Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(119)

“Honey, I’m not going to leave your side.” Her hand came up, fingers brushing at the lines etched deep in his face.


Her touch always undid him. That look on her face. She didn’t hide her emotions, not like he did. That look was pure love and it always rocked him. Sent shock waves through his system and turned him to jelly. He bent his head and took her mouth. Hard. Possessive. Angry. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t want her anywhere near Violet Smythe and her schemes.


Flame had done Cayenne’s makeup. Not much, just enough to highlight her beauty. He took the lipstick right off. All that gloss that emphasized the beauty of her ruby red bow of a mouth. He loved her mouth, and that gloss sent heat coursing through his body and centering in his cock. She tasted exotic, just the way she looked, and he didn’t give a damn if Wyatt was witnessing his raw vulnerability. Not. One. Fucking. Bit.


Cayenne didn’t protest that he was ruining her makeup – she kissed him back. Giving herself to him. Reassuring him. He lifted his head, one hand framing her face, his gaze drifting over her. Brooding. Pushing down the feeling of dread. They were walking into a trap. He knew that with certainty. He just didn’t know whose trap it was or what they wanted.


His thumb slid over the perfection of her skin. Silky soft. “The uncles could be close. The series of articles Doug Levi did on us will bring them out. The taming of the beast was a good slant. I want you to keep your eyes open.”


“I will, Trap.” She gave him that too.


For some reason that just pissed him off more. “Don’t f*cking appease or patronize me, Cayenne,” he snapped. “I know something’s going down tonight. I know that one hundred percent. You can’t f*ck up tonight.”


Wyatt stirred. You’re being a dick and damn fool.


I don’t give a flying f*ck. She needs to get this.


Wyatt heaved an exaggerated sigh, but kept his mouth shut.


Something moved in Cayenne’s eyes. Not anger. Something nameless. She sat still, her emerald eyes sparkling like the gems adorning her body. She wore a one-of-a-kind, designed specifically for her, Oscar de la Renta ball gown of shimmering silver. She wouldn’t like how much that cost either, but she looked stunning in it. The gown clung to her curves, showing off her hourglass figure.


He’d gotten his way with her hair. The women had insisted she wear it up, that Cayenne would look more sophisticated. He wanted it down. He loved the silken waterfall and how, when she moved, the unexpected red hourglass appeared and disappeared. She wore it down for him, just like he knew she would. Because he asked her. It was always that simple. He asked, she gave it to him.


He tried to push down the ice-cold anger. The rage in him. Ice-cold was far worse than burning hot. She couldn’t look at him with those eyes, her tempting mouth and love on her face, so damn calm when he knew she was walking into danger.


“Trap, I’m not afraid.”


“You should be.”


“I’m not. You’ll be with me. The entire team will be with us. We can do this. No matter what they throw at us, we’ve got this. I love you. I’m not going to lose you to them. You aren’t going to lose me. As for your uncles, I hope they’re so stupid that they make their try for me.”


His thumb slid over her silken skin again, traced her high cheekbone and then swept the line of her jaw. “I love you with every f*cking cell in my body, Cayenne. You’re all I’ve got.”


He made the confession because she had to know. The money. The fame. None of it mattered. She mattered. He didn’t even know how it happened. He just knew he wouldn’t survive if she were taken from him. He’d lost too much. He couldn’t go through that and survive intact. He didn’t care if he was revealing everything to Wyatt or not. She had to know. She had to understand what would happen if he lost her. Maybe Wyatt needed to know as well.


Her hands framed his face. She leaned into him, her emerald eyes boring into his. Piercing him right to his soul. “Listen to me, honey. Hear what I’m saying. You look at me and you see a woman you love, someone vulnerable. Someone you want to protect and care for. You do that well. You love me better than any other man could. I know that. But you have to see who and what I am. Look at me and really see me. If you do that, you won’t be afraid for me. Afraid for us.”


His gaze roamed her face, his heart pounding hard in his chest. She was so beautiful. So small and delicate. Her gaze remained steady on his. The love was there. That soft silken skin. The cloud of hair he loved to sink his fingers into. Her body, the one that belonged to him. The one she gave him. The one that brought him unimaginable pleasure.


His heart constricted. It hurt to look at her. To see her beauty. To see that look of love on her face and know it was all for him. He did know her. All of her. That voice that could lure men, make them forget, make them do her bidding. He was mostly immune, but it was because his brain was always occupied with other things and could dull the impact. The silk she spun. So lovely. An art form really. Silk she could bind around a person in seconds. Her skin, that stunning expanse of skin that was really armor so strong it could stop a bullet.


There was her mouth. Alluring. Tempting. More than beautiful. Deadly. She could smile and kill in seconds. She didn’t hesitate under fire. She had good instincts, and she moved like lightning. For him, that lethal, deadly side of her was part of her siren’s call. Part of what he loved so much. One moment all silk and vulnerable. He loved when she lay under him, helpless, pleading, begging him for release, knowing at any moment she could lose complete control and sink her teeth into him. He lived for those moments when it happened. He had the bite marks to prove it.