The Unwanted (A Novella of the FBI Psychics) (15 page)

She started to strip the shirt away, but he stopped her, spinning around to catch her wrists when she would have reached for him. “Stop it,” he growled. “The job is done, so we’re done. I’m leaving, okay?”

“Just like that?” She stared at him. “A few hours ago, you were telling me that there was only one person you’d give up
everything
for…I thought it was me. Is it?”

He jerked her against him, one hand molding to the back of her skull. Then, as his mouth came down on hers, he stole her breath away. There was nothing gentle to it. His teeth nipped her lower lip, demanding entrance, and even when she opened for him, he wasn’t done making demands. His tongue drove into her mouth, darting and teasing and tasting, while his free hand streaked down to cup her hip in his hand and pull her lower body against him.

Hard, rough and breathless…that was what this was. And then it was over.

When he lifted his head, dark brown eyes glittered at her. “Do you
think
there’s anybody else for me?” he all but snarled.

Always so controlled, Caleb. But not now. His control had shattered and fallen to shreds around him, it looked like.

Harsh hunger stamped his face but his hand was gentle as he stroked it up her back, along her shoulders to rest it on her neck, his fingers splayed wide. “You’re inside my skin, in my dreams, in my soul…just where you’ve been for the past eight years. Even when I walked away, you were there. I had to cut you
out
of me to keep this connection from killing us. I…” Then he stopped, shaking his head.

As he untangled their bodies, Destin stared at him. Her head was pounding, her heart racing from his words. And she ached. Physically, emotionally, mentally. He made her ache, hunger, want.

“You need to let me finish packing,” he said quietly. He brushed his thumb over her lip and then moved away. “If you want a chance in hell of walking out of this now, just…”

He shook his head and turned away.

A chance in hell…

No. She didn’t want that at all.

As he turned his back on her once more, she closed her eyes and thought about the time five years ago when she’d watched him walking away from her. If she’d reached out…

No. No looking back
,
she told herself. It was too late for that and the past five years, if nothing else, had made them both stronger. They’d need to be if they were going to handle what happened between them.

But she’d be damned if she let him walk away this time.

On silent feet, she moved up behind him again as he reached inside the bureau. He caught sight of her in the mirror and she watched as a muscle bunched in his jaw, saw the way his eyes flashed hot and wild before that familiar, cool shutter fell back into place.

Then as she laid her hands on his back and smoothed them down, his lids drooped down low. “You didn’t hear me.”

“Oh, I heard you.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his back, felt the tremor race through him. She did that. She could make this man, this cool, controlled, contained man tremble for her. Smoothing her hands down his back, she slid them under the hem of his shirt again, resting them on his sides. “But you said if I wanted a chance in hell…”

Rising up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his ear and said, “The only chance I want is with you. I don’t care if it’s in hell. If it’s in heaven. I just want what I thought we lost five years ago.”

As her lips brushed against his ear, thought sputtered and died.

Or maybe he’d just lost his mind. That was a more likely option. It would explain why he thought Destin had just said she wanted a chance with him. But she’d pushed him out earlier, hadn’t she?

Her hands, though, were stripping his shirt away and…
fuck
.

As his shirt fell to the floor, she leaned in and pressed her lips to the ruin of his chest and he swore, his voice a low, ragged snarl as he caught her head in his hands. “Destin, what in the hell is this?”

“Our chance,” she said quietly, looking up at him. “It’s the one we need to take…
now
.”

“But you cut me out earlier,” he said, shaking his head.

“I didn’t cut you out.” Her face softened. “That wasn’t the time…or the place. This…thing…we have between us, as deep as it runs, we still need to have time inside our own heads, inside our skin, don’t we? But Caleb, I didn’t cut you out. I was just waiting until we had
our
time.”

He searched her face, hoping he understood, hoping he hadn’t lost his mind. But not quite ready to believe that.

As she reached for him again, he swore and spun around. Catching her hands, he pinned them over her head, glaring down at her. “Stop it,” he snapped. “Just…” He closed his eyes and dropped his head to her shoulder. “Just let me think.”

“Do you always try to think when women are seducing you?”

Turning his head to her neck, he skimmed his lips up the soft curve. “Beats the hell out of me…I’m out of practice. Other than last night, it’s been five years. I can’t remember what in the hell I’m supposed to do.”

She stiffened. “Five…”

He heard her breathing catch and he lifted his head to stare down at her, watched as her lashes fluttered over her eyes while her face flushed a pale shade of pink. “Did you say five years?”

Leaning in, he let the soft curves of her body cushion his. “Five years…I haven’t been with anybody since I left you.” He leaned in and nuzzled her mouth, but when she tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away. They needed to talk. To think. He couldn’t do that if he was kissing her. “There were a few times when I almost did, or when I thought about trying. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. And I figured, why in the hell bother? All I was doing was setting myself up for disappointment.”

Pressing his lips to hers, he said, “You’re it for me, Destin…so unless we’re going to make this work, it’s best if I just leave now.”

“No.” She bit his lower lip. “We make this work, damn it. We make it work.”

“You’re sure…”

Instead of answering, she kissed him, arching against him so that he felt every subtle curve, every long line. Her tongue sought out his, teasing him, taunting him…the kiss was a challenge, an answer, a promise.

“We make it work,” he muttered against her lips.

Letting go of her hands, he reached for the front of her shirt, but his fingers seemed to twist and tangle on him, refusing to cooperate. With a ragged groan, he hooked his hands in the front of her shirt and jerked. Distantly, he was aware of the buttons popping and flying off, but he didn’t care. Her bra opened in the front—that was a lovely invention, he decided—and he freed the clasp, dipping his head to catch one tight, swollen nipple in his mouth as he shifted his hands down to deal with her trousers.

Destin laughed, the sound breathless and a little ragged. “In a hurry?”

“Fuck, yes.” He stripped her trousers and panties off in one swift, abrupt motion.

They should find a bed.

They should talk. They should talk, right? But he could barely manage to breathe. Talking wasn’t going to happen. Hell, at the rate he was going, he didn’t think a bed would happen, either. He caught the curve of her lower lip between his teeth. “Should we find the bed?”

“We know where it is,” she said with a sly grin. “We’re good right here.”

Destin’s hands, quick and nimble, reached for his zipper, and when she worked it down over the swell of his cock, Caleb was ready to whimper like a baby. Then she eased his trousers down, his underwear, closing her fingers around him, cool and strong, stroking him once all the way from root to tip.

The sound that came out of him was a cross between a whimper and a groan and he was damn certain he’d fallen into heaven. Head falling back, he closed his eyes and braced his legs wider as she started to stroke. When she would have slowed down, he closed his hand around hers and tightened her grip, rocking into her hand and shuddering at the beautiful, lovely feel of it. “Fuck, that’s good,” he rasped.

She stroked her thumb over the head of his cock and he hissed, stopping in mid-stroke as he felt the teasing start of his climax hovering just
right
there. “Stop it,” he said gruffly as she tried to start back up.

He moved in, shoving his jeans down lower. “We go together.” He tangled his hand in the longer strands of her hair and tugged her head back, kissing her quick, hard and rough. Then he boosted her into his arms. “I don’t ever want to be without you again, Destin. Not even for a minute.”

“Sounds pretty damn good to me.”

Her lids drifted down as he pressed the head of his cock against her gate and he leaned in, nipped her chin. “Look at me,” he demanded. “You look at me.”

A slow smile curved her lips as she lifted her lids and stared at him.

And like that, he joined their bodies, with him staring into her eyes and her smiling up at him. The sleek, wet glove of her pussy closed around him and he groaned in hot, heady satisfaction as she gripped him like a fist, milking him, slowly, surely…drawing him in oh so slowly.

Once he’d buried himself inside her, he slanted his lips over hers and took her mouth. As he started to withdraw, he stabbed his tongue into her mouth, alternating the rhythm. She caught his tongue and sucked on him, clenched down around his cock with her pussy and milked him. Clinging to him with everything she had and he rode her, gave himself up to her…lost himself.

The solid, heavy weight of his shields stood between them though and he hated it. Lifting his head, he let them fall and then he held her gaze as he reached out and pressed against hers. “Let me in,” he whispered. “All the way this time.”

Her lids flickered and for a second, he didn’t know if she would. Never before had either of them given up that much of themselves.

But just when he thought he’d pushed for too much, he felt it. That slow, subtle release of the last barrier between them, collapsing away into nothingness.

And then they were truly lost.

Destin watched him, wide-eyed, as he pulled out and surged back inside. A strangled cry rose in the air. Her? Him? He didn’t know. Didn’t care. As her arms twined around his neck, one of them curving over the back of his neck, he stroked a hand down her back, cupped the curve of her ass in his hand and hiked her higher, tilting the angle of her hips so that each stroke had him riding against the hot, swollen bud of her clit.

When she tightened around him and shuddered, he had to hold his climax back by the skin of his teeth. Dipping his head, he bit the curve of her neck, felt her arch, heard her whimper…and through the bond between them, there was the distant echo of her pleasure.

Harder…faster…

The ragged sound of broken breaths rose around them. Sweat-slicked flesh slid against flesh. Her hands sought for purchase on his arms, her nails biting into his skin and each little pain was a new, sweet agony.

As darting little tingles danced down his spine, he buried his face against her neck. One final, breathless scream escaped her and he felt her go rigid.

Then, as she started to climax, he stopped fighting it.

As he hurtled over the edge with her, the last thing he heard, over the racing of his heart, were the soft, broken little words, “I love you…”

“I love you too.”

Nearly ten minutes had passed and they’d found their way to the bed. She was naked. Caleb was still wearing his jeans. Their breathing had calmed, but her heart was still racing along and hearing him say
that
wasn’t exactly going to bring about calming thoughts, either.

Destin popped one eye open and stared up at Caleb. He pushed up onto his elbow, peering down at her.

Her head, her heart, her soul, all of her felt too full of him.

Something niggled and tugged at her but she suspected if she looked at it too hard just then, she’d be pissed. Instead, she sighed. “You’ve been holding back secrets, babe.”

The tip of his finger stroked down her nose. “You weren’t ready to hear them.”

Part of her wanted to argue with him. He’d been feeling everything she felt, suffering everything she suffered…and she hadn’t known. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t
ready
. She should have been. This was the man she loved and she should be able to cope with whatever he had to cope with.

A sharp tug on her hair had her opening her eyes to glare at him. “Hey!”

He cocked a brow at her. “You were already coping with it…you
lived
with it, remember?” Then he sighed and sat up, skimming a hand back over his hair. “I caught the residual while you were making a connection and I dealt with it. I didn’t want to make it worse for you than it already was.”

“So what changed?” she asked quietly.

“
We
did.” He glanced back at her and she saw the truth of that in his face. He was still so painfully gorgeous it hurt to look at him, but there was something different about his face. Not just that he was older, or harder.

It was more. He looked more level. Not so closed off, despite what she’d thought when she’d first seen him in the office just days earlier.

As for her?

Yeah. She’d definitely changed. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she asked softly, “And how do we handle the jobs and stuff? You work for the FBI. I work for Oz.”