Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)(45)
The moment his mouth claimed hers, the trembling started. His teeth teased at her full lower lip, insisting she open to him. Hesitantly she obeyed, liquid fire rushing through her veins, arousing something fierce and primitive in her that matched the savage in him.
His tongue claimed her mouth the way his body meant to claim hers, hard, thrusting, sweeping her up with him, a wild mating tango that went on forever. Her heart, soul, and body belonged to him in that moment, melting, merging, straining to be part of him.
Lack of adequate air tore them apart. Rather than let her go, Jess’s hands framed her head, his lips wandering over every inch of her face and throat. Saber moaned softly, clinging to the hard muscles of his shoulders.
“Do you want to stay home, baby?” He whispered the enticement, a sorcerer bent on tempting her.
Her breath left her in a rush and she stared at him, shocked and pleased and closer to agreeing than she wanted to admit. “We don’t dare, Jess.”
She didn’t dare. He, however, was altogether a different story. With Saber, he’d dare just about anything—give up anything—even his career if necessary. Very gently Jess put distance between them. It took a minute to control his breathing, to get his raging body under some semblance of control.
“Glory, Jesse, you have got to stop doing this.” Saber fanned herself with her hand, blue eyes so dark they were violet.
“Personally, angel face, I’m becoming quite partial to ‘doing this.’” He set the van in motion, a small, crooked smile softening the hard curve of his mouth.
An answering smile hovered on her lips. “Well, don’t think it’s going to be a habit. We’re liable to set the neighborhood on fire, we’re that combustible.”
His eyebrow shot up. “I don’t think you’re being the least bit open-minded about this, Saber.”
“It’s a matter of survival,” she informed him. Her long lashes concealed the expression in her eyes.
He flashed his predator’s smile. “Exactly. Now you’re getting the idea. It is a matter of survival.” There was no laughter in his voice.
She frowned, bit back a response, deeming it more prudent to remain silent. She was definitely not getting the better of him. In fact, she had a sinking suspicion she was losing ground fast. She wanted him so bad. More than she’d ever wanted anything in her life, yet he would always be out of reach. Even if a miracle happened and he really fell in love with her, she’d never be able to stay.
“Amazing,” he teased. “Saber Wynter without a word to say.”
She stared out the window, refusing to be provoked.
Jess’s laughter faded at her discomfort, and he reached a hand across the intervening space to brush her cheek with caressing fingertips. Saber jumped and turned her violet-blue gaze on him. Haunted eyes. It was Jess who swallowed hard and looked away.
The club was relatively small, suggesting intimacy. Most of the patrons knew each other and greeted Jess and Saber immediately. Saber stood at Jess’s side, her hand in his as they moved through the crowd to their table. Jess ordered her usual 7UP and orange juice without a murmur, one of the many things she appreciated about him. Saber never touched alcoholic beverages and normally her dates acted almost offended by it, or treated her as if she were a child who needed coaxing. Jess simply took her preference in stride.
The band was good, playing a mixture of rock and roll and slow romantic tunes.
“Jess. How good to see you.” The voice came from behind them, startling her. Saber hadn’t been aware of anyone approaching, and that was disconcerting. Normally, she was aware of everything. Her heart jumped and then began a quick hammer in her chest. She turned to see a couple right behind her, so close she could have touched them. Too close to have slipped her notice. She hadn’t scented them, felt their energy or rhythm, and her radar hadn’t gone off. Her heart sank. Jess had to be shielding them.
“Ken. Mari.” Jess held out his hand to the man.
Ken was covered completely in scars. It looked as though someone had sliced him into little pieces. He seemed as tough as steel, and his eyes were ice cold and watchful. Mari looked small beside him, but the way she moved was a dead giveaway.
These were GhostWalkers, not just friends of Jess. He had called in his team. She should have known he’d realize someone was watching them. She should have anticipated that he’d call on his friends. She was slipping, and now she was virtually surrounded by the enemy.
Jess caught her hand and tugged until she was beside him, so close she could feel his warmth. “Saber, these are good friends of mine. Ken and Mari Norton. They’re newlyweds, so expect them to suddenly gaze into each other’s eyes and forget we’re here. Ken, Mari, this is my Saber.”
Deliberately Saber forced a smile, studying the other woman, trying to place her, trying to figure out if they’d ever been in the same compound. Whitney had several training facilities and he liked to keep the girls in groups, but he separated the groups and introduced different training techniques in an effort to find what worked best. She’d never seen Mari before, but there was no doubt she was a soldier, a GhostWalker.
Saber stuck her hand out, her breath catching in her lungs—waiting. Would they take her hand? Did they know? If Whitney had sent them to retrieve her, they’d hesitate or find some excuse not to touch her. They’d fear even her touch.