His own inability to resist her hardened his voice, frustration at his lack of control burning inside him. Even her stiffness in his arms upset him. He was a wreck, and she was to blame.
“How did you even know about this place?” he asked, determined to find answers.
“I…”
“How?” His voice was rough. Harsh. He stepped backward with her, toward the wall.
Her hands were by her sides, her chin tilted up to study his face. As if she gaged his next move from his expression. “I…heard there was a doctor here.”
“From who?”
Another step backward, his thighs against hers. And damn it, the friction shot through him like rocket fuel. His cock thickened, pressing against his jeans. Reminding him of her power and adding to his frustration and her lack of response.
“From who?” he repeated, his tone more forceful.
“A nurse.” She sounded breathless. “At the hospital.”
Her full bottom lip trembled as if in invitation. He wondered if she tasted as sweet as he thought she did. Like honey with a hint of cinnamon. That is how he remembered her. Unique but familiar. So damn familiar. He’d wanted to know at the airport but hadn’t dared taste her fully.
Fury blazed in her eyes as he flattened her against the wall, his knees caging hers. Ah, but there was more. There was lust in the depths of those perfect blue eyes. Knowing she wanted him, knowing that could not be faked, only served to fire his desire. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to ground his hips against hers. Not to palm those lush breasts.
His gaze dropped, and he could see her nipples pebbled against her thin T-shirt. He didn’t have to see them to know they were rosy-red and plump. Or to know how she would whimper if he pulled them between his lips and suckled.
Her hands went to his arms as if silently begging him to stop. To look at her again. His gaze lifted, contempt in his voice as he broke the sex-laden silence. “You expect me to believe the hospital told you to come? You expect me to believe the hospital told you to come here?”
She stared up at him, and her deep blue eyes pulled him in, drawing him under her spell. Further into his sensual haze. But as seconds passed, he was amazed at what he saw in Karen’s gaze. Beyond the lust, the exhaustion, the fear for her sister. Not of him.
In her eyes, he again, found that pureness, more subtle than in Marisol’s but there. Or was it? Perhaps he just wanted it to be. Perhaps it was a trick. He couldn’t let himself believe in her. He couldn’t. His dreams had warned him of what she would do to him. Of where she would take him.
“Answer me,” he ordered. “Why would the hospital tell you to come here?”
“The nurse told me. I shouldn’t have listened. I shouldn’t be here. I know that now. It was stupid. I just thought…” Her words trailed off as her gaze dropped to his chest.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I thought you could help. I…needed help.”
The pure desperation lacing her words reached out to Jag and made him snap and he kissed her. He slid his tongue past her teeth, tasting her like a starving man would food. She was stiff, hands pressing against his chest.
But Jag took with a ruthlessness that allowed no room for resistance. Taking. Taking. Demanding. Her resistance lasted all of a few seconds. Slowly she eased into the kiss, her arms sliding upward, over his chest and around his neck.
In his lust-laden mind, he justified his actions. She wasn’t an innocent victim. Not at all. This woman had manipulated his dreams for what felt like a lifetime, controlling him with some unknown agenda. She’d used sex as a weapon. Sex to consume and devour his very will.
He’d come to her to talk, but to hell with it. She wanted to use sex against him. Well, no more. He’d use it against her. He’d make her need him. Make her beg to have him buried deep in her body. Make her beg. Yes. He liked that. And with each passing moment, she softened more, her body melting into his and she made a soft, whimpering sound. A sound that told of his success. Of his conquest.
Abruptly a knock sounded on the door. A knock that jolted Jag back to his senses. He pushed away from her, putting distance between them even as the knock sounded again. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, desperate to get the sweetness of her out of his system.
She collapsed against the wall, her chest rising and falling with heaviness. Her expression one of shock. Her lips parted and swollen from his kiss. The taste of her still lingering with him, driving him wild with the need to pull her close again.
“Jag.” It was Des.
“Yeah,” Jag called.
“We got a problem, man.”
“Be right there.”
He stared at Karen, lowering his voice for only her ears. “Why do I know that problem has something to do with you?”
“You’re crazy,” she whispered. “I only wanted help. Just let us go.”
A smile touched his lips, but not one of pleasure or invitation. He didn’t like being played with. She might or might not have started this game, but she was a part of it. And he intended to end it. No matter how good she was at playing the sweet, innocent, good girl, he’d seen another side of her in his dreams. He’d lived the temptation she offered in them. Even felt her press him to seize his dark side.
“Let me go,” she whispered again.
“Not a chance in heaven or hell.”
And without another word, he turned and walked away, knowing she wouldn’t follow. Wouldn’t beg. And she didn’t. She watched him leave in silence, not moving. Proof that he knew this woman, knew her well. Which meant he couldn’t dismiss what the dreams had told him no matter how much he felt drawn to her. No matter how innocent she looked and even felt in his arms.
She wanted the beast in him. The dreams were proof.
The thought twisted his gut. Deep inside, Jag needed Karen to be innocent. She felt so perfect in his arms and he sensed a connection with her. But then, maybe that was the plan. The dreams, her presence, might well be a part of confusing him.
Still, he went back to one thing. She felt so damn pure and innocent. He saw it in her eyes. Felt it in her touch. But he knew her actions. He’d known she wouldn’t follow him or beg. He could predict how she would respond. His dreams were the only way he could know her. And those dreams spoke of something dark and evil. Of his beast rising to the surface.
A beast he could never let have life. There was still too much unknown. He didn’t dare trust Karen. Not yet, at least.
Maybe not ever.
Karen stared after the man who’d just left the room, hearing the door slam shut and the lock click into place with finality, signaling no hope of escape. Unable to immediately move, she just stood there, looking at the door, and feeling the emptiness of the moment.
What had just happened?
Her fingers slid to her mouth, touching where his lips had. Not only had that man, her captor, kissed her, but she’d kissed him back. Worse, she had gotten all wet and warm in all the wrong places. Or right ones. Wrong because he was a stranger, and, quite possibly, now her kidnapper. But that fact didn’t change her heated response to him. Nor could she pretend it didn’t happen. The dull throb between her thighs lingered as proof.
And despite her inner voice of self-reprimand, she fought the urge to call him back to her. The man they called Jag, as in Jaguar Ranch. The name made it pretty obvious who he was. Of course, the way he bossed everyone around did, as well.
Easing herself onto the bed, her legs feeling weak, Karen sat on the mattress and tried to figure out what to do. Only, no answers came. Nothing. She felt weak and dazed which had to be partially from no sleep. Probably no food, too. The confusion over her response to Jag wasn’t helping. She couldn’t think straight, and she knew she had to give into a need for rest. Her body simply demanded it.
Still, her mind raced with worry, guilt and the dark and mysterious, and far too enticing, Jag. The one that set her on fire with desire and scared the hell out of her at the same time.
Slowly she l
owered herself to her back, lying down with her legs still hanging off the side of the bed. She needed to be able to get up quickly. To respond if there was trouble. She needed…to rest just a few minutes. Her eyes were so heavy. Then, she’d be able to think about what to do. Then, she’d find a way to escape….
Karen was dreaming.
She was standing in Jag’s room. How she knew it was his, she couldn’t say. She just did. Just as she knew she was dreaming.
It was an odd sensation, really, feeling awake but knowing she wasn’t. In fact, standing in the center of the open French doors, the wind lifting the sheer white nightgown around her ankles and legs, the moment felt quite real.
Her hair blew behind her, long and straight, and she could feel the strands flutter against her neck and face. On her feet, she wore sexy black stilettos. She didn’t have to look down to know what they looked like. She’d somehow picked them before seeking out Jag. And she knew she wanted them because of how sexy they made her feel.
Everything about the moment, about her body, sizzled with an electric charge. With the potential of what might come from her visit. Even the breeze, warm and a bit moist, touched her with a hint of sensuality. As if it played with her, preparing her for what was to come.
Karen’s nipples puckered against the thin fabric, friction melding with anticipation. Anticipation already turning to desire. Desire she’d felt before. For this man. For Jag.
Suddenly she remembered all too well. Memories rushed at her like a light turning on inside her mind. This wasn’t her first dream of Jag. Seductive, sensual images flashed in her mind and burned a path through her body. This was one of many times, she’d come to him. No…that he had called her to him.
Jag had brought her here. No wonder he’d aroused her so before when he’d kissed her. No wonder he’d felt familiar. The thoughts rang in her mind as odd, though remote. She didn’t understand how her waking and dream worlds seemed to be merged.
As she tried to understand, a soft sound drew her gaze from shadows cast by the flickering candlelight in the room. To the center of the massive four-post bed. To where the man who drew her there sat, chest bare, a sheet draped tantalizingly low on his hips.
But he didn’t call her to him. He just sat there, staring at her. Though his expression was indiscernible, she sensed he was either nervous or uncomfortable. Maybe both.
“Do you wish me to leave?” she asked.
A choked laugh escaped his throat. “Yes,” he said. “I want you to leave.”
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. Rolling his request around in her mind, and then, deciding on a conclusion. He didn’t mean the words. Instinctively she knew this. Still, they hurt. But there was a stronger feeling. One she couldn’t ignore.
For some untouchable, imperative reason, she knew she couldn’t allow him to send her away. And as if in confirmation of her thoughts, the wind blew harder and soft whispers came with it, filling the air.
He must accept you.
Claim him or the darker side will.
You are his salvation.
With the words, a power filled Karen. Suddenly she didn’t feel scared or uncertain. Purpose filled her mind. Love burned in her heart. For this man. A man she didn’t know, yet…she did.
She reached far into her mind and almost found an image. Almost. It stayed just out of reach. Just beyond full understanding. Reality slipped away into the fog of the dream. All that remained was one certainty. Jag had to surrender to her. Had to claim her as his own.
Had to…claim his beast. She needed to make his beast come out, to show itself.
Yes. This was clear. And she knew how. Somehow, she knew what to do. Sure of what must be done, of her need to seduce Jag, Karen took a step forward. Her gown flowed against the action, behind her, the fabric clinging to her breasts and hips.
Karen watched Jag’s gaze drop, following her movement. But even more so, she felt his gaze. Felt the heat of it. The potency and desire. Felt it as one might a touch. A caress. A lover’s hand. It scorched her skin and created urgency. She wanted his body against hers. His mouth upon her mouth.
Karen stopped at the end of the bed, and knew he avoided eye contact. His admiration of her body went beyond appreciation or lust. He was hiding behind the physical.
Such a warrior he was, yet, he feared her. So powerful and strong on the outside. His body so perfect. Muscular. Defined. His soul…well, she felt it, too. The bravery. The willingness to die for his cause.
“Jag,” she whispered, needing to see into his eyes. To the windows of that brave soul.
In response, his gaze traveled upward, lingering for just a moment on her pebbled nipples. Finally he fixed her in a direct stare. “I told you to leave.”
Karen could tell his words were forced. He didn’t mean them. And his eyes…they held torment. Loneliness. Pain. Her heart squeezed with an ache that came from him to her. It hurt. It hurt so much.
Shaking her head, Karen discarded his words. “You don’t want me to leave,” she said, pulling her gown over her head and kicking her shoes off.
She climbed onto the mattress, and she saw Jag coming forward, reaching for her. He pulled her down onto the covers, sliding her beneath him. The warmth and power of his body enclosed hers only moments before his mouth claimed hers.
Karen moaned as the spicy perfection of his flavor took control, his tongue doing a sensual slide along hers. Her arms slid around his neck, as his cock settled between her thighs. Karen wrapped her legs over the top of his. Because she knew, no matter how willing he seemed to accept where he belonged at this moment, it would change.
Jag was going to make her fight for this. And she couldn’t let him win. She’d claim him.
If it meant pushing him over the edge and then pulling him back, she’d claim him.
Lost. Jag was lost in Karen. Lost in the moment. He told himself not to kiss her. Not to touch her. Not to get lost as he always did when she came to him.
But even as the warnings went off in his head, his body burned for more. He palmed her full breast, filling his hand, then tweaking her nipple. She moaned into his mouth, and he felt the sound like an aphrodisiac. The scent of her, sweet and floral—familiar even—insinuated into his nostrils, potent in its impact.
He’d pulled her further beneath him, trying to maintain control. Right. Like that was possible with this woman. She had the power. She always did. The ability to tempt him to the dark side. To bring out his beast. The beast that would take his very existence. The beast that would claim her complete submission. It’s what she came here for. It’s what she demanded. He knew this.
So why, why, did he want her so badly he could barely breathe?
Already, he felt the animal within. The monster. Felt the rise of the beast as it pushed to the surface from deep in his being. Only this woman made him feel this. At the same time, she made him feel such a sense of belonging. He didn’t understand. The two things conflicted, impossible to reconcile.
Karen arched into him, her actions begging him to do more. To slide deep into her core. Using his tongue to explore the rage of passion he felt, he tried to shackle the need of his body. But her taste was as sweet, as addictive, as her touch. It only made him want more. She made him want more. As if she read his mind, she pressed against him, hips lifting to bring her closer, her soft hands everywhere upon him. On his shoulders. His face. In his hair.
She tasted like honey. Felt like silk. Fit his body like temptation come to life. But this wasn’t life. This wasn’t real. This was a dream. Yes. A dream. What happened here didn’t matter. He repeated this in his mind several times, falling prey to the calling of desire. Unable to hold back any longer.
He reached between them, his fingers finding the slick folds of her core, caressing her into a moan. Parting her for entry. She was ready for him. Beyond ready. Dripping with desire.
Desire he had to experience. Had to know.
He leaned back and looked into her eyes as he f
itted the head of his throbbing length into position. Then, feeling the anticipation in the tightening of his chest, he sunk deep into her body. In one breath, or so it felt, they both moaned with the impact.
For several seconds they stared at each other, unmoving. “This is where you belong,” she whispered. “Inside me.”
It wasn’t her words as much as the look in her blue eyes that took him by storm. Emotions erupted inside him. Turbulent. Dark. And there was hatred. For all he had become and all he could never be.
“You have no idea who or what I am,” he said hoarsely, trying to stay focused on resisting not thrusting. But the look in her eyes, so trusting, only drew him deeper under her spell. Further into the passion.
“I know you, Jag,” she whispered, lightly running fingers over his jaw and cheek. Then, in a darker, sensual voice, “And I know I want you to make love to me.” Her hips rocked. “I need you moving inside me, with me.”
Raising her head, she let her lips linger a hair from his, her breath warm and sultry on his mouth. “Take me,” she demanded, and her tongue flickered over his bottom lip.
And just like that, Jag snapped. If she wanted to be taken, he’d take her. He’d please her until she knew no tomorrow. Until she begged for mercy. It was what she wanted, and be damned if he would deny her.
Suddenly they were kissing wildly, moving together in a frenzied slide of skin against skin. Her teeth nipped at his lip. At his neck. At his shoulder. The impact was potent, engaging the primal part of him. Begging him to respond, to bury his teeth in her neck…in her shoulder.
With each drive of his shaft to her core, she became a bit more demanding. The beast in him responded, his teeth feeling sharper, his hunger more alive. He pressed his face in her neck, thrusting fiercely, trying not to focus on the growing need to taste her.
Harder and faster, he pumped her, sliding one hand around her ass to leverage a harder thrust. A better angle. Her legs wrapped his, body lifting off the bed to mold into his.
“Yes,” she cried out, as her hands traveled his back, his body. His chest. “Yes.”
The Beast Within Page 8
