Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(57)

He didn’t reply, simply waiting. Jaimie could go off on a tangent of moral community responsibility. She’d spent a lot of time in the homeless kitchens and shelters volunteering even as a young teen. She and her mother had spent a great deal of time in both places before Stacy had gotten her teaching credentials and a decent job.

Jaimie sighed and went back to scanning the area. “Marc isn’t far from Lucas. One, no, two doors down. He’s just inside, standing at the window. He’s watching Lucas more than the street and he’s worried. Very worried. Something’s really caught their attention.”

Mack felt her push her energy along the street, sweeping the buildings up and down the street on either side. Her breath caught in her throat. “There. On the pier by a fishing boat. Three fishermen next to them, but those two aren’t in the least interested in fishing. They’re very interested in the warehouse on the end of the block.”

Gideon, you on this? Aloud he said to Jaimie, “Find Gideon.”

“You know I can’t find him.”

“I think you can.” His voice grew hoarse with need.

He shifted, trying to ease the pain in his groin. It only grew worse, heat radiating down his thighs and up into his belly. He had to try to ease the building tension, his hand dropping to the front of his jeans, stroking absently.

Jaimie’s energy stroked him as well, with heat and fire, causing sparks to arc off his skin. The energy was soft and feminine like her skin, cupping his cock and balls, massaging him. He swore for a moment he could even feel her tongue licking at him. His cock jerked. Pulsed. Spilled droplets. His mouth filled with the taste of her. He wanted to strip off her jeans and bury his face in the fire of her sheath, devour her until she was writhing and screaming beneath him. He couldn’t stop the erotic images flooding his brain. His breath came in ragged, harsh gasps.

Jaimie’s lashes drifted down. There was a slumberous, sensual look on her face, her full lower lip in a sexy pout. Her breasts rose and fell beneath her thin tank. Her nipples were taut, two tight pebbles beckoning him, and her skin was flushed. Mack found his hand sliding from the front of his jeans to her thigh, where he traced soothing circles. It took several minutes of searching and he could feel her energy expanding, and with it the rushing in his veins continued.

“I think I’m picking Gideon up on the roof across the street, on the building where Ethan and the others are. It’s so faint, but his energy is different. Unfamiliar. A completely different pattern, almost camouflaged the way his skin is. He could be lying down, watching the street, very focused. He blends in with other energies around him. He’s getting uncomfortable, Mack. I think he feels mine.”

“Pull back,” Mack ordered. He didn’t want her energy, as sexual as it was, as hot and potent, blending with anyone but him.

“Do you want me to try to find Joe?”

He did, but he didn’t want Joe feeling her, not like this, not in a heightened state of hunger. Jaimie had opened her thighs so that his slow circles had climbed higher. He could feel heat coming off her in waves. Hunger was sharp and relentless, an endless, brutal erection that seemed to be bursting his skin. His fingers fumbled with the zipper of his jeans, desperate for relief from the swelling, throbbing pain in his cock.

“Yes”—he could barely get the word out—“but pull back the moment you think he senses you.” He massaged his thick, bursting erection, his mouth watering for the taste of her, his palms itching for the feel of her soft skin. He had to touch her soon, had to fasten his mouth to the hot, sweet core of her and draw her honey into his mouth, feel her explode as he kissed her as intimately as possible.

Jaimie was faster finding Joe and he told himself it was because she knew where he was staying now, in that room directly across from her building, three stories up. He couldn’t really think anymore, not with the roar in his head and the taste of honey in his mouth. He remembered her unique taste. The cream he loved to feed on in the morning, her breathless cries, the way she gave herself to him unashamedly, without reservation.

“He’s eating at the table and going over something”—she frowned—“a report, I think. Something in it bothers him. He’s restless. He just got up and paced to the window, but he’s standing to the side of it so no one can see him. His energy is as low as Gideon’s and has that same strange blending quality.”

Was there a caressing note in her voice? One of affection? Or was it just his sensitive state? He only knew he felt a vicious punch in his gut and something dangerous moved inside of him, something he didn’t much like. He took a steadying breath and let it out. She was doing what he asked, and he’d been the one to let her go. If she found someone else . . . He drew in another breath and looked at his hands. He was shaking. This wasn’t normal, not any of it, but his body said differently.

The energy enfolded him, lapped at his skin like a thousand sensual tongues, teasing and dancing so that he could barely think with need. The intensity shook him.

“His energy nearly matches Gideon’s, Mack. The threads are woven differently than anyone else’s, almost like the waves react differently. I don’t know how I’m picking either of them up, and in a combat situation, without knowing what I was looking for, it would be nearly impossible. I had an idea where to look.”

He couldn’t answer her, his voice was too gruff, his body consumed, burning, so desperate for her he could no longer sort out actual words, but he knew the moment Joe felt her. Something masculine and challenging brushed against her energy. He caught the nape of her neck and jerked her into him. “Break away.” His mouth came down on hers. Hungry. Demanding. Giving her no choice.