His Conspiracy Girl (Emerald City #4) (4 page)

“It’s just that the synthetic bits can’t…” Heat flooded her face, and she ducked her head, unable to look him in the eye. Fantastic. She could ask some of the wealthiest and powerful people in the world some intensely personal questions on camera, but she couldn’t spit out that sometimes she didn’t like being handled so…delicately.

Camden drew his finger up her throat to her chin, and raised her head, piercing blue eyes searching her soul. “Can’t what?”

It was one of the
features
of the implants. A synth limb had fail-safes built in, to keep the owner from hurting other people. Which was great in theory, but… “Sometimes they’re too gentle.”

Camden’s eyebrows rose, before his surprise melted into a wicked smile. He rested his organic hand on the back of her neck, snaked his fingers into her hair, and yanked her head back with a hard tug. A moan tore from her throat, without her permission.

He crushed his lips to hers, his hungry growl rolling through her, and searing her veins.

She shifted in her seat, tossed one leg over his, and straddled him. Her entire body rubbed and molded against his.
All natural between the neck and the thighs?
The warm form grinding against her was hard and demanding, his erection tempting the ache pulsing through her mound. She wanted more of him.

A whisper in the back of her head reminded her of his words the other night. He wasn’t looking for anything emotional. Which was perfect, because if she shoved the nagging thoughts aside, neither was she. This wasn’t about the story anymore, she wanted him. As long as she kept the two separate, she could live in the moment and set the outside world aside until tomorrow.

His synth hand on her hip, he kissed her until she thought it might bruise her lips. Even then she didn’t pull back.

He broke away with a throaty gasp, hungry gaze making her panties damp. “Are you sure?”

No.
The tiny voice in her head warned this was a bad idea. But her apprehension mingled with nervousness and arousal, and she wanted to lose herself in the adrenaline it all brought with it. “Absolutely. I’m yours to do what you want with.”

She winced at the awkward words, but they only seemed to spur him on. He glided his palms down her arms, pushed her hands behind her back, and grabbed both her wrists in one hand. His grip dug into her flesh, and the spark of pain made her squirm with want. He held her tight.
That’s going to leave a mark. Please let him do it a little longer.

His teeth scraped the soft skin of her throat, voice rumbling through her skin. “You wanted to know what my synth fingers could do.”

“I’m more interested in the whole package, right now.” She slid against him to prove her point. His cock dug into her, hard and insistent.

His smirk turned wicked. “Fair enough.” He tugged her back enough to put a few inches between them, pushed her shirt out of the way, and rested his palm on her stomach. The silicone skin was warm against hers, sending a new wave of tingles through her.

His fingertips danced along her waist, just under her jeans, teasing the sensitive flesh. The sensations drove her wild. He pushed his hand up, and brushed the bottom of her breast.

She moaned at the feather-light touch and ground against him, unable to do much more with her hands trapped behind her back.

His voice was low and commanding, full of lust, and lined with velvet. “You look incredible today. Casual, but still brilliantly sexy.”

The compliment warmed her further, and her slick panties moved against her skin, begging to be torn off. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

He kissed along her shoulder, still talking. “I had no idea, when I saw you on the security cameras outside my door, I might get to strip you out of these clothes at some point. I’m glad I have the chance.”

She arched her back to draw closer to the sensations. This was such a bad idea. Even if she was living in the moment and ignoring how unprofessional it was to screw a documentary subject. Word could never get out, it could damage her career and destroy the credibility of her story. On top of that, this man was hurt, lost in the delusion of conspiracy, and lived halfway across the country from her. 

Then again, he was also sexy, incredible to talk to, and not asking her to help him expose her company for some imagined slight. The reminder of her last boyfriend dug deep, summoning a pang she usually successfully repressed. She pushed the memories aside. This was now, and she was going to dive into it. Discreetly, off the record, and as completely as possible.

The rest of her dwelling rushed away, when he drew a thumb over her bra, causing the fabric to graze her nipple. She inhaled sharply, and shifted her weight to get closer to the touch. He held her tight, not letting her move far. He lowered his head to her breasts, and his teeth scraped skin through lace. She strained against his grip on her wrists, but he held her tight.

He flicked out his tongue, and wrapped his lips around her still-covered nipple. He sucked until it was as almost as damp as the spot between her legs. She gasped in surprise and arousal, when he shoved the last barrier between him and her breasts out of the way. She wanted to wrap her fingers in his hair, and hold his head captive. Her inability to move made each new touch of his that much more electric.

He cupped her breast with his synth hand, thumb flicking back and forth over the hard nub again, and moved his mouth back to hers. His kiss was hungry and demanding, tongue diving in and probing, and lips crushing against hers.

Her hips gyrated against his legs, as he caressed her skin. She gasped, needing to be closer, when he broke away from her. “I want you inside me.”

He smirked and held up a synth finger. He traced her bottom lip with the lightest whisper of pressure. His mouth moved to her ear. “Like this?” The question was warm against her skin.

She flicked the pad of his finger with her tongue. His low groan increased her anticipation.

“No.” It was breathier than she’d intended. “You.” She ground against his lap to make her point. “I want
you
inside me.” His cock reacted, hard and insistent against her need.

He kissed along her neck, and then bit into the skin, a chuckle rumbling through her. He dropped her hands, and immediately tangled his fingers in her hair again. “Yeah. I like the way that sounds.”

She reached behind her and unclasped her bra. In a single motion, she discarded it, along with her T-shirt. His hooded gaze raked over her body, drawing more heat to the surface. His voice was low and heavy with lust. “My imagination didn’t do you justice.”

She slid off his lap, cursing her anxious fingers when she fumbled with the button on her own jeans. She had barely managed to undo it, when he hooked his thumbs in the waistband.

“Too slow.” A teasing smirk danced on his face. He yanked the rest of her clothes to the ground, denim scraping her skin on the way down and leaving a delicious burn in its wake.

He stood, sliding behind her as he moved. His synth hand glided over her stomach, pulling her bare back to him. The textures against her skin amped her arousal further. He ran his lips over the back of her neck. He slid his fingers down, to caress her mound and then move over her slit.

“You’re so wet.” He parted her folds. She thrust her hips forward involuntarily at the sensation. “Kneel on the cushions.”

She did as ordered. Apprehension mingled with lust, at the vulnerable position. His silicone fingers continued to slide over her slick labia, teasing and caressing. Behind her, the sound of his zipper sliding down was unnaturally loud.

When he brushed her clit, she whimpered and struggled to get closer to his touch. “Please?”

He slid his other hand over her ass and between her thighs. “Please what?”

“Either fuck me, or move and watch me take care of it myself.”

His deep laugh stroked her inside. He pulled his real hand away, the prosthetic one still teasing her. Something nudged her aching opening from behind, and then an exquisite pain soared through her, as he pushed deep inside. He tangled his fingers in her hair again, and yanked back her head. He drew his cock out almost all the way, and then thrust back inside her.

Her moans blended together, becoming gasps when he found her clit and began a light but steady series of strokes along the swollen bud. She rocked against him. His voice was low and commanding. “I want you to make you come, hard and loud.”

She gripped the back of the couch, unable to bury her face in the cushions with the pressure still tugging on her scalp. She slammed back against him, but he kept the pace even. A slow pressure built inside her, as the rhythm of his fingers against her clit remained steady. “Harder.”

He didn’t oblige her begging, still keeping his touch even and controlled. The wave of climax grew inside Morgana, dragging her right to the edge, making her gasp with each new touch.

“I’m so close.” She couldn’t keep the pleading out of her voice.

He abruptly let go of her hair, and every muscle in her neck relaxed at once. Seconds later, a loud cry tore from her throat when he pinched the sensitive flesh of her nipple hard, rolling it between his fingers and tugging.

Orgasm washed through her, and she screamed as she came, pounding back against him, clenching around his hard length buried deep inside her. This time, he let her set the pace. His attentions didn’t let up, as he drove against her with each new thrust. His grunts mingled with her voice, each time he pounded her. She recognized the sounds of his own climax, as he peaked and then slowed.

He pulled away from the now hyper-sensitive regions of her body,  hands moving to her hips. He slowly slid out of her and helped her stand. She wobbled on her feet. He dropped back onto the couch and pulled her into his lap.

She didn’t resist. The moment felt too right. Too natural. She curled up against his still-covered chest, and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

He drew his fingers down her spine, not speaking, just wrapping her up in the comfort of the moment.

Camden listened to the last of the coffee sputter from the coffee maker, and inhaled the rich smell filling the kitchen. His thoughts still tingled with a different scent. With images of being buried inside Ana, the soft floral of her hair, the sound of her gasps, and the feeling of her wrapped around him. And it had been incredible waking up with her in his arms. It was tempting to dive into those memories a little longer.

The latch on the bedroom door clicked, and she strolled out. Her arms stretched over her head, as she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. It elongated every line and curve of her figure. He couldn’t help watching the way she moved. There was a tinge of disappointment inside that she was wearing her own clothes from yesterday, and not one of his shirts. He obliterated the notion before it could become more. It wasn’t like she was moving in. Something in his chest twinged.

Her gaze met his, and he smiled. “Morning,” she said.

I adore that smile.
He shook the words away. “Hey. Coffee?”

She dropped into a stool across from him, and leaned with her forearms on the counter. “God, yes. Please. Creamer, lots of sugar.”

He couldn’t help his laugh at the exaggerated tone. He prepped her drink, and set it in front of her. “Didn’t sleep well?”

“Slept better than I have in ages. But someone”—she fixed an exaggerated glare on him, smile threatening to obliterate the whole look—“kept me up most of the night.”

That made him laugh louder. “I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.”

“I kind of wish I didn’t have to get back to work this morning.”

Right, reality. The rest of it sank in, snatching away another layer of his good mood. “You’re welcome to come back and finish what you started.”

She raised her brows, mouth twisted in amusement. “I think we did that last night. At least a couple of times.”

She had to have known he was talking about the documentary, but didn’t the teasing. And the temptation was there to pin her to the wall, kiss away that smirk, and do it a couple more times. It was time to move past that, though. “I meant the biography. I promise to behave this time.”

His own comment yanked loose a group of thoughts he’d managed to tuck away for the last twenty-four hours. He didn’t want to be dwelling now, damn it.

She tilted her head, studying him. “I appreciate it. I promise to tread a little more gently.”

The part of him that wanted to joke about her liking it rough was being shoved aside by the reality of what she meant by treading lightly. “You know, if you’re interested in the real story about the accident—”

“No.” Her entire spine went rigid, and she glared at him.

Whoa, he hadn’t expected that. “I didn’t even finish yet.”

She relaxed her expression but not her posture. “I’m sorry. Instinct got the best of me. You were saying?”

Hesitation slid through him. But he had to do this. He had to know, and the rest of the world deserved to as well. He focused on keeping the rationality in his voice. No reason to go off again. If she heard what he really knew, she’d understand. Be willing to help. “I’m not the interesting bit about my story.”

She caught the inside of her lip between her teeth, and her brow furrowed.

He took the silence as a sign to continue. “The reason CyGes has tried to pay me off for the last ten years—to buy my silence—that’s your real documentary.”

She gripped the coffee mug, knuckles turning white. “Cam…”

The nickname tugged at an emotion he didn’t want to recognize. He used determination to smother affection. He wouldn’t let her shut him out. “I’ll tell you exactly what to look for.” The force was slipping into his voice, and he couldn’t keep it out. “They knew about the defect that caused my crash ten years ago. They knew if word got out, it would shut the whole operation down. You know how much money they’ve made since then. They’re
the
name in technology. The implants. The Mag-Cars. All of it. If they hadn’t covered up what happened to my sister—”

“Stop.” She was on her feet in an instant. She slammed her palms into the counter hard enough to make coffee splash over the side of the mug. “Just stop.”

Shit
. Frustration mounted inside, making his muscles tighten, and a nagging throb started behind one eye. She wasn’t listening. He had to make her understand. “There’s more. I just need proof—”

“No.” The single word was loud and sharp. “You don’t. There’s no conspiracy here.” A waver ran through her voice. “There’s nothing to dig up, because nothing’s been covered up.” She bit her bottom lip hard enough that it paled around her teeth. “And even if there was, what would it do for you?”

She didn’t get it. His anger won out, and surged to the surface. How could she not get it? He clenched his fist, until his short nails dug into his good palm. “What would it do for me? My sister died in that crash. My niece. You said it yourself in the interview—what could they have done if it wasn’t for that day? Someone has to answer for that.” An edge sharpened his reply.

His last words echoed off the countertops and reverberated off his eardrums.

She threw her hands up, glower locked on him. “And then what? I understand your need for closure, and justice. I can only try and imagine how much this hurts. But even if there was something there. Even if you dug, and searched, and finally uncovered some sort of massive cover up, it wouldn’t bring them back. If you dedicate your life to this, what will you have left when it’s over?

“I’m sorry they’re gone. I really, truly am. But you got another chance at living. You have your entire life paid for, and still all you’re focused on is what you don’t have. Do you think, maybe, your sister might want you to enjoy the now and live a little, rather than curling up and surrendering something you’ve still got that she doesn’t anymore?”

Every word gnawed away at more of his composure. It dragged a decade of guilt he normally suppressed over the broken shards of his insides. He didn’t back down when she was nose to nose with him. “I think someone should answer for what happened to them.”

“So …what?” Frustration and hurt coated her question. “Last night was just your way to get me to help? To drag me into a conspiracy theory you use as an excuse not to move on?”

She stepped back, and then continued to keep the distance between them for each step he took toward her. He heard the growl in his own voice, and didn’t care. Fury had devoured his restraint. “You showed up on my doorstep. You wanted to talk. I’m not using anything as an excuse. I’m mourning the loss of a brilliant woman and her daughter.”

“It’s been ten years.” She emphasized each word. “A fucking decade. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to show the dead some respect and start living.”

He took one more step in, only able to summon a snarl. She halted when her butt collided with the counter. Her wide-eyed gaze was fixed on his face. A tiny voice told him to back down, but rage held him in place. How dare she say those things? He would make her understand.

She stepped around him, and grabbed her purse off the counter. The slightest tremor ran through her voice. “You know what? My career isn’t worth this. You’re not worth this. We’re done.” She spun on her toe and headed for the front door, floor shaking with every step and rattling the pictures on the walls. Seconds later, the door slammed.

Camden let all his anger out in a single yell, whirling and punching his fist into the closest wall. The cyber limb bounced uselessly off the plas-crete. He couldn’t even make sense of the emotions raging inside. That pretentious, arrogant, self-righteous…

Who the fuck did she think she was?

*

Ana pulled out her phone, as she stormed toward the elevator. The device beeped, refusing to unlock. And then again. And a third time. Fucking bio recognition locks. Paranoid assholes designed security like that. The kind of people who thought everything that went wrong was a conspiracy. The device wouldn’t let her do anything besides place an emergency call while she was so distressed, in case she was in danger, and someone was trying to get at her personal information.

She paused in front of the bank of elevators, and took a deep breath and then another. It didn’t help her relax, but it would be enough to trick the phone into thinking she was calm.

A moment later, she had dialed in a request for a Mag-Car to come get her, and was riding down to the main floor.

Regret and sorrow mingled with her fury. And hurt, and a betrayal she didn’t want to acknowledge. She hadn’t wanted to say those things to him, but at the same time she didn’t regret it. She knew what it was like to lose family. Everyone in this world did. Death was a scary, intimate, and all-too-familiar thing.

And then there was the other ache inside that she didn’t want to recognize but couldn’t ignore. It was true; twenty-four hours ago she’d only shown up looking to do her job. But that day with him… Something twinged in her chest. She’d thought there was a connection. She’d clicked with him the way she never had with anyone.

She stood by the curb, scanning the traffic, waiting for her ride. The streets were crowded both with cars and people, but the driver wouldn’t even have to search for her. The car would hone in on her phone, and direct him to the curb near where she stood.

Camden was just like every other asshole out there. She didn’t want to believe it, but she couldn’t think of another explanation. And he was as bad as her, using her for information. The realization cut deep. At least he hadn’t done what the last guy had, and used her to actually do something illegal like hack the CyGes’ systems.

The car pulled up next to her, and she sank into the back seat. Tears stung her eyelids, and she sniffled them away. Why did this hurt so much more than last time? Why did she feel as if she were torn apart from the inside, by what they’d both said? By the entire exchange?

She dragged the back of her hand across her eyes. Damn it.