Christine Feehan

by Deadly Game

  It should have bothered her, being so vulnerable as to sleep with a man watching her, but somehow, he made her feel safe. She wanted that for him. He was the silent sentry, standing guard over her, his nightmares close and vivid, while he made certain she was able to sleep like a baby. It hardly seemed fair. “I wish you could sleep too. We need to find something to help you with that.” There was an unconscious invitation in her voice.

  Ken sat beside her, feeling the warmth of her body, the rush of electricity sparking along his skin. He had every good intention, had given himself a million lectures, but being with her night and day, watching the shadows chasing across her face, knowing what her life had been—what it would be again if Whitney had his way—made him feel less of a monster than he was. And that was dangerous.

  “Ken.” There was an ache of longing in her voice. She reached up and touched his lips, tracing the outline with a light caress.

  He shook his head. “You’re tempting the devil, Mari.”

  “I don’t think of you as a devil.”

  Ken framed her face with his hands, his fingers exploring, tracing the fine bone structure of her face and sliding down her chin to her neck. “You’re so delicate. How can you have so much strength packed into such a delicate little body?”

  “No one’s ever called me that before.” She turned her face into his palm and rubbed like a cat. “You just have big hands.”

  Ken found the way her face moved over his hand far too sensual for his liking. Her tongue darted out to taste his skin, a soft, heart-stopping curl along his thumb, sending erotic images into his head before he could censor. He needed Mari to feel safe with him, but she was naturally sexy, responding to their potent chemistry with little inhibition due to the drugs in her system. Her soft breasts pushed against his chest, sending an electric current through his body. “Maybe you should go back to sleep.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just safer for you.”

  “You mean safer for you,” she said, mocking him. “You’re such a baby.” She nuzzled his hand again, her tongue and teeth this time sliding up his wrist. Her lips were featherlight against his scars, tiny kisses designed to drive him crazy.

  Ken cleared his throat, his heart racing. “I have no idea what kind of drugs Lily is giving you, but I’m sure it’s a potent combination.”

  “It’s the drugs? I want you because Lily gave me drugs?” Her mouth engulfed his thumb and sucked hard, tongue fluttering suggestively. All the while her chocolate eyes remained locked with his.

  His heart nearly stopped. His body reacted, blood pounding, filling his groin to bursting, centering awareness in one pulsing, throbbing ache. “Sweetheart, you just can’t do things like that. You’re playing with fire.”

  Teeth scraped and teased the pad of his thumb. His cock jerked in response, anticipating the pleasure of teeth scraping along his scars, tongue and mouth tight and hot and oh so moist.

  He slid his hand beneath her shirt, sliding over her bare stomach and up along her ribs to cover her breast. He took his time, giving her plenty of time to pull back, to stop him. She arced into him, pushing her nipple into his palm. It was already tight and erect, begging for attention.

  “Tell me what your home is like. I’ve never been in a home.”

  Ken laid his head on the pillow beside hers, fingers stroking gently. “Jack and I built a house in Montana. We have quite a few acres and the national forest surrounds our property on three sides, so we’re fairly isolated. We’re entirely self-sufficient. Jack made most of the furniture. We have a gold mine—never worked it, but there’s a vein there for certain.”

  “Is it beautiful?”

  He edged her shirt up, bunching the material little by little to reveal the smooth skin from her tummy and her tucked-in waist to her narrow rib cage, until he’d exposed the underside of her breasts. “I never thought a lot about it, but yes, the country is beautiful and the house is wide open with plenty of space for two families. The view from nearly every room is amazing.” His knuckles rubbed back and forth under her breast, savoring the soft, satiny skin. No one had her amazing skin.

  Mari relaxed more, her body soft and pliant from the mesmerizing movement of his hand. The heat of his body warmed hers. “Do you have a fireplace? I always thought pictures of fireplaces were romantic and homey at the same time.”

  “We have a fireplace in the great room, a common room shared by Jack and me. We both have our own wing of the house. He has two bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms and an office. We both have fireplaces in the bedroom. The house is large and very spread out, and we heat mainly with wood. It snows there, so it can get very cold at night.”

  Her skin fascinated him. It was softer than anything he’d ever felt before. He had to admit, when it came down to sex, he liked rough and fast and plenty of it, but there was something magical in lying beside her simply savoring the feel of her skin. He enjoyed his rising temperature, the pounding of blood through his swollen cock. He felt alive and he felt—happy. He almost didn’t recognize the emotion.

  “I grew up in the barracks. I have my own room now, but there’s nothing in it. Just the bunk and my locker. We aren’t really allowed personal items. There’s a television in the game room, but we’re watched all the time, and everything we do is recorded. Mostly we train and work on education and strengthening our psychic talents to make us better soldiers. Well, at least we did, until Whitney came up with his latest brilliant program.”

  “What do you do when you have time off?”

  “In the evenings? I like to read and listen to music. I love music.”

  “What about vacation time? Did you travel?”

  “We didn’t have vacation time. And the only traveling we’re allowed is when we’re on a mission.” Mari pressed against his hand. The sensations drifted through her like lazy smoke, until sexual awareness smoldered throughout her entire body. His fingers took the aches and pains and turned them into something altogether different. “Of course now, since he started his breeding program, all the women are virtually prisoners.”

  “You grew up with these women? You were all raised in the barracks by Whitney since you were infants?”

  “Yes. They’re my family. I consider them sisters. Cami’s tough, she’ll get out no problem, and the others will follow our lead, but I have one sister who suspects she is already pregnant. We have to get her out of there before he runs his weekly tests on us and actually gets the results. She’s terrified Whitney will find out.”

  “We’ll get her out.” Ken didn’t ask which one of the women was pregnant. Mari was already regretting telling him that much information; he could see it on her face and he didn’t blame her. He slid his body down, just a little bit, just enough that she could rest her chin on the top of his head and his face was opposite her beautiful breasts. Her breath hitched.

  Moonbeams from the skylight overhead spilled across her body, illuminating her skin, turning it to cream. He pushed her shirt up further, slowly exposing her breasts to the cool night air—and his hot gaze. His own breath left his lungs in a heated rush. This woman brought him something no one else had ever done. It wasn’t the combination of lust and need, or even his body springing back to hard, vivid life; it was simple happiness. He felt different when he was with her. Lighter. The memories of the scent and sight of blood, of dark sweat, the sound of his own screams, the rage that never left him, that consumed him until he thought his world was only one of complete darkness, devoid of anything good—she forced it all to retreat, just by her presence. Whitney—the son of a bitch—couldn’t have made that happen with his meddling—it was all too real.

  Mari brought up her hands, brushing her fingers through his thick wavy hair. Her body nearly vibrated with the need to feel his hands—and mouth—on her. Her body felt as if it was melting, so soft and pliant he could shape her into anything. Her breasts tingled when the cool air hit her nipples like the flick of a tongue, teasing them into twin, upright pe
aks.

  Her fingers fisted in his hair when he shifted again, and she felt the dark five o’clock shadow rasp across her nipples, sending little jagged streaks of lightning through her bloodstream. “Ken.”

  She said his name in a breathy little voice that threatened to shatter his rigid control. Ken thought he had his desire well in hand, but he hadn’t counted on the way her body responded to his. Her bare breasts were laid out in front of him like a feast, and he drank in the sight of her lush flesh, swollen and flushed with desire, rising and falling with every breath, luring him closer to the tight, pink buds that stood up to beckon him. She wanted him—no, needed him—and that was the biggest aphrodisiac of all.

  She didn’t seem to see the scars on his face or body. She touched him, skimmed her mouth down his scarred flesh, as if he was whole. She seemed as ravenous for him as he was for her.

  “You’re incredibly beautiful, Mari,” he whispered. “This isn’t Whitney’s pheromones talking. This is me, wanting you so bad I’m almost afraid to touch you.”

  “Almost” wasn’t true—he was afraid. If he knew what paradise felt like, could he go back to the barren world of the desert? He stroked his hand between her breasts, back down her body to her flat belly. Firm muscles played beneath soft skin. He rested his hand over her stomach possessively, fingers splayed wide to take in every inch of her that he could. Beneath his palm, the muscles of her stomach clenched.

  She didn’t know home or family. He’d had foster homes and Jack. Hell, they’d been kicked out of a dozen places, run away from more, and yet he was fairly certain he’d had it better than Mari. Briony had been taken from her when they were been small children, and she’d been raised in a brutal, disciplined world. His world had been brutal and disciplined, but he’d had Jack. He’d always had his brother.

  He moved the pads of his fingers over her skin, tracing her sexy little belly button. No piercings for Mari. No jewels or fancy clothes. She didn’t have evening gowns or expensive perfume. She had soldier-issue boots and routine camouflage clothing.

  With every stroke of his finger, he felt the ripple of response in her stomach, her muscles clenching beneath the small caresses. He could barely breathe with the intensity of his desire. The roar in his ears grew louder. He shuddered with the effort to keep his mind away from the thought of her naked under him. He might need it, and he sure as hell could make her need it as well, but hot sex wasn’t what was best for her, not right at that moment.

  There was a part of him that detested the way lust intruded, so sharp and terrible that he could taste her on his tongue. He was beginning to crave her like a drug he was addicted to. He wanted to comfort and soothe her, to talk about things that mattered to her, but his cock throbbed and burned for her, stretched to the bursting point, an urgent reminder that he was alive and was more than an infinitely normal man.

  Maybe it was the need to show her that beneath the mask he wasn’t all monster—that for her he could push aside his baser animalistic instincts and be a better man. She had nearly died. Technically, although he didn’t think of her as a prisoner, she was one, and that made her vulnerable. He wanted to think about that—had to think about it, in order to keep from climbing on top of her and fucking the brains out of both of them. Once he started, he wasn’t altogether certain he’d ever stop.

  “Ken?” Mari’s fingers moved in his hair, massaging his scalp and sending a shudder of awareness down his spine.

  “Why is it that whenever a man is doing his best to be noble, his body goes into overdrive and he can’t think with his brains?”

  “Has it occurred to you that I might not want you to be noble? I almost died. I have to go back to an existence I don’t even want to think about. This might be my one chance—my only chance—to be with a man I choose.”

  “Here? In this lock-down laboratory that is a constant reminder of everything you’ve never had? In this narrow, hard bed? I want you someplace where I can spend hours—days—exploring every inch of your body. Somewhere beautiful with the fire roaring in the fireplace and waterfalls out the window.”

  Her breath hitched again, the smallest of reactions, but he caught it. She didn’t believe she would ever have those things, and in that moment, he resolved to make certain she did—that she would have everything he could give her.

  Mari shifted again, her breasts brushing his shadowed jaw. Ken’s body nearly went rigid, every muscle tight and hot, contracting into hard knots. His breath fanned the temptation of her nipples. He needed her more than he needed the air in his lungs, but once he touched her, once he claimed her, there would be no walking away.

  “Mari … ,” he tried again, his face, of its own accord, moving that scant inch so that his tongue could dip lower and take one delicious lick along her nipple.

  Mari jumped beneath him, her hips moving restlessly, her breasts rising sharply with her indrawn breath, arching into him, into the dark, hot cavern of his mouth. His hand cupped her breast, kneading, as he suckled, using his teeth to sharpen her desire, his tongue to tease and draw out her pleasure.

  She made a single sound, a gasp of shock, her hips bucking, her hot mound sliding over his thigh in an effort to get some relief. At once, he dipped his fingers lower, to find a furnace of heat. His teeth closed on her nipple with a small bite of pain, as his fingers found her slick entrance, testing her response to his need for a little rougher play. A fresh wave of her heady scent rose and his fingers were damp with her welcome.

  Mari’s moan was so soft he barely heard it—but he felt it vibrate through his entire body. His cock jerked, rubbing against the material of his jeans, swelling to a breaking point. He had to have some relief before he shattered. He switched to her other breast, suckling strongly as his hand slid to his jeans, working them open, sliding them over his hips so his enormous erection could spring free. He couldn’t stop himself—his hand sliding over the thick, hard pole, feeling the ridges, squeezing tightly in an effort to create sensation. Hell, he didn’t even know if his equipment really worked anymore.

  Teeth teasing the nipple, keeping her pleasure sharp and edgy, he dragged his jeans from his hips. He shifted back, lifting his head from her soft, perfect breasts, to look at her. Mari lay on the cot, her eyes glazed with desire, lips parted, with her breath rising and falling rapidly. Her breasts thrust up from the open shirt, her legs bare and sprawled apart, her body open to him. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Her gaze dropped to his fist curled around his thick erection. There was a drop glistening like a pearl on the large, swollen head. Her gaze locked with his, Mari leaned forward and licked it off.

  His entire body locked up, a firestorm raging hot and wild, a fever building so fast, so intense, he shuddered, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. Sweat broke out, beading on his brow. She was killing him. Killing him.

  He caught her face in his hands and forced her dark eyes to meet his smoldering gaze. “Mari, honey, you have to be sure.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m not going to be able to stop in another minute. I don’t have a damn thing to use as protection and this is bullshit, taking you here. I’m not going to be gentle and loving like you deserve. And I don’t want to hurt you. I’m so damned afraid of hurting you, but I swear I’ll give you more pleasure than you’ve ever had in your life. If you can’t do this with me, go all the way, take everything I need to give you, you’ve got to tell me to stop now and I swear to you, I’ll find the strength to leave you alone.”

  “Ken, please,” she whispered, her dark eyes pleading. “I want you so much I can’t think straight. This is our moment. We have to take it or it may never come again. Give me this, give me a memory, something real, to last me forever.”

  He took her lips. He tried for gentle, but the moment he slid his tongue into the velvet darkness of her mouth, he was lost in a haze of madness. Lust rose, so sharp and terrible it consumed him, ate him alive. He took her mouth, giving in to the demons riding him so hard.

  Hard hands h
eld her still. Mari was shocked at his enormous strength, at her own sudden arousal at his aggression, so hot and fast and hard, shaking her body before she was ready, almost pushing her into an orgasm before he’d really touched her. His ragged breath was harsh as he bit at her lip, his teeth and tongue doing wild things to her mouth until she couldn’t see, let alone think.

  His lips moved down her neck, tiny stinging kisses that left fire dancing over her nerve endings. His thumb and finger caught her nipple, rolling and tugging until her head thrashed back and forth over the pillow and she sobbed out his name. She hadn’t known she could feel this way, hadn’t known that a small burst of pain could bring heat flaring and his tongue could feel like velvet over smarting hypersensitive skin.

  He kissed his way down to her breasts, stopping there to feast, wanting her in a frenzy of desire, needing her compliance, afraid that if she fought him, he’d go wild. His hand moved lower, savoring the shape and texture of her, cupping her hot, damp mound, feeling satisfaction as her hips bucked and another soft sob escaped. He slid a finger into the deep recesses, searching for honey and spice and a way to make her his for eternity.

  “Spread your legs for me, Mari.” His voice was harsh, hands rough on her thighs, forcing her obedience before she could give it to him, positioning her so he could kiss his way down her belly button, pausing to nibble the underside of her breasts, trace each rib, and lavish attention on her abdomen with hot licks as if she were an ice cream cone.

  “Ken.” Desperate, she fisted her hands in his hair, trying to drag him over her, to blanket her.

  He caught her wrists and jerked them down. “Behave,” he ordered. “We do this my way. I warned you, it has to be my way.” Because watching her lose control, watching the lust build into mindless need, fed his violent instincts and increased his pleasure. The more she came apart for him, the better it was for him.