Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(133)

She bent her head and lapped at him. He spread his legs wider to give her better access. She loved taking care of him because she loved him and wanted him to know she did. She obeyed him because she trusted him. Implicitly. Totally. She’d do anything he said because she believed absolutely he’d take care of her – that he’d always be there for her. There wouldn’t be another woman. If he’d wanted one, he would have had one by now. It would always be her.


She gave one last lick and sat up, suddenly realizing what his temper was all about. It wasn’t jealousy, although he tried to make it about that. He’d done it before. More than once. This was about fear. Sheer unadulterated terror. Just like when she got shot. Trap reacted badly to fear. He didn’t trust fully that she wouldn’t leave him. He didn’t. Everyone in his life that mattered had left him. She was his world. His entire world. He’d given her that, and it was a precious gift.


Trap opened the door, reached in and pulled her out, setting her on her feet. She was naked and barefoot, but the stairs were right there. She looked around, wrapping her arms around herself as she inhaled to ensure they were entirely alone. The breeze was blowing in their direction and she didn’t catch a scent of anyone or anything. Still, walking naked in daylight while he was fully dressed was both frightening and exhilarating.


He caught her hand and tugged, taking her up the stairs. She’d placed alarm lines everywhere. They were thin, nearly invisible. Some were low to the ground, some higher. The entire building was surrounded with them, most attached to the high fence. Along the stairs, several weren’t intact anymore. She could see that, because she was looking for it. She was always looking for it.


She took another careful look around and then inhaled again. She drew the perfume of the swamp into her lungs. She didn’t feel eyes on her. She didn’t even feel uneasy. Whoever or whatever had come, had been there hours ago, probably during the night. They weren’t there now.


Trap put the code in for the alarm and placing one hand on her bottom, propelled her inside. He set the alarm again and motioned her forward to the second door. He put in the second code and added his palm print to get them in.


“Get ready for bed, and don’t you touch yourself. If you want a canopy tonight, get it done. I’ll be a few minutes. I want to take a look at the security footage.”


So he’d observed those broken strands as well. She loved that he was using her alarm system as well as his own.


“Cayenne. I’m going to spend hours with you. I’m claiming every f*cking inch of your body for my own. You understand me?”


She nodded. Her channel gave another spasm. She wondered if it was possible to have a spontaneous orgasm without him actually touching her. She showered and made certain that she was absolutely clean from her head to her toes. She thought, by taking her time, her body would lose some of the heat, but instead, the anticipation only made her need him all the more.


When Trap entered their bedroom, she was totally aware of him and nothing else. He took up the huge space with his wide shoulders and muscular body. He was fully dressed and she was naked, sitting on the bed, her fingers threaded together to keep from giving into the impulse to relieve herself just a little.


“Come here. I want you to undress me.”


Her heart stuttered. She went to him immediately. Her fingers were shaking as she slowly took the jacket from his shoulders and laid it carefully over a chair. She had trouble with the buttons of his shirt, but he didn’t help her. He was tall and she had to reach high to get them. She pressed her body against his, feeling his cock, semihard, nearly in her throat. She managed to pull his shirt loose from the waistband and get the buttons open. He held out his arms so she could take out the gold cuff links, at first one wrist and then the other, so she could slip the shirt off. Again she was careful with it, smoothing it over the jacket.


Crouching at his feet, she untied the laces of his shoes. He put one hand on her shoulder as she slipped them off. Her heart beat fast as she looked up at his face. The sensual lines were etched deep. His eyes were dark. Hooded. She almost couldn’t breathe with wanting him. She slipped his socks free and then stood to undo his belt and trousers. She let her knuckles slide over his hips and thighs as she took the slacks down the long columns of his legs. Again, she was careful with his clothes, neatly putting them on the chair and then standing in front of him.


“Pull back the covers of the bed and lay in the center. I want you to put your hands above your head.”


Her heart began to hammer so loud she was afraid he could hear. Her gaze searched his for a long time. He didn’t reissue his order. He just stood there waiting for her to obey him. She took a breath and did what he asked, stretching her arms above her head.


He knelt up on the mattress, leaning over her, sliding his palm from her armpit to her wrist. Slow. His mouth following. Kissing every inch of her arm. He looped a silk scarf around her wrist and then secured it to the post built into their bed. She kept her gaze glued to his face. The lines there. The heat. The hunger. Most of all, she saw – and felt – that deep-seated need in him to claim every inch of her.


It wasn’t about possession. She knew, no matter how long they were together, no matter how often she gave him this, he would always need it, because he would never get over having everything he loved ripped away. The fear would come for whatever reason, and now that she knew what it was, she could be there for him, and if it led to this, she was so on board.