Temptation in Shadows

by Gena Showalter

  Gabby didn’t protest as he led her back into the night, summoning shadows to hide them from view. They walked the few blocks needed to reach the other motel. He didn’t release the shadows from around them as they entered the building. He didn’t release the shadows as he stole a key and headed for their new room without ever signing in.

  Inside, he rigged his belt to the door lock. If anyone turned the handle, his buckle would rattle. Wasn’t top of the line in security, but it would have to do. His resources were limited—he hadn’t given himself much to work with at the safe house, not wanting Gabby to be suspicious—but he didn’t want to drag Gabby through the night, keeping her awake and nervous while he looked for the necessary tools. At least he had a gun. Finally, he shooed the shadows away.

  “What do we do now?” she asked, sighing and plopping down on one of the mattresses.

  If only he’d stolen a key to a room with a king, rather than two fulls, he could have suggested a snuggle. Snuggle: guy code for I really plan to feel you up. “Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, we start digging for information.”

  “Wow. An intricate plan I never could have come up with on my own,” she said dryly, massaging the back of her neck. “Only, I would have worked in a shower.”

  His cock instantly hardened. Gabby, naked and wet . . . oh yeah. “All right. Work in a shower.” Please, please, please.

  “I will.” Gazing anywhere but at him, she stood.

  He followed her into the bathroom. When she tried to shut the door and it banged into the toes of his boots, she whipped around and gasped.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded. There was a breathless quality to her voice that she couldn’t hide.

  Without a word, he checked the bathroom. There was a window, big enough for her to climb through if she so desired. He frowned. Wily as she was, he didn’t trust her to stay put.

  He turned to her, drank in the rise and fall of her chest, the nervous swipe of her tongue over her teeth. Oh yeah. She planned to run. His gaze took in the rest of her. The lips he’d tasted only once but craved even now. The face he’d dreamed about for weeks now. The sweetly curved body he’d panted after, the breasts he’d longed to knead, the nipples he’d wanted to suck.

  There was only one way to go about this. He stepped forward. Grinned.

  She stepped backward. Gulped. “I ask again. What are you doing?”

  “Looks like I’m showering with you,” he said.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Gabby stared over at Sean. He leaned against the bathroom door, pupils blown with the force of his arousal. At just the thought of being with her, and the knowledge was heady. He was as beautiful as always, jaw like granite, shoulders wide. Only now he had an erection, long, thick, and hard, straining past the waist of his pants.

  Despite everything, she wanted him and had trouble catching her breath. “I’m mad at you.”

  “I know.” He didn’t move from his post at the door.

  “I don’t trust you.” He had lied to her, planned to use her, and only confessed because those plans had gone to shit.

  “I know.”

  She licked her lips. “When the shock of what’s happened wears off, I’ll probably hate you.”

  Still he remained in place. “I know that, too.”

  “Having sex won’t mean anything. It won’t change anything between us.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll make us feel good.”

  Feeling good sounded, well, too freaking good to resist. “Well, okay then. We understand each other. Take off your clothes.”

  Not wanting to see his reaction to her words, she spun, bent over, and turned the faucets until water sprayed into the tub. Next she removed her boots and socks. Was she really going to do this? Be with a liar of still-questionable intentions?

  Hello. You’re a liar of still-questionable intentions.

  Behind her, she heard something slap against the sink. She looked over her shoulder, saw a condom. An agent was always prepared, she supposed. Next she heard the rustle of clothes, the whoosh of fabric hitting the floor. This time she spun, heart racing in her chest. Sean was completely, unabashedly naked.

  First thing she noticed, he was dark-skinned and didn’t have a tan line. Second, rope after rope of muscle formed a trail down his stomach. Third, his erection was magnificent. As long and thick as she’d imagined, the head swollen and already wet. A tremor moved through her.

  Yes, she was going to do this. They hadn’t kissed since that time in the club, and she was desperate for another. Except they weren’t lost in a passion cloud right now, so she’d never be able to blame this decision on insanity. Her hormones would have to take the blame. But she was still going to do this. She felt like she’d wanted this to happen for forever.

  Sean knew who she was, what she could do, and he hadn’t run screaming. Like her, he was different. And oh, God, besides feeling good, the thought of letting go, of forgetting the world for just a little while, of those strong arms wrapping around her, holding her close and tight and safe, was irresistible.

  “Change your mind?” he asked roughly.

  “No. But I am going to let you do all the work.” The words were meant to taunt him, but she ended up taunting herself. “You owe me.”

  “I don’t mind.” Grinning, he closed the distance between them. “And I take it back. I like this talkative Gabby a lot.” His fingers curled around the hem of her shirt and lifted. Willingly she raised her arms, and the material swept over her head.

  He sucked in a breath, his gaze glued to her tattoos.

  She fisted her hands at her sides to keep from covering them. Different-colored flowers were scattered over her stomach and back, leafy vines connecting them. Some were prettier than others, and some were oddly misshapen.

  “I used to let new artists practice on me,” she explained. “For money.” It had been better than selling her body, one tattoo keeping her fed for a week.

  “I like them,” he said, voice thick.

  A sigh of relief escaped her—which was weird since his opinion on her body didn’t matter to her at all—and she reached up, fingertips tracing his own tattoos. She didn’t have to ask. He simply told.

  “My father marked me when I was fourteen. The symbols are meant to anchor me. I can control the shadows, right, drawing them in and enveloping my body with their darkness, but sometimes everything inside me wants to sink into them, to become one with them. These prevent me from doing so. Prevent the shadows from fully accepting me as one of their own.”

  “Why on your face, though?”

  “So that it’s always visible, the . . . magic of it unfettered. Now, you’re still wearing too many clothes.” His fingers lowered to her pants and worked the button. Unziiip. He shoved the denim to the floor. “Step out of them.”

  Gabby obeyed, left now in her bra and panties. Plain and serviceable, but black. Steam from the shower wafted around her, leaving a sheen of dew on her skin.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Sean said, then dropped to his knees. He kissed her navel, tongue darting out, hot and wet, and her muscles quivered. That tongue followed one of the vines, swirled around each of the flowers, then traced their petals.

  Her hands tangled in his hair as her head fell back, tresses brushing the sensitive arch of her lower back. “You have my permission to keep doing that.”

  “I would have killed Rowan if he’d touched these,” he said between licks, gripping her hips. “He was supposed to be the one to win you, you know, but I couldn’t let him do it. I had to have you myself. And do you know how many times I’ve jerked off these past few weeks, thinking about tasting you like this? Countless.” He pressed his nose against her, right between her legs, and breathed deeply. “And fuck, you even smell like lemons and sugar here.”

  If he let go of her, she would fall. Not just on her ass, but into a void, flailing for an anchor. Never had she felt so desired. So necessary. It was as if he needed her for his survival. That he had to have her or he wo
uld die. An illusion, definitely, but as many times as she’d been rejected throughout her life, considered nothing but a piece of garbage, forgettable, worthless, the sensation empowered her. Soothed her.

  “Go on,” she rasped. “Tell me more.”

  “I can’t stop touching you,” he said thickly. He continued his exploration of her tattoos. His mouth was so hot it burned, his teeth scraping and stinging lightly. When he finished with the multihued designs—God, had anyone ever paid them so much attention?—he traced the waist of her panties. Her knees weakened, and she moaned. “You know the men who prefer not to taste a woman?”

  “Yes.” The word emerged breathless, a wisp of smoke.

  “I’m not one of them.” He moved her panties aside, then his masterful tongue was delving over her clit.

  Another moan wisped from her, this one broken and hoarse. Her nails sank into his scalp. Soon he was devouring her, not just licking, growling low in his throat, fingers joining in the play, stretching her, filling her up. Pleasure was shooting through her, a drug in her veins, burning, boiling, blistering.

  “Sean,” she said on a groan. She writhed against him, pumping back and forth. The more she moved, the louder she became, and the harder he ate at her. It was too much, not enough, consuming her, destroying her concerns, her inhibitions, leaving her weak and needy, desperate for release. In that moment, nothing mattered but Sean. He was the center of her world, the reason she lived, the reason she breathed, just as she’d wanted.

  “That’s right,” he praised. “That’s the way.”

  “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” Gabby didn’t care that she was begging. She was so close, needed more, would do anything for completion. The weakness should have embarrassed her, but it didn’t. This was right.

  His finger sank deep, so deep, just as he sucked on her clit, and that was it. The end. Or rather, the beginning. She climaxed harder than she ever had before, shaking and moaning and gasping for breath.

  As she trembled through the downfall, he said, “I’ll do anything. Nothing you want is too dirty or off-limits, understand?” He stood, licked her essence off his face and fingers, eyes at half-mast. As always, shadows swirled in those eyes, a living entity, calling to her, beseeching her.

  Had she once considered those shadows a determent? Silly, that. He was the sexiest sight ev-er. She leaned into him, wanting to sink all the way inside him. Wanting the darkness to swallow her up.

  “Do you?” he demanded.

  What had he asked? Oh yes. Did she understand that nothing was taboo, that he’d do anything and everything she asked? “Yes, please, and thank you.” There. All the polite words she could think of in one sentence. “So let’s get busy doing some dirty things.”

  His lips curled in approval. “Strip the rest of the way first.”

  She couldn’t force her legs to move, they were utterly boneless, and Sean chuckled. His hands worked her quickly, unhooking her bra and slipping her panties off her legs.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “You did warn me I’d have to do all the work. And I did tell you I was fine with that, right?” He looked her over, gaze lingering in all the right spots, making her desperate for another touch. Finally he reached out, fingertips circling her nipples. Both were hard and aching.

  When he bent his head and sucked one into his mouth, she cried out in pleasure.

  “God, you’re perfect.”

  Just like that, the fire sparked again in her blood. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, stroking up and down, and he hissed in a breath.

  “I want this in my mouth,” she whispered.

  Gabby didn’t wait for his reply. She dropped to her knees, sucked him deep, and his guttural cry filled the small enclosure. When moisture coated every decadent inch of him, she backed off and licked him, savoring his heat, the male spice on his skin.

  He tugged at his heavy sac before gripping the base. “More. Need more.”

  “Feed it to me.”

  He aimed the plump head between her lips and once again she sucked him deep.

  When he was begging as she had been, when his words were incoherent, she scraped her teeth over the velvet-soft skin, making him even more sensitive.

  “Fuck,” he shouted.

  Clearly he wanted to grab her head and pump hard and fast, his hands fisting her hair, but he didn’t let himself. Instead he reached up and grabbed the shower rod. The tip of him hit the back of her throat and she swallowed. At the same time, she looked up at him and hummed her own pleasure, loving the look of absolute bliss that coasted over his features.

  The motion and vibration had him cussing loud and long. “Stop . . . stop . . . Gabby, you have to stop or this’ll be over, and I’m not ready for it to be over.”

  She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to taste him, all of him.

  Dragging her mouth off of him by force, he jerked her to her feet. “Your mouth is heaven,” he panted. Sweat glistened over his skin.

  “Sean?” she said, cupping his cheeks.

  “Yes.” He sounded weary, looked suspicious.

  “You know those women who don’t like to swallow a man? I’m not one of them.”

  He groaned as if in pain. “You’re killing me. Next time, okay? This time, I want inside you and I don’t want to have to wait to recover to get what I want.”

  Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Had someone busted into the bathroom, gun in hand and aimed at her head, she would not have been able to stop. It was like she wasn’t Gabby without Sean. Like she was missing a half of herself—like she’d always been missing a part of herself but hadn’t known it until now. Until Sean had touched and tasted her. Until she had tasted him. But now that she knew what her life was missing, she couldn’t survive without it.

  Had she known it would be this way with Sean, she might not have agreed. When they parted, and they would, because she would not allow herself to create permanent ties, she would cry harder than she’d ever cried before. But again, she was powerless to stop this from happening, from losing more of herself. Hell, from wanting more.

  Sean grabbed the condom packet he’d tossed onto the counter and ripped it open with his teeth. Once he’d rolled the latex over his length, he snaked his arms around her and lifted her into the tub. Soon the water was beating down on them both. The heat soothed the aching need in her muscles, her bones.

  She expected him to pounce. He didn’t. He handed her the soap. Her hands trembled as she removed the wrapper. As she cleaned up, he leaned against the wall and watched. Then they switched. By then, her muscles and bones were no longer soothed. They were on edge, waiting, hoping.

  “We’re not . . . done, are we?” After all, he’d put the condom on. And he’d kept it on, thank you very much.

  “Hell, no,” he said. And then he was on her, mouth pressing against hers, tongue delving deep.

  Passion and shadows once more swept her under, and she returned his kiss with a fervency that scared her. Taking, giving, craving, silently begging, needing, clutching, clawing at him. Their tongues were practically having sex on their own, rolling over each other, battling, thrusting deep.

  “You’re ruining me for everyone else,” he growled.

  She was glad, hated herself for feeling that way, but couldn’t stop the joy. She wanted him to herself, for herself. Wanted everyone else to stay away from him. But only for a little while, she forced herself to add.

  “Tell me you want me.”

  “I do. I want you. So bad I ache.”

  He stood before her and growled his approval, then cupped her ass, lifting. She wound her legs around him, locking her ankles at his back, just as he shoved inside her. There was no slowly sinking inside, allowing her body to grow used to him. He was in her to the hilt in seconds. Their groans of pleasure mingled, his low, hers high, and it was like music, urging them on.

  “Damn. Shit.” Over and over he pumped, slipping and sliding, filling her up, stretching her wide, hitting all the way to her so
ul. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “Should go slow. Should savor, not fuck through your spinal cord.”

  That would have made her laugh if her body weren’t currently on fire, her nerve endings screaming at her. “No, no. You feel so good. I can take it. Can take it hard and fast.”

  He took her at her word. He spun and slammed her against the tiles. The cold made her gasp, but he used the leverage to penetrate balls deep. Her nipples abraded his chest as he pressed her forward and gripped her hips, spreading her thighs as wide as they could go. Only his shaft held her up, gravity causing her to fall on him with every arch of his hips. He was a part of her, that missing part, finally making her whole. Her head thrashed from side to side, and she scratched at his back, holding on for the roughest, naughtiest, and sweetest ride of her life.

  His movements became more frantic, the pumps short but deep. He was close, she knew he was, and that thrilled her. Gave her power. She had done this, pushed him to the edge.

  “Hate me all you want afterward, but right now you’re mine,” he gritted out.

  The words were as powerful as a caress and Gabby flung herself over the edge, screaming her pleasure, muscles spasming, stars winking behind her eyes. She lost her hold on reality for a few minutes—maybe hours—spinning out of control, body washed with a bliss so sublime she would never be the same.

  Sean roared, loud and long, then found her mouth again, tongue thrusting home as his climax hit. Kissing him like that prolonged her own climax, taking her to yet another new height.

  Finally, he collapsed against her. Finally, conscious thought returned to her. The water was cold, she realized. At least Sean’s big body shielded her from the brunt of it. Her legs fell from him, but her feet were like blocks of lead and she was unable to balance her weight on them.

  He reached back, leaning away from her slightly, and twisted the knobs until the water stopped cascading. Without the hum of water dancing over porcelain, the raspiness of their breaths echoed.

  When he faced her, his expression was unreadable. “That ever happen to you before?”