She trembled and Marc cursed his wayward tongue. “Does that frighten you?”
“No.” She shook her head, surprising him with a blinding smile. “I’ve…”
He’d expected her to be embarrassed and shy. Would she never react predictably? “Go on.” His heart thudded as he anticipated her response. “You’ve what?”
“I’ve thought about you like that. I’ve pictured us together.”
“Really?” Much to his horror, he felt his own cheeks heat. “You’ve had sexual fantasies about me?”
She met his eyes in the mirror. “You just described one of them.”
With his eyes locked on hers, he parted her pajama top and cupped her breasts. “Were we alone in the room?”
“Yes, but we never knew when someone would barge in on us.”
“What did I do to you? What pleased you best?” He felt her nipples gather against his palms and watched her skin flush. She was so into this. How long had prim, aloof Tuesday Fitzpatrick been using him as a sexual surrogate?
Jealousy reared and bucked. He shook his head. How could he be jealous of a fantasy—especially when he was the fantasy?
“You never had to ask,” she whispered.
Another insult. No, more like a challenge.
Supporting the soft fullness with his fingers, he circled her nipple with his thumb. He glanced at her reflection. She was watching his hand. He touched her, stimulated her, thrilled by each gasp and quiver. She arched into his caress. He flicked and rolled her nipples until they tightened into pebble-hard points.
He wanted to turn her, to test his handiwork with the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from their reflection. A rosy flush colored her fair skin. Her lips were parted, eyelids drooping as she gave herself over to the pleasure.
His hand skimmed along her gently rounded belly and sneaked beneath her panties. She caught his wrist just before his fingers reached their destination.
“Easy. We’ll go nice and slow.”
Her fingers remained around his wrist, which made the image even more erotic. He pushed into her damp curls and groaned. God, she was wet. Parting her gently with his middle finger, he felt her start violently and grinned into her hair. Target located.
She made a throaty sound and closed her eyes. He started to protest her visual retreat, but left it alone. He was certainly enjoying the view and she was enjoying his touch. That was enough for now. He gently circled her clit, creating a subtle rocking motion with his hips. Her body’s response coated his fingers and soaked her panties. His teeth nipped her earlobe, sucking it slowly into his mouth. She cried out and the spasms of her orgasm fluttered against his fingertips.
Guiding her away from the mirror, he pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, shrugging out of the pajama top. Her breasts pressed against his chest and her arms encircled his neck. Their mouths came together, meshed in a deep, breath-stealing kiss. She tasted faintly of wine and fresh, clean woman. He wanted more.
He threaded his fingers into her hair, tilted her head and fitted his mouth to hers more completely. Stroking her tongue with his, he captured her sigh, breathed it in, savoring her. He nibbled and licked his way to her neck. She arched, offering her throat and her breasts in a gesture every man understood.
He buried his face against her soft flesh, flicking his thumbs across her nipples until she squirmed. Capturing one tip between his teeth, he laved it with his tongue. She pushed her hands into his hair and pulled him closer, encouraging his moist caress. Drawing her nipple firmly into his mouth, his hands continued downward.
Instead of pulling her panties off, Marc slipped one hand inside the waistband and cupped her ass. His fingers traced the deep cleft between her cheeks. Her skin was so incredibly soft and warm. He wanted to explore her voluptuous curves with his lips and his tongue, but he feared she’d retreat into self-consciousness.
Still, he could get a whole lot closer. He grinned, releasing her nipple and sank to his knees.
Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, he slowly, teasingly tugged her panties down. He bent and kissed her stomach, assisting the garment’s descent with his lips, working his way from one hip to the other and back. The warm, evocative scent of her arousal wrapped around him.
She trembled, her legs flexed and released, tense and unsteady. “I have to…sit down,” she panted softly.
He steered her to the edge of the bed, hurriedly skimming her panties down her legs before her bottom made contact with the mattress. Kneeling on the floor, he pulled her close, insinuating his body between her legs. He paused for several long, leisurely kisses, while his hands explored her back. She wrapped her calves around his hips, arching toward him.
“Lie back.” Marc guided her down.
Her expression was cautious, her gaze a bit unsure. Despite her uninhibited response her past lover’s shadow still covered her. “I won’t hurt you, Tuesday, and we’ll never do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I don’t want to talk.” She tried to smile but her gaze darted away.
He cupped her cheek, bringing her gaze back to his. “Don’t talk, listen. I think you’re beautiful. You’re brilliant. You’re amazing. Compassionate. You fascinate me. According to popular standards, your face is unusual and your body is imperfect, but I find you beautiful.” Arching over her, he kissed her passionately, deeply, stroking her hips and squeezing her thighs.
Pulling her steadily toward the edge of the bed, he went right on kissing her. Their tongues swirled, the erotic dance taking him from her mouth to his. Her fingers sifted through his hair and massaged his shoulders, impatiently tugging on his T-shirt. With one quick jerk, he pulled it off over his head and flung it aside.
Did she believe it, yet? Had he made her understand that she was beautiful?
He levered himself off her and whispered, “You’re beautiful.” Pressing her breasts together, he circled each nipple with the tip of his tongue.
Her pelvis rocked gently, begging for the motion he withheld. Her desire thrilled him, made a corresponding need pound through his body. He didn’t resist it; he accepted it, embracing the ache, savoring the sweet anticipation.
He parted her thighs and pressed his open mouth against the inside of her knee. She trembled. “Beautiful.” His fingers trailed down her inner thigh, passing ever so lightly over her feminine curls before ascending along the other leg.
“Marc.” She shifted restlessly, her eyes heavy lidded, lips parted.
“Soon.”
He strained against the confines of his jeans, but he refused to give in to his own longing. Not yet. Once he pushed into her heated core, it would be over. Regardless of how long he staved off his release, it would be over too soon.
Tuesday looked down along the length of her naked body and shivered. Her white thighs framed his wide chest and his handsome face bent over her, boldly regarding her most intimate flesh. She pressed her lips together, battling the urge to snap her knees together and cover her breasts.
Why wouldn’t he just do it? Leo had always expected her to be naked and in bed when he got home. He didn’t want to be bothered with undressing her. Their foreplay almost always involved oral stimulation—her stimulating him—and then he’d climb on top of her and pound away.
Marc raised her ankle to his shoulder and bent her leg, nibbling on the underside of her knee. “That tickles,” she protested.
He smiled. “Tickles in the warm tingly sense or tickles in the never do it again sense?”
Here he went with the questions again. He was still wearing his pants! “Just do it,” she muttered.
His eyes narrowed, his expression hardened with purpose. “I don’t want to ‘just do it’. I don’t think you’re ready for what I want.”
She gasped, kicking at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He moved closer, lodging himself securely between her thighs. She felt his fingers brush against her, sliding easily against her passion-slick flesh. “Yo
ur body certainly doesn’t want me to ‘just do it’.” He pushed into her slowly with two fingers. She groaned and closed her eyes. It had been so long…too long.
Easing up along her body, he dragged his bare chest against her breasts and slipped his free arm beneath her neck. Then he found her mouth with his. He moved, slowly but deeply with his fingers. His mouth drifted to her cheek, then the underside of her jaw, all the while he continued the steady motion with his hand.
She arched, her inner muscles clinging to his fingers. Wrapping her arms around his back, she responded without reservation. Her breasts felt tight and heavy pressed against his chest and each gliding thrust sent shocks of sensation twisting through her. His mouth returned to hers, his tongue matching the sweet penetration of his fingers.
Her fingernails dug into his back as pleasure burst within her. He held her close, kissing her tenderly until the last tingling wave receded. Then he stood and stared down at her for a long, silent moment.
Muddled and replete, she didn’t understand that he was leaving until he pulled his T-shirt over his head. “Where are you going?”
Cupping her cheek with his warm palm, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Back to the mediplex.” His gaze searched hers for a moment, while his thumb feathered over her lips. “Tuesday, we hardly know each other, and yet our lives have been connected forever. I don’t know if I can explain how you make me feel, but I’ll never be willing to ‘just do it’ to you.”
He paused on his way out the door and flashed his sexy smile. “Thanks for the shower.”
Chapter Nine
Something brushed Marc’s hair, drawing him from a fitful sleep. He sat in a chair next to Elise’s bed. Carefully folded along the edge of the narrow mattress, his arms had become a pillow for his weary head several hours before.
“Daddy?”
Marc looked up, blinking repeatedly before his eyes focused on Elise’s pale face. “Hi there, sunshine.” He stretched, his back protesting the awkward sleeping position.
“You look terrible,” she whispered, the jibe softened by her sleepy smile.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I…could fly.” She tried valiantly to raise her arms but couldn’t manage the gesture.
“You rest. Sleep’s what your body needs right now.” He gently slipped his hand under hers. “I’ll watch over you.”
She closed her fingers around his and gave them a feeble squeeze. “I’d rest better if I’m not worrying about you. I’m not the only one who needs sleep.”
Carefully bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her knuckles. “Did you and Laura rehearse this? She’s been bugging me to scat for two days.”
Elise’s eyes widened. “I’ve been sleeping for two days?”
“Mostly. You’ve been in and out a little, but they’ve got you on some very strong medications.”
“Do we make them?”
He tucked her hand under the covers. “Make what?”
“The medications?”
“I’m not sure. Probably. Why?”
Her eyes drifted close, but she smiled. “Don’t want to help the competition.”
Marc chuckled, smoothing her hair away from her cheek. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with your grandfather.” He didn’t bother to say more. She was out again.
Elise had spent the better part of the last two months with her grandfather and her nurse. Marc had scheduled a series of nonexistent business trips, followed by a spontaneous vacation, while he recovered from extensive facial enhancements. He hated being parted from his daughter; another offense he added to Job’s long list of infractions.
“Did you get any sleep at all?”
He glanced over his shoulder as Laura Finn strolled into the room, her light brown hair pulled away from her round face. He saw nothing of her sister in Laura. That was perhaps the main reason he’d kept her on as Elise’s nurse. That and her devotion to his daughter. She was efficient and trustworthy, but more importantly, she genuinely loved Elise.
Their relationship had always been strictly platonic. Laura dated from time to time, but none of her romances had developed beyond intimate friendships. She shrugged off the rumors of their affair as irrelevant nonsense and continued on in her role as caregiver for Elise. Marc was as grateful for her emotional fortitude as for her medical skill.
“I slept for a couple hours,” he told her. “Elise awoke a few minutes ago. Basically ordered me to go home.”
“Smart girl.” Her gaze moved over his face and she shook her head. “Your new look still creeps me out. I keep waiting for the real Marc to walk through the door.”
“I paid extra for the creep factor.” He chuckled.
“Will you listen to your daughter? You certainly haven’t listened to me.”
Marc stood and made a sweeping gesture toward the chair. “I know when I’m bested. I’ll be back—”
“I don’t want to see you until tomorrow.” Her dark eyes flashed with warning. “Elise is doing remarkably well. All of her vital signs are stable and have been since she came out of surgery. I’m here, as is one of the most highly trained staff on the planet. Go home! If you still remember where you live.”
He laughed at her bossy tone. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
She shook her head and sat in the chair he’d just vacated. “You’re impossible. Adorable, but impossible.”
The smile curving Marc’s lips disappeared when he strode out of the room and nearly collided with General Bettencourt. “You better be looking for me. I don’t want you near my daughter.”
“Do all your employees find you ‘adorable’?”
Refusing to rise to the bait, Marc walked farther down the hall, drawing the general away from Elise’s room. “What do you want?”
“We made a deal. Subject A is well on her way to recovery. My boss feels it’s time to move forward with the mission.”
Marc wasn’t a violent person, but every time Bettencourt was near him, he wanted to punch him. “Have you spoken with Ms. Fitzpatrick?”
“She wants you to supervise her. I’m telling her supervisor that we expect results and we expect them quickly. Rahab has been subjected to PURE’s influence for nearly a month. My boss is willing to do anything to get her back.”
Arguing with him was pointless. Bettencourt might be obnoxious and powerless, but his “boss” was neither. “I’ll either return Rahab to you within the week or report to you regarding our progress.”
* * * * *
“You know General Bettencourt?” Marc accepted the beer Phil handed him with a distracted smile.
The older man nodded and returned to his chair behind the wide control console. Phil’s office was a more elaborate version of Marc’s attic booth. Surveillance and recording equipment surrounded them. How Phil survived in this underground warren, for days on end, without going mad amazed Marc. Still he was grateful for Phil’s insight and expertise.
“Glen Bettencourt and I go way back. People like Bettencourt were the primary reasons I went into business for myself.”
“Is he dirty? Can we trust him with Tuesday’s safety?”
Phil stroked his close-trimmed beard, his expression thoughtful. “That’s two different questions. Bettencourt’s connection to the president is legitimate and he’s damn good at what he does, but I wouldn’t turn my back on him. As long as his interests correspond with yours, everything will be fine. But Bettencourt considers everyone expendable.”
“He’s left the details to me. I just have to keep him informed of my progress.”
“The ultimate objective is retrieval?”
Marc nodded. “President Rawsen wants his daughter back. What father wouldn’t?”
“And if Raeanne Rawsen doesn’t want to be rescued?”
“Has Elijah made contact with her? Do you have reason to believe her conversion is legitimate?”
Phil shook his head and glanced away. “Elijah’s made
contact with a woman calling herself Rahab. Whether or not his Rahab is the right Rahab has yet to be seen.”
“Why wouldn’t she want to be rescued from a man like Job?”
“Job ordered the murder of her fiancé. If Raeanne is out for blood, she’s not going to allow herself to be rescued until she’s had her fill.”
“Do you know her?”
“I know of her.” He paused, giving his beard one last scratch. “I was going to suggest we allow Elijah to fulfill his mission and take Tuesday to Job.”
“And now?”
“It might seem more natural if she contacts him on her own.”
Marc narrowed his gaze on Phil’s face. “Why would she respond after all this time?”
“You’ve given her the perfect excuse. She was so traumatized by your kidnapping that she’s having second thoughts about everything.”
Marc chuckled. “I see where you’re going with this. Can you get a message to Elijah, let him know what’s going on?”
“I’ve pulled Elijah off the case for a few days.”
Trepidation tightened Marc stomach. “Why?”
“You can only be exposed to propaganda for so long before you start to believe. He’ll be fine. He just needs a few days to de-PUREify himself.”
Marc nodded again. He’d heard stories of how easily Job bent others to his will with nothing more than the force of his personality. He had to prepare Tuesday mentally and emotionally for what she’d be facing at PURE.
Phil turned back to the control console, activating some sort of scan.
“Has there been any activity at my house? Is it safe for me to go home?”
“It’s still best to avoid any sort of routine. How many people have seen the new you?”
“A lot of people have seen me, but only a handful realize who I am. I trust all of them.”
Phil’s gaze shot back to Marc’s, his lips pressed into a grim line. “Until the Tower of Babel crumbles, you can’t afford to trust anyone. Suspicion will keep you alive.”
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