Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(14)

He kissed her thoroughly, starting out gentle and sliding right past gentle to savage. Claiming her. He kissed her like he meant it – and he did. He caught fire, and she ignited right with him. He knew she wasn’t experienced because her response was tentative at first, but then the heat rushed through her, the same current of electricity, and instantly her mouth moved under his.


He poured himself into her, kissing her hard. Wet. Long. Her body melted into his and against his chest, he felt her nipples harden into tight, inviting peaks.


Are your panties wet yet? You’re so f*cking beautiful and you taste so good I want to spend all night eating you.


You have to stop. I can’t do this with you. But she didn’t pull away. One hand crept into his hair, her fingers twisting deep.


We’re in the shadows. We’re both GhostWalkers, baby, and we can hide when we want to. None of them get to share our moment.


One moment. That’s all we get. Then we’re done, Trap. You have to leave me alone. I mean it. You don’t and it’s going to be war.


She still kissed him back. Feeding his hunger. Feeding her own. Once they started they couldn’t get enough of each other. That had never, not once in his life, ever happened to Trap. He didn’t lose himself in a woman. He found release, but just kissing her – her mouth moving under his – was better than whatever any other woman had given him. Because Cayenne gave herself to him. Completely. Holding nothing back in that moment. She wanted him to have this with her. To remember it. She wanted to have him like this, hot and wild and belonging only to her. She stored every second in her mind to take out over and over because she didn’t believe for a moment she would ever have it again.


CHAPTER 3


Trap raised his head, breathing hard. Breathing for both of them. He waited until Cayenne’s long lashes fluttered and then lifted. Her eyes were a little dazed, and the sight sent blood pounding through his cock. He smoothed one hand gently over her cheek. Her skin was softer than anything he’d ever felt.


“Don’t ever tell me you don’t belong to me, Cayenne, because you do. You know you do.” He knew better than to claim a woman for his own, but there was no denying the pull between them. It wasn’t just strong. It was savage. Relentless. He didn’t even care that it wasn’t logical, when he was a man all about logic. He was cynical and believed in nothing but his team – and the fact that Cayenne was meant to be his.


Her gaze searched his. She swallowed. “Trap. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. There’s a reason I was in that cell where you found me. I would have killed you if I had to in order to get out of there. This stops here.”


He heard the brutal honesty in her voice. She was trying to save him from himself. From her. From whatever it was between them. “Sit down for a minute. Drink the beer. We’ll talk. Talk. That’s all.” He had to find a way to reach her. She had become the most important person in his world. He didn’t care why. He just knew that if he couldn’t have her, he’d never have anyone. Whatever that relentless pull was, it had a hold on him and would never let him go. He would never again be able to be with another woman without wishing she were Cayenne. Without thinking of her, or fantasizing about her.


She shook her head, but she couldn’t tear herself away from him. Cayenne put trembling fingers to her lips – lips that looked as if they’d been thoroughly kissed. Trap slid his hand from her neck, down her arm to capture her wrist. He kept the movement gentle, knowing she was like a wild animal, trapped in a corner and ready to run.


“Come on, baby. Just sit a minute. I want to fill you in on a few things going on you may not be aware of,” he coaxed. He had to spend more time with her, get her to see things his way. She couldn’t be robbing people to find the money for food and clothes. He could easily provide for her if she’d let him. She was afraid. He didn’t blame her for that, but she had to get over it. “Just sit down, Cayenne. I’m asking for a minute.”


“It’s a bad idea.”


Her voice was beautiful. Soft. Melodious. Even though it was low and soft, her tone felt like velvet brushing over his skin. He knew her voice carried power. That exact pitch could slip inside a man and influence him to do all sorts of things. He was one of the few that could fight the pull of her compulsions, but it was difficult. Like others, he was susceptible. He just had to keep the logical part of his brain uppermost and he’d manage to escape her influence.


“Maybe,” he agreed. “Maybe it is a bad idea. But let’s do it anyway.”


Cayenne pressed her lips together, but she allowed him to hold out a chair for her, hesitating only a moment before she slipped into it, mostly, he was sure, because he made certain her back was to the wall. He toed his chair closer to hers on the pretense of not wanting to be overheard. He knew he could keep their conversation private, but he wanted his thigh pressed tight against hers.


He needed to touch her. That need was on a primal level and impossible to ignore whether it bothered him or not – and it bothered him. He never allowed himself to need anything or anyone. Up close, her fragrance teased his senses, inflamed them until every nerve ending in his body came alive.


She picked up her beer and took a small sip. Not enjoying it. She didn’t like the taste. Her expression didn’t change, but he knew. He saw her. Or maybe he was locked somewhere inside her mind, because when they spoke telepathically, a part of him had remained in her. More than likely, when he’d rescued her from her locked cell, he’d been nearly as vulnerable as she was. Going through walls, changing molecular structure left him weak and shaky. He’d already done it several times, rescuing Wyatt’s little girls before he’d gotten to Cayenne.