Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(30)

“But—”

The line went dead. That prick. No one spoke to Mark Olund like that.

He turned back to the computer screen, and dove deep into the data banks again, until he had gleaned Gareth Wickham’s home address. He was going to get a surprise visit sometime tonight, from a fast-assembled team of serious thugs.

Nighty-night, motherf*cker.





Chapter 9


Noah wanted to take her arm as they walked, but didn’t dare touch her. As wound up as he was, he’d end up bending her over the hood of someone’s car.

The contact lenses and shield specs should have blocked enough of the light to zero out his AVP under normal conditions, but proximity to this woman did not constitute normal conditions. His AVP was revved. Data scrolled in a constant stream down both sides of his inner field of vision. He processed it all, crunching numbers, taking measurements, running probabilities. None particularly relevant to the situation.

Some random part of his mind decided to identify all the cars on this garage level and cross reference them. With one swift glance, he identified thirty-eight of his three-hundred-plus employees who had no life and were still at work at nine PM.

Lust was threatening to fry his circuits, but at least it wasn’t killing rage.

He just might be able to navigate this erotic encounter without running them into a wall.

Her sig was so damn beautiful. He forced himself to look down so he wouldn’t gape at the lights painting the walls. Dreamy pastels were splashed over the rough concrete walls of the garage, transforming them into something magical. If he didn’t screw this up for himself, he was going to be inside that with his own body, bathed in colors as he touched and kissed and f*cked her.

And when she came . . .

“Would you stop that, please?”

He glanced up. “Stop what?”

“Thinking about me. Just go with it, OK? Don’t think too hard or we’ll derail.”

He laughed. “I’m not supposed to think about you now? Conditions keep getting stricter. You’re heavy into control.”

“Most men would be happy for a no-strings hook-up,” she said. “Why do you want to grill me first?”

Noah shrugged. “Knowledge is power. I like power. The more data you have, the more on top of things you can be.”

“Is that your favorite position? On top?”

He glanced at her, curious. “One of them, yeah. You still OK with this?”

“Of course.”

The tension in her voice made him slow to a stop to take another look at her sig. Her own unique patterns were not in his lexicon yet, but after less than an hour with her, he already had enough for a quick assessment.

She was turned on, but intimidated. Worried about what she’d gotten herself into, but not worried enough to chicken out.

Having a little sister had forced him to understand the risks a woman took when she chose to go off into the night with a man she barely knew. She was already defenseless and threatened.

He’d make the risk she was taking pay off ten times over.

Maybe he’d come on too strong. But it seemed so right at the time. He’d made sure she was into it every step of the way, and he’d never gotten such an incredible payoff. The lights had blasted the room like a spinning mirror ball when she came.

He pushed that overstimulating thought away before it could mess him up. He was going to need his self-control. Rigorous, constant, always-on-top control.

He’d never let the AVP out of its cage during sex before. Tonight, he wasn’t going to have a choice. But for the first time, his AVP might actually be useful for something he totally cared about. Her pleasure. Making her come.

Not that he ever had much trouble with that. But with her, it was different.

He needed it as urgently as he needed his own.

He helped her into his Porsche, got in himself and sat for a moment, keys in hand. She sank into her seat, looking nervous.

“What are you waiting for?” she demanded.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “But you don’t look OK. What’s wrong?”

“Start the car.”

He did, letting the engine rev for a moment so she had time to change her mind.

She shot him a nervous glance. “I just hope you’re not disappointed, that I’m not, you know, a crazy femme fatale. The sexy costume is just a costume.”

Disappointed, his ass. He almost laughed, but she would not appreciate being made fun of in her current mood. “Not at all. I’m flex. And anything but disappointed.”

“Good. Go for it, then. Sweep me away. Be masterful. I know you can. You don’t have to convince me of anything.”

The car sped up. He had to make a conscious effort to ease off the gas.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said. “But don’t try to snow me. You don’t have any intention of letting go. Not for one instant.”

She was silent for a long moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“You say, be masterful and sweep me away, but don’t ask my name, and no questions or conversation are allowed, and afterwards, never call me again. That’s not letting go.” He glanced over at her. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“Don’t overthink this.” Her voice vibrated with tension. “If the conditions bother you, you can let me out. This corner is just fine.”