path they took.

What was it she said at the bar last night?
It’s lust, nothing more.
This felt like more. He’d always made her aware she was a woman with a healthy sex drive. She was conscious to never stare at him at the bar, telling herself she didn’t want to get on management’s bad side. She also felt it was rude to Grant to ogle other men, especially if he was with her. Grant never cared for Pale Moonlight, he only went with her knowing how much Kaitlyn meant to Cassie. And since Cassie hardly went out otherwise, he was happy to oblige. Reminiscing about Grant’s kindness sent a pang of remorse through her. She’d analyze those thoughts later, too.

Cassie set the dishes in the sink.
Think Dr. Stockwell. Analyze the situation. What are the important points you’re missing?
It helped her straighten her thoughts out when she referred to herself by her professional title. It reminded her of all the blood, sweat, and tears she put into her education, and that she was more than equipped to figure out any situation she found herself in. She just never expected to find herself in a situation like this.

“So,” she began, “thanks for breakfast.”

He shrugged. “No problem.” He was reclining back in his chair, arms crossed over his big chest, his long legs kicked out and crossed in front of him.

She leaned her hip against the counter, trying to figure out what else to say. He mentioned wanting to talk and she couldn’t imagine about what. She wanted to start with why he was still there. But the thought of him leaving made her gut clench. She liked seeing him in her place, wished she hadn’t missed him rummaging through her cabinets. Bizarre.

She always knew what to say and her brain wasn’t fuzzy, considering last night’s alcohol and the mountain of pure male relaxing at her kitchen table, her thoughts should be unclear. Yet her thinking was just fine…

“I don’t know where to begin—” Jace started.

“Did you do something to my drink?” Cassie blurted.

A hint of amusement lit his face as he considered his answer. “Yes. I gave you more juice, less vodka. No, I did not roofie you.”

“Why?” She was slightly confused, a little intrigued, and getting a lot angry that he had the audacity to water down her drinks. She wasn’t an impulsive woman who needed to be protected from herself. “Do you do that with all the women you want to help get home?”

His eyebrows went up and she hated the hint of jealousy that laced her question.

Completely serious, he said, “I don’t take any women home, Cassie. At all. The club is my job, not my scene. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you and I didn’t want you drunk, regretting your decision.”

It was her turn to have her eyebrows shoot up. If he hadn’t shocked her with that last sentence, she’d have embarrassed herself beaming at his proclamation. 

“I’d been pretty dry in the woman department before I first saw you,” he continued, “but after that, I just wanted
you
.”

“And now what do you want?”

Chapter Three

Jace’s bright eyes took on a predatory look as he sat up, drawing her gaze to the unmistakable bulge in his jeans. Her heart pounded, the beat thrumming down through her pajama pants. He looked like he wanted to devour her, spread her across the table and feast on her until they were both sated. Her body, wet and aching, was clearly ready for him, but her mind was still trying to process the whys of their discussion.

A faint musical tone caught her attention.

“My phone!” Cassie followed the sound to her foyer where she found her clothes still scattered where they were tossed last night. She located her purse, dropped right inside by the door, and dug out her phone. It was Kaitlyn calling, probably checking up on her after leaving her at the club.

“Hey, what’s up?” Cassie asked, breathless, and it wasn’t just from the mad dash from the kitchen. How would she discreetly field Kaitlyn’s questions while Jace was still there—and
then
field Kaitlyn’s excitement when she found out Jace was still there?

Cassie heard muffled breathing on the other end. “Cassie?” Kaitlyn squeaked into the phone.

“Yeah, is something wrong?”

“Oh God, Cassie, I need your help.” Kaitlyn rushed on in a quiet voice. “We went to an abandoned building outside of town, he had a friend, we partied, then I passed out. I woke up and they were fighting. I… I think they’re dead.” Kaitlyn dissolved into sobs.

“Kaitlyn, where are you?” Cassie only heard her friend stifling her sobs on the other end.
Think, Dr. Stockwell!
“Where did you drive to? Did you see any signs or road names? What way out of town? Breathe, Kaitlyn. Tell me what you remember.” She heard Kaitlyn trying to calm herself and breathe. “That’s right, in and out, Kaitlyn. What way did you head out of town?”

“We kept heading out past the club, on one of the main roads, um… south, I think. Tyson took some off-roads to, like, an industrial place, a quarry or something, kind of abandoned. He said his friend owned the land and he knew a place we could hang. I think they’re both dead, Cassie. I have no way out of here, unless I search his body for keys and I can’t go back in there.”

Her last words were shuttered. Kaitlyn was about to dissolve into tears again. “Breathe, Kaitlyn. Tell me where you’re at now.”

Kaitlyn drew in a shaky breath, “I grabbed my shit and ran out of the building. I just ran. I don’t know where I’m at.”

Before Kaitlyn panicked again, Cassie urged her on, “It’s okay. Tell me what’s around you.”