by Jaime Rush
The problem was she couldn’t get his little comment about having multiple orgasms out of her mind. The sight of that gorgeous naked body of his, coupled with that thought, was making her restless.
So it was disappointment she’d felt when he’d passed her by. Her heart jumped when he reappeared wearing shorts and sneakers and nothing else. She raised an eyebrow at his lack of apparel, but before she could comment, he walked over to the gym equipment and settled onto one of the benches.
Crap, he was going to work out. He was going to get sweaty, and his muscles would be working, and she wasn’t going to get any doodling done. Or get any peace of mind.
A piece of mind isn’t what you want, kid.
She blinked at the outrageous thought. Calm it down, or you’ll blow up your iPod. He pulled down on the lat bar, his muscles flexing just as she’d imagined. Damn. Her eyebrows were furrowed into a frustrated frown when he looked over at her.
“What are you listening to? Either I’m waked out, or that is not English or Spanish.”
She smiled. “Makes perfect sense to me.”
He waited her out. She added nothing but an ingenuous look.
“Seriously, what is this noise?”
“No need to get testy. It’s Russian.”
“Russian?” He pulled down the bar for several more reps. Then he stopped and looked at her again. “Russian?”
Her mouth curled into a smile. “I dated this Russian guy, and he turned me on to his music. This was what was popular on the radio at the time.”
Now his eyebrows furrowed. “Dated? You’re not seeing him anymore?”
“No, that was a couple of years ago.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “And you’re still hung up on him? That’s sad.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I still love the music. I like not having the words to distract me.”
He did another set before moving onto the biceps curl station. Great. Biceps. She loved biceps, bulging, well-defined, tanned biceps. And something she’d never admit to anyone: she liked armpits. Nice, clean, with soft hair, and that creamy length of skin just beneath it.
Zoe, you’re salivating.
A pen sitting on the end table moved.
“Russian guy,” he muttered, shaking his head as he grimaced in exertion.
She set her notepad aside and propped her leg up on her knee, pen clenched in her teeth. “He was hot, too.”
His pace stepped up just the slightest bit.
She continued. “I think Russian men are better lovers than Latin men.”
His jaw tightened, and his face reddened.
“His name was Vladimir. And boy, he was well…” She let that hang for a moment, and then finished. “Off. Had lots of money.”
The weights dropped with a thud. He turned to her very deliberately. “Stop talking. You’re distracting me.”
Back at ya, babe.
He moved on to leg lifts, purposely ignoring her.
She couldn’t help the grin on her face. God, she loved flirting. She supposed she was a bit of a tease since she rarely followed through. Still, it felt good now, giving him a bit of frustration back. Because damn, he had nice legs, too, dusted with golden blond hairs that caught the light.
She pulled her notepad back, scratching loops, but with a better idea in mind. She let him sink into his thoughts and pretend to ignore her even though she saw his gaze slide her way every so often.
She focused on the small towel he’d slung over the back of one of the benches. It lifted slightly. Fell back. She tried again. All it did was shift over an inch. She blew out a breath and tried again.
Feeling him looking at her, she met his gaze and gave him a bland smile. He must have sensed she was up to something because he narrowed his eyes at her. She went back to her notepad and waited for him to detach the lat bar and replace it with a rope thing. He grasped each end of that and pulled down. Then she stared at that towel harder than she’d ever stared at anything.
It jumped! She went at it again, and it popped off the seat and onto the floor. Rand hadn’t noticed, so she stifled her whoop of triumph. He finished his set and rested. The triangular piece with the handles was still swaying from when he’d released it. She focused on that. Though it already had momentum, she saw it twist against its natural rhythm.
He grabbed it again and did another set. She got momentarily distracted from task by the sound of his labored breathing. Wouldn’t he sound like that while thrusting into a woman—not her, of course—and perhaps even grimacing like he was, and…
The pen fell off the table.
Focus!
He let go of the piece, stood, and stilled the movement. As he began to step out from the machine, she sent a blast of energy toward it.
It swung over and knocked him in the temple. He stared at it. Zoe held in the snort of laughter that so wanted to escape. His gaze slid to her just as she held the notepad in front of her face.
She coughed, covering the sound of her laughter, and managed to give him yet another innocent look. “Is the music bothering you?” She tilted her head. “I’ve polluted it with the image of me and a hot Russian guy going at it, haven’t I?”
He choked at that, pounding his fist against his chest.
“Here, I’ll switch it if it bothers you that much.” She changed to another play list. The Pussycat Dolls started singing “Don’t Cha.”
Oh, yeah, she was evil.
In a good way, she quickly added, thinking of her mother.
Berlin started the next song with a whispered, “Sex…”
Zoe averted her gaze to her notepad, pretending to concentrate on the scribbled mess on her page. From the corner of her eye she saw him staring at her, but damn, she was good; she kept her gaze on the page. So she’d accidentally picked the “Sex Me Up” playlist. Oopsie.
Just as he started working on pull-ups, she sang along with the song here and there. “I’m a bitch…I’m a virgin…”
His groans of exertion grew a little louder. Oh, yes, his body was responding. She held up the notepad when her smile threatened to break loose, though she managed to maintain it because she had exquisite control over her physical body.
Well, most of the time.
Rand had an effect on her, and this teasing was just one symptom. What made it safe was knowing that he wouldn’t act on his desire, not after what he’d said that day.
She studied the gym equipment, wondering what else she could practice her skills on.
I wonder if I could pull his shorts down.
She almost lost it at that.
He picked up the towel, wiped his face, and tossed it over a nearby bar. He climbed up for another set of pull-ups.
The towel jumped straight up, making him jump, too.
He swung around with a look of such consternation, she did burst out laughing.
“I’m practicing my skills,” she said, before he could possibly suggest she was the one who was aroused.
“On me.”
She nodded, another gale of laughter overtaking her. He stalked over, but she was helpless to regain her composure. He reminded her of Cheveyo in panther mode, his eyes narrowed, his body moving fluidly as he closed in on her.
He stopped in front of her, his legs against hers, and leaned down in her face. He planted his hands on either side of her. She expected that he’d tell her off.
He kissed her instead.
Oh, not just any kiss, either, but a full-on, lip-lock, tongue-dancing kiss with just a touch of aggression.
She wasn’t laughing now.
Her body had done a somersault, going from delirious to delirium in one second flat. Her mouth wasted no time in switching gears, taking in his tongue with hers. He tasted of toothpaste, fresh and minty. Her hands slammed against his slick skin, pressing against his chest but no, not pushing him away. She loved the feel of a man’s body, the ridges of his chest, the soft skin on his sides, all hard and firm and muscular. Her thumbs brushed his nipples, and h
is breath hitched. She couldn’t help grinning at the power of doing that to him.
Until he did it to her. He caressed her with one hand, then he slid it beneath her shirt and let out a sound of surprise when he found that she wasn’t wearing a bra. That touch sent a direct line of heat straight down between her legs. He kneaded her breast, a firm but gentle pressure that she involuntarily moved into. He traced her nipple with his thumb, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Just like that she’d lost control.
And speaking of…her notepad jumped off the couch.
She slid her hands around to his back and down to the waistband of his shorts. Her fingers dipped beneath the band, teasing along the edge. He squeezed her breast a little more hungrily. And the things he was doing with his tongue, teasing along the rim of her lips, nibbling…
Then her pen went flying. She had to get back in control of herself and this situation. She jammed her hands all the way down his pants, grabbing on to his cool, tight butt. He groaned, a soft, low sound that reverberated in her mouth. His hand went lower, across her stomach and down to the waistband of her shorts. Oh, hell. The way she was throbbing, if he even so much as brushed her clitoris, she was going to lose it. She moved her hands around to the sides of his hips, then to the front, her splayed fingers touching the edge of his springy hairs. His fingers were already burrowing into her pubic hair, moving closer, closer…
How far did she want to go in this game? Would the one who lost control really be the loser?
He pulled back enough to look at her, his green eyes heavy with lust. “I just jumped off the cliff.” His breath came heavily. “How deep do you want me to dive?”
This wasn’t teasing anymore. A hungry glint lit his eyes, and he knew he had the upper hand now. Damn him.
As Outkast sang “The Way You Move,” she tried to catch her breath as she met his gaze.
“As deep as you want to go.” Where had those words come from?
He obviously hadn’t been expecting that response. She saw his mind working, weighing, agonizing, then he pushed away. “You’re not into casual sex, and I’m hitting the road before long.”
He returned to the machine and focused on sit-ups. Totally focused. His expression was fierce, and so were the ridges of his stomach as he relentlessly pulled up and down, up and down.
He was pissed. Because she’d called his bluff? Or because he hadn’t gone diving?
CHAPTER 12
Z
oe woke, blinking in the darkness. She hated not knowing the time by how high the sun was. The digital clock read 10:00. Rand was supposed to head out early and monitor Braden’s house that morning. Was he back? She hoped so. Waiting for him to return, only because she was concerned about his safety, was hell. She pulled herself out of bed and turned on the light. Though she’d had fun teasing him last night, she didn’t want to push him too far.
“Get having sex with him out of your mind,” she muttered as she threw on a robe and made her bed. “Going there is a bad idea.”
She turned on her iPod dog and carried it to the bathroom. With her hand paused at the doorknob, she knocked.
No answer. She opened it and clicked on the light, smelling the lingering scent of men’s deodorant and hair dye. Stained gloves, empty bottles, and the box were all stuffed into the garbage can. The door to his bedroom was slightly open. Her gaze, of course, went right to the opening. She had to close the door anyway, and if her gaze strayed into his room, it just couldn’t be helped.
She sensed that he wasn’t in there. Which made it even more tempting to peer in.
“What a slob.” Her gaze scanned clothing on one lone chair and on the small dresser before settling on the rumpled bed. He must toss and turn as much as she did; the sheets were half-hanging off, pillows askew. Her bed was neatly made, just as she liked it, but somehow his looked more inviting.
On the nightstand was a stack of books that he’d bought when she hit the clothing stores. Vampire books, and from the hot chicks on the covers, sexy books. With a sigh, she closed the door and went through her morning routine. She sang along to Ida Maria’s “I Like You So Much Better When You’re Naked.”
Fifteen minutes later, she went back to her room and picked up her box. Ugh. She’d never dyed her own hair.
“This is going to be fun. Not.”
When she was done ruining her hair, she turned off the music and was about to open her bedroom door when she heard rock music and a sound that stopped her.
Moaning.
Groaning.
Someone having sex.
Her heartbeat did a little dip when she imagined Rand and…who? Petra, perhaps, going at it in the living area. What did she do now?
She cleared her throat loudly and opened the door. Coughed.
The moaning continued.
She closed her door with a loud thud.
The groaning kept on.
Then Petra’s voice. “God, you’re loud.”
Petra and Rand. When had they hooked up?
Who cares?
Another voice whispered in her head, You do.
Who cares? Who cares? Who cares?
“Hullo,” Zoe said as she walked down the hall.
She steeled herself for a sight she wasn’t going to like and walked to the open area. All she could see were Petra’s bare calves, slightly spread, coming from the right side of the living area. Zoe stepped out of the hallway.
Petra was lying on one of the gym benches, pushing up the chest press bar. “Morning,” she said, not looking the least bit happy at being there.
Eric sat on another bench, pulling down the lat bar. His hair was a shade lighter, and his face was red, veins sticking out at his neck. He gave her a nod and pulled down the bar again, along with a huge stack of weights.
It wasn’t relief cascading through Zoe, because it wouldn’t have mattered if Rand and Petra had hooked up.
The groan Eric emitted sounded a lot like Vladimir when he came, long and breathy. The thought of sex and sounds and Rand’s rumpled bed shivered through her body, especially since he’d gotten her all worked up the night before. Talk about a tease!
She didn’t recognize the band, but she knew the music was heavy metal from the eighties.
Petra let go of the bar. “I hate working out.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “If you say that one more time, I’m going to kick your butt out of here.”
Zoe leaned against the wall. “Then why are you doing it?”
“Because I made a promise that if I got out of the asylum, I would get into shape.”
“To who?”
“God. Me. I don’t know, but I keep my promises.” Petra sat up and grabbed a bottle of water. “I was running through the woods, and these guys were after me, and I could hardly breathe. Running for your life requires being in good shape. Trust me on that.”
Zoe’s chest tightened. “I should probably work out, too. I remember thinking the same thing when I was running from that creep in Key West.” Before she could stop the words, she asked, “Is Rand back?”
Eric dropped the stack with a crash. “Not when I came down. He checked in, though, eyeballed a guy he thinks is Braden at the house. I called the salvage yard this morning. Apparently Braden quit recently to start his own business. The plan is on for tonight, so be ready.”
After her run-in with Steele only the day before, she was totally not ready.
Pushing down her worry, she went upstairs to forage for food. Her gaze searched for Rand the moment she entered the upstairs living area.
The scent of coffee and something sweet lingered in the air. Amy was eating what looked like a Pop-Tart with yogurt on top.
Amy lunged for a piece of the tart that broke off. “He’s not back yet.” Her previously brown hair was now a dark blond and slicked straight.
“Oh, you mean Rand?” It unnerved Zoe that it was obvious she was looking for him. She shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be back when he’s ready.”
Lucas, h
is nearly black hair now several shades lighter, sat at the table with a printed satellite map of Annapolis. “That’s the problem with him. He’s too edgy, too restless. The longer he stays out there, the higher the odds go that they grab him.”
Zoe couldn’t hide her fear at that. Flashbacks from their recent escape filled her mind. She saw Rand tearing down the highway on his bike, in that adrenaline trance, bad guy on his trail, traffic, going too fast….
“What the fluck?”
She turned at the sound and spotted Orn’ry, scooting sideways from one end of his perch to another.
“Popcorn!”
Amy pointed at Orn’ry. “You’ve already been fed, piggy.”
The door slid open, and Rand stepped inside. Relief transformed Zoe’s face into a smile, which she quickly ditched when he looked at her. She let out a bark of laughter. “You’re a redhead!” His hair was nearly the same shade as hers had been. Even his eyebrows, though he’d shaved his goatee. He looked different without it: less punky, more sexy.
He took in her jet-black hair, and for a second his pupils dilated. Hm, did that mean he liked it?
He wasn’t saying. He dropped into the chair next to Lucas, eyeing the map. “We’re all set for tonight?”
“Yeah, but you need to stay closer to home, man. I know you don’t like being shut up down here.” Lucas gave him a knowing look. “And after what we went through, I understand why, but it’s risky going out.”
Rand scrubbed his hand through his hair. “It’s not just from being locked in that asylum. I’ve been roaming since I was kid. It’s hard staying in one place for any length of time. I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself.”
Zoe couldn’t imagine being locked in a room at an asylum. Just the thought of Rand being held a prisoner, given LSD, made her want to pull him into her arms. At least he hadn’t been given the ominous Booster that Lucas had.
She slid into the chair opposite Rand. “You said you were good at eluding people.”
“Yep.” When he realized everyone was waiting for more of an explanation, he added, “I spent time hanging on the streets.”
