She spat in the sink and rinsed her toothbrush under the stream of water. “I’m coming,” she muttered, shutting off the water and wiping her mouth on a towel, hating the metallic jingle of the cuffs as she moved.
He stood waiting when she yanked the door open, his arms crossed over the clean white T-shirt stretched across his chest. “Do I need to cuff you to me again?”
“Absolutely not.” She folded her own arms, wishing she’d had time to change her clothes too. The ones she’d slept in still had blood smears from when she’d stabbed him last night. Her gaze strayed to his arm, narrowing when she realized there were no bandages left, nor any marks from her dagger. She looked up, irritated by the hint of a smug smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What?”
“I’m a fast healer.” He caught her wrist. “Let’s go. Are you hungry?”
She opened her mouth to say no, then stopped. She had knives in the kitchen. Hell, a fork would work as a weapon. “Yes, starving,” she said instead.
He shot her a quick glance as they went down the stairs, but didn’t say anything.
Andi worked to keep a smile from her lips until she got into the kitchen and saw her wooden knife block was nowhere in sight. Okay, no cooking knives. He had warned her he’d put away any potential weapons. She inhaled slowly. That was okay. A paring knife could also be used to do physical damage. If she had to, she could gouge his eye out with a spoon.
She tried not to think about that one too much. Instead, she turned to the refrigerator and tugged the door open. Scrambled eggs would require at least a fork.
Except she didn’t have any eggs in the house.
Dammit.
Toast. Toast needed butter, and butter required a knife.
She pulled the cinnamon raisin bread off the second shelf, grabbed the tub of butter, and shut the door.
Kallan stood watching her, still looking faintly amused.
Well, they’d see who was smiling in a few minutes.
She started the toaster and leaned against the counter, her irritation growing as he simply stood there, watching her in silence. As if he knew something she didn’t. And she had the terrible feeling he might.
When her toast popped up, she pulled open the drawer that held her silverware. But the usual rattle of flatware was much quieter than usual. Not even a spoon lay in the tray, the sections for the knives and forks empty too.
She shot him a glare. “How am I going to butter my toast?”
“I could do it for you, but then you’d know where the silverware is. I guess you’re having dry toast this morning.” His smile widened.
She punched at him before she realized she meant to, but he caught her fist in his. The swinging handcuff crashed into his wrist, though, making him wince faintly.
“That wasn’t very nice,” he said, using his free hand to reattach the dangling cuff to his own wrist. “I guess you want to be my sidekick again.”
“Bastard.” She slapped her free hand at him and found herself pressed close to him, both her arms behind her.
“Andrea, we have to work together for a little while, and that will prove difficult if you insist on assaulting me.”
She forced a short laugh, trying to ignore the way he felt against her, as if last night were repeating. “Right. Because you killing me isn’t going to put a damper on our relationship at all, right?”
His eyes darkened with anger. “Maybe I need to find a gag too.” His fingers bit into her wrist.
Andi felt a tendril of fear slither down her spine.
He released her suddenly, and she would have lost her balance if she hadn’t been cuffed to him. “Eat your toast, Andrea. We have work to do.”
She rubbed her free wrist for a moment before taking her bread out of the toaster. She’d have a bruise on her arm. Better bruised, she mused, than dead. “Screw you.”
“Tried that, didn’t you?”
She sucked in a sharp breath, going still as unexpected pain lanced at her middle. “I think it was the other way around, wasn’t it?” she asked after a moment, looking up in time to see his mouth tighten fractionally. “Don’t think I’ll forget it either, Harvester.”
He didn’t answer, his gaze sliding away from hers for a second.
Andi took a bite of her toast, but it might as well have been a piece of the kitchen table. She needed to find a way out and fast.
She remained silent when he guided her to the kitchen table and gave her a gentle nudge into a chair, then seated himself beside her. If she could knock him unconscious, she could get the key out of his pocket and be gone before he came to.
As a plan, it sucked.
As her only plan, it would have to do unless she came up with something else.
Forty minutes later, Kallan exhaled sharply, then shut the laptop down and pushed away from the table. Andrea still sat, her face turned toward the window, and he knew she was plotting. He would have been too, in her position. He wondered if she’d come up with a workable solution yet.
Nothing in his research of the notes from the previous generations of Harvesters ever mentioned the amulet being embedded into the Medusa’s skin. He’d checked and double-checked. It would explain why his ancestors had failed to secure the cup in millennia. He wondered if anyone else had ever realized its location. Surely his predecessors would have mentioned it if they’d discovered the problem. They would have wanted to make the task easier for those who followed.
“Are you ready for your shower, Andrea?”
Her head swiveled around, her big blue eyes wary.
He waited.
She watched him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
“Come.” He tugged her up and steered her out of the room. He didn’t want to think about what was coming. He couldn’t afford to. It was too big a distraction.
Upstairs, he waited while she gathered clean clothing from her dresser, pretending not to notice when she stuffed a lacy pair of underwear and matching bra into the middle of the stack of her shirt and jeans. The wariness never left her face, though.
He sighed inwardly and guided her into the bathroom. “I’m going to uncuff you so you can shower, but I’m going to wait right here for you.”
Her wide eyes narrowed. “You can’t.”
“You want to stay handcuffed to me? That will make showering very interesting.” Much too interesting.
She swallowed. Apparently, she got the same visual, though, as color bloomed in her cheeks.
He pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked her cuff.
She stepped away from him, rubbing her wrist. He looked closely but there was no mark, so he imagined she was just happy to be free.
“How long before the curse kicks in again?”
She jerked but didn’t look up.
“Andrea.” He needed to know. If he didn’t have any warning, it would be easy enough for her to kill him. Judging by her reaction, it wasn’t long. “Today? Tomorrow? Should I just kill you now and start my search all over? I’ve already compiled a nice list of your cousins to start my fresh search.” She didn’t need to know he had no intention of doing that, but if it kept her honest…
“A couple days maybe.” She slid one hand over the top of her head, her cheeks paling.
Kallan frowned. That didn’t give him much time to figure out how to retrieve the cup. Even if he could bring himself to cut it out of her skin…
“Can you at least turn around?” she asked after a moment.
He dragged his occupied mind back to the present, to where Andrea stood several feet away, her expression guarded. “No.” He could withstand the temptation for a few minutes.
Her mouth flattened and her jaw set. And she jerked at the button on her jeans, pulled the zipper down and shoved the denim off her hips.
He stared. He couldn’t help it. Her legs were long and strong. He imagined she spent a fair amount of time walking on her mountain.
Then she jerked her shirt over her head, and his mind went blank for
a moment.
He’d been very good last night, not touching her in places he’d desperately wanted to touch. Like the creamy breasts over-spilling the white bra she currently wore.
He gulped in some air, working hard to keep his expression impassive.
She glared at him as she reached behind herself to unhook the bra, silently daring him to open his mouth.
He wanted to open his mouth right over those beautiful dark nipples. He could very nearly imagine her taste, was so busy imagining it he almost missed her sliding the white panties down. Until she kicked them toward him.
Sweet Goddess, she was beautiful.
He sucked in a harsh breath as she climbed into the shower and slid the door shut before she turned the water on.
“Do I have a time limit here too?” she called over the spray of the water.
It took Kallan a moment to answer her, blinking to clear the image of her naked ass from his brain, and failing. “I’ll let you know when you’re pushing your luck,” he finally said, hearing how gruff his tone was. He cleared his throat. This was no good. Why had he thought he could manage this? No wonder the Medusas had survived this long. They were not only gorgeous, but smart. Cunning, exactly what Medusa meant.
Against his will, his gaze slid back to the shower door, through which he could see her pour something onto her hands, then slick them over her body.
This was torture, pure and simple. He was out of his mind to stay and watch.
But he couldn’t walk away now. Not when her hands stroked up her arms to her shoulders, then down over her chest, lingering there.
Andi knew he was watching. Even without looking through the frosted door, she could feel his stare. She could tease him.
Thinking of him watching her made her nipples tighten as they had last night when he kissed her. Made the rest of her heat up in ways that had nothing to do with the warm water. Then there was the whole hormonal issue of needing some release anyway, with her period only days away. She decided to indulge herself. Touching herself would torture him at the same time. The only problem was she hadn’t grabbed her vibrator on the way into the bathroom. She’d have to do without.
She lingered over her breasts, feeling them swell—aching—but she teased herself with light strokes, fleeting caresses. Until she couldn’t stand it any longer and pinched her nipples, tight. The slight pain sent a bolt of heat straight into her belly, making her wet. Wetter. She imagined his mouth on her nipples instead of her own fingers, and a soft moan tried to escape her. She swallowed it back, sliding one hand down over her belly, lower, until she could feel just how slick she was.
She tried to picture his fingers between her thighs. They were strong fingers, hard. She matched her strokes to her fantasy, and soon she had to lean against the cool tile wall to keep her balance.
His fingers would tease her, first with light strokes to her clit, then deeper, harder strokes into her body—not nearly filling her, making her want more.
The climax rushed through her before she realized it was so close, and she gasped for breath, her eyes shut tight, his image still firmly in her head.
Andi gradually caught her breath, pushing off the wall. Outside the shower, Kallan still stood, silent, but the tension in the small room had ratcheted up about a thousand percent. She swallowed hard.
What the hell had she been thinking? She stepped fully under the spray of water to rinse the rest of the shower gel from her body. She washed her hair quickly, trying hard not to think of what she’d just done. Heat rose in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the desire she’d just quenched.
She delayed in the shower as long as she dared, but he never said a word to urge her to finish, so she finally shut the water off and eased the door open only far enough to grab a towel. She dried herself quickly while still standing in the shower stall, resisting the need to peek around the glass to see his face. She’d bet his expression was something far more dangerous than the one he’d worn as she was stepping into the shower.
She took a deep breath. Well, she’d wanted to tease him. Now she’d have to face him.
She shoved the door open and met his gaze, which was shuttered. She blinked. There was no way he hadn’t realized… No, not possible. Then she looked closer. His cheekbones wore a dark flush, and his lovely mouth was tight, as was his jaw. She let her gaze slide lower, and she couldn’t help the widening of her eyes.
Holy Gods.
She jerked her gaze back to his face, then away, reaching blindly for her underwear. She stepped into them, then had to take them back off, as she’d put them on backward.
All the while, he didn’t speak.
She heard a faint tearing sound and realized she’d yanked the lace so hard, she’d ripped it somewhere, but at least she had the underwear on. She fumbled with the matching bra for a few seconds, finally managing to get that on as well. Why had she grabbed lace? He could see right through it.
She yanked her shirt on over her head, and then yelped in surprise when she emerged from the garment and Kallan was standing within arm’s length.
His green eyes were dark, his expression dangerous.
This is what happens when you tease the man.
She froze.
He touched her jaw lightly, his fingers shaking. “You have some interesting shower habits, Andrea.”
She exhaled roughly. “It’s the onset of PMS,” she whispered. That was only partly true.
“Really?” His fingers slid down the side of her throat to her exposed collarbone.
She felt her nipples tighten again. “Yep. Every month, a couple days before the rest of it starts.” She gulped in some air when his fingers slid over her shirt, toward one of her nipples. “That’s what the vibrator is for.” Gods, she should stop talking. She knew she should.
He tweaked the tip of her breast, and her legs went weak. “It would be a shame if you couldn’t make use of a flesh-and-blood man while you have the opportunity,” he murmured.
Her gaze dropped to the erection still pressing against his pants before she could stop it. Gods, that would be lovely. She curled her fingers into her palms to keep from reaching out.
Then his other fingers slid over the lace between her thighs, at the same time he pinched her nipple, harder than she had during her shower. A soft sound escaped her before she could stop it. The lace between her thighs was instantly wet.
“Can I help you with that?” His fingers pushed deeper between her thighs, rasping over her clit.
Andi panted, her stance widening of its own volition.
Kallan palmed her sex, and she moaned, trying hard not to rock her hips into the caress.
He tugged the lace aside and plunged one finger right into her core, and she couldn’t help but lift her hips into the thrust.
“Andrea?”
She realized she’d closed her eyes and forced them open, finding him even closer now, his heat reaching out to envelop her, almost like an actual embrace.
“Touch me.”
The command was impossible to resist. She uncurled her fingers and moved her hand across the scant inches between them to wrap them around the solid length of him. He grunted, his eyes sliding shut for a second, then he met her gaze again and slid a second finger deep inside her.
Andi whimpered, her grip tightening on him.
“Yes?” he breathed, bending nearer.
Her body arched into his next caress without her permission. And the next. The pleasure and tension coiled tight in her belly, shocking her with the intensity and speed.
He kissed her lightly, his hard fingers finding all the right spots to make her desire rush right up to the edge of the precipice, and then he kept her there.
She tried shifting her hips, but his fingers shifted too. She stroked him harder, feeling his hips jerk into her touch, then fumbled with his cargo pants to release his flesh into her hand.
He made a low rumbling sound when her fingers wrapped around his erection, then shifted so her back was
to the wall, tugging her shirt up so he could get his hand inside her bra to her bare breast.
She moaned, her body taut with need.
He teased her, sliding his fingers deep, then lightly caressing her clit, his hips rocking into her strokes too. He knew this wasn’t a good idea. He’d been certain he could resist it. Resist her. Resist himself. But there was no resisting this.
“Bed,” he whispered against her mouth. “We should be in a bed.” He rubbed his thumb over her clit, making her whimper into his kiss.
When he thrust his fingers hard into her, she flew apart.
He lifted his head to watch this time, the flush rising from the top of her shirt to the roots of her hair, the deep rose color of the nipple he’d freed from her bra, and the slick evidence of her desire on his fingers with each thrust and retreat. He nipped at her lower lip, then sucked it into his mouth to soothe the sting.
Her fingers on his own flesh were hot, nearly as hot as his erection felt. His hips rocked into each stroke of her fingers, and he knew his own release was only moments away.
Andrea’s eyes opened slowly. “Come inside me,” she whispered. “Please.”
He released her breast to shove his pants down far enough, then tore her panties, dropped the ripped lace somewhere behind him, and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he slid easily into her body, deep, deeper. Around him, her flesh still spasmed. So good.
He groaned, dropping his head back for a moment to try to gather some strength. “Andrea.” He met her gaze. “Hard or slow?”
More color washed up her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “Hard.”
His body tightened. “As you wish.” He slid one hand beneath the soft curve of her bottom, lifting her nearer, and wedged the other between their bodies so he could slide his thumb over her clit.
Her breath caught in her throat, but she still watched him, her eyes bright with desire.
He eased his hips backward—slowly, slowly, till only the tip of his cock was still inside her scalding heat. Then thrust hard, deep.
She cried out.
Hunting Medusa Page 4
