Feeling desperate, he shifted. His hands left her shoulders and grasped her thighs, pulling her legs wider. He slid his arms under her knees, hooking his elbows beneath her legs and pressing his arms forward until he forced her legs high and wide. The position left her open and vulnerable, sent him nudging even deeper, and he felt the tension in her coil tighter.
She took every inch of him, drinking him in like rainfall in the desert. He felt himself seeping into her, becoming part of her in a way he hadn't known was possible. He thrust harder, his shoulders hunching with the effort. With another woman, he would have worried he was hurting her, but Sam was with him every step of the way. Her ragged, breathless cries held nothing but pleasure, reverberated with it, formed an angelic, ecstatic chorus in time with their movements.
Fear teased at the corner of his mind. He hadn't expected anything this intense. He hadn't expected the Earth to shift on its axis beneath them. As much as he had known that Samantha was different, that something about her spoke to him in a way no other woman ever had, he hadn't realized that by taking her he would make her his. Every hard stroke within her body deepened his claim on her, but the truth of the matter was, he was the one changed by it. He was marking her, absorbing her, taking her, and pressing her into the fabric of his being so that being removed from her would be like losing a limb. He could survive the loss, but he would never be whole.
A high, thin cry broke from her lips and dragged Noah back to the magic of their mating. He stared down at her, watched as her eyes flew open and that intense golden gaze locked with his. Her mouth opened as she struggled to breathe, and the look on her face held both terror and awe as she arched her back and tumbled over the cliff into climax and dragged him, shuddering, with her.
It seemed to last forever. He poured himself endlessly into her, shaking so hard he worried he might snap with the strain. Through the whole thing, she pressed up against him, taking all of him, whimpering in helpless pleasure. Her body drank him in, made him a part of her, just as she had become a part of him.
As he slumped, shuddering, atop her, Noah buried his face in the curve of her neck and acknowledged that nothing would ever be the same again.
She slept, the sleep of the righteously exhausted, if not the innocent. She drifted off with Noah sprawled on top of her, pressing her into the mattress like a deadweight that she would have died to keep with her. His weight didn't bother her; she was more than strong enough to support him, and she loved the closeness of feeling his heart beat against her skin, his breath sigh against her ear. She loved all of it, and yet somehow having this much of him only made her ache with the need for more.
Never satisfied, she acknowledged ruefully. Always wanting more and wanting it her own way. That was Sam—a dozen demands and a flowchart to keep them straight.
She imagined showing Noah a flowchart of what she wanted to do to him and chuckled as she drifted off. She'd like to see his expression.
As it was, she saw his face all the while she slept.
* * *
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Noah hadn't gone limp with exhaustion. It was panic, pure and simple. With maybe a little shell shock thrown in.
He lay atop Sam's delicious half-naked body with his face buried in her neck, because no power in heaven or on earth could have compelled him at that moment to meet her gaze. Hell, at that moment he felt so low he didn't know if he could even look that high.
He couldn't feel sorry for making love to her. God, he'd be living for the rest of his life on how it had felt the moment he'd first slid inside her. That wasn't the problem. The problem had to do with how he'd felt when he'd realized he never wanted to leave. Not just her body, but her presence. Their joining had forged a link between them, one he feared he could never break. And he couldn't imagine ever wanting to.
But what would she do when she realized that he'd been lying to her all this time? Not about them, obviously, not about his attraction to her, but about everything else. He'd told a lot of lies, and most of them put the pack she called her family in danger.
Christ. He'd be lucky if all she did was refuse to ever see him again. Even ripping his balls off seemed to fall on the mild end of the range of possibilities. She'd want to rip him open and eat his liver, and she was more than capable of doing so.
Her breathing had deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. Carefully Noah disengaged their bodies and eased himself off her. She made a whimpering sound and shifted onto her side, curling away from him and snuggling her backside against his hip, but she didn't wake. He held his breath for a long moment anyway. Then he counted to a hundred for good measure before he began to extricate himself soundlessly from the bed.
He grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and fastened them in the dim light of the bedside lamp, watching Sam for signs of stirring.
She didn't move.
Face grim, he grabbed the cell phone Carter had dropped him and slipped noiselessly out of the room. He'd scouted the location of the exits when he'd first arrived, subtly of course, and now he headed for the one that got the least use. The stairs to the roof existed not for the convenience of the guests but for the owner and the chef, who grew herbs and some vegetables in the greenhouse up there. Noah figured Graham was tucked in bed with Missy right about now, and he doubted he'd run into anyone harvesting chervil at midnight.
That didn't stop him from reconnoitering the area as soon as he got there. Nothing stirred in the open space, and the only living things he found in the greenhouse had roots. He activated the cell and roughly pushed in a number.
"Alpha."
Noah winced. He had a whole new appreciation for the military's use of certain vocabulary these days. "I need a debrief."
"Have you secured the target?"
"That's not the issue."
"Then why are you calling?"
Why the hell was he calling? He damned sure didn't want to call his ability to complete the mission into question. All that would accomplish would be to get him replaced by someone who didn't give a shit whether the pack survived the experience or not.
"I have a name that may be involved, but I need more info. I want a file."
"What's the name?"
Noah hesitated. "Gordon Entwhistle." He spelled it. "Scientist at NYU. Works in a microbiology lab. He's become of interest."
"I thought last time you mentioned a woman."
"It's starting to look more complex than I initially thought."
"The deadline hasn't changed. If you've got sources, you need to interrogate them. We need this information."
Noah clenched his teeth. This was why he'd held back, why he still hadn't given them Annie's name. She wasn't a person to them; she was a source, something for them to tap into and discard. "Get me a file, and I'll get you some answers."
The pause on the other end of the line vibrated with displeasure. "Your contact will be at the rendezvous at twelve hundred. Your clock is ticking, Major."
Once again, the line went dead on a threat.
Noah didn't bother cursing. The sound would carry too far on the still night air, and it wouldn't make him feel any better anyway. He was starting to think only a miracle would do that.
Shoving the cell into a pocket, he stalked toward the edge of the roof and wished he had someone to throw off. With every hour that passed he felt more and more like he'd gotten trapped in some nightmare and for the life of him he couldn't wake himself up. He tried to imagine a worst-case scenario option, but his mind wouldn't even go there; it skittered up to the part where Sam shut him out of her life. There was no point in thinking about that, because he wouldn't let it happen. Sam was his now, and damned if he'd let her go.
A small part of him appreciated the irony. He'd known a few Lupines before he'd gotten mixed up with the Silverback Clan, so he'd picked up a few key details about their culture. He knew that in general they tended to view sex in a very earthy way, as something natural and instinctive that felt damned good and shouldn't be allo
wed to get all complicated with a bunch of extraneous bullshit. But he also knew how strongly attached they were to the idea of mating, how they genuinely believed that each one of them had one destined mate, the person whom they could recognize in an instant and who would be the end of the road for them. Once a Lupine mated, he or she became completely devoted to that partner, so that words like "divorce," "infidelity," and "betrayal" didn't even enter into the vocabulary. Lupine males also tended to be primitively possessive, guarding their mates from cross-eyed glances, let alone the occasional come-on from other men. Lupines used words like "claim" and "mine," the kinds of words that made most women look around for the nearest blunt instrument, but for the first time in his life Noah completely understood where they were coming from.
He acknowledged, not without some discomfort, that he felt precisely that way about Samantha. In his mind, he already called her his, and with his body he'd done his damnedest to imprint the message on her. He knew that after taking him inside she would have taken on his scent. Any other Lupine in the area would have known it, too, and the idea gave him a deep and very basic sense of satisfaction. He wanted everyone else to know she belonged to him, especially other Lupines.
Stupid he wasn't, and he realized that in getting involved with him Sam had taken a chance. She was risking disapproval from not just her family but also her entire community. She was cutting herself off from the road they expected her to take, probably even the road she'd assumed she would take herself. He would find a way to reassure her about that later, but in the meantime he wanted everyone else to know it was done and no one would be turning back. He wouldn't allow it.
Christ, he sounded more like an animal than most Lupines. Either an animal or a two-year-old. Mine, mine, MINE!
The click of the rooftop door opening snagged his attention. Light streamed in from the staircase, casting a golden glow onto the tarred surface. Sam's head peeked out and her eyes searched the darkness.
"Noah?" she called softly. "Where are you?"
He shifted, knowing her sharp eyes would catch the motion. "Here."
Sure enough, she shut the door and headed unerringly toward him. "What are you doing up here?" she asked, stepping close and cuddling unhesitatingly against his bare chest.
He let his arms come around her to pull her even closer, and he lowered his head to rest his cheek on her tousled hair. "Couldn't sleep. I was feeling a little wound up."
He felt her smile shift against his skin. "Funny, I thought I'd wound you all the way down."
"Sweetheart, you've got a lot to learn," he chuckled, pushing his dark thoughts from his mind. He'd have enough time to worry about that stuff later. More than enough. "I've wanted you for six months. One quick tussle, no matter how amazing, is not enough to make that go away."
"Hmm. So are you telling me I've got my hands full with you?"
"No, but if you move them around to the front and down a couple of inches, I can guarantee you will."
Her laugh was deep and throaty and made his gut clench into a tight fist. God, she slayed him. Laid him out like a prize trout ready for the filleting knife.
"And here I thought you'd be cold, standing up here without a shirt on."
"Not with you in a half-mile radius." He ran his hands over her bare arms. She'd left her sweater downstairs, but she felt pleasantly warm, reminding him that she'd just climbed out of bed. He felt his body tighten at the thought. "I could melt a glacier."
"You've certainly melted me."
Instead of heading down, her arms slid up, circling his neck and bringing his head down to hers. Her face was turned up, her mouth parted in invitation, and he slid inside with a groan.
How the hell could she taste so sweet? So much like home?
He pressed her closer, his hands roaming over her sweet curves, memorizing the feel of her, slipping under the hem of that flirty, maddening little skirt and finding her warm and soft and very, very naked.
"Shit," he groaned, tearing his mouth from hers. "You're trying to kill me."
"Don't be silly." She wriggled her hips and pressed her delicious bottom into his hands. "Why would I kill you? I'm not nearly done with you yet."
And she never would be. He'd keep her with him if he had to fit her with a collar and leash. Or himself with a whip and chair. Whatever worked.
Growling, he lifted her high against him and headed for the stairs. Sam wrapped her legs around his hips and hung on for the ride.
"I guess this means you might have a piece or two of unfinished business yourself," she teased, grinning down at him.
"What I have," he bit out, "is a dick so hard it's preventing blood from circulating to any other part of my body. If you don't want to be responsible for my arms and legs going gangrenous and falling off, you'll have to help me think of a way to cure it." He had her down the stairs and was pushing open his bedroom door in less than thirty seconds. He considered telling her she was lucky he hadn't just leaned her up against a wall along the way.
"Oh, I can think of several. In fact, as far as I can tell, there's really only one question to be answered here."
"What's that?" He carried her inside and kicked the door shut behind them.
As he laid her on the bed and stretched out over her, she tightened her arms around him and lifted an eyebrow. "Can we take our clothes off this time?"
* * *
CHAPTER TWELVE
Considering how much trouble she had walking on Friday morning, you'd think Sam would have been grateful that Noah spent the day playing least-in-sight. She ached in places she hadn't known it was possible to ache in, and she had been wishing fervently for a bathtub full of Epsom salts since before she'd cracked open her eyes just after dawn. She couldn't say since she'd first woken up, because, quite frankly, Noah had woken her before dawn and made sure she didn't think about anything except him until the sky had bloomed all pink and orange outside.
So technically, her first thought had been about him and the amazing, breathtaking, heart-stopping feeling of having him slide into her like a piece that had always been missing. Her second thought had been about the Epsom salts, and her third had been about coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
She'd finished most of the minipot in his room before he'd climbed out of the shower—one she'd refused to share on the grounds of the Epsom salt thing—and had been sitting on his bed wrapped in her own slightly damp towel when he'd told her he'd be spending most of today out of the office.
"I thought you did your off-site interviews yesterday?"
He tossed aside his towel and tugged on a pair of boxer briefs, then reached not for his uniform pants but for a pair of worn-looking fatigues. "It was. This isn't an interview. I have a meeting on-base with my commanding officer."
That surprised her. He hadn't mentioned the meeting yesterday, not even to Graham, and she had thought his commanding officer was in North Carolina, at Fort Bragg, where Abby had mentioned he was based. "In Manhattan?"
"I wish. No, that's why I'll be gone all day." He shrugged into his shirt, bent his head to the buttons. "The CO is paying a visit to Fort Monmouth to the C4ISR team. So I have to head down to Jersey."
Sam watched his efficient movement and reminded herself that even if she wanted to jump him right now, she probably wasn't capable of following through. But damn, that thing about men in uniform was proving to be oh so true. Noah in a uniform, at least, definitely sent her pulse spiking.
She shook her head. "And in English that means…"
He gave her a rueful grin. "Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, is headquarters of team C4ISR, which is mil speak for command, control, communications, computers, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance."
"Yikes. No wonder you guys use so many acronyms," she laughed, and stood, crossing to him to run a hand over his broad shoulders, smoothing the fabric over his skin. She had been looking forward to the torture of being in the same room with him today, watching him work and quietly lusting after him. The fact
that he wouldn't be there to torture her disappointed her. "Sounds like an impressive group, though. I'm surprised you're not in a dress uniform."
"My CO likes to see us looking battle-ready, and since this is a damn sight more comfortable, I'm not about to argue and maybe shoot myself in the foot." He grabbed her hand and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. She fought to keep from going under. Goddess, he got to her fast. "And keep your hands to yourself, lady. You had your chance, and you turned me down. We could have conserved gallons of water this morning and single-handedly saved the planet from ruin."
"Oh, I'm sure that was your motivation."
She stepped back anyway. She could see his mind was already on business, and she wondered that she should feel this odd sort of jealousy for his job. It made no sense. It wasn't like he was going to a strip club; he was going to an army base. And she wasn't his mate anyway. She didn't have a right to like or dislike where he went.
Ignoring the little jolt inside her at the use of the term "mate," she decided that was a world of trouble she didn't need any part of at the moment. She had to get to work soon herself. At least her commute would be easy this morning. Ruthlessly she shoved the thought of mating aside and reminded herself to breathe.
Draining her coffee, she set the mug next to the sink, while Noah replaced the items he'd left on the dresser last night into his pockets. She saw him glance her way.
"What?"
"What are you going to wear to work today?" he asked, eyeing her towel as if he expected her to march downstairs wearing nothing else and was less than enamored with the idea. "I should have gotten us up earlier and run you home so you could pick something up."
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