Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(131)

For the rest of the flight neither spoke. He didn’t release her hand, not once. Even when she felt him relax a little and tried to tug her hand free, he just tightened his grip again and sent her a cold look. The blue flame was still flaring beneath the glacier. She figured that didn’t bode well for when they were alone.


Their vehicle was parked at the airport along with various SUVs the other team members had. Trap kept her locked to him so she didn’t get a chance to really say much in the way of thanks or good-bye to the others. Trap actually walked her to the passenger side, unlocked the door, nearly threw her up onto the seat and leaned in to lock her seat belt around her. She stared out the window, hating that when he grazed her breasts with his jaw, her nipples tightened.


She hated that reaction. Hated that all the way home, the tension between them built – and that it was building into something violent and sexual. She tried to breathe, to force her mind to think why Trap acted the way he did, but the tension in the Rover was too intense to think straight.


“Take your shirt off.”


His voice was hard. Commanding. It took her breath away.


“What?”


“You f*cking heard me, baby. You didn’t want clothes on, take them off.”


CHAPTER 21


Cayenne drew in her breath. It was no longer dark out, but they were on the narrow track leading to their home. No one ever drove that road but them and the occasional team member visiting them. If she took off the tee – and the material was already dragging across sensitive nipples – she could be seen if they happened upon anyone. It wasn’t that she was particularly modest, but she knew Trap was already at a breaking point. She didn’t want to experience any more of his silly jealousy.


She knew Trap’s foul mood, his dark jealousy and his holding so tight to her had nothing to do with any of the things he thought they did. He was experiencing something else disturbing, something big. Now that she was away from the close proximity of others and she could breathe again, she realized the feeling she got from him was different than the accusations he made. She needed a little time to work out what it was.


“Cayenne, you aren’t going to like what happens if I have to tell you twice. Get your f*cking shirt off.”


She had no idea why she found it hot when he used that particular voice. She moistened her lips, unsnapped her seat belt and pulled the shirt over her head. Her breasts were full and they jolted and swayed with every pothole in the dirt track the tires hit. She felt very exposed. The seat was high and the windows, although tinted, made her feel on display. She brought her hands up to cover herself.


“Don’t. I want to see you. Take off your jeans.”


“Trap.”


“Take them off, baby.”


This time his voice gentled, and that was somehow more commanding to her than his edgy voice. She swallowed a protest and dropped her hands to the waistband of her jeans. She knew he was still angry. Still thinking he was riding on the fury of being jealous. She knew better. At the same time, she wanted this from him. This claiming. She wanted to give him whatever it was he needed to feel that she was his. For her, his need always became hers.


“And get rid of the panties. You aren’t going to need those either.”


She shimmied out of the jeans, pushing them down her hips and then her legs until she could kick them off. She sat stark naked on the seat, aware that Trap had slowed the vehicle. She wanted him to speed up, not slow down.


“Turn on the seat toward me, your back to the door.”


She heard the snick of the lock as he ensured the door couldn’t accidentally open. She did what he asked, her breath catching in her lungs.


“Bring both legs up onto the seat, bent, feet close to your bottom, but apart. Spread your legs. Wide. Open yourself to me.”


Already her breathing had gone ragged. She could barely pull air into her lungs. He was making her outrageously hot without even touching her. She could feel her body dampening. Growing hot.


He took his gaze from the road and then dropped one hand to his slacks. He opened them easily and drew out the thick length of his heavy erection. One hand circled his shaft with a fist, and began a slide up and down.


“Touch yourself. Your breasts. Just like I taught you. Your nipples, baby. Don’t be so gentle. Think about how good it feels when my mouth is on you. When my teeth are on you. You like that little bite of pain. It makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?”


She did what he said, using her thumbs, then her fingers and thumbs. Her breath quickened more. Tiny droplets teased the curls on her mound.


“Answer me, Cayenne. You like when I use my teeth, don’t you?”


“Yes.” She pinched and tugged harder so that her breath exploded out of her lungs.


“Your nipples were so hard rubbing against the silk of your dress, weren’t they?”


“Yes.” She couldn’t breathe. She continued to torture her own nipples, feeling the heat of his gaze as he switched between watching the road and watching her.


The vehicle was in a slow crawl now. The swamp enclosed them in its perfumed beauty even as the sun dazzled them through the windshield. The tires continued to find every pothole and uneven track so that her breasts bounced, pulling against her fingers as she tugged at her nipples.