by Joni Hahn
Peeling away her bra, he tossed it on the floor and lowered her back on the bed. Lying beside her, he fed her languid, meticulous kisses, leaving her hungrier with each brush of his lips. His warmth along her side made her shiver, his feather-light teasing between her breasts stirring her need to maddening heights.
Lowering her panties down her hips, he waited for her to lift her rear before tugging them off. He skimmed his hand up her inner thigh with sluggish, hypnotizing strokes, his fingers stopping just shy of her core, teasing her with merciless tenacity.
He pulled away, surprising her. His whisper brushed across her lips. “Can I touch you, Teague?”
Swallowing hard, she could do nothing but nod, knowing she would do him serious bodily harm if he didn’t do something.
“I feel like I’m on fire, Dylan.”
He gave her one of his arrogant, half grins before he lowered his mouth to hers again, his fingers playing in her wet, swollen folds. His torturous pleasure confused her, excited her...
He dipped into her moist center. She bucked her hips, a groan escaping her throat.
Breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing difficult. “Damn… Teague…”
Clutching the back of his head, she pulled his mouth back to hers and delved deep, her kiss more urgent, more demanding. His finger teased her and tortured her at the same time, weaving a thrall of such all-consuming, uncontrollable desire it frightened her.
Pulling away, she arched her back, the blood rushing through her ears. “Dylan…”
“What baby?” he said, his ministrations now determined and focused.
Coherent thought vanished. All worry about the future and her health vaporized under the onslaught of his assault. Gripping the blankets in tight fists, she cried out, his manhood like hard, hot steel against her hip. The wave formed like thunderclouds in an approaching storm, powerful in its tantalizing wonder. It built, climbing higher and higher, Dylan’s encouraging words constructing it like an artist with his clay. Her nerve-endings stretched to their limits, drawing her very spirit to the surface.
“Dylan,” she cried on a breathless gasp, as staggering pleasure rushed through her, taking her to a sanctuary of desire she’d never seen or felt before.
Basking in his kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her throat, she smiled as he moved down her body, never slowing, his intent clear.
One orgasm wasn’t enough.
Gone was the sweet, slow foreplay, the patient withdrawal of her inner need. Dylan was on a mission, and he’d jumped into the foray with his usual energy and enthusiasm.
His mouth clamped over her breast, hot, wet against her flesh, his tongue eliciting a raw cry of renewed yearning. Moving on top of her, he showered the other breast with the same mind-numbing attention, suckling her with base hunger, his touch ardent, almost frenzied.
Fever consumed her again, different from before, an inferno of impatience. He trailed moist, open-mouthed kisses down her body, his destination obvious.
While her mind whirled, wondering how she could find release as intense as the first time, his mouth covered her, his tongue lapping, daring her to deny its authority. Opening her legs wider, she moaned aloud, holding him there, basking in his skilled attention. Lifting her hips in both hands, he feasted on her, hungry, moaning against her, his armbands cool against her hot thighs.
Release came swift and strong, pushing through her with the intensity of an firestorm, flaming and powerful. Arching her back, she cried out with abandon, pleasure sizzling through her like a fuse to an explosion.
The flames ebbed to soft embers. She smiled as ecstasy settled into her limp bones. “Dylan…”
Climbing over her, his beautiful, glowing eyes swirled with restrained passion, his arms braced on the bed. His muscles strained against his flesh, corded and chiseled, the bold armbands lending to the sheer masculinity of his very being. Long, red hair fell over his flush cheeks, perspiration dotting his ripped torso.
More beautiful than any Greek sculpture, he was undeniably the most magnificent man she’d ever seen. Not only had God perfected the genetic code with him, He’d been showing off.
Dylan pushed against her entrance, his soft words laced with restraint. “I need you, Teague.”
His humble words sobered her. He’d spent every minute pleasing her, distracting her with sweet, fiery pleasure and mind-blowing elation. All at his own expense.
Her two orgasms didn’t satisfy the need to have him inside her, to feel that exposed oneness with him.
“Yes…”
He thrust inside her with impatience, as if he’d pushed his need to the very limits. Stilling, his breathing turned harsh, his thickness expanding, filling her with such joy it stunned her. She’d never felt this connection with another person, this closeness. She felt like she was drowning, in over her head with this foreign tie she felt with him.
Shutting his eyes, he swallowed hard and made an uncomfortable laugh. “Damn, Teague. This is intense.”
Wrapping an arm around his neck, she gave him a blatant, open-mouthed kiss that relayed the hunger that still remained, the absolute force of her sudden fear. Breaking away, he thrust into her over and over, like he ran from something – or toward it – the pleasure escalating, deepening. She met him with each thrust, their breaths heavy and loud in the dark room, a sheen of sweat on her skin. She never knew such pleasure could be had, that such bliss was out there for the taking.
Her name tore from his mouth, surprising her, knowing he focused on her as he found release. When her own climax came seconds later, she held him tight, wondering how she would ever leave him now.
***
“I can’t believe you brought all of this and didn’t at least throw in a bologna sandwich or something.”
Laughing, Teague fed Dylan frosted corn flakes as she lay stretched out on top of him in bed. She wore one of his sleeveless t-shirts, his hands cupping her bare rear as he reclined against the pillows.
The woman had rocked his world last night. After he made love to her, they slept a couple of hours before she woke him with her mouth, making him come with an intensity that shocked him. Falling asleep again, they woke hours later to experiment with positions even he hadn’t tried. The conservative, strait-laced doctor had a passionate nature, a sexual hunger that thrilled the hell out of him. He’d sensed it in her, felt it in her kisses, suspected it that day in the exam room.
Relaxed like this morning, the woman was absolutely exquisite, her silver eyes shining, her dark hair like silk where it lay on his chest. She looked like a college girl, young and carefree. Yet, he knew the intimidating intelligence behind that beauty, knew the danger she attracted by just being her.
“Considering this was my first attempt at seduction,” she said, “I deserve a learning curve. Note to self: ensure victim is a chef, or bring food.”
His nostrils flared as his jaw clenched tight. There was no way in hell he’d let her do this with anyone else. She belonged to him now.
“I’m no chef, Teague.”
A frown flickered across her face before she gave him a sarcastic grin. “Okay, then I’ll make sure all of my victims have a spoon for their cereal.”
He flipped her onto her back and grinned down at her. “You think you’re so smart…” Kissing her behind the ear, he inhaled the lilac scent of her hair. “Oh, wait. You are...”
Her voice held a note of humor. “I got you in bed, didn’t I?”
Pulling away, he stared down at her, surprised at her question. “I found you in my bed.”
“Darn, another flaw in my method.” She pulled in her lips over her teeth.
“Your method is spot on, baby.” Brushing back the hair from her face, he gave her a light kiss on the lips. “Why didn’t you tell me you talked to the clone?”
Her smile vanished, a corn flake stopping midway to his mouth.
“I haven’t talked to you.” She stared at his throat.
With a hand u
nder her chin, he lifted her face to his. “That’s a conversation starter, if I’ve ever heard one.”
Rolling out from under him, she sat up on the bed. “I didn’t want to fight with you.”
“Fight?” He frowned at her. “We fight?”
She tilted her head and hiked up an eyebrow. “Dylan, you’ve distrusted me from the beginning. I didn’t want to argue about my conversation with him.”
Taking her hand in his, he rubbed a thumb over the vein on her left hand. “I know Mitchell sent you to see him.” Lowering his voice, he added, “And, I trust you.”
Glancing away, she rose from the bed and picked up her bra and panties from the floor.
“Where are you going?” Rising to his feet, he stopped in front of her when she tried to leave his bedroom.
She gave his nude body a quick onceover, her cheeks flushing. “We both have jobs, Mr. McCall. It’s not like we can call in sick.”
Thank God for that. Knowing she had to stay at the compound made one less thing he had to worry about. She’d be safe as long as she stayed on site.
He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Until things settle down, I want you to stay around the lab and people you know.”
Searching his face, her eyes widened. “You don’t suspect clones here at the compound, do you?”
“Hell, baby, D.I.R.E.’s been infiltrated before.”
“Yes, Jocelyn told me about it. She also said Mitchell has taken great care in recruiting staff, as a result.” Looking away, she gave a half laugh. “Which makes me wonder why he brought me on, when he has my communications monitored.”
He kissed her forehead. “I’ll talk to Mitchell about removing your restrictions.”
Shrugging, she smiled up at him. “It really wouldn’t matter to me, but Dr. Capri tried to call several times and the calls didn’t go through. I hate to be unavailable if he has questions regarding the lab.”
Dylan nodded. “Consider it done.”
Rising up on tiptoe, she gave him a quick kiss. “I really need to go. I have a ton of work waiting for me.”
The doctor was back on duty. “Speaking of, have you seen any differences in Van’s results?”
She said, “His labs all came back normal. So far, other than the nanobots in his blood, he’s just like you and me. He shows no physical differences from anyone else.”
Maybe if he paid a visit to the laboratory rat, Van could give him some insight into reading clones. He always preferred to know how things worked. Maybe if he interrogated the asshole himself, he could pick up on something he might have seen on the island or in the Altays.
Slipping into a short tank dress lying on the back of a chair, Teague flipped her hair into a quick knot on her head. “If I find anything else, you’ll be the first to know.”
He approached her with slow footsteps, her all-business mode really turning him on. Grabbing her hand, he yanked her to him.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little episodes.”
For some reason, she didn’t think she could tell him about her illness. He didn’t know if that was excessive pride, low self-esteem, or her mistrust of him.
She stiffened, her gaze going to his chest. “Dylan, I’m fine.”
He knew better. However, he also knew better than to push her. She’d just push back with more gusto.
Catching her bottom lip in her teeth, she turned away and grabbed her clutch on the chair. “I just don’t… open up much.”
No news flash there. “I know.”
She looked up at him, her eyes round with worry. “So, don’t hold your breath, okay?”
His mind started to think the worst before he reined it in. Not even going there.
Regardless, he’d never jeopardize what they’d shared last night. Nothing could trump that.
He grinned down at her. “Breathing.”
Chapter 8
“I didn’t receive orders to allow you entrance.”
Dylan scanned his thumbprint over the access panel without looking at the security guard. “I don’t need orders.” He held up his armband.
Giving Dylan a skeptical glare, the guard resumed his watch beside the security cell door.
Walking inside, Dylan smirked at the surprised look on Van’s face. The clone looked like the walking dead, his skin pale and milky white, his flesh covered with healing blisters.
If Dylan had his way, he would be dead soon.
“McCall.” Van rose from the bed and faced him, admiration and menace gleaming in his blue eyes.
Dylan crossed his arms over his chest, showing off his armbands.
Van cocked a half grin. “You’ve made some changes.”
Dylan nodded at his blistered arms. “So have you.”
Scowling, Van narrowed his eyes. “Just another difference between your world and ours. Mr. Matheson doesn’t believe in violence and hatred. Whereas, D.I.R.E. seems to use it as a foundation.”
He scoffed at Van’s warped reasoning. “Yes, that was apparent on the beach when your team swooped in, helicopters and guns blazing.”
“Our goal was to retrieve Dr. Hamilton peacefully. We expected D.I.R.E.’s resistance and came prepared.”
Just the mention of Teague’s name on his tongue made Dylan livid. Clenching his jaw, he refrained from twisting the clone’s neck in one snap.
“You’ll never touch Dr. Hamilton.”
Van gave him a confident grin. “Mr. Matheson will have her. It’s inevitable.”
“It’s delusional.”
Van crossed to the lone window and looked out, his bare feet soundless on the tile floor. His white t-shirt looked wrinkled and stretched out, his grey sweatpants belling at his ankles.
“She’s part of the master plan. It’s her destiny.”
Teague’s tattoo flashed into his head, his heart galloping in wild beats. Destiny’s Child. Was she part of Matheson’s scheme, after all? Had she been lying to all of them so she could get her hands on Matheson’s technology?
Was last night part of her plan?
Pain and anger warred inside him, building, swirling like a tempest waiting to unleash.
“How could it be her destiny?” Dylan said. “She only accepted the job a few weeks ago.”
Van’s patronizing grin spurred Dylan into action. He glared at Van while nanobots skittered out of the channels of his armbands. Watching them assemble, the clone backed away as replicas of Agent Monroe’s gloves appeared in Dylan’s hands.
The same gloves Monroe had used to interrogate Van days earlier.
Dylan’s replicas may not have the same punch without Monroe’s electrical conduction, but they would hurt. Slipping them on, Dylan caught him around the throat and held him up against the wall.
“I’m not afraid to die, McCall. Your physical threat is no threat to me.”
Dylan tightened his hold on Van’s throat. Blood seeped into his cheeks.
“I live only to serve Mr. Matheson’s interests.” His evil grin infuriated Dylan all the more. “Just as you served him.”
Growling aloud, Dylan slammed him against the wall, shooting a jolt of electricity through the gloves and into his body. The clone shuddered in violent tremors, his eyes rolling back in his head. It would only take a few seconds more and he’d be dead. One in thousands of Matheson’s freaks he needed to destroy.
Yet, he knew Mitchell would kill him, then fire him, if he killed the clone now.
Dylan let him fall to the floor. The nanobots trailed back into his armbands. “I’m no part of Matheson’s sick plan. I’m the one that will bring it down.”
Van’s weak laugh grated along his raw nerves. “Do you not recognize your eyes in my head, McCall?” Narrow, blue-green eyes stared back at him with malice – and resignation.
“You were a part of it, whether you like it or not.”
Grabbing him by the shirtfront, Dylan spoke through gritted teeth. “What do you mean were?”
Van clenched a fist. His knuckles an
d bones glowed a bright green beneath his skin. What the hell…?
“That detonator attached to your heart, McCall?”
Dylan dropped him to the floor and backed away, his heart pounding.
“I have one, too.”
The clone squeezed his fist tighter. The green light flashed.
Van stiffened – before Dylan dropped to the floor.
***
Teague heard the alarm go off in the main lab. Whipping around, she rushed to the doorway of her office.
“That’s McCall, Clint.” Jocelyn jumped up from her chair and ran across the room to a cabinet.
Teague’s heart stopped in her chest. “What?”
Rolling his chair over to the main computer panel, Clint pulled up a window. “He’s in the security wing. Let’s go.”
They ran out of the lab like a pack of dogs was on their tail. Teague followed them out, yelling after them down the hall.
“What’s happened?”
Rushing to the crossroads of the facility, they flew down the stairs and through the security wing hall. “Dylan’s armbands went off. He’s in trouble.”
God, no…
“In here.” A guard stood at the far end of the hall, pointing into Van’s security cell.
Hurrying through the doorway behind Clint and Jocelyn, Teague stopped short. Dylan lay on the floor drenched in sweat, his face beet red.
Thank God. He was alive.
Running inside, she dropped down beside him. His shirt was ripped from neck to navel, an open slice down the middle of his chest. Blood pooled up from the raw crevice, nanobots crawling inside the cavity like a swarm of ants.
Holding her hand against her mouth, Teague’s heart pounded against her ribs in erratic beats. Dylan lay on the floor, covered in blood, trying to remove the device from his heart.
Don’t panic, Teague. This is Dylan. He always finds a way out.
“Holy shit, McCall,” Clint cried, from the other side of his body. “What are you doing?”
Dylan roared through clenched teeth, his entire body trembling. “Don’t… touch me. Have to… focus.”