Dark Hunger (25 page)

He
couldn’t.

“Quinton, aren’t you going to change?” Annabelle asked.

His gaze met hers, and he recognized the same fears he was feeling. She was anxious, wired, dreading the next few hours.

Wondering if they’d survive.

His body smoldered with lust, and her eyes flickered with heat, her breath raspy as he walked toward her. When he was only an inch away, he inhaled her sweet body, the slight hint of perfume she’d dotted on her neck, and his mouth watered.

Wanting to soothe her nerves, he rubbed her arms with his hands, then leaned close to her ear and dragged in a breath. “I know how we could relieve some tension.”

“How? Did you see a gym downstairs?” she said sweetly.

He chuckled. Dammit, they might die tonight. He wanted her first.

And it was just sex.

He had his own agenda, and it didn’t involve having a personal long-term relationship with her.

All physical. No commitment.

She turned her back to him as if to dismiss him, but he brushed her hair back from her neck. Then he pressed his lips to her tender skin. “I want you, Annabelle, and I know you want me, too. I can feel it in the heat radiating off you.”

“We can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because we have to concentrate.”

“You’re distracting me from work. I can concentrate better when my mind isn’t full of wanting you.” He nipped at her earlobe, then placed his hands on her shoulders and kneaded the tightness from her muscles. She moaned as his fingers worked magic.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked hoarsely.

“You know why, Annabelle. You feel the heat blazing between us just as I do.” He raked his fingers lower to her waist, then gripped her and slid his thigh between her legs, stroking her as he pulled her ass against his rock hard body.

“God, Quinton,” she said in a pained voice, tinged with longing.

He flipped her around and cupped her face between his big hands. His heart raced, his body aching.

But fear seized him.

Not only fear of losing her to this demon.

But fear that if he did take her, he wouldn’t be able to walk away when it was over.

The thought made him take a step back and release her.

Annabelle swayed, dizzy with desire.

But suddenly he pulled away. “You’re right. I should get ready.”

A tormented look crossed his face, then he turned and went into the shower.

She stood in stunned surprise, her body quivering with want, need, and unsated desire.

She wanted Quinton. Had teetered on the edge of letting him have his way with her. Because her hunger for him was so strong she could no longer deny it.

But having sex with him would only sate part of her.

She wanted more. Something he couldn’t give her.

Love.

And that was the reason she couldn’t go to him.

Besides, he had supernatural powers…

She paced across the room, listening to the shower water run. To the sound of the wind outside.

Her nerves on edge, she moved the curtain aside and looked out into the night, searching. Streetlights dotted the distant horizon; the sounds of Bourbon Street, traffic, jazz music, and partygoers filled the air. Moonlight bathed the street; stars glittered in the clear sky. It was a beautiful night.

Too beautiful to die.

But reality clawed at her. A monster—human or demon?—was preying on unsuspecting innocents, ready to kill more people. And she might be on his hit list.

What if she died and never slept with Quinton?

They’d been working for days to stop this killer, barely sleeping or eating or living themselves.

What if she never felt his lips teasing her, kissing her, his fingers stroking her secret places. Secret places that begged for his hands and mouth.

What if she never felt the power of his big body above her, filling her, holding her, making love to her?

She closed her eyes, willing her rational side to return, to hold her libido in check, but instead, images of him lying naked on the bed pleasuring himself drifted to her, tormenting her. What if he was taking his own pleasure now in the shower?

No… it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t get her all stirred up and achy, then leave her like this.

Her body thrumming with tension, she opened the bathroom door. He had just stepped from the shower, and he stood naked and dripping wet, his corded muscles slick, his sex jutting forward, thick and heavy and pulsing with need.

“I thought…”

A slow smile curved his mouth. “That I took care of things?” He chuckled and gestured to his rigid cock. “No. I was hoping a cold shower would work. But nothing seems to work around you.”

“Good.” Courage suddenly bolstered her, then she lifted her hands, unfastened the cocktail dress, and let it slide to the floor so she stood wearing only a pair of black lace thong panties.

The stark need in Quinton’s sigh flamed her hunger.

“You know I’m bad for you,” he said in a gruff voice. “That I’m not a good guy.”

Defiance made her lift her chin. “I don’t care. We might die tonight.”

“And?”

“And I want to be with you,” she whispered. “I want you to make me feel alive.”

Her gaze met his, and something hot and intense passed between them, a draw that she couldn’t deny any more than she could deny that she needed air to breathe.

“I wanted to join you in the shower earlier,” he said in a gruff voice. “I can’t get you out of my head. The picture of you naked…”

“I can’t erase the picture of you from my mind either,” she whispered.

He lifted an eyebrow. “So you did watch?”

A flush crept up her neck at the excited look in his eyes.

Spurned by that thought, she lowered her gaze, perusing his body.

Instant heat pulsed through her. He was the most gorgeous, virile man she’d ever met. A bad boy in every sense of the word.

His gaze fell to her breasts, and her breath heaved in and out. “Touch yourself,” he said in a low, gruff voice that made her heat grow wet with need.

She couldn’t resist his command. She had to obey.

Her heart pounded as she lifted her hands and cupped her breasts. At the first touch, his breath hissed out. “More.”

A tiny thrill raced through her, and she licked her finger, then circled her areole with it, stroking her nipple between her damp fingers. Her nipple budded to a stiff peak, and she imagined him closing his mouth over it, tugging the tip. Warm erotic sensations splintered through her, and she slid her other hand downward over her body, then between her thighs, teasing her clit. Desire surged through her.

“Enough.” Hissing between his teeth, he suddenly shoved her hands away and cupped her breasts in his big hands, kneading them as he blatantly stared at her stiffening nipples.

“God, you’re magnificent,” he murmured.

Her chest rose and fell beneath his hands, her body craving more, aching for him as she never had for a man, her mind racing with unfulfilled fantasies. Erotic fantasies that she’d never considered before. Fantasies of him taking her against the wall, outside on the park bench. Of him tying her to his bed and making love to her until she thought she’d die from the torture.

He plunged his hands into her hair and drew her to him, nipping at her lips until she opened for him, and he thrust his tongue inside, ravaging her mouth.

She slid her hands up his chest as if to push him away, but pulled him closer, clinging to his arms as he deepened the kiss. His mouth was sensuous, his throaty sounds prodding her to kiss him again and again, to whisper his name and cling to his muscled shoulders.

To beg him to make love to her.

He trailed tongue lashes along her throat and neck, then along the curve of her breasts, and she pressed her knee between his thighs and stroked him. His cock surged to life, hard and pushing against her abdomen. She wanted him between her thighs, filling her, making her feel whole, reminding her that she was alive and worth loving.

Even if it was just for the moment.

He moaned her name, a throaty sound that was so erotic it almost sent her over the edge, then he sucked one nipple into his mouth and she threw her head back in wild abandon.

He gripped her hips, then led her to the bed where he gently pushed her down, lowering himself over her as he greedily suckled one breast then the other. She threaded her fingers into his hair, panting as he trailed kisses down her abdomen, then shoved her legs apart and tasted her wetness.

Another groan from him made her buck and try to push him away, but instead, he flicked his tongue against her clit, taunting her. A million delicious sensations spiraled through her, then he closed his lips around her clit, gently sucking the sweet nub, and she cried out as her orgasm rocked through her.

Quinton had never tasted anything so sweet and hypnotic as Annabelle. Her honeyed release filled his mouth with a craving for more, and fucking her once wouldn’t sate him.

He’d never be sated without her.

The realization nearly splintered his sanity. If he took her now, he might never let her go.

He was a loner. He had to be in order to keep her safe.

Still, his body surged with need, and he was beyond stopping himself.

Annabelle jammed her hands in his hair as he rose above her and looked into her eyes. He’d wanted her for months, had denied that desire and hunger to protect her and himself—but she was right.

They might die tonight. He might not win against this demon.

And his dark hunger had to be sated.

She pulled his head down and fused her mouth with his, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and arching her hips to cradle his thick, throbbing erection between her thighs. He moaned, then stroked his cock against her wet damp flesh.

He kneed her legs wider apart, trailed kisses down her neck to her nipple, then bit the tip hungrily and thrust his length into her, ramming deep inside her.

She whimpered his name, then undulated her hips in silent invitation, and he buried himself deeper, then pulled out, teasing her clit. She cried out and begged him to fill her again, and he complied.

His breathing panted out as he thrust in and out, building a rhythm and sinking himself deeper each time, until her body began to spasm around him, milking his length.

Dark thoughts tried to destroy this pleasure. The devil called his name, whispering that he’d put one foot in the door when he’d joined the Ghost team. Taunting that he could take her again and again, irregardless of whether she wanted him.

But having learned to school his emotions, he banished the evil voice.

Still, a sharp noise cut through the bliss as he pounded himself home and relief came.

Reality intruded as he realized the noise was the phone. The sharp ring jarred him from bliss to the danger they faced.

Annabelle sighed and curled into him as he rolled over and reached for the phone.

But Quinton pulled away and stood, knowing they had to get dressed. As much as he’d like to pretend that staying in bed would cure all, he knew otherwise.

He glanced at the clock and connected the call. The FBI. “This is Agent Horton, I was called by the local police to assist. We need your help.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Quinton said stiffly. “Did Detective DeLang send over that list of guests?”

“Yes, I have it. And he’s pinpointed at least six veterans. We’re going to pull them aside at the door and question them.”

“Good. I’ll be right there.” He disconnected the call and rushed to get dressed. Time to face the demon.

And hope he recognized him and could stop him before anyone else died.

Anxiety knotted Annabelle’s shoulders as the next two hours passed.

The ballroom at the country club where the charity event was being held overflowed with guests. Waiters served appetizers and champagne throughout the festive room filled with white-linen-covered tables. A buffet overflowed with fruit and Cajun cuisine, and sinful desserts filled another table, a chocolate fountain serving as a centerpiece.