Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4) (11 page)

The thrill was as intoxicating as the male it oozed from. Because as those dark eyes fixed on hers, she knew that was how it felt to be alive. In a place where everything had become predictable, where the bubble that surrounded her had become stifling, this reminded her of how being free felt. For the first time ever, she sensed the flip side to danger and just how compelling that toxin could be. For the first time ever, she saw and understood how sexual desire could be nothing to do with love and everything to do with that carefree, mindless, self-sating moment. And it felt good. It felt enticing. And exciting. Just as finding him had been exciting – like unearthing something precious, something that was hers, her secret that she could keep stashed away. Something Pummel didn’t know about, something he couldn’t take from her like he took everything else. Except he would, because Pummel
always
took everything.

Which was why saving Eden had been as much about flipping the middle finger of defiance at Pummel as feeling like the right thing to do. And she couldn’t deny the attraction, the longing she’d felt as she’d lifted his T-shirt to not only tend his wound but to examine and admire the unconscious male laying beneath her. Her gaze would never have lingered on his belt buckle otherwise, the temptation to look at what else he had to offer.

The way Eden looked at her right then, as he noticed her cardigan slip further down her shoulder, she knew he could have become her dark secret in so many ways – a pact between them, secret visits and, above all else, companionship.

But no good could come out of a connection in Blackthorn, not least with a con. Which is why she had no right even contemplating her attraction to him. It was a dead end of heartbreak and hopelessness.
And she loathed herself for even considering it. And she loathed Eden more for inciting it in her when so much rested on her remaining focused.

He may have been playing nice since arriving in that room, but that was only because Eden Reece was clearly even smarter than she’d given him credit for. He knew he was making it tough for her – acting like he was no threat, playing the game to placate her. He’d worked out, as he’d clearly stated, that she wasn’t going to strike unprovoked. It was the only thing holding him back from revealing what he truly was – what those numbers dictated he was.

She wished she could have knocked him out cold there and then. Only everything was telling her that it
would
take more than torture to get the truth out of him as to who he was and why he was there. And she
would
be left with no choice but to kill him. Killing someone strapped down and helpless was not an option though. Like she’d resolved when first dragging him into that outer room, if she was going to take him out, she’d do it with him standing.

As he glanced from her exposed chemise to where her socks skimmed mid-thigh, she swapped the weight from one foot to the other to keep his attention there, her inner thighs clenching.

He looked back up at her. ‘Anyone would think you brought me here to seduce me, not interrogate me.’

‘No one said we can’t have fun while I do it.’

He placed his bottle aside as he closed the gap between them. ‘And is that what you’re looking for, Jessie – fun?’

‘You seem to be the one capable of providing it.’

‘I usually draw the line at those intending to kill me.’

‘How very safe of you.’

He pushed her ringlets back from her shoulder to run his hand gently down her bare arm, taking the exposed loose-fitting shoulder strap of her chemise with it. The fabric, thankfully, hung on the tip of her breast, keeping all but the upward curve covered. To her surprise, he didn’t intervene further. Instead he brushed the back of his hand across her collarbone, up to cup her neck, before rubbing his thumb lightly along her jawline.

His touch was as gentle as it had been the first time they’d met – exploratory, as if enjoying the feel of her skin; a touch that was as enticing as the look in his eyes, the anticipation of what he would do sending too much heat pounding through her veins to back down.

She
couldn’t
back down. And it made her feel sick to her stomach that she had become that desperate.

‘You want to play dangerously, Jessie?’

‘I don’t need to play.’

‘Just as you can kick my arse if I overstep the mark, right?’

‘Does that bother you?’

She snatched back a breath as he grabbed just below her behind, pressing his fingers deep into her flesh as he lifted her up onto the edge of the table. Her lower spine ached at the brush of soft denim against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs as he eased between them, let alone the strength of the muscles she felt. And she felt the same strength in his hands as he slid them up the inside of her thighs to part them further, his thumbs edging dangerously close to her sex.

Pools of heat swept over her, her spine prickling, her hardened nipples grazing the silk of her chemise, the evidence laid bare of what his touch did to her – a revelation she knew would work to her advantage.

And he
had
noticed, his gaze lingering on her breasts for a moment before he looked back down between her legs with a gaze that was blatantly sexual. Her pulse hitched up a notch, not helped as his eyes met hers again.

Thumbs reaching her hip bones, Eden pulled her slightly closer, pressing the hardness between his legs against her sensitive sex. Coils of pleasure tensed her abdomen, tingles striking the soles of her feet and the palms of her hands. Sensations that made her lose herself for a moment.

‘What makes you
so
sure you can take me on?’ he asked.

‘What makes you think I can’t?’

He bit into his bottom lip as he smiled, his dark brown eyes almost black in the muted light. But instead of attempting to pin her onto the table as she’d anticipated, he eased her back down onto her feet, his grip on her hips keeping her clothing raised, her bare thighs sliding down soft denim until her feet finally met concrete.

She felt a glitch of disappointment – not just that he might not be taking the bait, but at his lack of persistence amidst so much promise.

And she so wanted him to persist, now for reasons more troubling than her original intention.

She kept her grip on the table, her eyes on his as he retained his hold. His lingering gaze, his lack of urgency, the prospect of him backing down, had her questioning
again
if she could do what she planned to do to him.

Fortunately, letting her go seemed to be the last of his intentions.

She subtly licked her dry lips, wondering if he’d try to kiss her again like he had the night before. She wondered what he’d do if this time she reciprocated. Because right then she knew she would – out of curiosity if nothing else. If he was going to stay gentle with her, if he was going to make a genuine move, then she knew she’d falter.

As his mouth remained a painful few inches away, she searched his eyes for any sense of attraction beyond the low-key sexual game he was playing with her, anything beyond a male sensing he had a willing female in his grasp.

To test his resolve, she pushed her hips forward to nudge a gap between them in an attempt to slide from his grasp. As she’d hoped, his grip tightened as he pushed her back against the pool table.

Her stomach jolted.

The subtle sharpness of his resistance knocked her chemise strap another inch down her arm, finally exposing her breast to him. But, to her surprise, she had no desire to cover herself, even less so as his glance scorched her chest.

His minor restraint was a move she could so easily have overpowered. She could have slammed her fist into his jaw and knocked him five feet away at least and he wouldn’t have even seen it coming.

Yet still there was no threat, no aggression in his eyes – just a male standing his ground with what he wanted. And, right then, it looked like he genuinely wanted
her
. More enticingly, he was clearly willing to fight for what he wanted – and not afraid of letting her know that. Whether he was willing to
take
what he wanted was the question she needed to keep forefront of her mind.

‘You’re breaking a lot of rules, con.’

‘Story of my life,’ he said as he hooked his thumbs over the waistband of her underwear. In a slow and purposeful move, he slid the fabric down over her behind.

Her instinct was to grab his wrist and stop him, but whatever lay deeper than instinct focused only on him sliding her underwear to mid-thigh in a move that was as steady, as taunting and as controlled as the gaze that never left hers.

Placing a hand over each of hers as they remained braced on the table, he nudged her legs closer together just enough to let her underwear slide down her thighs, her calves, until hitting the floor.

Placing his booted foot between her sock-clad feet, he nudged her legs apart again, his thigh pressing between hers, sending a jolt through her as denim brushed her clit.

Her eyes widened involuntarily, something that clearly hadn’t gone unnoticed by Eden, as the tiniest hint of a smile curled his compelling mouth.

This
was
a game to him – and one he was clearly adept at. One he clearly felt he had the upper hand in.

‘I like rule-breakers,’ she said, her mouth coaxingly just a few inches from his as she pushed her hips forward slightly, pressing her sex against his thigh so he was sure to feel the dampness accumulating there.

‘Encouraging the worst in me is not going to help your cause right now, Jessie.’

‘On the contrary. I bet the worst in you brings out the best in me. Why don’t you try?’

A hint of a smile graced his lips again as his hands left hers to grasp her hips. In a move that she didn’t fight, he turned her away from him. She clutched the edge of the table again as he slid her cardigan and chemise up over her now bare behind, replacing it with himself as he pressed tight against her.

Keeping one hand on her hip, he slid his other slowly up over the outer curve of her behind, the inner curve of her waist, up to her exposed breast, causing her nipples to stiffen painfully and send shooting sensations deep between her legs on his explorative journey to gently clasp her throat.

‘You know all the right things to say, don’t you, Jessie?’ he said against her ear.

Her nails involuntarily dug into the inside fabric edge of the pool table she was superficially trapped against. ‘And clearly
you
know all the right things to do. It takes a skilled lover to know how to hold with possession not aggression.’

‘Depends which you’re looking for,’ he said as he nudged her thighs a little further apart, his breath caressing her ear again.

More sensations pooled between her legs, her sex throbbing as the increased distance allowed more cool air to lick between her thighs.

‘You’re a tease,’ she said, a little more breathlessly than she would have liked.

‘And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’

He released her hip only to glide his hand below her belly button, easing her back against him, away from the table, just enough to tuck his hand down between her legs. She flinched as she felt his strong, warm fingers against her sex, her toes curling into concrete.

But
he
didn’t flinch. He didn’t utter a word as he caressed her with a pressure that was shockingly gentle, his thumb skilfully finding her clit and sending a cloud of haziness over her.

She lowered her head as she held her breath, his grasp on her throat tightening slightly, just enough to remind her he was in control.

Or liked to think he was.

She knew she could have shoved him backwards, struck him on the side of the head with a blow from her elbow. She could have stamped hard on his groin, before kicking him clean in the face, knocking him out cold if the force of the blow didn’t kill him outright.

But as his thumb continued to circle the most sensitive, most responsive part of her sex, as his middle finger found its way through her wetness to ease just a little way inside her, she instead clamped her eyes shut, felt herself fall back against him despite her sustained grip on the pool table.

Never had she been touched so intimately – not that she could recall. Even if she
had
shared such intimacy before, she was sure it had been nothing like this. Right then, Eden’s touch felt as fresh, as exciting, as forbidden as if it was her first time. And alone with him, in the candlelight of what felt like their own private, secret domain, the temptation to forget her plans, to give him her consent, was overwhelming.

The intensity of her response to his touch alone told her how dangerous that territory was though. A territory that would enclose her even more. A territory that would inevitably lead her to feel more for him than she dared. And she had far too much to worry about already than being left feeling more alone, emptier, than she did already.

Aside from seeing use in her skills, he was proving that, like any other con, all he wanted was sex – just like he wanted from Tatum, just like he’d no doubt take from any other female who was offering it to him on a platter.

Except for Mya. He’d shown no interest in Mya when he so easily could have taken what she had to offer up on that isolated roof. But she may have been the exception to the rule. He might have simply sensed the ambush.

She jolted from her haze of thoughts as he pushed his middle finger deeper, his thumb applying a mouth-gaping amount of expert pressure on her clit, enough to make her thighs ache, her sex throb.

She had to get back on task. Fast. She had to end it before he convinced her otherwise.

‘This is you at your worst?’ she said, snatching back a breath. ‘It doesn’t feel bad to me.’

He exhaled tersely, his breath caressing her shoulder and entwining with the hair at her neck. ‘Wet though you are,’ he said, his deeply masculine tone laced with the rasp of escalating arousal, ‘all that tension in your body means if I fuck you now, it’s going to hurt. Is that what you want? Is that how far you’re willing to take this?’

Her stomach flipped, just the thought of him taking her there and then no doubt coating his fingers with a wetness that would convince him she
was
willing. ‘Depends. Are
you
willing to take it that far?’