Cherry Adair - T-flac 09 (11 page)

His physical strength was impressive. She was no longer as thin as she’d once been, and was in fact, fifteen pounds over her ideal weight. But she felt ideal just the way she was now. Thank God. She was happy that she had curves to give Caleb instead of countable bones.

Resting her head on his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to the bed. “My butt?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“I have to kiss it better.” He laid her on the mattress and followed her down.

“I’d be incredibly grateful,” she said, straight-faced. “Even after eighteen years the scar still hurts when it rains.”

“It
does
?”

Her laugh was low and intimate. “No. But I want that kiss you promised me.” Turning over onto her tummy, she cradled her cheek on her arm and closed her eyes.

“I’m a man of my word,” he murmured, lightly skimming his fingers down her back.

Yeah. He
was
a man of his word. And his word belonged to T-FLAC, Caleb thought, ignoring his instincts to put a stop to this seduction
now.
This soft, sweet woman was merely a means to an end. He needed to remember that.

A tremor rippled across her skin as he stroked her butt, and a faint sheen of perspiration turned her skin to pink pearl.
God. Listen to me,
Caleb thought as he stroked her, loving the flex and play of her muscles as her body reacted to his gentle touch.
I sound like a poet. A bad poet at that.

“Your skin feels like silk,” he whispered thickly. “I love the feel of you under my hand. Soft, but firm with these beautiful long, elegant muscles, and lovely hollows. Made to fit my hand perfectly.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“I used to be skinny.” Her voice, muffled by her arm, was drowsy.

Yeah. He knew. He’d seen pictures. “Well, whatever you did has made you absolutely perfect.”

He glanced up to find her pretty hazel eyes watching him over her bent arm. “Really?”

How could she doubt her appeal? Any man taking one look at Hannah Smith would fall head over heels, insanely in love. Not himself, of course. Means to an end. Got it. But he wasn’t blind. “Oh, yeah.

Really.”

How had he imagined that there was no time to build her trust? How could they
not
be here, Caleb thought, doing
exactly
this? Suddenly it was no longer a quick Q and A. When had screwing Shaw’s daughter become making love to Hannah Smith? Touching her like this, when the sexual heat within him burned and sizzled without abating, was foolish and highly dangerous. Caleb wanted to pull her over him, he wanted to absorb her. He wanted—What
he
wanted was immaterial.

The only reason he was here was to get a location on her father.

Unfortunately, the longer he was with her the stronger the pull, the more intense his response to her appeal. The more attractive she was to him. Damn it to hell. She was a dangerous woman.

What pissed him off the most was that for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt a twinge of guilt using her like this. He wasn’t a man who usually felt guilty about
anything
he had to do. Why her? Why now?

When this was all over, he’d make sure to reunite father and daughter, even if it was only enough time for them to kiss and make up before Shaw was incarcerated for life. That would make up for him using her to get to her father.

Still, she was going to hate him for using her. Caleb gave a mental shrug. Couldn’t be helped. He’d done worse in the past than screw a woman to get what he wanted.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He wished to God that what happened between them
had
felt like screwing. Unfortunately it had felt very much like making love.

Jesus. He was getting in too deep.

Get the information. Send her on her way.

Out of sight, out of mind.

The sooner the better.

So much for his carefully constructed plan to coax the information out of her. He’d had no intention of making love to her. None.

Oh, yeah? He asked himself as he leaned over the side of the bed to pick up his discarded jeans. Pulling out three small packets, he shoved two under the pillow, and ripped at the third with his teeth. No, he’d had no intention of making love to her. That’s why he had a wallet full of condoms.

He rolled one onto his still rock-hard cock while she dozed beside him. Better late than never, he supposed.

His knee hurt like hell, which also pissed him off. With the titanium implant he should be able to leap tall buildings et cetera. The fact that his knee ached just because he’d lifted a hundred and thirty pounds of woman bothered him more than he’d let on to the doctors. If he ever went back for a checkup. Which he wouldn’t. His leg would be fine. Just fine.

A T-FLAC operative—even one in the psi branch—needed full mobility. It would heal, he assured himself as he tried to block the pain, eventually.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He cupped the pale globe of Hannah’s ass, stroking his thumb over the scars marring her smooth skin.

Scars that he could make disappear in a second if he wanted to.

Not only couldn’t he remove her scars, which would necessitate an explanation he had no intention of giving, but he couldn’t exactly bundle her into her clothes and kick her out of his hotel room—hell, out of his life either.

Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.

Not just yet anyway.

He stroked a finger along the widest scar. “You must’ve been terrified.” The punctures had been deep, and widely spaced. And
not
a dog bite.

“It wasn’t pleasant.” An understatement, Caleb knew. He’d seen people who’d been hit by shrapnel.

This was bad. But it could’ve been a whole hell of a lot worse. He leaned over and brushed his lips across the slightly raised marks on her left butt cheek, feeling more than hearing her hmm of pleasure as his mouth skimmed her skin. “Where did you encounter this beast?”

“My bedroom.”

What was the real story? Why in God’s name did a socialite have shrapnel cuts? “How did a vicious dog get into a kid’s bedroom?”
Where were your bodyguards? Who did this? And why?

Not only couldn’t he ask the questions, they were none of his damn business, he reminded himself.

Still, he also wondered
why
she was estranged from her father and living thousands of miles away from her friends. And having seen where she lived, she was clearly doing it without Daddy’s money. Good for her.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

What had happened between her and her father to drive her halfway around the world?

“He was a guard dog.” Hannah wiggled as he kissed the small of her back, then trailed his lips up the bumps of her spine.

“Who the hell was it supposed to guard?”

“Me.” Her voice was thick with sleep.

Caleb lifted his head. “You? From what?” He had a pretty good idea. Kidnappers. Assassins. The choices were numerous. God only knew the kind of enemies a man like Brian Shaw had collected over the years. Not only because of his incredible wealth, but because of the people he did business with.

People it was Caleb’s business to find and eliminate.

“I come from a life of privilege,” she said matter-of-factly of her billionaire father. “That kind of wealth brings out the crazies. I had several bodyguards as well as two dogs that stayed in my room at night. I—I wanted to sneak out to see the fireworks. Fang had different ideas.”

“They put the dog down, I presume?”

“Of course not. He was doing his job.”

By biting his protectee in the ass? No matter what the true circumstances were, Caleb felt a surge of anger at Hannah’s father. A father should protect his children, not shove them directly in harm’s way.

His own father had been absentee, living in Scotland for most of his life. Caleb and his brothers had loved Magnus. But they rarely saw him, and when they did, their father was obsessed, consumed by protecting their mother. In his own way his father hadn’t been able to protect his three sons either.

Gabriel had tried his best to be the man of the family, although he was only a year older than Caleb, and two years older than Duncan. MacBain, their factotum, had been a father figure. But he wasn’t their
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

father. None of the Edge boys had understood the blind, insane passion that drove their parents to the exclusion of all else.

His older brother had accepted the fact that his father lived away from them in Scotland, but Caleb had always thought it was bullshit. Magnus had married their mother, and then, instead of sticking it out, trying to find a way around Nairne’s Curse, he’d run like a damned coward with his tail between his legs.

Magnus should never have married in the first place. Yeah, Caleb and his brothers wouldn’t exist right now, but the Curse would have stopped with their father.

Caleb, Gabriel, and Duncan had made each other a promise when they were in their early teens. None of
them
would marry. They’d avoid love like the plague it was. And Nairne’s Curse would unequivocally end with them.

That had been an easy promise to keep up until 1500 hours this morning.

Caleb felt as though he was being slowly and cleverly wrapped in the sticky silken web of a beautiful spider as he lay beside this woman who made his pulse pound and his brain forget minor details like the Curse. A T-FLAC operative’s survival depended on mental as well as physical toughness. He had a bum knee, and he’d met Heather—
Hannah.

“What were you doing in a grocery store when you’re staying in a hotel?” Hannah asked without opening her eyes. He thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Maybe I followed you in.”

Her eyes opened and her body stiffened slightly. “Did you?”

“No, of course not,” Caleb lied easily. “You were stalking me, remember?”

Her eyes closed and she smiled. “You think you’re hot stuff, don’t you?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Hot enough to light your fire—Hey. Where’re you going?” he demanded as she rolled from under his hand. Cheeks pink, eyes sparkling devilishly, she said, “Please, sir, I want some more.”

Caleb laughed. “Oh, you do, do you?” He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. “Then you’re going to have to do all the work. My knee hurts.”

Hannah straddled his hips, bracing her hands on his chest. “Aw. Poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?”

She lifted one knee from the bed as if she were going to unseat herself.

He pulled her mouth down to meet his. “Later.” He tasted her smile as she met his mouth with eager heat. He stroked her breast, fitting it to his palm, learning the shape and texture in a slow exploration that had her breathless and him hot all over again.

She wrapped her fingers around the hard length of him, moving her hand up and down. When she brushed her thumb over the head of his penis, he shuddered convulsively. “You’re killing me.”

“Hmm.” She guided him to her, then impaled herself on his hard length with a groan. Her sheath closed around him like a benediction. Hands resting on his belly, she froze as her internal muscles clenched around him.

Caleb knew exactly what she was feeling. The sensation was so sharp, so intensely exquisite, he couldn’t move either. Their gazes locked in the watery half light from the uncurtained window. He didn’t dare move. He’d come in a heartbeat. He could tell from the tension in her face that she too was on the razor’s edge and needed a moment. Carefully, he slid his hands over her hips, holding her still. Her breath heaved on a shuddering breath and her insides tightened.

The clawing need built and built while their eyes remained locked. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth to maintain a scintilla of control. The sharp bite of her short nails digging into his belly told him that she was literally hanging on, too.

“I can’t—I c-can’t—”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He couldn’t hold it any longer either.

With a convulsive shudder he surged up, plunging inside her. With a cry, her back arched, sending him impossibly deeper. His eyes blurred as her entire body clenched around him. The pleasure was sharp and blinding. His hearing went muted. All he was was a penis in search of the next exquisite level of pleasure.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Teeth gritted, he thrust up, his hips arching off the bed, carrying her weight easily as he thrust hard and deep inside her, feeling her orgasm gathering. Caleb rode her through it, driving her orgasm to higher peaks as he controlled his own release to wait for her. Sweat poured off his body and his muscles shook with it. Reaching between their bodies, he found her engorged clit with the tip of his finger and pushed her over the edge.