But he had a lot on his mind. “You aren’t listening.”
“What?” She stepped back, her eyes searching his.
He loved that about her. She seemed to comprehend that he needed to talk, and she was willing to delay her pleasure.
“All day, I kept thinking about you.”
“How much you wanted to make love?”
“Of course.” He grinned, enjoying her touch that was full of taunting caresses. “But,” he chose his words carefully, wanting her to comprehend, “I don’t only want lots of hot sex. I want to have it with you.”
At his emphasis, her eyes widened. A smile played at the corners of her mouth. She trailed her hands over his hips, his buttocks. “Are you trying to say that you have feelings for me?”
“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate to admit the truth, and with the enticing direction her hands were taking, he spoke quickly, before she distracted him. “I’ve never thought about another woman as much as you. We’ve never talked about the future, but I’m hopeful.”
“After your mission, let’s spend more time together.” Her eyes held his, her chest expanded as she inhaled. Her hands dipped between his thighs, then moved lower to his knees, ignoring the part he wished she’d touch most.
Stars, she smelled good. He ached to sink into her heat. Ached to taste her lips. Ached for her.
Even if she stopped her caresses, he owed her his honesty. “I can go home in Jamar’s shuttle.”
She gasped. “I didn’t know that.”
Her gorgeous turquoise eyes speared him. “The journey will take much longer than I’d planned. Three years. But my people need me.”
“I know. But . . . suppose I went with you?”
Her words startled him. Here, she was wealthy, a celebrity, idolized by the masses. She had everything. But she was down on one knee, washing his calves, gazing up at him as if she feared his response.
She’d startled him. The idea of her accompanying him had never occurred to him. At first, he’d thought her company pleasant and intriguing. But his feelings had grown to the point where he didn’t want to say good-bye. Obviously she felt the same, which heated his blood even more.
That she might be willing to go back with him, stay with him, excited him, thrilled him, scared him. Suppose after she sacrificed so much that he decided that the kind of commitment she expected was too much for him—he’d feel guilty for taking her from her world. Trapped.
And yet, the idea of waking up beside her every morning, spending the day together, or simply having every night with her appealed to him on a level so deep he didn’t understand his own longings.
His heart might tempt him to throw caution to the stars, but his head prevailed. “Why would you want to come to Rama?”
She finished washing his feet and stood. “You said that after you send the salt to Rama that your people hope to settle on another world.”
“They can’t come here. I’ve already programmed the portal pieces so that nothing living can pass through. There will be no accidental biological contamination. And nothing mechanical either. I want my legacy to be one of freeing my people—but not at the cost of setting up another world to be taken over.”
Hope brightened her eyes. Her palm touched the spot over his heart. “You’ve already done it?”
“Yes. But I’d like your scientist to check my work.”
“Thank you.”
She lifted her lips, and he lowered his mouth, teased the corner of her lip with a tiny nibble, then licked her bottom lip. With a gasp, she opened for him, welcoming him inside with her tongue.
Her bare breasts against his chest excited him. Her fingers in his hair tugged him closer. And he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
He didn’t understand how her mouth could be both hot and sweet. Tender and fierce. The contradiction heated his blood, and he hummed with expectation.
He could have kissed her for a very long time, or just a few moments. With Shara, he lost track of time.
When she pulled back and drew a breath, she floored him with a look hot enough to go straight to his core. Her fingers trailed down his chest, his stomach, lower. “I would like to be part of settling a new world, building a home . . . starting a family.” She finally closed her hand over his sex. “We don’t have to decide our entire future right now, but I would ask one thing of you.”
“Okay.” His heart thumped. She wanted to settle a new world? She wanted to build a home with him? Bear his children? That meant more kissing. Lots and lots more kissing. And the idea sounded . . . amazing.
His hopes soared. He hadn’t dared to think that far ahead. He’d always known that completing his mission was a long shot. His chances of survival and success had been so low, but now that he possessed two spheres, he could actually think about the future.
He owed Shara for giving him hope—not just for his people, but for a future he’d never imagined. Whatever she asked of him, if it was in his power, he would try to give it to her.
Pain flickered in her eyes. “If you ever wish to make love to another . . . you must tell me before you act on the urge.”
He could see that making such a request distressed her, that just saying the words had been an act of courage.
His world was so different. Yes, a few underfirsts on Rama risked making a commitment, or starting a family, but the children were raised in a crèche. And all too often the husband and wife were torn apart by Firsts.
While the customs of most underfirsts was simply to move on from one partner to another without making a big deal of such behavior, he was aware her expectations were different. Cade suspected that the conventions of his people would change once they controlled their own lives, and that once they could share a secure future with a loving partner, they might not be so different from Terrans after all.
Making such a promise didn’t seem difficult. Not with what she’d come to mean to him. She was different from anyone he’d known. And he couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t want her. Only her. “Agreed.”
Tipping his head back, he rinsed the salt water from his hair. Too eager to make love to her, he planned to shampoo later. But before he could open the shower door, Shara had closed her hands around his sex, placed her lips over the tip, and circled her tongue around the head.
“Ah . . . you feel . . . wonderful,” he murmured, purring almost like Jules’s cat.
He reached down and dipped his fingers through her hair. The woman had sorcery on her tongue. Holding still, letting her have her way, had him tense, tight. On fire.
Stars, he wanted her. Her hands, her lips, her attention.
She pleased him so much that if she continued, he might spill his seed before he could give her pleasure. But she paid no attention to his gentle urging to free himself. Thinking became difficult as all his blood seemed to rush between his legs.
Aching balls, tight everywhere, blood roaring, he longed for more. More pressure. More friction. More of Shara.
Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the cool tile, and turned off the water. Her tongue teased, taunted, toyed, drawing him tight, the pressure increasing.
He prided himself on holding back. Sweat beaded on his brow. His breath came in bursts. And despite his effort to hang on, he was losing control. “Are you . . . trying . . . to destroy me?”
“Mm.”
Shara’s mouth eased, and he restrained a groan. Her fingers found his balls and tickled, tweaked, tugged.
Her sassy torment made it almost impossible to hold still. Every molecule in his body demanded he move, thrust, take, satisfy his need. Her willingness upped the thrill of being with her. His Quait escalated. Tendrils of mental force reached out to Shara, but he herded them back, determined not to interfere. He wanted making love to be give and take—not submission and domination.
So he curbed the Quait.
But waiting increased the pleasure. And the pleasure was a beauteous soaring, floating wonder. Yet each time he thou
ght he was going to explode, Shara changed the tempo, her touch, the pressure, driving him insane with anticipation.
She seemed to know exactly where and how to give maximum pleasure. And yet as giving as she was, she held back the ultimate blessing, keeping him on a raw edge, poised between excruciating need and lusty explosion.
Fearing he might take control with his Quait when he shouldn’t, Cade steered the strengthening force upward, away from Shara. He was pleased with his success, but as if Quait had a will of its own, the force circled, snapped back at him, at her—forcing her to release him so he could have her exactly the way he wished.
She immediately knew that he’d taken total control. She lifted her head, her gaze catching his, her pupils dilated with passion, her voice throaty with longing. “Damn you.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t wait.” He helped her stand, led her from the shower, wrapped her in a towel, and carried her to the bed, all the while his sex throbbing, pulsing, demanding that he plunge into her heat. Take what she had. All that she was.
His blood roared in a frenzy. His head reeled with only the thought of having her.
“Do you mind terribly if I take over?” he asked, knowing he had no choice.
She licked her lips, her expression sassy. “I suppose that depends on your intentions.”
“I can be . . . quite creative.” Indeed, now that he’d regained a bit of control over his lower half, he was determined to drive her into a wild place, the same reckless place she’d taken him.
After setting her down on her back on the sheets, he nudged her legs apart. “Seems to me that I’ve been neglecting you.”
She laughed. “That’s me, terribly neglected.” She lifted her head and peered at him as he got comfy between her thighs. “I should be annoyed.”
“You aren’t.”
“I’ll let you make it up to me.”
“Deal.” He licked a water droplet from the inside of her knee.
“Ah . . . that tickles. You’re in the wrong spot.”
“Am I?”
“You’re too low.”
He licked a trail up the inside of her lean leg to her thigh. And stopped, tauntingly just short of her center. With every word he blew a heated breath over her sensitive area, fanning her with puffs of air. “You want me to go higher?”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward, brushed her hair lightly with his lips, then planted a kiss below her navel. “There?”
“Lower.”
He nipped the inside of her upper thigh.
“Tease.”
He nibbled her lips, then lightly caressed her, enjoying her quiver of excitement that caused her to cream. He breathed in, reveling in her female scent. “I like you like this.”
“Define this.”
“Naked. Ready. Sexed up for me.”
She tossed a pillow at his head. “Stop talking.”
“All right.” He bent her knees, placed her hands on her shins, and had her hold herself open to him. “That’s good. Now close your eyes.”
“But—”
“I want you thinking about where I’m going to touch you first.”
“I already am.”
“And I don’t want you distracted.”
“Like that’s going to happen.” Despite her words, she closed her eyes.
She tensed, and he grinned and scooped up her cocoa butter from the nightstand. Without making a sound, he unscrewed the lid, dipped his fingers into the rich ointment.
“What are you doing?” Her voice rose half in complaint, half in anticipation.
“I’m deciding where to bite you.”
“What?” She attempted to look at him. He used his Quait to stop her from opening her lids.
“Obey me. And I might forget that I owe you a spanking.” He withdrew his Quait.
Shara let out a tiny groan, but she didn’t release her legs, keeping herself open to him.
He knew she expected him to start slowly, perhaps tweak her breasts or nip her neck. Instead, he dipped one finger that he’d covered with cocoa butter between her parted thighs, straight into her heat. She would have jerked, but he used Quait to hold her still.
Ever so slowly, he curled his finger and used the tip to tease her deep inside. At the same time, he placed his mouth directly over her sweet spot; his tongue beat gently, circled lightly.
With his free hand, he spread the ointment over her tipped-up bottom. At first, every time he touched her crease, she shook, but gradually she began to accept his slippery fingers until he had two fingers inside her, stroking from two angles, and his mouth firmly in charge of her core.
“Oh . . . my . . . oh.” Tiny grunts of pleasure encouraged him to increase the pressure, to plunge deeper. She would have been pumping her hips, rocking, but he allowed her no movement, no sense of sight. He wanted every one of her thoughts focused on his fingers plunging and thrusting while his tongue played over her clit.
He sensed she was tossing her head from side to side, felt her spasm sweetly into his mouth, heard her gurgle of pleasure, but he didn’t give her even a moment to recover. Instead, he changed his angles of pressure, ratcheting her up yet another notch.
“You’re . . . going . . . to . . . ohhhh.” She panted. “Wait. Oh, my. I . . . need . . . rest.”
“Uh-uh.”
“But . . . I’m ssoooo sensitive. I . . . ah . . . ohhh.” Again she exploded, this time her entire body shaking.
He eased back a bit, sensing she truly needed a few seconds to recover. But he couldn’t resist leaning forward, taking the tip of a breast between his lips and sucking hard, enjoying the feel of her nipple hardening right inside his mouth.
At the same time he slid his sex against her slick, open female folds. Her heat taunted him, but instead of entering her, he slowly slid against her clit, still tugging on her nipples with his mouth and fingers.
“I need you inside me. Now. Right now.”
The idea of her wanting him so badly turned him on. Her need was escalating his own, making him feel desired in a way he’d never felt before. At her sweet demands, his blood fired. His heart hammered. He ached to hold back and give her a few more orgasms, but he couldn’t wait.
He kept his mouth on her breast, placed his finger on her clit and slowly circled the soft bud. At the same time, he ever-so slowly lowered his hips, allowed himself to enter her warmth. He hissed in delight. Her soft, slick heat surrounded him, warmed him.
“Move. Damn you. Move.” Her tone was fierce, her voice impatient.
He flicked his finger faster, harder on her clit. She spasmed again, and he actually felt heat flash through her skin, radiating outward. And he could no longer hold back.
She was too delicious. Too responsive. Too female. He succumbed to her, pumping deep, hard, fast. But as instinct took over, as primal urges forged, he knew this bonding was not one he would ever take lightly.
With every thrust, he kept thinking: Mine. Mine. Mine.
And when he exploded, and she came with him once again, the pleasure of knowing she wanted him made the explosion all the more powerful. More intense. More personal.
They no longer seemed like two people giving one another mutual enjoyment. Their union possessed a unique joy, a special contentment, a deep thrill of coming together that he’d never known.
Even as the orgasm took him, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. He kissed her mouth, unwilling to settle for less than touching every part of her with every part of himself.
Long moments later, when his ragged breath had settled, when he could think clearly, he realized that for the first time in his life, he was . . . happy.
An hour later, Cade sat on the hotel balcony, and Shara handed him a frosted glass with green iced liquid, the rim covered in salt. “What’s this?”
“Tequila, lime juice, and Cointreau for you. My margarita’s a virgin, mostly lemonade. We’re celebrating.” She licked the rim of her glass, her eyes sad for someone who was rejoicing. Shar
a clinked her glass with his. “I thought you’d enjoy the salty drink.”
60
Shara didn’t have to wait long for the alcohol to knock Cade out. Two sips, and he was sloshed. Six, and he was out cold. Trying to stem her guilt, she’d left him outside on the balcony and slipped into the hotel room.
She would have preferred to have all three spheres in her possession, but she had to make do. If Jamar had one sphere, and she could destroy these two, Cade’s mission would be over.
And so would their relationship.
Her gut knotted in panic. But what choice did she have? She was desperate, and she couldn’t let Cade endanger everyone on planet Earth.
Arms straining, she carried one heavy sphere at a time into the bathroom, then lowered them into the tub. After placing a mask over her eyes, nose, and mouth to avoid breathing the fumes, she stoppered the drain and removed from the closet the hydrochloric acid she’d had delivered earlier. Careful not to splash the powerful acid onto her skin, she slowly filled the tub and covered the metal spheres.
Chest tight, heart hammering, she waited for the acid to do its work. The man at the chemical laboratory had assured her the acid would eat through most metal in record time.
Come on. Come on. Come on.
Shara had no idea how long Cade would stay semiconscious. But the metal balls looked as shiny and unpitted as they had before she’d poured acid over them.
Shara leaned over the acid, searching for a hint that her plan might work. Damn it, nothing was happening. Nothing.
She felt like screaming. Crying. Punching something.
Cade would rouse soon. Pulse skittering, mouth dry, she hurried to the balcony to check on him. His eyelids had begun to flutter. He was coming around.
Shara cursed and ran back to the bathroom. The spheres remained bright and shiny, unpitted. She’d failed.
But if Cade didn’t know she failed, perhaps she could think up another plan.
Lunar Heat: 1 (The Heat Series) Page 26
