A Touch of the Beast

by Linda Winstead Jones

  She tried to ignore that response. “He’s really…I really…” Like it or not she couldn’t even think about Bruce, not with Donovan holding on to her this way.

  So she just stood there, leaning into him. Listening to the demands of her body. Drinking in the way his body moved when he breathed, the way her breaths came in time with his. She clenched; her mouth went dry.

  What was happening to her? This thing she felt, it was some kind of chemistry. Animal magnetism. Whatever it was that drew a woman to a man to the point where she could no longer think straight, Hawk Donovan possessed it. And she had been caught up in that power as surely as if he’d snared her in a net. She liked leaning into him, she liked the way his arms felt around her.

  She had a choice, and it had to be made now, with his arms around her and his breath on her neck. She could break away, tell Donovan she was fine and climb into the attic as if nothing had happened. They hadn’t yet crossed that line that could not be uncrossed. She could move up the stairs, not look back, and while they might both be a little uncomfortable for a few minutes, eventually they would forget what this holding felt like. They’d forget how close they’d come to becoming more than friends.

  Then again, she could stay here. Right here, with Donovan’s chest at her spine and his arms wrapped around her. She could relax. She could close her eyes and drink in the delicious sensation of being held. She could stop fighting that flutter in her gut and instead listen to it. Revel in it.

  She could forget that she’d written off romance and men as not worth the trouble and just let herself feel. No thinking allowed.

  She didn’t think, just for a moment. She didn’t worry.

  It was nice.

  She relaxed.

  Chapter 7

  Moving very slowly, Hawk lowered his head and pressed his mouth to Sheryl’s skin. With her hair pulled up and back, her neck was fully exposed. It was a decidedly feminine neck, long, pale and soft. And he’d been aching to taste it for days now. Days.

  He tasted her pulse, sucked against the curve where neck became shoulder, flicked the tip of his tongue across her tender skin. And she melted in his arms. He felt her desire for him in the way she breathed, in the way she fell into him and trembled down deep.

  He had never been so intensely attracted to a woman before. Never. He had never come so close to losing control, to forgetting who and what he was. But somehow Sheryl pushed all his buttons. She worked her way under his skin and stayed there. It would be so easy to forget why he was here and what he had to do.

  Sheryl turned slowly in his arms to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking him squarely in the eye. Her body was pressed against his; her warm breath touched his throat. Her eyes were boldly fixed to his. Sheryl wasn’t the kind of woman who would look away from a man.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered. “And then tell me again that it doesn’t mean anything.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer but tilted her head up slightly as he lowered his. He covered her mouth with his. To his bones, he was controlled by a need that consumed him. His need for Sheryl swept away all reason, all conscience. This wasn’t a sweet kiss…not today. It was primal. Deep. And with every second that passed, Hawk moved closer to losing control.

  He liked Sheryl; he wanted her. But as their tongues danced, in the back of his mind he kept hearing that damned logical neighbor who’d waylaid him this morning. She deserves better.

  He raised up slowly, dragging his mouth from Sheryl’s. It was harder than he’d imagined it would be to break away. Her eyes drifted open and her lips curved into a soft smile. Already her mouth looked well kissed, damp and swollen and ready for more.

  “Nothing?” she whispered.

  She was standing so close, so tight against his body, she knew the kiss had definitely meant something.

  “I didn’t come here looking for this,” he said. Looking for you would sound so personal. So…true.

  “I know.” She reached up and brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. The touch was tender. Loving, even.

  “I can’t stay.”

  “I know that, too.” She didn’t pull away, and her smile didn’t disappear.

  “I’m not—”

  “Who are you trying to talk down from the ledge, Donovan? Me or you? Do you have a girlfriend back home?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then stop thinking so much and jump, Donovan. Jump.”

  She was too close to the truth. They were both teetering on a narrow ledge.

  “We don’t know what’s below,” she whispered. “If we fall or if we jump, where will we land? Are you afraid to find out?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I am, a little.”

  Sheryl’s talk of ledges and falling and wondering where they’d land shouldn’t make any sense. But it did, in a strange kind of way. Hawk usually knew exactly where each and every step would take him. Every move was calculated; there were no surprises in his well-ordered life.

  The best thing he could do for both of them would be to back down. To walk away. To put an end to this, here and now.

  Instead, he jumped.

  Sheryl pressed her body against Donovan’s and closed her eyes as he kissed her again. Logic, which normally ruled her days, told her she was simply hungry for a man. Any man. It had been too long since anyone had touched her, and yes, her body was hungry. She needed this touch; she wanted to feel like a woman again.

  But deep down she knew there was something more here than simple desire. She didn’t long for any man to hold her, just Donovan. There was no one else who could infuriate, inflame and incite her. No one else who could make her laugh and sing. No one else who could touch not only her body but her heart.

  And like it or not, he did touch her heart.

  Maybe all she and Donovan had was physical attraction, and she wanted her heart to be involved because that made what she felt at this moment acceptable. How could love play a part in this when she’d just met him a few days ago? She wasn’t the type of woman to give her heart so quickly, and she doubted Hawk Donovan had ever given any woman his heart.

  Then again, maybe she was making this too complicated, and physical attraction was all they needed.

  Donovan cupped her breast and flicked his thumb over the nipple. She felt that touch to her bones, and she quivered. Man, did she quiver. His tongue slipped into her mouth while he caressed her nipple through the cotton tee that was molded to her body. His tongue slipped in, slipped out, slipped in…and her knees turned to butter. Her stomach dropped, and again she clenched.

  She felt as if she was truly falling, so she held on to Donovan. She didn’t want to land too hard, and she didn’t want to land alone. She touched him with curious hands, fluttered her fingers over his jaw and his neck, the broad chest, the rock-hard arms. Did he feel her trembling? Did he know she was so close to falling apart that she could barely breathe?

  He slipped his hand beneath her shirt and pressed his palm to her bare skin. That simple touch was enough to make her moan low in her throat. Flesh to flesh, man to woman. The grace and sleekness she had noticed in him from the beginning was evident in the way he touched her, as if every move was made without conscious thought but came to him naturally. As if he had been born to touch her. His fingers stroked her skin, and that caress was intense. Undeniably right. Just as the kiss that went on and on was right. If she had her way, she’d never take her mouth from his.

  But she did, briefly. “Do you have a…”

  He growled, and the growl sounded affirmative. She didn’t ask for details as he claimed her mouth again as if he couldn’t bear to stop kissing her. A moment later, he pulled a wallet out of his back pocket, opened it with one hand, delved inside and then tossed the wallet to the floor. He never actually stopped kissing her. At times the kiss was deep and all consuming, and then it turned into a series of brief, hungry, quick kisses.

&nb
sp; While his mouth was still on hers, Donovan tightened the arm that was wrapped around her and then swept her up and off her feet. She found herself sitting on one of the steps that led to the attic. Half sitting, half standing, precariously perched before Donovan, she wrapped her legs around his, deepened the kiss and drew him to her.

  Her body thrummed. It hummed. It sang and danced and reached for Donovan. Any doubts she might’ve had earlier were gone. This moment was beautiful and right and powerful, and nothing could ruin it. Nothing.

  Donovan stopped kissing her just long enough to draw her T-shirt over her head and toss it aside, and she was glad to be rid of the constricting garment. In a fraction of a second she felt liberated, exposed and greedy for more. It had grown overly warm in this hallway, but the night air on her flesh was cool. Arousing. Donovan laid his mouth over hers while he raked his hands up her side, and then they were on her bare breasts, caressing taut nipples while his tongue barely slipped into her mouth.

  Sensations she had forgotten rushed through her body, more fierce and demanding than she had known was possible. There was a fire in her body, a fever that burned away everything but her need for Donovan.

  Sheryl leaned back slightly, the stairs at her back, and unbuttoned Donovan’s shirt while he kissed her neck again, his mouth raking over skin that was surprisingly sensitive. No one had ever kissed her neck before, not like this, as if he was making love to her throat. She liked it. She loved it. That kiss made her smile and shiver and throb all at once.

  She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and it fell to the floor. Oh, she had known all along that Donovan had a great body, and still she was impressed. His chest was sculpted with hard muscles and dusted with just a little bit of fine dark hair. He had a tight six-pack, taut warm muscles across his abdomen that cried out to be touched. She ran her hands over those muscles for a moment, then brushed her fingers over small, tight nipples.

  Her skin was on fire. She couldn’t get close enough to the man who held and caressed and aroused her. With her body so close to his she couldn’t help but feel his erection pressing against her, and that only aroused her more. He wanted her; he needed her. She moved against him, just a little, and he responded with a rumble low in his throat.

  Donovan slipped his hands into her waistband and pushed her flannel trousers and underwear down. She stepped out of the garments and kicked them aside, and suddenly she was standing in his arms naked. Naked and trembling and vulnerable. Vulnerable but not afraid. Donovan skimmed his hand along her body, as if he was learning the curves. She closed her eyes, and for a moment it was as if she was learning those curves, too. She had forgotten; she had hidden this part of herself away.

  Donovan’s touch was gentle, as if she were fragile. Even when he caressed her intimately, arousing her to the point where she could no longer think of anything else, there was tenderness. He stroked, and she soared. He caressed, and she throbbed.

  It wasn’t fair that she was naked and he wasn’t. She wanted to see all of him, and she wanted to touch him the way he touched her. Boldly and yet with gentleness. She unfastened his blue jeans and lowered the zipper, then pushed her hands beneath the waistband to cup his hips. She kept pushing, lowering the garments out of the way. Like his chest, his hips and thighs were muscled and hard. He kicked his boots off and finished undressing in a matter of seconds, and then they were together again, naked and sweating and once again standing on that dangerous ledge.

  She didn’t know what was at the bottom, but she didn’t care anymore. Falling was glorious. She could fall forever.

  Donovan unwrapped the condom he’d snagged from his wallet and sheathed himself.

  “Here?” Sheryl reached out and touched his face. Her fingers trembled, her entire body shook.

  “Yeah.” He positioned her against the ladder and lifted her legs in a strong, smooth motion so they were wrapped around him.

  “What about the kids?” she asked with a smile, glancing down the hallway to see if Laverne or Baby or any of the others were watching.

  “All asleep,” he whispered.

  “How could you possibly know…?”

  “All asleep,” he said again, and she believed him.

  She could take his hand and lead him to her bedroom, or to the narrow bed in the spare bedroom if the kiddies had already claimed her bed for the night. But that would mean stopping, that would mean letting him go, and she wasn’t ready for that.

  Sheryl wrapped her legs more snugly around Donovan’s hips, and he guided himself into her. As slowly and gently as he had aroused her, he entered her. She closed her eyes and held on as her body adjusted to his size, as she opened for him. Her body shook; the only way to control the shaking was to hold on to Donovan. He grounded her; he promised her so much.

  And then he moved deeper, harder, and she held on tighter and gasped at the pleasure.

  There was nothing in the world but this. His body and hers; the desire that had spiraled out of control so quickly and completely.

  She lifted herself up so she was just barely balanced against a wooden step, and speared her fingers through his hair, pressing her mouth to his while he made love to her. Their tongues danced while their bodies mated, and she gasped as Donovan plunged deeper. Strands of pleasure drifted through her body; sparks of intense desire leaped through her as if a fire ran through her blood.

  With the tottery stairs beneath her and Donovan inside her, she felt oddly steady here. Steady and safe. And hungry. She needed this; she needed him. Donovan moved into her so fast and deep and completely the stairway shook. The very house shook. She felt him to her fingertips, to her toes, to the top of her head.

  She came with a cry Donovan caught with his mouth. Her body shuddered, as completion made her convulse and moan and hold Donovan even tighter than before. She shattered, lurched and cried, while her body clenched and unclenched. He came with her, finally falling off that ledge and hitting the ground with a bang.

  Everything seemed to slow down, and reality started to come back to Sheryl in unwelcome waves. She didn’t want reality, not tonight. She wanted this night to go on and on. She wanted this feeling of belonging to and with someone to continue. She wanted to believe, at least for a while, that Donovan was hers and always would be.

  He could be hers, for a few hours or a few days. Neither of them were looking for forever, but maybe they could make a memory that would last that long.

  For the past couple of nights, Hawk had leafed through old medical files searching for a clue to finding his birth mother until he’d fallen asleep exhausted. Tonight, at least for a few hours, he had forgotten those files and the frustration of not finding what he’d come here for.

  He lay in Sheryl’s bed under a thick coverlet the color of the evening sky. They were still naked and resting on their sides, her back fitting against his chest as if they were two pieces of a puzzle.

  Sex in the past had been unemotional, a physical release and not much else. He had never held a woman long into the night. He’d never slept in a bed that felt more like home than his own. He’d certainly never curled up with a woman who felt like a part of him.

  He would worry about the unexpected sentiments he was experiencing if he didn’t know this was temporary. His stay here would be a short one, and that was for the best. If he and Sheryl had anything beyond this bed he’d have to tell her everything. It was hard enough hiding his abilities from strangers, but to hide them from a woman who was a part of his life would be impossible. If he told her who he was and what he could do, she’d run from him. She’d run from this.

  Abnormal was an ugly word. Freak was worse.

  Fortunately for both of them, they didn’t have to think about the future. There wasn’t one, not for them. There was only here and now.

  Hawk pressed his hand to Sheryl’s belly, his palm resting on the silky skin beneath her navel. Yes, she had muscles in her arms and her legs, and her back was sculpted to perfection. But she was also a woman, fragile
and soft. Her skin was so silky and fine he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  She turned in his arms. “You’re awake,” she whispered as her arms draped around him in the dark, beneath the covers, in this world that was theirs alone and wouldn’t last.

  “Can’t sleep.”

  She smiled and hummed and rubbed the tip of her nose against his chest. “Why’s that?”

  He took her hand in his and guided it to his erection. She hummed again as she wrapped her fingers around him.

  “I have a cure for that,” she said.

  “I believe you do.”

  She stroked him gently while she tipped her head back to kiss his throat with lips so soft they felt like satin against his rough skin. “It’s not a quick cure, I’m afraid,” Sheryl said as she trailed her lips down to his chest and slipped her hand between his thighs to stroke the skin there. “Administered properly, the treatment can take half the night to complete.”

  He smiled and raked his fingers through her hair. “It just so happens I have half the night.”

  She lifted up slowly and looked at him. There was just enough light to see her well, with the streetlamp shining through the bedroom window and the night-light on the far wall beyond the sleeping animals adding a glow to the room. In her work clothes, with her hair in a ponytail, Sheryl Eldanis was pretty as a picture.

  Rising above him naked, with her mussed hair falling around her shoulders and that gentle smile twisting her lips and her sleepy eyes hooded, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

  Half a night wouldn’t be nearly long enough.

  Benedict left the meeting charged. Apparently someone had been snooping around Wyatt, North Carolina, asking questions about Agnes and Oliver, digging up old information best left buried.

  The bit of intelligence he’d just heard forced him to think back. Deanna had destroyed the file that contained the information he’d worked so hard to gather. When she’d told him what she’d done, and that she was planning to leave him and take the children with her, he’d been so infuriated that he’d killed her in a rage. He’d killed her with his bare hands. That bitch! She’d cost him everything he’d worked so hard for. The knowledge, the science…the children.