He lowered her to the bed, his mouth working down her jaw, to her neck and to the hollow at her throat. He kissed a line between her br**sts as his fingers fumbled with her jeans.
The fly parted, and he pulled at the material, easing it over her hips and down her thighs. As the denim gathered at her knees, he bent and pressed a kiss to the soft cotton-covered vee.
When the jeans were removed, he stood staring down at her nearly naked body. Only her panties remained, a small scrap covering the softness of her womanhood.
He leaned down once more and spanned her small waist with his hands then dipped his fingers into the thin elastic band of her underwear. Tiny little goose bumps dotted her abdomen as he slowly started to lower the panties.
The silky, dark curls between her legs came into view, tempting him as he removed the last of her clothing. She lay naked in front of him, vulnerable, and yet there was such trust in her actions.
No tension, no wariness in her eyes. No suspicion.
He began to take off his own clothing, moving slow, wanting to prolong the moment. There was no rush, no race to orgasm this time. It wasn’t about a quick f**k. It was about the delicious savoring of bodies, of their connection. It was about respecting the trust she’d offered him.
He lowered his body to hers, flesh on flesh, the warm sensation of skin sliding together.
“Are you on something, sugar?”
She stared up at him, their gazes colliding with hot intensity. Confusion flickered for a moment.
“I don’t have a condom with me, and the last thing we need is to make a baby. I’m hoping you’re on birth control.”
She relaxed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him further against her.
“I’ve been on birth control since Jonah dragged me to a clinic in Prague all those years ago.”
“Are you okay with me not using a condom?”
She stared back at him, and he could see the same desire in her eyes. This was something they both wanted, but he wouldn’t do anything that would put her at risk, that would destroy the fledgling trust between them.
“I don’t…” She briefly looked away and when she looked back, the faint light of shame reflected in her eyes. “I don’t have sex often. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. They were jobs…means of gaining information—” She broke off, her expression stricken.
“Like I was at first?”
She nodded and started to speak again, but he held a finger to her lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, sugar.”
“What I’m trying to say is that I haven’t had sex, before you, in a long time. Never unprotected, and routine physicals are mandatory for all Falcon members.”
Relief tightened his chest. They were okay.
“What about you?” she asked quietly.
He kissed her, plucking at her bottom lip with his teeth. “Not in a while, sugar. A long while. And never without a condom. When you walked into that bar in Singapore, all thoughts of celibacy fled.”
She smiled. “Then make love to me, Eli.”
“You trust me?” he asked again. He wanted to make sure she believed him. A man would say damn near anything when it came to sex. He hadn’t been above it in the past. But not when it mattered.
She hesitated only a fraction of a second before nodding.
“Do you trust me?” she asked. “I could be lying. You know of the things I’ve done…”
Again he silenced her with a finger. “I guess we’ll have to trust each other, sugar. As we’ve stated many times before, we’ve had ample opportunity to kill each other. Now if this part of the conversation is over, I’d like to move on to other things.”
His mouth closed around one pink-tipped breast. She arched into him, bowing her back off the bed with a moan. He loved how easily she fit against him. Neither of them were soft people and yet they cradled one another perfectly.
He traced the outline of a scar over her left breast, one he’d missed before, but then he’d been hurried, rushing to completion, lost in the pleasure she gave him.
He went exploring, looking for other battle scars. He found a crescent-shaped ridge on her right hip and a three-inch-long puckered line on the inside of her thigh. Even her feet weren’t unscathed. He feathered over an old wound on the top of her right foot.
She jerked and laughed softly.
“Ticklish?” he asked.
“Very, and don’t you dare use it against me.”
He chuckled. “I bet you have a story for each of your scars. They’d probably stand my hair up on end, but I bet they’re not dull.”
“Maybe I’ll tell you about them sometime,” she said. “But right now I don’t really feel like talking.”
He slid back up her body, his sac rubbing against the inside of her leg. His c**k was stiff and distended, and he ached to bury himself deep in her heat.
With one knee, he opened her wider. The soft hair of her pu**y brushed his skin. He wanted his fingers there. He wanted his c**k there. He wanted all of her all at once.
With tentative fingers, he touched the tuft of hair over her mound, delving between the warm folds of her femininity. He reached her damp core. Hot, so hot.
“Take me,” she whispered.
His body shuddered at the erotic command. The words appealed to the primal male buried inside. It was a call to claim his woman, to mark her, to make her his. It was a call he couldn’t ignore.
He reached down and grasped his cock. It was hard and pulsing in his hand. He stroked up and down, enjoying the sensation as he guided himself toward her opening.
He rubbed the head over her wetness before lodging himself just inside her velvet rim. He leaned forward, lowering himself over her body.
“Kiss me,” he murmured.
She framed his face in her small hands and kissed him. Light at first, teasing, like she was exploring new territory. Then she grew bolder, licking over his lips with her tongue, coaxing him to open to her.
He inhaled her scent, her taste, as their tongues danced. He rolled his hips forward, sliding into her welcoming body. Pleasure. So much pleasure. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers as he simply enjoyed the feeling of her flesh surrounding him.
“You scare me so much,” she whispered. “But I can’t stay away from you. I have this crazy, itchy, insane need when I’m around you, and I don’t understand it.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth then worked to her ear. He licked the shell then nibbled at the dainty lobe. “I don’t want to scare you, sugar,” he murmured against her ear as he rolled his hips again, sending him deeper inside her.
Her moan echoed close to his own ear.
“I want to make you feel good.”
She twisted restlessly beneath him. She wrapped her slim legs around his hips and rose to meet his thrust.
“Take me,” she murmured against his lips again. “Take me, Eli. Make me yours. I need you. God help me, I need you.”
Her words were like a sweet balm. A cool, healing wind in a sun-scorched desert. He gathered her in his arms, as if he could protect her from the world, her past, anything that had the power to hurt her.
Again and again he buried himself deep, stroking through her wet flesh. Silken heat surrounded him. He was drowning in it.
Her hands tangled in his hair. Her fingers dug into his scalp as she gathered handfuls of the long strands. She held him to her, his mouth against her neck.
She convulsed around his cock, the delicate tissues swelling as her orgasm loomed. His balls tightened. Excruciating. The pressure started low in his c**k and pushed outward, straining to be set free.
Faster, harder, he rocked against her. She dug her heels into his ass and cried out. Liquid heat exploded around his cock, and he lost what remaining hold he had on his control.
Flash fire. Electric sensation seared through his balls, up his c**k then exploded outward as he jetted into her in jerky spurts.
She called his name. He kissed her. Devoured her mouth like a man starved. His frantic pace slowed, and his thrusts became slow and measured as he pulled them both back down to earth.
Finally he slipped free of her in a rush of warm fluid. He rested on top of her for a moment even though he knew he was too heavy. It just felt right. He didn’t want to move.
She felt warm and soft beneath him where earlier he’d considered that neither of them were soft people. Yet now she was limber and pliant. Sated.
He rolled over and pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek on top of her head. Her chest rose and fell with his and deep contentment worked through him.
Her fingers slid up his side and to his shoulder as she snuggled closer to him.
“Tell me about you,” she said in a lazy voice.
An uneasy sensation crawled across his skin. “What do you want to know?”
“What was it like to grow up so…different?”
Different. He almost laughed. Different implied something mild. Like maybe he liked knitting while other boys liked football. Being able to make yourself disappear in a cloud of mist? That was a little more extreme than just different.
“What about your parents?” she continued on, oblivious to the tension billowing through his chest. “Were they like you? Were there others in your family?”
He stiffened but forced himself to relax. He couldn’t very well hold out on her now. Not after she’d trusted him with her deepest secrets. A sigh escaped him.
“No, they weren’t like me. I don’t know of anyone like me.” It sounded utterly pathetic even to him. The hollow loneliness seemed to radiate from his voice. What was he supposed to tell her? That when his teammates had developed their freaky shifting abilities he didn’t feel quite like a one man freak show?
“Then how?” She didn’t even finish her question. She didn’t have to.
“I don’t have an answer for you,” he said simply. “Some twist of the gene pool? Maybe my mother used too many cleaning supplies when she was pregnant with me or maybe she fell. I mean who the hell knows?”
He felt her frown against him. “What did they think about your…abilities? Were they scared?”
Scared? He wasn’t sure that was the appropriate way to describe his parents’ reaction the day he’d run home, terrified, to tell them what had happened to him. He sighed again. This was going to be a long story.
“My parents were…religious.” There wasn’t an easy way to explain their fanaticism or the fact that he’d grown up in an isolated, wary world. “I didn’t have many friends. In fact, most kids avoided me or made fun of my weirdness.”
“You mean they knew?” she asked in surprise.
He laughed softly. “I was weird way before I learned of my abilities.”
She pushed up from his chest and repositioned herself so that she could look into his eyes.
“My parents weren’t exactly role models when it came to parental love and devotion. Not to say that they abused me. They made sure I had food and clothing, but they were far more concerned with their duties to the church. I say church. I’d classify it more as a cult. I’ve been to church, and they don’t have much in common with the nutjob my parents followed.
“At any rate, I spent a lot of my childhood wishing I could disappear. I avoided any and all situations that would thrust me into the limelight. I was quiet and sullen.”
It was her turn to laugh. “But you could disappear.”
He rubbed his hand up and down her arm and ran his fingers over the curve of her elbow. “I didn’t know I could until I was ten years old.”
Her sound of shock was unmistakable.
“I broke my cardinal rule of never being noticed. Some dickheads were picking on a younger girl, and I knocked one of them on his ass. Then I ran like hell because there were four of them and only one of me, and I was a skinny, awkward son of a bitch. I hit a dead end in an alley and knew I was f**ked. As I stood there waiting, knowing I was about to get the shit kicked out of me, all I could think was that I’d give anything to be able to disappear. And then the weirdest thing happened. I felt lighter. My vision changed, and I looked down and couldn’t see myself anymore.
“It scared me worse than the bullies I was facing down. But then they ran into the alley. I was so sure I was busted, but they couldn’t see me. They looked right through me and then ran back out.”
“Bet you didn’t think it was so scary then,” she teased.
He grimaced. “I was still scared shitless. I was in total panic thinking I’d never materialize again. And then suddenly I was back. Just like that. I ran the entire way home just seconds away from crapping in my pants.”
She laughed and rubbed her cheek over his chest, burrowing a little deeper into his embrace.
“When I got home, I burst into my parents’ Bible study. They were pretty pissed because no one interrupts the word of the Lord. Then I spilled my story, and all they did was stare at me like I’d lost my mind. Then my mother started muttering about the evils of television and how they needed to start a prayer session for little boys who told tales.
“I knew they weren’t going to listen to me so I shut my eyes and willed myself to disappear. This time I became smoke. It was the freakiest thing. I could see them, and I could see the wisps of smoke. I can still remember the looks of horror on their faces. I couldn’t hold onto it long, and I materialized again.”
He broke off and fell silent for a long moment.
She sat up again and touched his cheek as if she could sense his discomfort. Discomfort. What a word. He was reliving the day his parents had disowned him, and all he could drum up to describe the feeling was discomfort.
“What happened then?” she asked softly.