Passion Awakened (4 page)
Shayla stretched out her arm and Creed released the thin
strip onto her palm. It was so light. She curled her fingers around the edges
and pulled it in for a closer inspection, the metal cool against her skin. So
silent. No screen. Not even an opening for where the light beamed up for a
display.
How in the hell does this work?
“Yes.” He nodded. “Read on.”
“A hormone-based drug developed in the year 2515 for the
purpose of suppression of the human libido and resulting pleasure receptors.”
She glanced up from under her lashes at the man on the sofa. He sat quietly,
watching her as she consumed the info and its implications. “After multiple
study trials, the government found that use of the medication decreased the
individual’s tendency for criminal behavior, and with the urge for sexual
activity repressed, the spread of disease within the population had a
noticeable decrease. For the past century, the Federation of Americas has
legally mandated that every citizen of its territories be implanted with the
Sustain infusion system.” This couldn’t be for real. She swallowed hard at the
lump forming in the back of her throat. Nausea bloomed in her gut, swelling
with each sentence that unfolded in her mind.
“Typically the system is inserted into the upper arm of the
individual with an injection port readily accessible for biweekly or monthly
refills.” The image below the text resembled the very thing she’d seen in
Creed’s arm.
Oh my God. Is that what…? No…
Without conscious thought,
she shook her head in denial. She jerked her gaze from the display. “Are you
saying this is what was destroyed in your arm?”
“Yes.”
“You’re really…” She just couldn’t form the words. They felt
too ridiculous on her tongue.
“From the twenty-seventh century.”
“And this drug makes it where no one wants to…” Her palm
went to her mouth, covering her lips. When had she suddenly lost the ability to
finish her sentences?
“Participate in sexual activity,” he said without a flinch,
as if he were talking about the desire to or not to consume steak.
Wow.
She’d been struck back to monosyllables. Her
head spun on the concept of what the future held. A world without intimacy.
“Umm…” It seemed so rude, but it would kill her if she
didn’t ask. “So does this mean that you have never—”
“No.” He reached out, grabbed the display from her hand, and
stowed it back inside his backpack. “I’ve never had sex if that’s what you were
about to ask.” His head swung back in her direction. “My job is to enforce the
law of the Federation, not break the code I’m sworn to uphold.”
“Oh. I see.” God, it blew her mind that a whole society was
celibate. And that Creed Donovan, the tough alpha male who would easily be the
inspiration for one of her most erotic novel creations was a virgin. Her
nipples went rock hard.
Damn.
Why did she find that tidbit of
information one of the most provocative things she’d ever heard? Heat crept up
her throat and into her cheeks. She needed a distraction. Fast.
“So there’s no kind of special equipment in that bag of
yours that would help you to repair your implant?” Shayla indicated the pack
beside him with a wave of her hand.
“No. And even if I could, I’m out of reserves.” A guttural
sound emanated from the back of his throat. One that said he was one pissed-off
Double T, short for time traveler.
Hey, why not?
She’d already deemed
herself a nutcase for believing this. “A damn rookie mistake,” he went on to
say. “I’d been chasing Thomas for two weeks, and I’d finally zeroed in on him.
I knew I’d be heading back yesterday with the rebel in custody, so I didn’t
want to lose my lead by warping back for more Sustain supplies.” He shook his
head and mumbled another curse under his breath. “Not a smart move.”
“You referred to the other man, Thomas, as a rebel. What
kind of rebel?”
“A Sustain rebel. He and a woman we’d already retrieved by
the time I located Thomas here had removed their implants and fled. That type
of rebellion isn’t tolerated. It would set our civilization back more than a
century in progress, not to mention the damage that can be done by warping
through timelines unchecked.”
“And your job is to ‘retrieve’ these rebels.”
He nodded. “Yes. An enforcer.”
Shayla slowly nodded. “I take it then that when Thomas did
this to you, the chosen site for the stabbing was no accident?”
“He knew exactly what he was doing,” he nearly growled,
teeth bared. “He also took my timepiece. Wanted me trapped here, detoxing in
the twenty-first century so I can ‘appreciate’ what I’m forcing our people to
live without.” He pushed from the sofa cushions, marched over to the bar, and
with his back to her, spread his hands wide on the surface.
“So the fever, dizziness, and when you passed out really
isn’t related to any kind of infection from the stabbing, is it?”
“I’m in withdrawal.”
Shayla’s gut tightened. “How bad is it going to get? I mean,
how long before help arrives?”
“A week. Maybe two.”
Her breath hitched. If he had already experienced withdrawal
symptoms… She didn’t own a medical degree, but that didn’t sound good. “What
does that mean for you and what your body will go through without Sustain while
you wait?”
His words barely reached above a whisper, but she heard him
nevertheless, and the answer lifted the hairs on her body.
“God only knows.”
Chapter Three
Creed rolled onto his side and stuffed the pillow under his
head once more. He pulled his knees up on the too-short sofa for his six-two
frame. But he was grateful for a warm place to sleep. He felt like an ass for
not telling Shayla the full truth about what to expect over the next
ten-to-fourteen days. But he didn’t want to freak her out when there was no
need. All the research data indicated that the acute phase of withdrawal would
involve a heightened period of sexual awareness. An awakening of the pleasure
receptors that would lead to an overwhelming desire for sexual release in any
form that could be found—masturbation, male and female intercourse, fellatio
and cunnilingus. All manner of depravity would surface. A growl rumbled in the
back of his throat.
Damn Thomas for forcing this on him.
No way in hell would he be reduced to such acts. He was a
trained enforcer, mentally and physically stronger than any hormonal
fluctuation. Besides, he’d never allow himself to put Shayla through such a
scene. She deserved better than a rutting animal in her home.
She’d been more than accommodating considering how they’d
met and the chaos he’d introduced into her life. A smile tugged at his mouth.
Strange and confusing. He didn’t know whether to blame the lack of Sustain or
the woman herself for the unfamiliar feeling, the one that made him want to
grin more than once that day.
Shayla was smart, inquisitive. Almost annoyingly so. Witty
and so damn full of life he found himself enjoying just watching her move about
the cabin. From cooking breakfast to toying with her long, dark-brown locks
when she didn’t think he was looking, she intrigued him. He’d never met a woman
who captured his attention long enough to find her interesting. Back in his
time period, his focus had been narrow, rigid. The job, his life. He’d never slowed
down long enough to consider a female as a life partner. But Shayla…
Shit. Where was his head?
Creed squirmed and flipped to his other side. This wasn’t
the twenty-seventh century and her joining his world wasn’t even a remote
possibility. Besides, even if it were, a woman from this era would never agree
to exist in a world infused with Sustain, sharing his life but not his bed. He
could tell during their earlier conversation that the concept would be too
alien. Appalling. She would never understand or agree to the benefits Sustain
brought to a person’s life. The calm it induced into a civilization.
Creed scoffed and rubbed his eyes. The dialogue inside his
head was a total waste of time, not to mention ridiculous. He didn’t even
recognize his own mind and the thought patterns rolling about his skull. What
was he doing fantasizing about the beautiful brunette in the other room? He
could already feel the aftereffects of the drug leaching from his veins. The
growing restlessness. He closed his eyes, forcing his body to succumb to the
fatigue and his brain cells to let him go.
Gorgeous.
His heart raced at the sight of her standing before him, and
with a simple flutter of her lashes, she stole his breath. Shayla reached out,
and she slipped her hand in his. Creed encircled her smaller, delicate fingers.
His gaze raked her. Her long, fluid, sheer nightdress barely contained her full
bosom. Her nipples strained against their lacy confines. The most intense and
foreign desire to capture them between his lips overwhelmed him. Rocked him on
his feet. His mouth watered.
“Shayla…” Her name fell from his tongue on a groan. She
glided toward him, or maybe it was he who had moved. Creed had no idea. But
somehow she knew exactly what he needed. Shayla slipped her hand free from his,
then lifted her arms and draped them around his neck on a sigh. Creed splayed
his palms across her lower back and pulled her in, closing the gap between
them. So warm. Soft.
Hot blood raced to his groin, filling his shaft. Oh God. On
instinct, he rocked into her, pressing his throbbing cock into her abdomen.
Yes. He knew she was the key to ease the ache between his legs, but somehow the
act made the need even worse. He moaned. Again, Creed crushed her close and
thrust against her. So good.
“Shayla,” he breathed into her hair. “More. More of you.”
“Creed,” she whispered at his ear.
“Touch me.” The incessant throb was driving him mad.
“Please.”
“Creed. I’m here.”
He arched into her. “Shayla! Make it stop!”
“Creed!” Something shook him. “Creed, wake up!”
His eyelids popped open. He gasped and scrambled to a
sitting position.
“What?” Creed scanned the room, his gaze landing on the
brown-eyed object of his…what? Fantasy? Dream? Damn, maybe a hallucination? He
didn’t know what the hell to call her. But the throbbing between his legs that
commanded his attention was very real and had his teeth set on edge.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. But I heard you from
the other room. I was worried.” Shayla tugged the closure of her pink-and-white
robe a little tighter. “Looked like you were having a nightmare.” She tucked a
few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I could have sworn you were calling
out for me.”
Creed swiped a palm over the top of his head, doing his best
to nonchalantly shift and grab an extra throw from the back of the sofa to
cover himself. It took every ounce of strength he had not to flee the room and
fist the rock-hard length between his legs. Dear God, instinct told him if he
could just touch it, stroke it from root to tip, the demanding pressure would
ease.
He knew the moment it dawned on her, the moment she noticed
the origin of his distress. Creed followed her gaze. Shit, how could she have
possibly missed the thick pole tenting the covers spread across his waist?
“I-it’s the drug. Well, the lack of the drug.” Creed jerked
into action and swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, angling his body away
from her. He gathered the sheet around his hips and legs. His chest was bare,
the norm for how he liked to sleep, but he’d never felt more exposed in his
life.
“It’s okay,” she blurted. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.
What you’re experiencing is completely normal.”
“Not for me.” He huffed and risked a glance in her
direction. She looked so damn cute standing there with her long locks disheveled
from sleep. His cock flexed, and his balls tightened even more. He choked back
a groan and dropped his gaze. “Son of a…”
“You mean this is completely new to you? Like not even
once?”
Without chancing another look, he closed his eyes and spit
out a response. “I’m sure I have at some point in my life, but it would have
been before I can remember. We’re placed on Sustain prior to puberty.”
“Oh.” The sound of her restless footsteps shifted beside
him. “It’s just so hard for me to imagine.” The sound of a sharp inhalation
followed. “Yikes. Sorry about the pun.”
“I can’t imagine spending one’s life a slave to their body,”
he spouted. “It’s barbaric.” Creed’s tone was harsh, and he knew it, but at the
moment, he didn’t really give a shit. His cock throbbed with every beat of his
heart. But he would be damned before he gave in and stroked the offending
appendage to the release he’d read about it. The orgasms that stole logic from
the citizens he enforced, causing them to run from their home, their jobs and friends.
The clink of dishes in the kitchen took him by surprise.
Creed leaned back and opened his eyes. He’d been so frustrated he hadn’t
realized she’d left his side. A moment later, she stepped back in the room,
this time carrying two tumblers with a small amount of clear liquid inside.
Shayla handed one to him.
“I think we both could use a shot right about now to help us
relax.”
Creed sniffed the colorless contents. The fumes slammed into
his nostrils and he jerked back with a cough. “What is this?”
“Tequila, Mr. Enforcer,” she said and plopped down beside
him. “You don’t drink much in your time?”
“The job and alcohol don’t mix.”
“Well, you’re stuck here for the meantime, so I’d say you’re
off the clock. And based on the way you’re working the enamel on your molars,
you need a drink real bad.” Shayla lifted her glass in salute and then tossed
back the contents. A loud wheeze followed on the heels of a cough. She covered
her mouth with the back of her hand. “Wow. Haven’t done that in a while,” she
managed to squeak out. “Your turn.” Shayla tilted her head to the side and
lifted a brow in challenge.
His cock twitched.
Dammit. Creed dropped his gaze and studied the inside of his
glass. Why the hell not? Getting drunk couldn’t be worse than what he was
experiencing at the moment. He brought the tumbler up, opened his throat, and
poured the full dose of liquor inside. Fire licked at his esophagus. He
squeezed his eyelids shut, the burn a welcome distraction from the heat searing
his groin. When he could breathe again, he shoved the glass back in Shayla’s
direction.
“Again,” he croaked.
Shayla grinned. “You sure? You said you don’t drink.”
“I do tonight.”
“Okaaay.”
Twenty minutes and at least four shots later—he may have
lost count—a warm buzz had crawled into his veins and up into his brain. And
yeah, Creed had to admit he kind of liked the way everything seemed so much
less damn serious.
Shayla giggled, listed to her side, and bumped into his
shoulder. “So tell me, were you dreaming about me, blue eyes?” The question
came out in that I’m-trying-to-whisper-but-the-whole-room-can-really-hear-me
kind of voice. Creed glanced down at her. Her palm covered her mouth, but he
couldn’t miss the smile behind it.
“According to the research data, vivid dreams are a common
occurrence during withdrawal.”
“Vivid dreams are a common occurrence,” she mocked and then
burst out with another laugh. “So you
were
dreaming about me.” Shayla
reached out and brushed her fingers over his hair, the sensation stoking his
core temperature higher than the alcohol had managed.
“Maybe.” He couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his lips.
Her head rolled back between her shoulders and she drawled,
“Oh please tell me your dream had me at least twenty pounds lighter, my hair
with a better cut, and I wore something much sexier than terrycloth.”
He had no idea what possessed him to touch her, but before
he could stop himself, Creed had her nape in his palm, locking his gaze with
hers. “There is nothing wrong with the way you look this very second. You’re beautiful,
Shayla. Don’t ever doubt that.” He shook his head.
Who moved first, Creed had no idea, but somehow their mouths
had become fused. Their tongues joined. Tasting, teasing, teeth clicking.
He’d never kissed.
Why the hell had he never kissed? It was the most delicious
act. His arms encircled the vision from his dreams. His heart raced, pounding
away in a mad jungle beat. The ache had returned with a vengeance inside his
cock. Creed groaned into Shayla’s mouth and broke away on a gasp. “Oh God… I
need…”
Shit.
He couldn’t find the words to describe the engulfing desire
burning him alive.
“Shh…” Shayla brushed her palms over his cheeks, then
trailed a path of kisses down the side of his neck. Creed lowered his back onto
the sofa, dragging her with him, unable to deny her access to anything. If she
didn’t touch him, he’d surely combust. She wiggled out of her robe and tossed
it to the wood floor. The heat of her body next to his radiated through his
flesh. Drawing him like a man stranded in the arctic tundra to a raging fire.
Creed kicked the covers away from his waist and legs. His
shaft strained against the confines of his boxer-briefs. Somehow she’d crawled
inside his mind and read his thoughts, because Shayla eased up and over,
straddling his thighs. His breath hitched. The long t-shirt she’d worn under
her robe gathered at her hips, leaving her legs bare. Her breasts rose and fell
in rapid succession, her nipples straining against the thin fabric. Creed
reached low and smoothed his palms over her exposed flesh. God, she felt good.
Soft.
Shayla leaned over, arching her body until their mouths met.
She danced over his lips in moves that mimicked the actions of their hips with
each caress. He licked the full curve and seam of her mouth. Tequila with a
hint of mint teased his tongue, and she was killing him. She kept her body just
out of reach. Over him, but never close enough to touch. His brain may have
started off fogged, but at that moment, he’d become crystal clear.
“Please,” he moaned against her lips, then grasped her hips,
pulling her into him as he arched up. The top of her mons brushed the backside
of his swollen cock, sending a ricochet of sensation up his spine. He jerked.
“God, yes!”
Shayla let go, her body melding with his. Creed wrapped his
arms around her, holding her tight, grinding the hard evidence of his desire
into her lower half. “You’re driving me mad.”
“I know what you mean,” she breathed against his lips. “This
is so good. I never expected—” Creed claimed her mouth, cutting off whatever
she had intended to say.
Over and over he worked his cock against her body. The
material of his underwear proving negligible as the friction drove him higher
and higher to a crest just out of reach. Not enough. Dammit, he needed more.
“Shayla.” He panted. “I don’t know… I’m losing my mind.” He
shook his head. “I’ve got to—” Her hand dove beneath his waistband and gripped
his pulsing rod. “Oh fuck!” He’d never used that particular expletive, but at
that very second it was damn perfect. Creed’s spine went rigid. His arms and
legs trembled. He couldn’t breathe. Had lost the ability to form a coherent
thought. The only thing he knew was if she didn’t move, do something, he would
lose his mind.
“Do you like that?” Shayla slid her hand lower and applied a
gentle squeeze to the base. All Creed could manage was a groan. “I’ll take that
as a yes.” Up his cock she stroked, dragging the air from his lungs along with
the action. Two more slides of her palm along his length had his hips arching,
pumping into her fist. His breath sawing from his lungs. The here and now fell
away. His world had compressed, narrowed down to the sweet oblivion growing
between his legs.