Of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (9 page)

Her eyes were devoid of their anger now, but in its place was pure wickedness. She rolled her hips, stroking him where he throbbed, and he fell forward, resting his forehead on the cabinet beside her head with a thunk.

He distantly realized he was thrusting against her, but he couldn’t stop himself. Instead, he gathered her in closer, lifting with his hands beneath her ass again and moving her entire body with his frantic movements.

She gasped into his ear with each thrust, her breaths growing louder. “Touch me,” she panted.

Jericho
was
touching her, so he didn’t slow down for a few more frantic thrusts, until he realized that she would only ask if she wanted him to touch her
differently
. That brought things to a screeching halt.

He stilled and pulled back slightly. They were both breathing heavily, their breaths fanning across each other’s faces. “Touch you?” he asked warily.

She nodded frantically, not sensing his change in mood as she wriggled against him to continue the movement.

Jericho closed his eyes.
Touch me.
He didn’t know how. He’d been so young and busy climbing rank when he’d first Impulse-paired. Emily had been his first. And his last. And their short time together, little more than a few days, had afforded him little on-the-job training.

Dahlia finally noticed his reticence. Her head tilted to the side; her frantic breathing slowing slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “This was a bad idea. Let’s stick with our first plan. We can just … take care of ourselves.”

“Hell no, we won’t do that,” she snorted. “You started this, you’re going to finish it.” And with that, she grabbed his right hand and placed it directly between her thighs.

Jericho groaned. She was
hot
. The heat from her center nearly scorched his hand through the fabric of her pants, but rather than pulling away, he melded his hand to the curve of her mound and leaned forward again, closing his eyes and breathing in the waft of her scent.

Oh, God, he was so screwed.

• • •

Dahlia was smack-dab in the middle of the most exciting sexual experience of her life, and now
he
was throwing on the brakes?

Loco
, she thought. There was no way she was letting him off the hook. From the second he’d picked her up and charged across the kitchen with her, Dahlia had been on the edge of the most powerful orgasm she had yet to experience.

Jericho, Mr. Play-by-the-Rules-and-Follow-Orders, was the most aggressive, out-of-control man she’d ever kissed. He’d surprised the hell out her with his rough thrusts and man-handling. And if he didn’t finish her, she was going to quite possibly die on the spot.

His hand was a brand against the center of her body where she’d placed it. She could feel her arms shaking where they were propped against the countertop, holding her up. He was definitely affected — he’d slumped forward again, their chests touching, his breath tickling her behind her ear, his shoulders trembling — and yet, he still wasn’t moving his hand.

“Jericho, if you don’t do something,
anything
— ” She didn’t get to finish her statement, because she was cut off by the sharp nip of his teeth on her ear.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered softly, so softly Dahlia was sure she must have misunderstood.

She jerked back to meet his eyes, and, yup, he was avoiding meeting hers, staring intently at a spot over her shoulder. And, yet, he
still
had to be kidding. Didn’t know what he was doing? After being so forceful and take-charge mere minutes ago? “Trust me,” she whispered back, “You know what you’re doing.”

She placed her hand over his and applied pressure. Pleasure rocketed through her, and she gasped, bringing Jericho’s eyes to hers again with an almost audible snap. Lust flared brightly in those otherworldly blue eyes, but Dahlia was unable to relax in her triumph. The simple pressure of their hands had strung her too tightly.

He made a tentative movement with his thumb, circling gently, and Dahlia’s hand fell away while her back arched.

“Mmmm,” she hummed in encouragement, and so he did it again. Her hands flew to his arms, clinching his biceps, and he picked up a steady rhythm.

“You’re wet,” he gritted. “I can feel it through your pants.”

“Because I need you so bad,” Dahlia said, though it sounded like a garbled
Ugh
through the roaring in her ears.

And just like that, Jericho was right back to where he’d been before he’d gotten self-conscious. His tentativeness vanished, and he took control. His thumb grew firmer, and he rotated his hand so that he was cupping her more completely.

His other hand rose to her jaw, and he tipped her head far back, his lips descending on hers in a crush. He didn’t ask permission; his firm lips pried hers open, and his tongue filled her mouth, rubbing against her own in delicious swirls.

Dahlia knew she was continuously moaning, but she couldn’t stop herself. Damn, but this man knew what he was doing. His skin was so hot where her hands clutched him, and if the Knowledge was telling her he was good or bad, she couldn’t hear it over the demands of her body.

The hand under her jaw vanished, and Dahlia felt him grasping her right wrist. He guided her hand to the front of his pants and planted it there roughly.

Her fingers immediately curled around the impressive erection behind his fly, and he made a desperate sound in the back of his throat at the same time that his hips twitched, surging into her grip.

His kiss grew more frantic, his fingers tripping over the folds of fabric to tug at her button fly. “Buttons?” he accused when he briefly drew back from the kiss to pin her with a glare. Before she could answer, his lips covered hers again, then moved to the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

“Oh, God,” Dahlia groaned, leaning her head back and giving him more direct access to her neck.

And then his fingers delved under the fabric of her panties.

She froze, her nails imbedded in the skin of his arm, certain she was going to come just from this touch.

“
Dahlia
,” he groaned, nipping her collarbone. “What are you doing to me?” He sounded mildly distressed. Because he was out of control? He certainly seemed out of control to
her
. Not that she was complaining.

Her own fingers fumbled with his fly, and after getting the zipper down, she was finally able to wrap her fingers around him skin-to-skin. His entire body shuddered; his fingers trembled against her opening. All of a sudden,
What are you doing to me?
didn’t seem like such an oddball question. He was huge in her hand. She could feel his racing pulse against her palm, and he was continuing to harden. He was bigger than any man she’d ever been with, and the twitching of his erection was testament to how affected he was.

It was apparent that his reaction to her was freaking him out. Yeah, well, this situation wasn’t normal for her either, but it was the best thing she’d felt in years.

He slid one, and then two of his thick fingers inside her body, barely pausing between, and then he resumed the steady pace with his thumb, circling her clit in firm, sure movements.

She started to move, too. She tightened her grip and moved her hand up and down his substantial length. Every time she reached the tip and made the journey back down to the base, Jericho made a harsh, guttural noise.

Soon their hands were moving quickly, their panting breaths ricocheting around the kitchen.

Jericho drew back from kissing and biting her shoulder to stare into her eyes. “You
will
come first,” he demanded of her, almost desperately as her fingers encountered a weeping tear at the tip of his erection.

And just as though her body had answered with a
Yes, sir,
the tight string inside of her snapped. She threw her head back, arching into his touch as she groaned his name toward the ceiling.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, and then he was right on her heels. His free hand covered hers where she gripped him, stilling her movement and squeezing her fingers even more tightly around him as he ejaculated into her hand.

Her eyes flew to his face, and she watched his features completely relax, and he smiled beautifully at her with sparking eyes throughout his long, long orgasm.

When his body stilled, he leaned in and kissed her gently. He pulled back and landed her with another of those smiles.

Dahlia was finding it hard to breathe. She pulled her hand from his pants and wiggled until he pulled his own hand from hers. All of the things she’d been feeling right before the Impulse had taken over rushed back in, and Dahlia felt her own smile twist and turn sour.

Just a few moments ago, this man had informed her that he was dragging her away from her son. Today. Possibly right now. And she’d just done this … admittedly incredible thing with him. She pinned him with a glare.

His smile lost some of its wattage before dimming completely. She could tell the moment he returned to his senses, because a look of horror crossed his face. His mouth tightened into a grim line, and his eyebrows rose quickly, and then crashed down over his now flat, lifeless eyes. But before the coldness of his regard could completely destroy her, she saw a look of pure longing flash through his eyes. He clenched his fists and resumed straightening his clothing.

Shit.
She watched as he did up his pants, his still semi-hard erection a visible bulge that made her swallow thickly despite the resentment nearly choking her. But what was almost worse was the confusion she saw in his eyes when just moments ago he had been looking at her as though she was the most radiant thing in his life.

She wanted the hate gone. Dahlia opened her mouth without thought. “The secret is at the Needles Research Facility,” she said.

Dahlia’s words pierced the litany of Jericho’s self-loathing, and his hands froze where they had been zipping up his fly.

He refused to look at her — he was so confused over what he was feeling and thinking, over what they’d just done together — but he did manage to clear his throat around the thickness to ask, “The Research Facility?”

He felt her nod.

He closed his eyes as the confusion took over again. God, did he hate her? Love her? Believe her? Distrust her?

Right now, he realized with a groan, the answer appeared to be yes — to all of the above.

What had just happened had been the most amazing that had ever happened to him. Spilling into her hand, feeling her silky, slick skin beneath his fingers … had been life-changing.

The first coherent thought he’d had after climaxing so hard he’d nearly died there in the kitchen where they’d run the risk of being caught had been,
God, Emily would have never let me do this.

And that had been when the horror had rushed in.

Comparing his Emily — his sweet, innocent Emily — with the human tornado of seduction that was Dahlia, even though it had been a subconscious comparison, had felt like knives to his gut.

And what was worse was he’d immediately thought
I’ll regret what I’ve just done for the rest of my life
and known that thought was a complete lie. Oh, he’d remember this time in the kitchen with Dahlia forever, but he suspected regret would not be the emotion he associated with it.

He heard Dahlia’s clothes rustle as she began putting herself back together, and Jericho forced himself to pay attention to what she’d just said, to what his entire purpose here was tied to.

He braced himself and flicked his eyes to her form, immediately taking in the obvious discomfort that painted her cheeks an embarrassed shade of red.

Well, at least their explosive reaction to each other hadn’t shocked just him. She had yet to meet his eyes.

“I’m ready to tell you now,” she said in a whisper, and it took Jericho a second to remember what they’d been discussing as something inside of him urged Jericho to put her at ease — an urge he immediately dismissed as absurd.

“I’m ready to listen,” Jericho said as he leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, affecting a pose he hoped said he was all business when he felt anything but.

Still without looking at him, Dahlia said, “Major Taylor hid something in the basement of the Needles facility.”

Jericho straightened. He’d been expecting — hell, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting her to share with him. Fluff. Something she’d made up to trick him.

Actual information that might help the Operation had been at the bottom of the list. He’d just gotten very interested.

“Okay,” he said hoarsely, “you’ve got my attention. What did Taylor hide?”

Dahlia looked at him briefly, but her eyes skittered away from his face to stare blandly at a point over his shoulder. “I’m not sure, exactly,” she began, “but, the way he talked about it, I think it was a weapon.”

Jericho’s gut dropped. Had Taylor planted a warhead in the middle of a civilian area? He wouldn’t put it past the bastard.

His line of thoughts must have been obvious because Dahlia was quick to reassure him. “No, a weapon that was only dangerous to Eli,” she clarified. She didn’t pause before continuing. “Taylor was working under the assumption that it was the only thing that could kill an immortal.”

Jericho felt his mouth drop.

“He was going to begin using it on Eli at the next experiment,” she finished, her eyes flicking to his face and then back over his shoulder again.

Jericho forced his mouth closed again.
A weapon that could kill us?

He immediately wanted to reject the idea; nothing could kill them. Eli’s torture was proof of that. But, Jericho had always had a suspicion that the Trees would never have existed without some sort of balance — something to keep the world order.

His breath left him in a whoosh. “Wow,” he said. “Okay, so we’re going to the facility.”

Dahlia nodded, but a look passed over her face that looked something close to nausea. In a heartbeat, Jericho knew Dahlia wanted to be nowhere near the location of her crimes.