Lunar Heat: 1 (The Heat Series)

by Susan Kearney

  He shifted from foot to foot and stared at her. Most people, when hearing that she possessed psychic abilities, would ask far more questions than she could answer. Lyle didn’t ask any questions. She could see he didn’t want to know what had brought her all the way from New L.A. to him.

  His eyes darkened, and he stepped back from the door of his office and her. “I think you should leave now.”

  “That won’t make the vision go away.”

  His tone was flat, resigned. “Yeah, but I can’t worry about what I don’t know.”

  “You intend to remain ignorant so you can pretend that you’re safe?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “A stupid plan. Every time I see your face—”

  “I don’t want—”

  “I don’t care what you want. Your face is always surrounded by—”

  Lyle shoved her out the door and slammed it behind her. She’d always known he might not help, but she’d never imagined he’d refuse to hear her out. Her fury escalated. He didn’t want to listen to her—not because he thought she was a kook, but because he feared her visions were genuine.

  She pounded on the door. When he didn’t open it, she yelled at him: “Your face is always surrounded by an explosion and lava.” He didn’t say a word, but he had to have heard her through the door. “Did you hear me?”

  “Everyone in the entire facility must have heard you.”

  “One of your volcanoes is live.”

  She expected him to shout. Instead, after a short pause, she heard him laughing, deep belly laughs. Now she was the one who thought him crazy. She’d expected him to be unfamiliar with psychics and skeptical. She’d thought he might be angry. Upset. But, he found her dire prediction . . . funny. “How dare you refuse to take me seriously?”

  “I take you very seriously.” At her words he laughed even harder and reopened the door.

  “Then why are you laughing?”

  “Because Io has more live volcanos than anywhere in the solar system.”

  Jules pretended she didn’t know that. Instead, she flirted with her eyes, batted her eyelashes. “Seriously?”

  Lyle slipped into his space coat and placed his hand in hers. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  39

  In the thin atmosphere of the Martian night sky, the stars were nothing less than spectacular. Even with the fire blazing, the desert was far colder than anywhere on Rama. The animals from Cade’s world wouldn’t have survived here. Yet, Earth had hardier stock, and Shara’s people had a good start in terraforming the previously lifeless planet.

  Even in this relatively barren desert he could hear animal footfalls, tiny ones rustling in the brush, birds flapping overhead, insects humming and buzzing. He slept lightly, wakened several times to feed the fire, but he couldn’t sleep much when he ached to gather Shara into his arms.

  No matter how often he told himself she was off limits, his body didn’t listen. Making love to her had been the best experience of his life. He wanted a repeat. He wanted to drown in her scent, revel in her touch, sink into her heat. Lose himself in her sensuality.

  One thought of her taste sent a stabbing pain straight to his sex. Made him instantly hard.

  The true horror of his predicament clawed at him. How could he live with himself if he caused her harm? If he used Quait without thinking? How could he dominate the woman who’d saved his life? The woman who’d become his partner? The woman who meant more to him than any other?

  Even as he damned his Quait, he had to appreciate his good fortune. After he’d used his Quait on her, he’d been shocked she wanted anything to do with him.

  Never had he cared for anyone so much. He’d even put his mission in jeopardy to save her life. He winced at two undeniable facts. He would never be the same. He would do anything to keep her safe.

  And Jamar could use that against him.

  Just the notion of Jamar using his Quait on Shara had kept Cade wide awake. Raw. Agitated.

  After he fed the fire for the third time, he returned to his spot in the long grasses beside Shara. The fabric at her throat parted, and he saw the hollow of her neck fill with soft shadows. Her slim waist flared into agilely rounded hips, and the sun had burned color into her high cheekbones. Loose tendrils of hair tumbled carelessly over her shoulders and softened her face, giving her a delicate and ethereal quality in the flickering firelight.

  Yet, today Shara Weston had shown him she was no fragile desert flower but a strong and competent woman. She’d found him salt. She’d thrown rocks at boar-like creatures; she’d pulled up grass for their bed. She deserved to be treated with respect. He was trying to treat her with respect. And he owed it to her to protect her . . . even from himself.

  Cade built the fire high and finally fell asleep. He’d awakened with her back pressed against his chest, his sex hard against her bottom, his hand under her shirt cupping her breast.

  Despite his determination to stay away from her during the night, either he’d gathered her into his arms, or she’d snuggled against him for warmth—he wasn’t sure who had moved closer to whom. Automatically, he folded her against him, willing to share his heat, unwilling to share his growing arousal. Gritting his teeth, he tried to think of anything but this luscious woman with her soft skin and selfless heart.

  But while he controlled his waking thoughts, he couldn’t steer his dreams. Half asleep, he yearned to kiss her neck, her lips, her collarbone, and sometime between sleeping and waking, his dreams turned into a reality. Half asleep, he must have used Quait to remove their clothes so they could be skin to skin.

  When she snuggled against him, her skin as soft as gossamer, her hair so silky, he could think only of having her again.

  Quait kicked in, stronger than last time. He wanted her. He could have her. What could be more simple?

  He could no more stop his hands from holding her than he could stop the stars overhead from shining. No more stop his lips from settling into the recess of her neck than he could stop the fresh water from bubbling in the spring. No more stop his body from seeking hers than he could stop the gravitational pull between Mars and the sun. Fighting Quait was like halting the most powerful and elemental forces of nature—impossible.

  “Mmm.” She turned, groaned deep in her throat, a sexy soft moan that shimmied straight through him.

  He kissed her long and hard and deep, taking what she offered, then demanding more. So giving, so responsive, Shara Weston teased him, taunted him, tantalized him, tormented him, with her luscious lips and her tempting hands and her sensuous legs that wound around his. And when she arched her spine, pressed her breasts against his chest and her nipples tightened, he lost himself in the smoothness of her skin, the softness of her curves, the pounding of her heart against his.

  Perhaps it was the lack of civilization, perhaps it was the knowledge that they could have died earlier that day and might yet die tomorrow, but living in this moment had enhanced, brightened, and intensified his senses. Making love to Shara became the most important thing on Mars, the only thing on Mars.

  She was now the focus of his every yearning desire. The powerful and potent need to dominate her, to subject her to his will erupted with the force of a supernova—inexorable, unstoppable, irresistible.

  “Take me.” She opened her eyes wide, wound her hands around his neck, and attempted to roll to her back, trying to pull him with her.

  But he denied her wish. He denied her movement. Instead, he kept her on her side, tilted her chin up so he could watch her eyes, and reached for her breasts. “You’re so soft.”

  He cupped her breasts and ever so slowly circled his thumbs around her nipples, never quite touching the deliciously hardened tips. “You’re so sensitive.”

  She released a soft moan of need. Her eyes dilated with yearning. A muscle twitched in her jaw. But she couldn’t move.

  He didn’t allow it. And he enjoyed making her wait to see what he’d do next.

  “You’re
so very beautiful,” he murmured, sinking his teeth into her shoulder and nipping her flesh.

  He pulled back his head to watch her expression in the firelight as he roughly flicked her nipples with his thumbs. After the tender caresses, her eyes widened further with surprise and need. Darkened even further with desire.

  He needed to hear her speak. And he lessened his Quait enough to let her talk. But she didn’t seem to realize her new freedom.

  He grinned wickedly and pinched her nipples. She gasped at the pain and pleasure he’d just given her. And when he dipped his head to suck away the sting, he urged her knee to bend, allowing his fingers access between her legs.

  “Tell me you want me,” he demanded.

  “I want you.” When she didn’t hesitate to respond, a predatory ruthlessness washed over him. He wanted her frantic for him. He wanted her wild with need. He had to have her out of her head with desire.

  “Tell me you trust me,” he ordered.

  She started to speak but must have caught a gleam of his wildness. “I . . . I . . .”

  He chuckled at her vacillation. “Ah . . . Shara, Shara, my beautiful Shara. You and I . . . we’re going to have a very good time.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’m not going to take you . . . until I melt all resistance from your soul.”

  “What resistance?” Her fingers clutched his shoulders. “I want you. Don’t you know that?”

  For answer, he leaned over and bit first one nipple, then again sucked away the tingle of pain he’d created, swirling away her ache with his tongue before he gave her other breast the same devotion. Before he’d finished with her breasts, she was panting, her breaths irregular between tiny coos of pleasure that broke from her throat.

  He nipped his way up to her jaw.

  “Kiss me,” she demanded, her tone low and husky.

  Making a rumbling sound in her throat, she pulled his lips to hers. It took teeth-grinding control not to plunge into her mouth. Instead, he lightly teased, nibbled, and bit. And when he deepened the kiss, she arched against him.

  Stars! Part of him couldn’t believe he was making love to her again. Taking her like he wanted. Touching what he wanted.

  He felt like a starving man. He had to taste, lick, gorge.

  Her hands slid around his shoulders, raked his hair. “I want to be on top.”

  Cade rolled to his back, taking her with him. “Straddle me.”

  Without hesitation, she placed her knees to either side of his hips, eager to take him inside her. Hands on his chest, she tried to lower her hips.

  He kept her on her knees. “Not yet.”

  He wriggled a bit, turning her to directly face the fire. With the light flickering over her flat belly and pert breasts, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes wild, she resembled a magnificent goddess.

  When she realized that he’d frozen her so that she couldn’t lower herself onto him, frustration clouded her eyes. Her lips quivered.

  “I like looking at you.” He ran his fingers over her jaw. “I like touching you wherever I want. Whenever I want.” He lifted her breasts, testing their weight, watched her try to restrain a soft groan. “And now your legs are open, parted, waiting for my touch. You want me to touch you, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’d rather I kept you waiting.”

  “Noooo.” She sounded so disappointed, and he grinned.

  “I’ll just have to change your mind.” He flicked her nipples, and as she tensed, more gulps of delight came from her throat. “Ah. Oh . . . Oh . . . Arghh.”

  “You have beautiful breasts,” he murmured. “Lovely skin, but you know what I like best?”

  “What?” she gasped.

  “I adore bringing out the wild in you.”

  Her eyes grew big as he held her still, as she waited to see what he would do next. Firelight bathed her. Her nostrils flared. Her breath grew ragged.

  Her tone was proud, throaty with longing. “Let me take you inside me.”

  “Not yet.” He removed his hands from her breasts and placed them on her bottom.

  At his touch she quivered, but he still didn’t allow her to move. Then he slid lower, until he’d positioned his mouth between her open thighs.

  He ached to give her more pleasure than she’d ever known. Careful not to graze her with stubble burn, he petted and licked and took pleasure in her trembling need.

  When he blew warm air on her most delicate lips, she gasped, sputtered, shook. He slid his fingers from her bottom to part her woman flesh, opening her wide. And then, at the same time he raised his head and his mouth found her center, he squeezed her cheeks.

  She yelped at the combination of sensations and sweetly shuddered into his mouth. “Oh . . . my . . . oh . . . Cade . . . oh, oh, oh.”

  He savored every single incomprehensible syllable that she uttered. And as she orgasmed and broke over him in wave after wave, he kept his tongue swirling in her slick, tasty heat, kept his hands clasping her buttocks, keeping her orgasm alive, and burning, hotter, higher, harder.

  She shook with her shattering and screamed, a tight howl of pure lust. And as her shudders eventually began to subside, he rubbed the sting from her bottom with his fingers and palms and gently licked her cream.

  “I can’t . . . can’t . . . oh . . . my God. You were so fantastic . . . I . . . Cade.” Her tone changed from wild and throaty to feminine curiosity. “Let me have you.”

  “I don’t think so.” He nuzzled her ever so gently.

  Frustration and wonder threaded her tone. “What the hell are you doing now?”

  He gave her a few seconds to recover from his mouth. “I thought we should find out how many times you can have your woman’s pleasure.”

  “You’re going to kill me.”

  He chuckled. He flicked his tongue over her center. “I don’t think so.”

  “I suppose—oh . . . ooooh.” She laughed, her tone low and husky, clearly eager for more. “I suppose there are worse ways to die.”

  40

  “Now, it’s your turn to please me.” The snap in Cade’s tone was pure domination. His face hardened and the look in his eyes was fierce.

  A thrill went through her. One she immediately tried to repress.

  His chiseled cheekbones in the firelight looked so male, so harsh. “You will do exactly as I say, with no hesitation.” He swatted her bottom. “Or there will be consequences.”

  Her mouth went dry. His former playfulness was gone. And his tone was scary. “I’m not sure—”

  “If you want me to stop, use the word, ‘Rama.’”

  His words reassured her. Somewhat. How far would he go? Would he really stop? Her stomach tightened. Her nipples went hard.

  Standing, he tugged her to her feet. His hand raked through her hair, his fist tightened, and he twisted her head back. Then his mouth demanded everything she had to give. He took, and took and took some more, holding her with one hand fisted in her hair, the other lightly resting on the butt cheek he’d just swatted. And his mouth took total possession.

  She leaned into him, placed a hand on his chest and slicked her palm up toward his shoulder.

  “No.” he broke the kiss, but kept his hand tight in her hair. “You will not move unless I direct you to move. Next time”—his hand tightened on her bottom—”you’ll pay for disobedience.”

  “I’m not into—”

  He reached between her legs, threaded his fingers into a curl there. And yanked.

  “Ow.” She didn’t know if she liked this. He hadn’t hurt her. The sting was already gone. But . . . He was so powerful. Domineering. And they were so alone here.

  He could do whatever he wanted, and she couldn’t stop him. Her mouth went dry, and her pulse hammered. He seemed to sense her uncertainly.

  “Look at your nipples,” he ordered, releasing her and stepping back.

  She didn’t have to look to feel their tightness. But when she did look down, she saw her
breasts quivering, hard goose bumps over her aureoles.

  “Cup your breasts. Offer them to me. And step closer to the fire so I can see every luscious inch of you.”

  She placed her hands under her breasts and lifted them. She’d never done such a thing. Heat immediately shot to her groin.

  “Spread your legs wider.”

  She did as he asked.

  Oh, my God. She was standing totally naked in the desert, holding her breasts and offering them to him. And she didn’t think she’d ever been so turned on.

  He walked away from her to the other side of the fire and added some wood. She didn’t like him walking away. But then her eyes caught his gaze, and she sucked in a breath.

  Flames burned in his eyes with an intensity that told her how badly he wanted her. “You are gorgeous with the firelight flickering over your skin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so beautiful. Now, let your hands drop to your sides, turn around slowly. I want to feast my eyes on your beautiful ass.”

  She turned her back to him. And she could have sworn her bottom blushed from the heat of his gaze alone.

  “Part your legs, tilt up your bottom. And hold still.”

  Shara had never felt so naughty. So tempting. So womanly.

  She never heard him move. But when his lips gently pressed against her neck, she jerked and sucked in a breath.

  “I told you to hold still.” He nipped at her neck, a tiny sting.

  “I couldn’t—”

  He pinched both her nipples. “Silence.”

  She trembled, wondering if she should say the safe word.

  “Take your hand and place it between your legs. And put one finger inside you. Do it,” he snapped.

  Without thinking, she obeyed.

  “You’re wet, warm, willing,” he whispered into her neck and shot shivers down her body. “You like this.”

  “Keep your finger right where it is and turn around so I can watch.”

  She turned and when she faced him, he lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. “Pleasure yourself for me. And keep your gaze focused on me.”