Flameout (11 page)

The teasing continued down my back, lingering briefly near my spine, warming my skin and stirring deeper desires to life. The scent of warmed lavender hung in the air, but it was almost overwhelmed by the musky aroma of man.

I knew that scent. Jackson was back.

The realization had me tumbling toward full wakefulness. But I didn't move, content to remain on my belly, enjoying the featherlight caresses as they moved over my butt, down my left leg, then back up my right.

The mattress dipped as he straddled my legs. His calves pressed lightly against mine, his skin so hot that he felt like a being of fire, not a flesh-confined fae.

Then his hands swept up my legs, his thumbs teasingly skimming my inner thighs, and I forgot all thought. His caresses were gentle, interspersed with kisses, as they swept over my butt and up my spine again. His fingers brushed the sides of my breasts but didn't go any farther, and I couldn't help the groan that escaped. He chuckled softly but continued on, massaging the lavender oil over my entire body but not touching any of the places that were truly beginning to ache.

Then his touch left me altogether. I growled softly, and he chuckled again.

“My, my,” he said, and lightly slapped my butt. “You do get grouchy when woken from a deep sleep. Turn around.”

I did so carefully. Pain stirred, but it was nowhere as bad as I'd half expected. I glanced at the clock on the far wall. It was just after midday, so I'd actually had close to six hours' sleep. No wonder I felt a whole lot better.

And a whole lot hornier.

Jackson was buck naked, and his glorious body burned with a heat that was both desire and the afterglow of merging with his element.

And the devil was bright in his eyes. Anticipation shot through me.

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” he drawled, his voice low and sexy. “About time you awoke.”

“Thanks for letting me sleep. Were you next door all that time?” I reached out to run my fingers down his cock, but he lightly slapped my hand away.

“No. And no touching the goods just yet, young lady.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing my lips. “I'm hardly young, and I thought you'd be ready to explode.”

“Oh, I am. But I'm also capable of a little finesse occasionally, especially when the woman in question has recently copped something of a beating.”

“The woman in question appreciates the concern, but really wishes you'd just shut the fuck up and finish what you started.”

He chuckled softly. “Your wish is my command.”

But he didn't, as I'd half expected, immediately thrust into me. Instead, he took me at my word and continued what he'd started. Only this time he used his mouth and tongue rather than oil and hands, and he left no part of my upper body untouched or unexplored. He discovered erogenous zones I'd forgotten existed, and exploited them to the fullest, nipping and licking and kissing until sweat sheened my body and every inch of me vibrated with pleasure.

Then he moved down.

When his tongue flicked lightly over my clitoris, I jumped and whimpered, needing—wanting—so much more. He chuckled softly, his breath so cool against my heated skin, then got to work, suckling and licking me, until I was all but screaming. Then my orgasm hit and I
did
scream, twisting and moaning and shaking as he continued to suckle me.

And
still
he didn't enter me.

“You, Jackson Miller,” I said when I was able, “are the devil incarnate.”

He chuckled again. It was definitely an evil if delighted sound. “I cannot comply with your wishes, as I do believe quid pro quo was promised earlier.”

“Then we had best reverse positions, had we not?”

His grin grew. “Whatever the lady wishes.”

I scrambled out of his way, then straddled his legs and squirted some oil on my palm. I began by massaging his shoulders and back, enjoying the tension and heat that rose from his golden skin. That heat grew as my touch moved down his well-defined body, until it felt like I was sitting astride a furnace. And, lord, it felt
go
od
.

My touched lingered on his rump, then slipped down his legs. My fingers brushed the insides of his thighs but went no farther, and he groaned.

“What the man gives, he shall receive,” I murmured.

“In which case, I look forward to turning over.”

“I'm not finished with this side yet.”

“Damn.”

I grinned and kept on working my way down his legs. I massaged his feet for a while, then slowly worked my way up his body. Then I shifted and slapped his rump, just as he had mine. “Time to turn.”

“Finally,” he grumbled.

He turned; his cock was hard and begging for attention. I didn't give it any, but instead straddled his thighs and leaned forward on my hands.

He groaned and brushed my hair from my face. “Seriously? I'm needing more than another massage right now.”

“So did I. All I got was an evil laugh.”

“Yeah, but at least I
did
make you come.”

“And so will you.” I paused. “Eventually.”

With that, I kissed him. It was a long, slow, and sensual exploration, and he returned it in kind. By the time my mouth left his, neither of us was breathing very steadily. But there was still work to be done, pleasure to be had.

I kissed his neck, his shoulders, and then moved down to his chest, lingering there to nip and tease. He shifted, his breath hard and fast, his cock nudging my stomach, desperate for attention. I smiled and trailed kisses down his stomach, following the smattering of reddish-brown hair. When my tongue swept over the
moist tip of his penis, he groaned and his hips jerked reflexively. But I didn't immediately give him the completeness he desired and instead shifted, letting my fingers drift inside his thighs, lightly caressing all around his balls but never actually touching them.

“Damn it, woman,” he growled, his eyes ablaze with a mix of desperation and amusement. “Stop teasing!”

I laughed, then ended his agony and took him in my mouth. His sharp intake of breath was all the encouragement I needed. I worked him as thoroughly as he'd worked me, alternating between running my tongue all over his impressive length and taking him in my mouth. His movements quickly became urgent, his hips thrusting harder, faster, as the taste of precum grew stronger. But just as he was on the brink of release, I pulled back, threw my leg over his hips, and claimed him in the most basic way possible. He hissed and pressed his hands against the tops of my thighs, but instead of forcing me down harder on him, he held me still. For several seconds, neither of us moved. His eyes were ablaze and his skin burned with so much heat it fueled the air and caressed my skin.
That
heat wasn't normal for a fire fae, but any concern I might have had was lost to sensation as he thrust the rest of the way into me.

From there on in, there was no talking. No thinking. There was just heat, and desire, and rising need. There was nothing slow or sensual about this now; it was hard and fast, and it wound me up tight and then spat me out, leaving me a quivering, groaning mess as he came so very deep inside of me.

For several minutes, neither of us moved. Hell, I
was struggling to even breathe, and Jackson certainly didn't seem to be any better off.

Eventually, he took my face between his hands and kissed me softly. “That,” he said, his voice filled with wonder, “was an amazing entrée.”

I laughed and rested my forehead against his. His cock was already giving off recovery signals deep within. Communing with his element really
did
have an amazing effect on him. “I'm not sure it's safe to be wasting any more time than we have. We have people after us, files to find, stuff like that.”

“All of which will be waiting when we're done.” He wrapped his arms around me and reversed our position in one surprisingly smooth move. “All the doors and windows are bolted and the downstairs alarm is on. We're as safe here as we're ever going to be.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I need you, Emberly,” he said as he began to rock ever so slowly. “You have no idea how badly.”

“Oh,” I murmured, wrapping my legs around him. “I think I do.”

“Good. Besides, I have this odd feeling I should enjoy your glorious body while I can.”

“Meaning you think I'm going somewhere?” And that the ability to raise fire might not have been the only thing he'd gained when we'd merged? It was certainly possible, but at least
this
development wasn't as dangerous and as worrying as the other.

“No. I think you and I will have a very long and profitable partnership. I just don't think it's destined to be a sexual one.”

“And why would you think that? I tend not to play
the field, Jackson, and there's no one other than Rory on the horizon. And he
has
to be there.”

No one other than Sam, I supposed, but he was this lifetime's lost cause. I doubted fate was going to have a sudden change of heart and allow me a second chance at love.

“I know. It's just . . .” Jackson paused and half shrugged. “I can't explain it. I've just got this feeling we're short-term. Believe me, it is a thought that upsets me greatly.”

“Yeah,” I said, grinning. “I can see just how woebegone you are.”

“I know. I'm all tears.” His grin flashed again. “Which is why I now insist we cut the talking and just get down to business. After all, it may be the last time we get to share the delight of making love.”

And, over the next four hours, we certainly did share.

*   *   *

Jackson placed a large mug of green tea on the coffee table in front of me then snagged the nearby box of donuts and offered me one.

“Thanks.” I grabbed the last caramel donut and took a bite as I flipped open the file we'd snatched from Rosen's. “I'm gathering you've already been through this.”

He nodded. “I flagged the interesting bits with a Post-it.”

I flipped to the first marked page and quickly scanned it. My gaze shot to his. “Rosen's company is developing a device that makes the wearer immune to telepathic intrusion via an inversion process? Holy fuck!”

“If those notes are to be believed, holy fuck indeed.” He took a sip of coffee. “Which makes me wonder why he was killed. A development like that could make billions.”

I snorted. “I can't imagine the government releasing that sort of device to the wider market. Not before the military, police, and all government officials were given one, anyway.”

“Agreed. So would why PIT allow him to continue with his gambling?” He leaned back against the sofa, his shoulder lightly brushing mine. “Surely to god that was a risk—”

“Not really,” I cut in. “Sam mentioned them ensuring Rosen couldn't leak any vital information to the sindicati. I'm betting this device would have been on that list.”

“Maybe. Doesn't explain how Heaton got wind of it, though.”

I frowned and glanced back at the notes. Heaton had apparently approached Rosen a few months after his arrival here in Melbourne, and he'd offered a very large amount of money for information and prototypes. Rosen had refused.

“I can imagine how well
that
went down.” I finished the last bit of donut and licked my fingers clean. That had been my fourth, but my belly still wasn't satisfied. A serious lovemaking session tended to do that to me, though.

“It didn't,” Jackson said. “Read on.”

I did. Rosen continued with
The arrogant bastard got violent at that point, but I had the boys grab him by the scruff of the neck and toss him out on his ass
.

I raised my eyebrows and met Jackson's similarly disbelieving gaze. “No way.”

“My thought exactly.” He leaned forward and snagged the last donut, tearing it in half before offering me one piece. It was gone in seconds. “Heaton is a vampire, and while sheer weight of numbers
could
take him down, he's also a powerful telepath. He could take out the cavalry with a simple thought.”

“Unless, of course, Rosen's device isn't in the planning stages, but rather an up and running prototype.” I frowned and took a sip of tea. “But that still doesn't explain how they overpowered Heaton. Even if Rosen
had
called for backup, he would have heard them coming.” Vamps were attuned to the beat of blood through the body, after all, and could hear its call as sharply as any dog did a whistle.

“Unless he allowed it to happen. And remember who's making the notes—I would imagine there's a fair bit of embellishment happening.”

“Probably.” And Rosen had had a very inflated opinion of himself. I flipped the pages to the next Post-it. This was a brief note about Rosen hiring one Jake Barrett—another private investigator—to seek out information on Heaton. Scrawled on the bottom of this was update:
Paid the bastard a good deposit, but the prick has done a runner. No info. Might have to go elsewhere.

I glanced at Jackson. “I'm gathering he never asked you to check on Heaton?”

“No. This was months before I was employed to find Wilson. For whatever reason, he'd obviously forgotten about Heaton by then.”

“I can't imagine Heaton letting the matter go so
easily.” I drank some more tea and checked out the rest of the file. It was just more notes on random people, none of which seemed related to anything we were investigating.

“No, which doesn't mean he wasn't employing other methods to get what he wanted.”

I frowned. “But surely PIT—”

“PIT has trouble aplenty and not enough people. While they might be aware of Heaton, they could be unaware of his interest in the inversion device.”

I guess that was possible. I closed the file and dumped it on the coffee table. “Do you know Jake Barrett? Can we go talk to him?”