But this, it was different.
He was different, and not just because the guy could turn into an animal at will.
His hands clamped over her arms. He lifted her up and pushed her back onto the edge of the desk. Her skirt fluttered briefly around her flesh.
“What are you—”
His lips were on hers. Hot. Hard. Demanding and possessive.
Wild.
Just the way she’d been craving him.
Her fingers clenched into fists. She wanted to reach out and hold him, but she was not going to give in to her need, not until they settled a few things between them.
She wasn’t some kind of itch the guy could scratch whenever he wanted. Good kisser—oh, yeah, he was—or not.
Miranda wrenched her lips from his, and Cain immediately began to kiss and lick his way down her neck.
Goosebumps rose along her flesh, and the urge to lean in to him was so strong.
“I had to give you time.” He growled the words against her flesh. He pushed between her legs, shoving up the fabric of her skirt several desperate inches. The thick length of his erection was obvious even through his clothing.
He caught her earlobe between his teeth, bit lightly, and had her shuddering.
“I-I needed you too much.” The words were almost a growl now and his breath blew over her skin in a delicious caress. “But my need…” Now his head lifted and his gaze caught hers. “It can be dangerous.”
The jaguar flashed in her mind. Raging its fury in the night. Teeth. Claws.
“You’d been hurt enough.” He caught a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. Brought the lock to his face and inhaled. “I couldn’t risk taking you while you were weak, and hurting you again.”
So he’d pulled away. Her back teeth clenched. Men could be such jerks.
And damn, but they could make a woman want.
Want to kill them.
Want to fuck them.
“Next time,” she gritted, “explain.” Before she went insane.
His eyes began to shine with the light of his beast. “I had to stay away from you as much as I could.” His fingers released her hair. “’Cause anytime I so much as caught your scent, I wanted to take you.”
Didn’t sound like such a bad thing to her.
“I held on to my control last time. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it again.”
“Who said I wanted you to be controlled?” She’d never asked him to use kid gloves with her. The idea of having him, hungry and aggressive, it just turned her on all the more.
“You needed control. You were hurt. And you’re human.”
He said the last like it was her fault. Her muscles tensed. Humanity wasn’t exactly something she was going to apologize for.
The flare of anger must have shown in her expression because he swore softly. “You don’t get it, baby. Being human, it means you’re weaker than me. Than every supernatural out there. It means you can be hurt, too easily.”
So he’d been holding back because he didn’t want to hurt her. She snorted. What utter bullshit.
And what a waste of time.
Her hands rose to grasp his shoulders. Curled into the muscles. “Stop worrying about hurting me.” He should have realized after what they’d been through that she wasn’t going to shatter with a bruise or a cut. “And focus more on making love to me.” Because that was what she wanted. Right there. Right then.
The door was locked. Blinds were closed.
And she could tell that Cain was more than ready.
So was she.
When his nostrils widened, she knew that he’d caught the scent of her arousal. Hell, he’d probably known she was turned on the minute he walked into the room.
Her hands dropped to his waist. Caught the buckle of his belt in her fingers.
A tremble shook his body. “Ah, baby, you don’t—”
The belt was free. She unsnapped the button at the top of his jeans, lowered the zipper, and stroked his erection through the thin cotton of his boxer shorts.
After a second, two, her fingers pushed the shorts down, and she took the length of his erection between her hands. Squeezed. Pumped. Root to tip. Again.
He was warm beneath her touch. And so strong. As she touched him, his arousal grew.
She wondered what he would taste like.
His hands were on her breasts now. Stroking her through her shirt and bra. Caresses that became harder in time with the movements of her hands. A growing demand to match her own.
A phone rang in the distance. Voices, muted, drifted to her ears.
She didn’t care.
He jerked up her shirt. Shoved her bra out of the way, and those nimble fingers of his curled over her nipples. Squeezed.
Miranda bit back a moan and her hands tightened around him. God, but she wanted him inside and—
A growl built in his throat. Her gaze snapped to his and she found his burning stare flickering between a man’s lust and an animal’s wild need.
Then he stepped back, breaking the heated contact between them, and she could have yelled in frustration, could have—
“My way.” The words seemed barely those of a man.
His hands were on her wrists and he yanked her forward so that Miranda tumbled off the edge of the desk. Her feet hit the floor a little too hard and she stumbled. But then he was holding her tight. Shifting her body, spinning her around so that she faced the scarred desk and—
“Brace your hands.” A gritted order.
He was right behind her. Her body slid forward. She put her hands out automatically, palms slapping flat against the wooden surface of the desk.
“Cain, what are—”
Her skirt was lifted. No, shoved up. Cool air skated over her thighs. Then his fingers were between her legs. Stroking her through the damp crotch of her panties. Long, hard strokes that made Miranda bite her lip and rise up on her tiptoes.
Good, but not good enough.
“Cain.” A demand this time. His way, her way, she didn’t care. She just wanted him.
His fingers slipped under the edge of her panties. One long finger pushed inside her, knuckle-deep. Her hips arched and she thrust back against him, needing so much more than that touch.
She needed deeper.
She needed more.
Miranda tossed back her head. “I need—”
With his left hand, he jerked the collar of her shirt to the side, baring her flesh. His mouth locked around her shoulder. The edge of his teeth pressed against her in a sensual bite that had her gasping.
His finger retreated. Thrust. Retreated. Then he was curling his hand over her panties and yanking them down.
The panties landed on her black sandals. She kicked off her strapless shoes—and the panties fluttered across the floor.
His mouth pressed tightly to the flesh of her shoulder. A warm swipe of his tongue. A kiss. His hands spread her thighs ever wider, and he pushed her farther over the top of the desk.
A rustle of foil reached her ears as he readied himself. Then the wide head of his erection pushed against the moist opening of her sex. A controlled thrust.
Not what she wanted.
And Miranda was damn sure that really wasn’t “his way.” She rolled her hips, rocked back, and took him in as deep as she could.
His hands slammed down next to hers. His claws were out, and they dug into the wood.
And he began to thrust.
Not so controlled.
Deeper. Deeper. Harder.
Miranda closed her eyes and tried to hang on for the ride.
The desk inched forward with his thrusts. Wood scraped. He was pistoning behind her, driving so fully into her that she felt totally possessed.
Joined.
He was all around her, his scent thicker, richer than before. His nails had dug deep into the desktop. His teeth pierced the flesh of her shoulder.
Not pain.
Just pleasure.
Not like
Paul. God, no, never like that—
The climax caught her hard, spiraling through her body and stealing her breath as her sex spasmed.
His cock seemed to swell even more inside of her, and he thrust aggressively into her. The wild rhythm of their lovemaking continued, even as the climax rose, crested, his cock continued to tunnel deep into her flesh. So hard. So damn good.
Her hands lifted, caught the width of his forearms. Her breath was panting out, her upper body almost completely splayed over the desk, dangerously close to the edge of the computer.
And still he took her. In strong plunges, in demanding thrusts. Again and again.
When the second climax hit, their release erupted at the same moment. A hard ball of pleasure blasted through her, and Cain shuddered behind her, driving into her core one final time, then stilling against her.
A heartbeat was pounding, racing far too fast. Hers? His?
Miranda didn’t know, and at that moment, she didn’t really care. Her head dropped onto the desk and her hands fell from his.
He wrapped his arms around her then. Kept his cock buried inside of her and nuzzled her neck.
And damned if the man didn’t let out what could really only be called a purr. A very, very masculine purr of satisfaction.
A sound she felt like echoing, and would have, if she hadn’t been struggling to catch her breath.
Umm. She rather liked doing things his way. But next time, she wanted to be in charge.
Her way.
Her head turned to the side, and she stared at his claws. Slowly, the claws shifted away, until only a man’s hand, with close-cropped nails, remained.
Amazing.
“I should have gotten you naked.” His voice was husky and the words were murmured close to her ear.
Naked. Now that would have been a good plan.
“I’ve been dreaming about those sweet breasts of yours, and I didn’t even get a taste of them.”
A feeling of heady power swept through her. “Maybe next time.” Oh, but she did love the feel of that skilled tongue on her flesh. Teasing her nipple. Licking her.
“Or maybe right now.” He slid out of her, and her sex tightened in an automatic reflex to keep him inside.
Too late.
He eased off her, and, taking a deep breath, Miranda pushed up and turned to face him.
His lips were parted, and she could just see the edge of his strong, white teeth.
She smiled at him. “You wanting to go again, Lawson?” Talk about a dream man.
The back of his hand caressed her cheek. “Did you know”—he spoke softly, but with a trace of need that was undeniable—“that in the wild, jaguars can mate over one hundred times a day?”
All of the moisture in her mouth dried up. “Oh…” Impossible, for a man, surely, and there was no way—
He kissed her. Quick, but almost tender. “The need’s not gone yet, baby. One fast time in an office isn’t gonna cut it for me.” A pause. “It’ll take a hell of a lot more to satisfy the hunger I’ve got for you.” His lips hovered over hers. “I want a big bed, I want you, and I want all night, for starters.”
Sounded like a great plan to her. But—
“And once we get this asshole off our backs, that’s just what I’m gonna get.”
Ah, there was the but. The vampire.
Another kiss. A slow glide of his tongue. That soft rumble of sound from deep in the back of his throat that she was definitely terming a purr now.
She leaned into the kiss, loving the rich tang of his—
His head jerked away. “Dammit. Santiago’s coming this way.”
And she sure did love that superhearing.
Her fingers quickly smoothed down her skirt. Righted her shirt and the bra that was bunched all over the place. She searched, found her shoes and slid into them just as Cain ditched the condom and righted his jeans. She saw him wrap the condom in tissue, then drop it deep into the bottom of the trash can.
Her thighs squeezed together. She was damp, from him, from her—
“Here, baby.” Cain put a tissue between her legs. Cleaned her gently.
His touch had her nipples tightening again. Her body responded like wildfire to the man.
Almost like—like she was in some kind of heat for the guy.
She’d sure as hell never responded so fast or so hard to any of the other lovers she’d had.
He snagged her panties. Started to hand them to her, then stopped and she saw his nostrils flare—
“Give me those!” She snatched them from him. They were still a bit damp, but she wasn’t about to go around without panties for the rest of the day.
Okay, yeah, she’d just had great sex on a desk.
But she needed her panties, dammit!
A knock at the door sounded seconds after the panties were in place.
“Lawson? What the hell are you doing in there?”
Her cheeks heated as Cain opened the door. “Strategizing with Miranda.”
Oh, was that what they’d been doing? Jeez, but she hoped the agent didn’t catch the scent of sex in the air.
Santiago grunted and sauntered inside as if he owned the place. Sam would have said since he was a Bureau boy, he thought he did. Santiago pointed a finger at Cain. “You didn’t give me a status report on the last couple of feeding rooms you checked out.”
Feeding rooms? Some of her passion began to cool. What in the world was a feeding room?
Cain slanted a glance toward Miranda. “No sign of him at the rooms within a hundred-mile radius.”
“What,” she asked quietly, but with a pretty strong suspicion already in her mind, “is a feeding room?” Miranda shifted a bit. Wet panties were so not comfortable.
“Vampire paradise,” Santiago answered. She’d learned over the past few days that although the agent was human, he’d apparently picked up quite a bit of supernatural knowledge while he worked with Cain.
And the longer she was around Cain, the more knowledge she was picking up too. Her rose-colored glasses had long since broken.
“They feed there,” Cain said, looking perfectly normal and at ease. As if he hadn’t just had wild sex. Well, his cheeks were a bit flushed, and his gaze held a faint, heated gleam when he glanced her way. “They take humans. Blood and bodies.” He shrugged. “Figured if I checked out the nearby rooms, I could either find the bastard or get a lead on him.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So that’s where you’ve been going each night?”
He gave a quick nod.
Huh. She’d heard him creep out for the last two nights, only to return hours later. He hadn’t left her alone. Oh, no. Santiago had always stayed at the house, though usually when she’d snuck down the hallway, Miranda had just found him sleeping on her sofa.
Well, great. “And these vampires in these rooms.” From the way he described them, feeding rooms sounded basically like vampire bars to her. “Uh, how do they feel about a shifter coming into their territory?”
A sharp laugh escaped Santiago’s lips. “They hate it when he comes to play.”
Oh, she just bet they did. “You think going in those rooms, alone, is really a good idea?” No sane person would think it was. Did he have some kind of death wish? Just walking into a den of vampires?
In. Sane.
“You knew I was hunting,” he told her, voice expressionless.
Yeah, and she was liking this hunting of his less and less.
“There’s another place in Miami that we can try tonight. A feeding room at the beach.”
One close to her profile’s fictional home. “I’m coming with you.”
His jaw tightened. “The hell you are.”
“The vampires aren’t going to tell you anything—”
“Trust me, baby, I’ve got some pretty good methods of persuasion.” His lips peeled back in a smile that showed his sharp teeth.
“They’ll tell me more.” A human, a woman, they’d never think she was a threat. “I’ll go in
side, tell them I’m looking for my lover.” She shifted her legs, ignoring the faint ache between her thighs.
The growl that broke past Cain’s lips had the hair on her nape rising, but Miranda held her ground. “I can get more information with my cover story than you’ll get by threatening it out of the vampires.” Yeah, okay, the prospect of strolling into a vampire feeding room made her mouth dry up, but it was better than doing nothing.
“You go in there, you can get yourself killed.”
She lifted one brow. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to do a damn fine job of watching my ass, won’t you?”
His teeth snapped together. “Baby, watching your ass is already one of my top priorities.”
So he’d proven very well minutes before. Her gaze darted to Santiago. Did he know—
“What the hell?” Sam’s disgruntled voice called out as he pushed past Santiago. “Who said it was okay to have some kind of damn party in my office?”
Technically, it wasn’t his office, but Miranda refrained from pointing out that obvious fact. Sam had his eye on the sheriff’s position, and, sooner or later, the office probably would be his.
“And what the hell happened to my desk?” He ran his hand over the deep groves that Cain’s claws had created. “Looks like some jerkoff took a knife to it.” He cursed under his breath. “McMillan is goin’ to be pissed.”
Miranda kept her eyes averted and hoped that her cheeks weren’t flaming too much.
The chair squeaked as Sam threw his body onto the leather. “What’s this shit? Miranda.”
She finally glanced his way, only to see that Sam was glowering at the computer screen. “I’ll be damned,” he said.
Cain stepped forward. “We never did get around to talking about just what you were doing in here.”
Sam looked up at him, brows raised. “I’ll tell you what she was doing, Lawson. Setting a trap for Roberts, with herself as bait.”
The heat from Cain’s eyes seemed to scorch her flesh. “No, she wasn’t.”
“Uh, actually”—Miranda cleared her throat—“I was.” She jerked her thumb toward Santiago. “The FBI took my computer, so I had to use Sam’s. I made a profile, one guaranteed to snag Paul’s attention.” If he were still hunting on that site, and her gut said that he was. He’d already chosen three women from those Web pages.
When He Was Bad Page 22
