Her racing heart slammed against her chest, pressing to escape. His hands shifted, sliding behind her back, pressing her closer against his arousal.
Yum yum…
She grabbed for his shirt front as her fingers quivered. Awkward, useless, too slow as she fumbled with the buttons, skimming her knuckles against the hair on his chest, wanting, needing to feel his bare skin against her palms. Now!
The last buttons she tore—didn’t matter as she pressed her palms against his skin. Hot. Sheened with sweat. Flexed over undulating muscles. Her fingers roamed, nails scraped, flicked the hard peak of his nipple, wanted to lick the paths she blazed.
But his mouth distracted her. His tongue rumbaed with hers—claiming and seducing. Herm Kane had kissing down to an art form even as his hand, the one at her neck, slipped upwards to tangle in her hair, claiming and owning.
If he knew—knew who she was, what she was, what she was about to do—betray him—that hand could snap her spine right here and right now.
She didn’t care. The risk was worth it. He was worth it.
“Fuck you,” he murmured, pulling back for air.
“Please.” She hadn’t meant to beg, to need this badly. Tough. Every bit of doubt, what-ifs, guilt channeled into a need so desperate, so consuming nothing else mattered.
They stood there—panting. Eye of the storm.
His heart thrumming beneath her hands, his skin warm, his muscles taunt.
Too many clothes between them still. Neither willing to step away, to break the spell imprisoning them.
Stalemate.
Until his mouth returned to hers, both hands slipping under her to pull her up. Closer. The length of him straining against her.
Not enough.
Her dress strained, then ripped. He made quick work tearing off her panties, freeing her legs to wrap around his waist.
Sweet mercy. She squeezed him tight, so tight it was hard to tell where she stopped and he began. Her back abraded the brick wall behind her. Didn’t matter. Didn’t care.
His hands supported her, anchored her, possessed her. He gasped into her mouth as his lips branded hers. “Want you. Need. Now.”
Cool air washed against her thighs as he bunched her skirt higher. Out of the way.
Butterfly pinned beneath him.
His teeth scraped her swollen lips, over her throat. “Fucking dress,” he growled, freeing one hand to curl against the collar and rip it down.
Heat detonated through her; his hot, wet tongue searing across her skin, catching her nipple, laving it until she squirmed.
“Pllllleeeeeeaaaassseeee.” It was her voice echoing off the walls as her fists tangled in his hair, pulling that oh-so-dangerous mouth back to hers. Her back arched. Her hands shifted, holding on for dear life, digging into his shoulders. Hard. Harder.
“Pants,” she gasped. “Get. Rid. Of. Them.”
She thought he laughed, low and deep. It could have been an oath. Or agreement as the rasp of his belt sent a silent halleluiah singing through her. She inhaled, then exhaled to rub her breasts against him, her legs against his waist, her hands wherever she could reach.
Want. Want. Want—ohhhhhhh—
He pushed against her. Thick. Moist. Ready.
She widened, as much as possible, throwing her head back to arch up. With a growl, he thrust in deep.
Sweet mercy!
He shifted, pulled back, taunting her. Her fingers dug into the clenched muscles of his back, lowering her head to bite his shoulder.
“Sorceress.” That word again. As if he knew something, expected something…then all thoughts fled. Urgency built, layer upon layer as he filled her again, pulled back, then returned.
Not enough. Not—
The intensity of his thrusts increased. His skin slick beneath her touch. His panting breath matching hers.
Faster. Harder. Sweet—
Her cry spilled through the room as she slammed over the edge.
CHAPTER 6
His release matched hers, over the cliff.
Hot damn. Hot diggity dog double damn.
She didn’t know who moved first. Or if they moved in sync as her heart slowed and her breathing evened out. There was great sex. Then there was mind-blowing. This made mind-blowing tame.
He rested his head against her forehead, his voice a raw rasp. “Bedroom. Down the hall.”
Like she could make it that far? Not with the ways her legs felt—rubbery and uncoordinated. As he eased her to the floor, he caught her hesitation and made her decision to move easier by scooping her into his arms.
Jaylene knew she wasn’t a small woman. Wasn’t used to being treated like a lightweight princess.
As he cradled her against his chest, she looked up at him. “Sure you weren’t named Hercules?”
The rumble of his laugh started low in his belly. “Bad enough I was named for a Greek God,” he said, stepping toward a hallway she hadn’t noticed before. Should have—it was wide enough to drive an ATV down it. Not that she was noticing all that much.
Keep it light. Keep it casual. Forget about tomorrow. “Herm? What Greek God?”
“Hermes.” The smile creasing his face was rueful, self-deprecating. Her heart stuttered, snared. Even a hardened woman could cave when faced with a grin like that.
Watch it, Smart. Sex is okay. Well, way better than okay. Anything more? Strictly off limits.
“Which god was Hermes?”
“God of commerce, son of Zeus and Maia.” The quirk of his lips told her he didn’t believe his own story, as appropriate as it was. “He was known to be cunning.” He shrugged. “And was called the messenger of the gods. The link between mortals and the Olympians.”
Her turn to laugh. “No ego then.”
“Just glad they didn’t call me Cupid. Or Hades.”
Hades—lord of the Underworld. A man who took what he wanted, and kept it. Fit him. Maybe he was misnamed. Maybe she needed to forget about myths and focus on what came next. As soon as she guaranteed he was asleep.
In the meantime? There was still enough time to enjoy her man of myth and legend, ancient and modern, even a little more.
They’d reached a bedroom. More like a master suite as he eased her feet to the floor, holding her close as if she were fragile. Caught in his web and reveling in every moment.
It was going to be hard to walk away from Herm Kane tomorrow. Damn hard.
That was the last thought she had as he swept her into his arms and waltzed her backwards toward a king-sized bed covered in red silk sheets.
Sweet heaven that man could make her body sing. Again and again.
Even as she tasted and touched, arched her body and begged for more, a small part of her kept up a mantra. This is not real. Can’t be real. Won’t be real. Because tomorrow, she was walking away.
Hard as it might be.
CHAPTER 7
Her internal clock told her to wake up, her brain to remember where she was, and why she was there. Every muscle in her body ached with the sweet, satiated lassitude of a long, imaginative, very nice night of sex. Nice? There was nothing nice about it. Mind blowing. World class. Addictive. A smile whispered across her lips until she opened her eyes into the darkness of the room. With less than a half turn of her head, she spied Herm Kane sprawled on his stomach, the same oh-yeah grin on his sleeping lips as she’d been feeling on hers.
Damn, even in the shadowed room, lit only by the alarm clock on his bedside table, he looked good. Better than good. Yummy temptation. He looked more fallen angel than Greek god or magician. No doubt he was all three. The man knew moves she’d never imagined. And she had a great imagination in bed games.
If only…
No! Not going down that rabbit hole.
Another quick glance, this time past him to the clock, slammed reality into focus. Almost four. She had a job to do before she disappeared and time ticked past.
It was harder than she imagined to slide from between warm silk sheets without
touching him one more time. Just a simple good-bye trace of her fingers against his face. A soft kiss to follow. A brush of her hands against his hair. Something.
Except she only had one chance to do what she came to do.
Go. Now.
Slipping to the carpeted floor, her toes found Kane’s shirt first. She’d forgotten they’d made it as far as the bedroom before she managed to get it totally off of him. And then…
Focus. Grab the shirt. Ignore the scent of him wrapping around her as she slid it on. Or the memory of ripping the buttons off. It was a covering—that’s all. She needed something to stop the small shivers pebbling her skin. Remorse? Guilt? Not her. Never.
Liar.
Straightening her shoulders, she padded to the living room where she’d dropped her purse last night. Her purse and her own clothes. She moved slowly. Yes, because of every sweet ache in her thigh muscles but also because, like a stalking cat, she was very aware, very wary of bumping into something, breaking the pre-dawn silence. There wasn’t even a sound of heat being pumped through the apartment but it had to be as she could move without shivering in only the shirt brushing against her body. It wasn’t as warm as the bed had been—or Kane—who’d kept her plenty snug, if not overheated, for the last hours.
Man, oh man, he could make her body ache for more. It’d be a long time before she found—no. Not smart to go there either. No what-ifs, if onlys, or what-might-have-been thoughts. Traitorous. Undermining. Ridiculous. He was the job. Nothing but a great lay. Time to concentrate on the business at hand. Nothing more.
It took her a good five minutes to find her dress, or what was left of it. One quick look warned her its shreds wouldn’t work once she snuck out of the penthouse. There was the walk of shame and then there was oh-la-la-someone-had-way-too-much-fun looks. Even if it was the truth. No cabbie in his right mind would pick her up once she made the street in tattered strips of fabric.
She let the silk scraps puddle to the floor. She should have been put out—it wasn’t some designer knock off—but even in this he left her wistful and a little sad. A torn dress might be her only memento.
For love of money, what was wrong with her? Job? He was a means, not a lover. They had sex. Amazing sex, but it was a big world and there’d be more guys. Lots more.
Now was time for business. For all she knew, Kane could be a light sleeper. Or an early riser. The shiver sliding down her spine this time was not a chill but a premonition of what it could mean if he caught her.
Like a bubble popping cold and sticky against her skin, that thought set her straight. No matter how skillful a lover he’d been, something told her Herm Kane would be a formidable enemy. Best to find the flash drive and disappear before she found out if her fears were justified.
It took another few minutes to find her clutch. Finally. Her key chain had the niftiest LED flashlight attached, which meant that when she located and stepped into his study, closing the door behind her, her job became that much easier.
At last. Action could keep other distracting thoughts at bay.
If Dyer’s instructions were correct, this was where a wall safe was hidden. Inside it nestled her ticket to freedom. Not her ticket, her mother’s. The best round-the-clock healthcare care cost and one thing Jaylene had vowed was that no matter what it took, her mom would be okay. As okay as she could be in a vegetative state.
That led to Jaylene’s second vow. Payback. One day she’d destroy the man who’d hurt her mother. Her step-father. Her wealthy, powerful, smug bastard of a step-father. Someone like Kane might be, or so she’d told herself before last night. Now? Now she didn’t have time to adjust preconceptions.
First things first.
Find flash drive. Escape. Hand it over to Dyer. Reaching her goal depended on these actions.
Using the flashlight meant she scanned the room in chunks. Real wood shelves. An old, probably antique desk that looked well-used—cubby holes with paper, pens and pencils at hand. Almost old-fashioned except for the state-of-the-art computer monitor. A work horse model. One corner of the room held a comfortable reading chair, well-worn books nearby. Looked like Herm Kane took a lot of work home, and wasn’t afraid to be comfortable. Most high-and-mighty homes she’d been in—her step-father’s came to mind—were all illusion and designer made. No soul.
Not this one. Which kicked up the beat of her heart. Dangerous to think of Kane as anything but the mark. Not someone she could admire in a different time and place.
Focus, Smart. Get the job done. Walk away.
A reading light snagged her attention. She crossed to it and flicked it on. Sure it’d show more light beneath the door than her flashlight, but it’d also make her search go quicker and easier. Pragmatism over prudence.
There were only two walls that could hold a safe as the other two had floor-to-ceiling bookcases or the door. Of course, one of the remaining possibilities was chock full of framed images. Some family photos on closer inspection. Herm as a gangly teenager, already showing the drop-dead gorgeousness of the man he’d become. One showed him swinging on a rope over a racing river—laughter lighting his face, making him look young, assured and approachable. Her fingers reached out to skim that one, but only until she caught herself and jerked them back as if burned.
She’d have to deal with more than singed fingers if she didn’t get going. A few small oil paintings, all landscapes; half-dozen watercolors; a few prints. Sweet. Kane had taste, she’d give him that. Too bad his eclectic style also meant it could take her forever to narrow down her search.
Best to begin. Handle one frame at a time. Pull back enough to see what was beneath it. Release. Straighten. She didn’t have to do the last step—not like he’d appreciate her care after he discovered what she’d done.
Sheesh, Smart, get a clue.
The dozen frames she could easily reach were done quickly. Now she had to pull a chair from the desk and tackle the higher ones. By the time she was finished with them she was hot, and not the kind of hot Kane created in her last night. And earlier this morning.
No, this was pure frustration. Where the hell could he have stashed his safe? By the time she reached the highest framed images, she conceded defeat, while wanting to smack herself.
Only an idiot would build an inaccessible safe. No way was Kane an idiot. She was, but not him. That’s what she got for thinking way too much about him and not about her goal.
Scooting off the chair, she scrutinized the remaining wall. It looked smaller because of the size of the three pictures there. Abstracts. Color-filled yet still edgy and in line of sight of the reading chair.
Of course. A king in his castle keeping his eye on his property. Made perfect sense.
She crossed to the first image and pulled it back.
Nothing.
Second proved the same.
“Damn you, Kane,” she muttered, stretching for the third that was placed slightly higher than the other two.
Bingo!
The frame weighed a ton as she braced to lift, push up and remove it from the wall. Figured. Kane was taller than she was, and much stronger. She’d marveled at his muscles last night. No doubt honed by lifting and replacing this painting on a regular basis.
The frame almost slipped from her sweat–slickened hands as she staggered back under its weight and eased it to rest against the desk. There its swirls of red, ultramarine blue, and rich, seductive gold captured the image of a magnificent dragon in flight. Like the other two paintings, it looked edgy and abstract but up close it whispered like the promise of a children’s fairy tale read late at night—mysterious, beckoning, real but unreal—and totally believable. Something you wanted to trust existed even as your rational mind screamed no way.
Kane didn’t seem like the kind of guy who appreciated fantasy, but what did she know. Facets to the man she’d never discover—no matter how tempting.
With a small sigh, she returned to the wall safe, high-end style, of course, but not out of her comfor
t zone even if she had to stretch to reach the combination dial. A little awkward, but nothing to stop her. She knew the number positioning as well as she knew her Tarot cards. No need to see what she could feel, and she could do this blindfolded.
Placing her fingers lightly along the dial, she felt cool metal beneath her touch. To crack the combination, she needed to connect the fence to the lever mechanism by rotating the simple spindle, reaching from the dial deep into the heart of the lock. Turning the external dial created the two-step process necessary to get the correct sequence. When each of the two internal wheels were rotated, if she did her job right, the notch should end up at the top to allow the fence to fall into those notches. Then, voilà, the door mechanism would pop open.
Piece of cake. Like reading a Celtic Cross Spread with the Tarot deck. Both abilities were a gift. She didn’t question them or overanalyze the how and why. She simply got herself into the zone and allowed the energy to flow through her. That’s what she did now, releasing the tension in her shoulders, inhaling a deep breath as she closed her eyes. All the better to feel the subtle movement of the wheels.
“Come to momma.” She turned the dial this way and then that. Being totally in the moment, not the past, not the future, only the present.
She had to remind herself to breathe as she became light-headed. A few more twists and …here it came…the click sang through her as she snapped open her eyes, turned the handle and swung open the door.
“Damn, Smart, you’re good,” she whispered, standing taller on her tiptoes to peer inside.
“You are very good, Jaylene Smart.” Another voice slammed against her. A low, hard-edged male voice. “But I’d been told that.”
She froze, slowly turning only her head to see what the drop of her stomach warned her she’d see.
Herm Kane standing in the doorway.
CHAPTER 8
Shit and double shit. Even as her blood raced and her thoughts whirled, she could still appreciate how Kane filled a doorway. He stood arms braced against the frame, legs spread in a cowboy stance, anchoring himself to the ground, the cotton t-shirt he wore over sweat pants giving off a rumpled, just-out-of-bed vibe.
Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More Page 32
