Running Hot (12 page)

“Sure. They think we’re freaks of nature. Freaks, especially powerful freaks, make people nervous. So, what are you? A ten?”

She cleared her throat. “A nine.”

“Bullshit. You should see your aura. It’s pulsing like crazy. You’re a ten plus, aren’t you?”

That much was true.

“Yes,” she said.

“Like me.”

She sighed. “The Jones Scale stops at ten.”

“Only because they haven’t found a way to measure psychic energy beyond that point. That’s why they came up with the damned asterisk. Think Fallon Jones knows your real number?”

“Until this morning, I would have said no.” She unclasped her hands. “Now, I’m not so sure. Given the nature of his own talent, I suppose it’s possible he’s guessed that I’m a little higher than my file indicates.”

“You’re an exotic,” he said, very sure. “Like me.”

One secret in exchange for another. As he had pointed out, where was the harm in acknowledging a piece of the truth to another aura talent? It was a relief to admit it to someone who truly understood.

“Yes,” she said. She made a face. “But I hate that word.”

“Exotic?”

“It’s just a semi-polite term for psychic freak.”

“You’re no freak.” He started toward her, cane thudding softly on the carpet. “But you are a very rare creature in my book.”

She stood, turning to face him.

“I am?” she said.

Another wave of hot, sensual energy whispered through her. He was revved up again, watching her aura. She could feel the light pulses of heat from his energy field. Now she knew just what that meant. The sensation was exquisitely intimate.
He sees the real me,
she thought.
He’s the only man who ever has.

He came to a halt directly in front of her, smiling a little. “This is where I get to say here’s looking at you, kid.”

She laughed, feeling suddenly light and very highly charged; sexy. Adventurous. Living in the moment.

“Like the view?” she asked. Good grief, she was actually flirting with him.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. He touched her cheek. “No one has ever noticed me screwing around with their auras, let alone pushed back.”

She held her breath but there was no psychic jolt. Experimentally she put her fingertips on his bare chest. She felt nothing except warm skin and sleek, strong muscle. Last night hadn’t been a fluke. She really could touch him without pain. She flattened her hand against him.

She could feel the intense, very focused energy of his desire sweeping around her, enveloping her in powerful and possibly quite dangerous currents. But she no longer cared about the warning signs.

“Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me just because I can keep you from manipulating my aura?” she asked.

His smile was wickedly sexy. “And because you’re hot, of course.”

She blinked. “You really think I’m hot?”

He moved the cane behind her back and grasped the other end in his right hand, trapping her. He pulled her closer and lowered his mouth to hers.

“Very, very hot,” he said against her lips.

The words thrilled all her senses. He wanted her. So what if part of the attraction was based on the fact that he saw her as an interesting challenge? At least she didn’t scare him, the way she did other men. That was a really big plus. And she could touch him.

Live in the moment.

“Yes,” she said. “But it’s cool to hear the words.”

“How about actions? Don’t they count?”

“Oh, yes.” She was breathless now. “Actions are very important.”

“That’s good because I’m in the mood for a little action.”

His mouth closed over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, throwing herself into the embrace with all her might. Caught off balance by the sudden impact of her weight, Luther dropped the cane and staggered back a step. They collapsed together onto the rumpled bed.

She landed on top. Dazzled and energized, she started kissing his throat. He moved his hands down the sides of her body to her hips and tugged the hem of her nightgown upward. A moment later she felt his fingers close around her bare bottom.

He squeezed gently. She shuddered in response and dug her nails into him.

“Oh, yeah, definitely hot,” he said, his voice tight and ragged.

He raised one knee, cradling her between his thighs and pressed the hard, demanding shape of his erection against her leg.

Enthralled, she slipped one hand down his chest and over his flat belly until she found his zipper. She started to tug. The zipper did not slide readily due to the presence of the large object in the way.

Luther drew in a harsh breath and eased back a little.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

“Okay. Hurry.”

He sat up on the side of the bed. “Trust me, I’m moving as fast as I can.”

She rolled onto her side to admire the powerful shape of his shoulder and hip while he got rid of the trousers. When he pushed the pants down she saw the ragged, newly healed scar that marked his thigh halfway between his hip and his knee. Shock lanced through her.

“Oh, Luther,” she whispered.

He looked down, his mouth twisting. “Not very attractive, is it? One of the doctors talked about plastic surgery to make it look better, but at the time the last thing I wanted to do was go back into a hospital.”

“Who cares how it looks?” She sat up beside him and gently put her fingertips on the savage brand. “You must have lost a lot of blood. You could have been killed.”

“I told you, it was my own fault.” He paused, watching her very steadily. “Does it bother you?”

“Of course it does. It was obviously a very serious injury.”

“That’s not what I meant. Does it turn you off?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I was just concerned, that’s all. Was it a car accident?”

“No.” He opened his wallet and took out a condom packet.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Aches a little sometimes.” He sheathed himself in the condom. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss it. Sort of takes the glow out of the moment, if you know what I mean.”

She blushed. “Wouldn’t want to do that.”

He gave her another sexy smile and settled her back down onto the bed and loomed over her.

“On that we are in perfect agreement,” he said softly.

He put one hand on her breast. She was intensely aware of the heat of his palm through the fabric of the nightgown. She closed her hands around his shoulders. A shudder swept through him. His aura flared higher. It seemed to her that in some way it was starting to resonate with hers. A glorious sense of her own feminine power soared within her.

He moved his hand deliberately up the inside of her thigh to the hot, full place between her legs. He started to stroke her the way he had the night before, as though he knew exactly what she wanted and needed. She sensed the now-familiar pulse of his energy.

Damn. He
did
know exactly what she wanted and needed. He was reading her aura to see what worked and what didn’t.

“Wait a second,” she gasped. “I think that’s cheating.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

He did something with his fingers that shocked her senses in the most delicious way. Of their own accord, her legs stirred amid the rumpled sheets, opening for him.

Impulsively she reached down and wrapped her fingers around him. He sucked in a deep lungful of air and exhaled on a groan. She did not need to see his aura to know that she was pressing all the correct buttons.

“You’re right,” she said, savoring his reaction. “All’s fair.”

He was hard and solid and very erect. She watched him with her other vision as she explored him, discovering exactly where and how to touch him. The sexual excitement in his hot energy field began to resonate harder and faster, emboldening her. She had never tried anything like this with anyone else. The game was compelling, addictive; and her learning curve was very fast, thanks to the feedback she got from his aura.

She heard a low, husky laugh and knew that Luther knew that she was watching him in the same incredibly intimate way that he was watching her.

“You are definitely getting the hang of this,” he growled. He captured her wrists and pinned them over her head. “But I’m not going to let you end things too soon.”

She smiled sweetly and raised one hip a little, nudging him. Distracted, he reached down with his free hand, bringing his shoulder within range of her mouth. She nipped him lightly, letting him feel her teeth.

“I should have seen that coming,” he muttered. “Okay, you’ve made your point.”

He freed her wrists and she went back to her explorations. So did he. The sensual battle grew increasingly fierce and exciting, each of them trying to push the other to a higher level of excitement.

And then Luther was on top of her, driving himself deeply into her. She gripped his shoulders, raised her knees and tightened around him. Invisible light and fire flashed in the atmosphere of the bedroom. She held him even closer, possessive and demanding in a way she had never been with any other man. She felt his muscles harden under her clutching hands. Her insides clenched tighter and tighter.

Luther’s entire body went rigid. Beneath her palms, the muscles of his back could have been sculpted from steel. With an effort, she managed to open her eyes. The morning light revealed the savage set of his hard face. It was the expression of a man on the verge of either sexual release or lethal violence.

He opened his eyes and saw her watching him. He did not speak. She knew that, like her, he could not. They were both too far gone into the whirling fire. But in that heartbeat of time she sensed a flash of intense awareness—a kind of mutual recognition—resonating between them.

Before she had time to analyze the strange new energy, her climax rolled through her, stealing her breath. A heartbeat later Luther followed her over the edge.

For a timeless moment she could have sworn that their auras fused into a single energy field that enveloped them both.

Which was, of course, quite impossible according to the laws of paraphysics.

TWELVE

There was only one other person in the elevator, a woman swathed in one of the hotel’s plush white spa robes. Luther stifled a grin when he sensed Grace’s disappointment. He knew that she had been hoping to test her sense of touch on someone else to determine the extent of the “cure.”

When they reached the terrace where the open-air restaurant was located, Grace got out first. He followed, thinking that he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so good, so
refreshed.

“Can you use that aura manipulation trick to make a woman get instantly hot for you?” Grace asked with what sounded like academic curiosity.

The urge to smile vanished instantly. He knew a trap when he saw one.

“Damn it, Grace, keep your voice down.”

He looked around quickly, hoping for a distraction. But none of the half-dozen people in the airy colonnade that led to the restaurant were close enough to eavesdrop. So much for that excuse. He lowered his own voice and injected as much steel into it as possible.

“Doesn’t work like that,” he said.

“You can’t blame me for being curious. I haven’t come across your particular talent in any of my genealogy research.”

He put on his sunglasses and looked at her. She had taken a shower after the hot, sweaty sex. Her still-wet hair was combed back behind her ears. She had on a pair of trousers and another one of her long-sleeved shirts. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up almost to her elbows, though. A very daring move.

“I’m not some small electric you can plug in whenever it’s convenient,” he muttered.

“No,” she agreed. “You are definitely not a
small
appliance. So? What’s the answer?”

“We’re about to eat breakfast. Usually I read newspapers when I’m eating breakfast. Could we have this conversation some other time?”

“A simple yes or no will do.”

“There is no such thing as a simple yes or no when it comes to sex,” he said.

That was good, he thought, pleased. Smart answer, Malone. Brilliant, in fact.

She tilted her head to look at him, eyes veiled by the dark glasses.

“That’s not an answer,” she said.

He exhaled slowly and went for
deeply offended.
“You’re asking me if I can use my talent to seduce any woman I want.”

“No.”
She stopped and turned toward him, clearly shocked. “I know you wouldn’t do anything that unethical.”

He stopped, too. “Yeah? How do you know that?”

“I’m an aura profiler, remember?”

He frowned. “You profiled me?”

“Of course,” she said coolly. “Do you think I’d go to bed with a man I haven’t analyzed? Especially given my issues?”

“I guess I haven’t thought about it quite that way.” He paused. “I, uh, passed the profile test?”

“Oh, yes.” She gave him a smile that was brighter than the light of the tropical morning. “You definitely passed.”

“And here I’ve been wondering if the reason you were attracted to me was because you could touch me without getting fried.”

“What?” It was her turn to be outraged. “How dare you think I would fall into bed with a man simply because I could touch him.”

“You did say you haven’t been able to get close to a man for over a year.”

“My phobia issues had nothing to do with what happened last night or this morning,” she snapped. “At least, not in the way you mean. I am insulted.”

“Take it easy.”

“I will not take it easy. I am more than insulted. You just made me mad. Really, really mad.”

“I know. I can see it,” he said, admiring the heat leaping around her.

“Let’s get something clear,” she said evenly. “I would never go to bed with a man just because I could
touch
him.”

The fires of her feminine outrage were resonating nicely with the hot, exciting wavelengths of desire. She was furious but she wanted him. He suddenly felt much more cheerful again.

“You can’t blame a man for leaping to the obvious conclusion,” he said.

“Yes, I can.”

“Ever heard the phrase ‘You’re cute when you get mad’?”