The Judas Contact (Boomers Book 1) (22 page)

He was ready to explode. He sucked in a breath as she held onto his dick, rising up to straddle either side of his hips and lowering herself onto him. He caught her hips, fighting the urge to squeeze as he steadied her. His hunger surged, snapping the jesses of his control and he lunged upwards, driving into her and catching her startled gasp with his mouth.

Mine.

He carried her off the bed and to the wall, bracing her back against it, remembering, but only just, not to slam her into it. His hands slid down to her ass, shaping it and lifting to fit her at a better angle. He devoured her mouth, thrusting his tongue hard inside as his hips rocked back and forth. He pounded into her, barely able to contain the drive. Her nails raked down his arm and he lifted his head. His balls screamed with the need for release.

Her eyes glittered up at him, pleasure suffused her face and he pulled her higher, increasing the angle. The dam inside him burst and he drove himself inside her. She cupped her hands behind his head, pulling him for another kiss. Spots danced before his eyes as he thrust into her. She gripped his cock, taking every inch of him and held him greedily. Hot breaths punched the air as their lips broke apart and came together. He couldn’t stop kissing her, tasting her, feeling her. His orgasm roared through him, blinding him and he heard her cry out his name, but he couldn’t stop until he was spent.

Shaking, he slid to his knees, carrying her with him. As she lay against his chest, her hair a tangled damp mess against his skin, he tried to find the words, but none came. Her lips pressed against his skin, and the wild tingling spread out from the contact. His dick twitched inside of her.

He wanted to try the bed next.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Are you okay?” He tried to shift so he could see her face, but every move shifted his cock inside her and it was already beginning to rouse. He needed a fresh condom. Every brush of her breath against his skin was a new pleasure and torture.

“I’m…wow.” She laughed, her sex squeezing him with every chuckle. He groaned, his mind rushing back toward overload. He ran a thumb down her cheek, catching a tear. His gut churned.

“Did I hurt you?” He moved now, lifting her gently so he could see her.

She gave him a watery smile. “I love you.”

His heart exploded.

They eventually made it back to the bed, but exhaustion wore Ilsa down faster than she would have liked. Even as she dosed off, Garrett’s hand stroked her cheek, soothing her into sleep. She woke up alone and sighed. Her body ached, both from his passionate use of it and from the events of the previous day. Fresh bruises appeared in the pattern of the seatbelt strap. The gauze over her side showed some reddening. She would need to change the dressing and double check the stitches.

Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest. The room was dark, only a single light burning in the bathroom. The sheets were rumpled next to her. Garrett had been in the bed, even if he wasn’t there now. Scooping up the pillow, she held it to her face and inhaled the lingering hint of his warm, masculine scent.

Her body tingled just remembering how he’d touched her. It wasn’t just the driving need to slide inside her, but the wonder on his face as he’d stroked her skin, teased her nipples, and held her. She’d never seen such wonder on a face before. It was like he was a kid handed the key to his favorite store and he didn’t know where to start first.

The lack of daylight or of a visible clock meant she had to get out of bed to find out the time. She switched on the bedside light and moved slowly. The pleasant ache between her legs was another wonderful reminder and she couldn’t stop the smile from curling her mouth. She enjoyed the hell out Garrett letting go.

“And you said
I love you
first, you silly, silly woman,” she chastised herself, but without any real heat to the statement. She found her pants, at last, and pulled her cell phone out. It was well past mid-morning and flirting with lunchtime. She’d slept for hours and hours. Stretching, she tested her side and headed for the shower.

It only took her a few minutes to wash, shampoo her hair, rinse off and step back out. Garrett used institutional shampoo. That had to change. She couldn’t find any conditioner, but she wasn’t even sure if her supplies were back with the other van or not. She caught sight of her flushed face in the mirror and bit her lip. If the team was back, they would likely have a lot of questions.

They would have to wait, though. First, she needed to track down Garrett. She dressed in the shorts and hunted for her bra and tank, but neither was readily available. Her face heated. They’d left them in other rooms. Definitely needed to track those down and more condoms.

They only had one left.

Not one for snooping, she pulled open Garrett’s closet and snagged one of the packaged t-shirts off the shelf. Her gaze skimmed the clothes in there, all new. Everything remained in a package or still boasted tags. Did he never launder his clothes?

Or maybe he couldn’t. He worried about the after effects of his sweat. Maybe he burned them all when he was done wearing them. She added another item to her mental checklist. There had to be a way to sanitize his clothes safely so he wouldn’t have to live like that. Peeling open the plastic, she donned the shirt and laughed as it fell nearly to her knees. Bunching it up, she pulled the bottom hem through the collar and created a half-tank top out of it. Not that it didn’t billow around her, but at least it wasn’t a skirt.

The hallway was quiet and so were the stairs. She glanced at the security panel. All the lights were engaged, so the house was locked up tight. She smelled the coffee before she found the fresh pot in the kitchen. The hint of hazelnut in the air brought another grin to her face. He’d made her coffee, not his. Filling two mugs, she nudged open the door to the lab and started down the stairs. Sure enough, Garrett stood, fully dressed right down to his heavy gloves, staring at the monitor in the clean room.

“Are you hoping for or against a reaction?” She held out the coffee and grinned at the startled, almost guilty expression on his face.

“Against. But I was worried.” He bypassed the coffee and brushed his gloved fingers down her cheek.

“You need to stop that. I am assuming by your lack of panic or grouchiness, still no reaction?” She sipped her own coffee and kept her tone light. Frankly, she wouldn’t have traded the night before for anything. If it turned out she wasn’t immune, fine. She could accept that—her only regret would be the suffering Garrett might experience.

He accepted his coffee cup and grunted. “No reaction. I’ve watched it for the last four hours and nothing. Would you mind repeating the experiment with fresh samples? Just to be sure?”

She glanced at the monitor and frowned. It wasn’t just the lack of reaction, but the cells all looked the same. “Why don’t I take a look at the DNA results first?” She set her coffee cup on the table and pulled open the door to the clean room. Inside, she skipped the gear and walked over to the Smart Cycler. The results sat on two slim pieces of paper it had printed out. Picking up the sheets, she flipped them over and carried them back to the computer. Typing three numbers, she scrolled through the recording.

Despite her expectation, the match between her blood and the DNA markers in his spinal fluid still gave her a jolt. Like Michael and Rory, she and Garrett were matched—because of the microchip.

“Ilsa?” He paged her through the intercom.

“It’s a match.” She grinned as she held up the sheets toward him. “A damn near perfect one with only a point zero zero two variant. Which is a lot like saying perfect match.”

Relief eased the tension in his expression and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “So you won’t get sick.”

“Nope. Sorry, old man, I think you’re rather stuck with me now.” She glanced back at the monitor and replayed it. “In fact, I don’t think you could get me sick if you tried.”

“What do you mean?” Tension weaved back through his voice.

“There was a reaction, but it was your blood cells to mine.” She turned the monitor so he could see the replay. “See the cellular transformation—your cells went normal, no signs of brackets on the edge that were there before. I’m not a blood specialist, but it looks like my blood neutralized yours.”

Garrett stared at the screen, watching the replay. “Is that even possible?”

“Is any of this possible? Time travel? Organic microchips grown from DNA that would have been at least a hundred years older than the chips?” She lifted her eyebrows. “This is one of those gift horses you just don’t look in the mouth.”

“But you can repeat the tests later and confirm?”

“Of course. But not right now.” She turned the screen back. “I think my own survival is pretty much the best evidence we could ask for.”

He met her at the doorway and picked her up into a hug, his mouth sealing over hers in a hungry kiss. Her body roused from sore and aching, to hot and needing. She cupped his face, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss.

The sound of a throat being cleared and a second cough punched through the haze. Garrett lifted his head with a growl and she blinked at the audience of Rory clapping her hands together and Michael on the stairs.

“Good morning.” Rory beamed. “We thought we gave you enough time.” The knowing gleam in her eyes sent a rush of heat to warm Ilsa’s cheeks, but she refused to take her arms from around Garrett. He needed to know she was here and in this, not going away, not even for his teammates.

“Morning. There’s coffee upstairs.” She glanced at Michael who stared hard at Garrett.

The man ignored her. “Garrett. We need to talk.”

“Sure thing, Captain.” He tugged her arms from around his neck and kissed the back of each before taking the stairs two at a time. Rory scooted over and let him pass, flattening against the wall so they didn’t come into contact with each other.

Rory bounced down the stairs. “So the two of you?”

She met the other woman’s excitement with a bland look. “We did. Is that a problem?” She didn’t need or want Rory’s approval, but she also didn’t need or want her censure.

“Not at all.” The hero blinked at her and leaped up to sit on the edge of the exam table. “I think it’s awesome. He doesn’t have anyone else who can touch him.”

“I know. It broke my heart when he told me that.” She reclaimed her coffee cup and sipped it. “Michael isn’t going to give him a problem is he?”

Her former roommate shrugged. “Probably. But they do that. They fight, they debate, they decide, they move on. Garrett wasn’t our biggest fan. I imagine Michael just wants to make sure you’re going to be okay. Which you’re too smart to—”

“—to be overcome by lust?” Her tone was dry, and once upon a time she would have made the same argument. Not after last night.

Never again after last night.

“More or less.” Rory swung her legs, much like an errant child sitting on a too high counter. “Anyway, we brought the body back for you. It’s clean. No trackers or tracers that we could identify.”

The news sobered her in a way little else could. She needed to know what happened to Summer. Finishing her coffee, she retrieved fresh scrubs and pulled them on over her clothes.

“How are the stitches?”

“They’re fine.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You should know that the DNA sample from Michael’s micro-chip matched your DNA profile.”

“Okay.” Rory clasped the edge of the table. “And?”

“And that may explain their wild attraction for us.” Ilsa didn’t mind lumping herself into that category. Before Garrett, she didn’t even care whether she had a date or a man in her life. She preferred to be married to her work. With Garrett, she could do both. Whether the attraction was born from an organic chip implanted in his brain or not, it didn’t matter.

It sure as hell didn’t affect her feelings.

“Don’t care.” Rory echoed her thoughts bluntly. “Didn’t care before, don’t care now. I love him. All of his insane testosterone driven temper and possessiveness included. Hormones, neurotransmitters, microchips, time travel…” she waved a hand through the air. “Thinking about it gives me a headache. But when he smiles at me…”

“It’s a better world.” They shared a look of total understanding. She wasn’t as impulsive as Rory or as likely to challenge the world order, but she did understand how she felt around Garrett.

“Exactly. I know I should care more about the world they left behind—and I do, for their sake. But they’re here now, and they’re ours now. I’m not going to let Michael go.” She heard the warning and nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’m not letting Garrett go, either.”

“Excellent. We’ll bring the body down, and I’ll get us some more coffee.” Rory hopped off the table, restlessness in every move she made.

“Roar?” She pulled on surgical gloves. “Why did you come find me to help?”

“Because you’re the smartest person I know—and we needed that.” She didn’t hesitate with the answer. “The you and Garrett thing? That’s just icing on the cake.”

Yes, yes he was.

* * * *

“Absolutely not.” Garrett stared across the conference room at the woman he loved. She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d sprouted two heads and a super power. “What the hell are you thinking?”

In the three days since Summer ran their van off the road, Ilsa had devoted her time between her research on the dog/creature during the day and Garrett’s arms at night. She repeated the blood tests twice, demonstrating every time that they were still compatible. He was finally beginning to wrap his head around the idea that he couldn’t hurt her and she wanted to jump right back into the fray.

“Just no.” He slammed his fist on the table and stood. Unfortunately, none of the other Boomers seemed to share his reservations. They alternated between studying the report she’d put together and looking at her.

He read the speculation on Michael’s face and the concern on Simon’s. Rex said nothing, but Drake glared at the photographs of the animal’s internal systems with a quiet kind of fury.