Christine Feehan

by Deadly Game

  “We’ve got mountain bikes. I’ll teach you.”

  “It’s frightening. I keep thinking about the others, my sisters out there right now, wondering how to make a decision like these. Whitney even maintained our diets for us. I detest taking vitamins.” She watched him closely for a reaction.

  “I mix mine in the blender with a killer recipe of fruit and juice your sister told me about, but if you don’t want to take vitamins, then don’t. More than half the population of the world doesn’t. You have the right to make your own decisions on everything, honey.” Ken rested his chin on top of her head. “Unless it comes to personal safety; then my instincts are going to take over and I’m going to be calling the shots.”

  “Or other men.” She had to find a way to cope. She had to or she was going to run as fast and as far as she could.

  He nearly choked. “We’re not even going there. My heart can’t take it. Our relationship is exclusive to the two of us. Marriage. Husband and wife. Partnership. Team. I can deal with all of the above, but not another man.”

  “So there are rules,” she persisted, her stomach settling as she deliberately provoked him.

  “Well, sure. Even Jack and I have rules with living on the same property. It’s a matter of respect.”

  “So no relationship has two men and one woman.”

  “Not ours.” He was decisive.

  “But there are some,” she persisted. “Because, you know, there might be some advantages …”

  He held her at arm’s length, looking down at her upturned face. There was laughter in her dark eyes, the distress fading as she teased him. “That isn’t funny.” But it was impossible not to smile when she was smiling.

  “You deserved it. You’re an idiot, you know that? Why do you keep thinking I want other men in my life? I don’t even like men. Well,” she corrected, “most men.”

  “So you were teasing me just to get a rise out of me.”

  “It was easy. You’re too easy.”

  “That’s just wrong, Mari,” he said and bent to take possession of her mouth. She tasted of freedom, sweet and fresh like a summer rain. His arms locked her to him, and his mouth moved over hers, tugging at her lower lip, the one that was so full and sexy and drove him wild whenever he looked at her.

  “I love looking at you.” He whispered it, but then switched to a much more intimate form of communication, his mind sliding against hers like the melding of one soul into the other. And touching your skin. You’re so soft, baby, and warm.

  She couldn’t respond, because he was taking her breath right into his lungs, bringing her body to life with just his mouth and teeth and tongue. He could create a whirlwind that swept her away from her life and into another one filled with love and passion and family. All with a kiss. Ken, with his scars and hidden demons, with his vulnerability and intense heat, was an exciting blend of gentle and rough. How could she ever think to want another man?

  Her arms slipped around his neck, and she pressed her body into his, wanting to share his skin, to relieve the fierce tension that always was beneath the calm surface. He made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world, the only one he ever saw or wanted or needed. She returned his kisses, letting his mouth guide hers.

  She’d had many sexual encounters—but none of them good until Ken had come into her life, and she had no idea how to really kiss or love someone. She knew the mechanics better than most, but not how to love a man—and she wanted to love this man with everything in her. It was the only thing she had to give him—before she said good-bye.

  “What’s wrong?” Ken’s hands framed her face. “Tell me.”

  She couldn’t meet his concerned gaze. He’d just been driving her wild with kisses, and she was thinking that she wanted to make this the best time of his life, and yet—for her it would be the worst, knowing she couldn’t stay.

  He bent to kiss her again, this time gently, feather-light, a mere brush of his lips against hers. That little rasp of his scar mixing with the softness of his mouth sent wings fluttering in the pit of her stomach. He hadn’t meant it as a sexual overture, she could tell, but whatever his intentions, he’d sent a surge of heat spreading through her body.

  “Mari.” He gave her a little shake. “We have to do this together. I don’t want you hiding from me.”

  “That’s impossible when you seem to know what I’m thinking all the time.”

  “You need to talk to me.”

  Mari pulled out of his arms and crossed to the window. “How am I supposed to tell you I feel completely inadequate at this? Especially when you’re kissing the sense out of me.”

  To her shock he burst out laughing as he followed her, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, drawing her back against him. His hands locked over her ribs, the backs of his hands brushing the undersides of her breasts. She was immediately aware of his erection, thick and hard pressed tightly against her buttocks.

  “Then we’re both feeling inadequate. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, other than trying my best to seduce you into wanting to stay with me. I don’t know any other way. I want to be good at a relationship, but look how I live.” He nodded toward the window. “I’m a loner. I always have been. Maybe my life was shaped that way out of necessity. I react violently when things go wrong, and it was always better to be in control of my environment. In point of fact, I’m not good at relationships.” He kissed the side of her neck, his mouth lingering there. “But it’s nice to know I can kiss the sense out of you.”

  “That’s not true at all, Ken,” she protested. “You’re really good at this.”

  “I’m good at sex, Mari—or I used to be—but I’ve never had sex when it really mattered. Not like this. I never knew a man could feel this way about a woman. I can’t imagine ever touching anyone else—or wanting them to touch me. But I’m not any better at relationships than you are. We’ll find our way together, even if we’re fumbling around in the dark for a while.”

  “How could I have stayed there so long? There must have been ways for me to find out if Briony was safe.”

  “Whitney controlled her just as he controlled you. He just gave her the illusion of freedom. In the end, when her parents stopped cooperating with his plans for her, he sent a couple of his supersoldiers to murder them. At any time during her childhood he could have snatched her back, and probably would have if you had managed to escape. You kept her safe.”

  She leaned her head back against his chest. “At least I did that right.”

  “Don’t stay for her, Mari. Stay for me.”

  His tone was utterly without expression, but the words conveyed pain. There were so many nuances and she knew most people would never understand Ken. He presented one image to the world and dealt with his monsters alone. She knew what that was like and she didn’t want him to be alone any more than she wanted to be alone.

  “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want to see her desperately. She kept me going all those years. Everything I ever wanted, I dreamed she had. I want to get to know her and look into her eyes and know, not just hope, that’s she’s happy, but I came here for you.” She had. That much was true, but the thought of staying terrified her. She had skills, but none of them were needed here.

  Ken wanted to believe her, and he wanted to believe she would stay for him as well, but he was beginning to know her and he could tell she was torn. He couldn’t blame her. He would never be able to step aside the way he did with Jack. He would stand in front of her, and she wanted him beside her. She wanted complete freedom, and he would never be able to give that to her.

  At that moment she turned her head to look up at him. “You have shadows in your eyes, Ken. Isn’t it strange how Whitney thinks he’s controlling us with his pheromones, but neither of us would feel so vulnerable if it was just that? Somehow our emotions are involved, as if there really is destiny or a higher power and we were made for one another. No matter what he does with his experiments, he can’t f
actor that in.”

  His hand slipped over her hair. “No, he can’t. He’s a very sad, lonely man. He’s driven by his madness, and his inability to figure out why humans react the way they do. He wants robots able to make decisions, but decisions he deems best. No matter how he inserts animal DNA and genetic capabilities, he’ll never find the perfection he seeks.”

  “He thinks he’s perfect.”

  “He wants to think that,” Ken corrected, “but he knows it isn’t true. The only decent thing he’s ever done in his life is to stay away from Lily. I hope he continues to do so, but he’s broken her heart.”

  “He monitors her all the time. He does everyone. He has a file on you, on me, on your brother and Briony.”

  “The one thing we have going for us with Whitney,” Ken said, “is that he wants you to have my baby and he wants Briony to have Jack’s. After the children are born, they’ll be high-risk, but until then, he may leave us alone to see what happens.”

  She turned around and began to push up his shirt so she could burrow close to his skin. “I wouldn’t know any more about taking care of a baby than I would a husband.”

  “Fortunately, we’re both fast learners.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  “I don’t know, honey, you got the hang of making love very fast.”

  Mari wanted him again, with every nerve ending suddenly alive and screaming for his body, but she pulled back to look at him—really look at him. Ken Norton could break her heart. Ken had somehow managed to creep into her heart—worse, he’d managed to find a way into her soul. Had her reaction to him stayed physical, she would have been all right, but he threatened her on an emotional level that was frightening.

  Ken groaned softly. “I can’t let you think for very long or you lose your mind.” Without preamble he dragged her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her upper body bare to him. His mouth came down on hers, teeth forcing her to open to him, tongue sliding in to dominate and spread a now familiar heat. He didn’t give her a chance to think, but kissed her hungrily, demanding her response and receiving it.

  Mari couldn’t prevent the moan of pleasure escaping as his hands cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks of desire. It amazed her how fast her body responded to him. He bent her backward, his mouth greedy as he kissed her over and over.

  The taste of him filled her senses and set her on fire. His mouth teased hers, teeth tugging at her lower lip, tongue licking the ache away. Every flaming kiss added to the building of heat in her center, so that she became uncomfortable with the intensity of her arousal. Need built too fast, her muscles contracting painfully, her womb seizing with need. Each time she suckled his tongue, or his danced around hers, she felt the rush of heat spreading, growing, building, until she felt almost wild with need.

  His hands tightened possessively on her breasts, his restrained strength apparent as he massaged the creamy, aching flesh. He pushed her back until she was against the wall, trapped between his body and the hard surface, his thigh sliding between her legs to open her to him. The material of her jeans was too tight and heavy on her body. She wanted it gone.

  At once his hands dropped to the zipper and tore it open. He dragged the offending material away from her body, allowing her to kick it aside, taking her panties as well, leaving her naked while he was still dressed. She realized they had somehow connected, mind to mind. She was feeling his rising lust as strongly as he was feeling hers. They heightened each other’s arousal.

  It was an amazingly intimate thing to be able to feel his desperate desire for her. Her body flushed at the things he was thinking, the erotic images in his mind. He pushed her against the wall again, his thigh sliding between her legs, the material rough on her spread thighs. She rubbed against him, the friction sending electrical currents through her womb, up to her breasts. The heat was vicious, shocking her with its intensity.

  “Take your clothes off, Ken.” His thumbs sent lightning streaking through her nipples. She was going to see to it that this time together was as perfect as she could make it. She shoved aside her doubts and her sorrow and slid her hands under his shirt.

  “Not yet. I want to see you this way, naked and wanting me.” His voice was rough with raw desire. He needed to see her this way, so beautiful in her craving for him, her body soft and pliant, flushed with heat, nipples erect, mouth swollen, and eyes glazed.

  He held her helpless against the wall, his mouth sliding down her throat, his hands exploring her body. Pinned there, her body completely his, she made him feel invincible. Heady with lust and love for her, he was humbled and excited that she trusted him enough after everything that she’d been through to leave herself so vulnerable to him.

  Ken caught her wrists and stretched her arms over her head, holding them pinned together as he bent his head toward her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t stop riding his knee, nearly crying when he pushed his thigh up, pressing against her aching body. He stared at her breasts, the gentle swaying as she breathed in and out, his gaze hot. Through their linked senses he felt the quick hot spasm of lust that clenched her womb when he licked his lips. She arched toward him, but he held her pinned in place, forcing her to wait for him. The ache grew hotter, more concentrated.

  His tongue flicked out and curled over one highly sensitized nipple. Deep inside, her temperature shot up, turning her body to molten lava. A cry tore from her throat and pushed her body harder against his, struggling to relieve the terrible pressure. His thigh dropped away even as his tongue licked her like an ice cream cone, savoring each long stroke. Mari thought she might explode with heat.

  His free hand slid over her belly, easing the tight muscles with a caressing massage. She was acutely aware of the fingers sliding so close to her aching mound. His mouth closed over the hard nipple, so hot and moist, his tongue flicking at the tight bud, so that her attention instantly was centered there, to the lightning streaking from breast to belly to her feminine channel. Her muscles clenched hard, the spasm whipping endlessly through her as he suckled, yet never relieving the pressure. It continued to build, higher and hotter, until she writhed against him.

  “I can’t take any more. I can’t, Ken. It’s too much.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  His fingers stroked her tummy again, a gentle caress, tender almost, and then his teeth tugged at her nipple and his fingers plunged deep into her melting core. She screamed as fire flashed through her, her head lolling back, pressing her breasts deeper into the inferno of his mouth.

  “I’m going to watch you come apart in my arms.”

  The wicked, sinful fingers stroked deep inside; his mouth moved to her other breast, and she nearly exploded again. Nearly. But didn’t. The release she needed—craved—never quite came. Only more pressure, more sensation, until every nerve ending was screaming for release.

  He suddenly lifted her, taking her by surprise. Her body was so pliant, so shaky, she couldn’t have done anything but hold on anyway. He spread her on the bed, arms out and above her head, legs wide. He tugged at his shirt, dropped it on the floor, all the while drinking in the richness of her body. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

  “I ache.” Her hand slid down the side of her breast, her belly, brushed her mound. He caught it, licked her fingers, still never taking his gaze from her, and repositioned her arm, but his gaze was hotter, burning with so much lust it added fuel to her already blazing body.

  “Don’t move.” His voice was rougher than ever.

  She waited there, her body pulsing with arousal, the rough commands and demands he made on her only adding to the building inferno in her body. She could barely breathe as she watched him shed his jeans with deliberate laziness, heightening her urgency even more. He was breathtaking, his body hard and hot, his hand circling his thick shaft, his fist tight as he approached her. He knelt on the bed between her legs.

  Mari raised her hips in a silent plea. He shook his head. “You
are so bad, woman. Have a little patience.” His flattened palm came down on her buttocks, sending a flare of heat shooting through her womb.

  He lowered his head to her stomach. The muscles rippled and clenched. He kissed her belly button, circled it with his tongue. “I love your scent when you’re aroused. I could live on you, I really could.”

  “Don’t.” Her fingers twisted in his hair in an attempt to stop him. She had thought he would take her, relieve the terrible craving, but he was already dipping his head, inhaling her scent, his warm breath blowing over her very core. He moved with deliberate slowness, so that the room itself expanded with the building heat, so that her skin was so sensitive just a slight breeze from the window across her nipples sent flames streaking over her, burning her from the inside out. “You can’t.” She was nearly sobbing, pleading. Terrified he would kill her with pleasure.

  “I can,” he murmured, his mouth against her damp heat.

  He stroked a sensual lick over her swollen clit, and another strangled scream escaped. His mouth closed around the bud, suckling, his arms pinning her thrashing hips, holding her still while his tongue continued to torment her.

  Mari couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel the streaks of fire burning her alive. His hands were hard on her thighs, holding her open for his pleasure. He made little circles with his tongue, and his teeth rasped over sensitive nerve endings; he licked and sucked, and she went mindless with ecstasy. All the while he controlled her bucking hips, holding her firm against his mouth, taking what he wanted, driving her higher and higher but never allowing her release.

  Only when she was pleading helplessly, her small muscles rippling and contracting, did he lift his head, lust etched deep in the lines of his face. He moved over her, trapping her slender body beneath his, the head of his shaft at her entrance, pushing just inside, insisting she accommodate his length and thickness. “Look at me, Mari. Keep looking at me.”

  Mari opened her eyes and stared into his. He thrust hard, driving through tight, swollen muscles, burying himself deep, stretching her, filling her, sending her rocketing over the edge with that one stroke. She heard herself scream, but she couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t find her voice, could only flail helplessly beneath him, trying to dig her fingers into the mattress for an anchor.