by Tessa Adams
It started at the base of his spine and spread out from there—through his dick, his stomach, up his back, around to his chest. Pleasure, pain, passion roaring through him, flowing from him to her and back again as he emptied himself inside her in a series of powerful, all-encompassing waves.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They landed in New Mexico too soon. A trip that had started out as interminable had turned too short in the space of one measly hour. As she shrugged back into the tank top and skirt she had put on in her apartment that morning, Phoebe tried to block out the ramifications of what she had just done.
But that was easier said than done, especially since she wanted nothing more than to climb back on the bed and go another round—or twelve—with Dylan. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good, her body loose and well used and more than a little sore, but in the best possible way. Judging from the way he was staring at her as he buttoned his jeans, Dylan’s feelings were similar to her own.
A part of her couldn’t believe she’d done it, couldn’t believe she’d climbed into bed with a man she barely knew. She wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination, had had numerous lovers in her life, but every sexual experience she’d ever had had been well thought out. Every partner she’d ever taken, carefully considered. After watching her mother make mistake after mistake with men, she’d made sure not to follow in her footsteps.
But with Dylan, she hadn’t considered, hadn’t planned, hadn’t done anything but react. She had acted impulsively—she, who planned these things out and considered the ramifications from every angle, had thrown caution to the wind and slept with a man because he was hot. And sexy. And made her horny as hell.
Not to mention, gave her so much pleasure that her senses were still on overload.
In the grand scheme of things, she supposed there were a lot of worse, less pleasurable things she could have done.
Still, she had slept with Dylan. Had devoured him, and had let him do the same to her. And now, when she could least afford to be, she was totally and completely adrift. What the hell was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act? What was she supposed to say? None of the rules she’d spent her adult life living by applied here. Etiquette for situations like this was completely foreign.
No matter how many times she’d had sex in the past, it had never been with a man like Dylan. Never been with a man who had so totally and completely consumed her that she gave him everything, holding nothing back.
Now that it was over, Phoebe felt so vulnerable, so unprotected, that she could barely look at him. Bending down to buckle her sandals, she prayed that he would give her a few minutes to get her game face back before he started in on her.
But her prayers went unanswered as Dylan ran a hot, calloused palm down her bare arm. Even after everything they had just shared—or maybe because of it—shivers worked their way down her spine. Her body trembled, her pussy clenched, as she thought of the incredible pleasure that waited for her in Dylan’s arms. All she had to do was—
Standing up so abruptly she nearly hit him in the chin with the back of her head, Phoebe took a quick step away from Dylan. “So, which airport are we at? I forgot to ask when we got on the plane.”
“We’re at my private airstrip.”
Of course he had a private airstrip—he had the most luxurious private airplane she had even seen. Why was she even surprised? Why wouldn’t he have his own estate somewhere, complete with runway and helipad?
Private plane, private airstrip, the ability to throw around three million dollars like it was pocket change. And the most accomplished lover she’d ever had. She was beginning to feel a little bit like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole.
Which was why when Dylan took a step toward her, covering the distance she had put between them, she retreated a few more steps, desperate to keep some kind of barrier between them—even if it was just three feet of space.
His eyes narrowed dangerously at her rebellion, and he continued his advance. Too late, she remembered her earlier thoughts—that he was a predator at the top of the food chain. As with any powerful beast, retreat only made him want to pursue.
Locking her knees, Phoebe forced herself to stand her ground when all she really wanted to do was flee. Dylan saw too much—wanted too much—and she didn’t know whether she had it in her to give him what he demanded. In fact, she was pretty sure she didn’t. Yet he didn’t seem to care.
“Where are you going?” His voice was poison soft, his body language so aggressive that she had the instinctive urge to just give in.
“I thought we were getting off the plane. It stopped a couple of minutes ago.” Phoebe made a show of looking out the window. When she did, she realized for the first time that they weren’t at a private estate. Instead, they were on an isolated airstrip in the middle of the desert. There wasn’t a building within sight, just miles and miles of sand and cacti and sharp, rocky hills.
“We’ll get off the plane when we’re ready.” His hand circled her upper arm.
“I’m ready now.”
“Are you?” His eyes were black and bottomless and very, very dangerous. She didn’t know what she’d done that had set him off so completely, but she had the very distinct feeling she was about to find out.
“Of course. The sooner we get off this plane, the sooner I can get to the lab you’ve set up. I want to see it.”
Her answer seemed to placate him, some of the tension melting from his shoulders until he looked almost normal again. “It’s about ten minutes away. We’ll head straight there, if you want. Or I can take you back to the house, let you get cleaned up and get something to eat.” He glanced outside. “It’s almost sunset.”
“I want to get started,” she reiterated. She’d been poring over the information he’d given her for hours—on the plane trip and even before it, when she should have been focusing on getting her bills paid and finding someone to water her plants.
But the notes and case studies had been fascinating, totally engrossing, as she studied a disease unlike any she had ever run across in her career. The scientist inside her was champing at the bit to get started, while the woman was counting on the cool reprieve science would give her from the fever of the last hour.
“All right, then. That’s what we’ll do.”
“We—” She started to ask him what he meant by that—surely she would be working alone—when the hand on her arm tightened just a little bit. Not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to let her know it was there and that he was the one holding her.
Then Dylan gave one solid jerk, and she was suddenly back where she didn’t want to be—up against his chest, with sultry heat blazing between them. With his breath warm against her cheek, his hands tight around her waist, it suddenly didn’t seem such a bad place to end up.
“I don’t know where you’re going inside that brilliant head of yours, but stop now.” When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper, but the low, deep cadences of his voice somehow carried more power than if he’d yelled. “This wasn’t a one-off,” he continued. “It will happen again.”
“Do I get a vote in that?” She arched an eyebrow, struggled to keep her voice calm.
“You got your vote when you came three times before I ever got inside you. I’d say that’s more than enough proof that you enjoy what I do to you.”
Phoebe felt her cheeks flush, but she wouldn’t back down. She didn’t know how. And besides, some feminine instinct she’d hardly been aware of before she’d met Dylan warned her that to do so now would be total disaster.
Which was why she used every ounce of concentration she had to keep a careless smile on her face when she answered, “I enjoy a lot of things—Cherry Garcia ice cream, Aerosmith concerts, scary movies. That doesn’t mean I want to repeat the experiences on a regular basis.” She reached up and patted his cheek with her free hand. “But don’t worry. The next time I get a craving, I’ll give you a call.”
A growl�
��she swore that was the only thing she could call it—rumbled from Dylan’s chest. She took a shallow breath, held it, waited for the explosion she could see lurking behind those hell black eyes.
It never came. Instead, he leaned down until they were face-to-face, his mouth level with her own. His lips curved in a wicked grin seconds before he brushed them against hers. His tongue darted out, traced her lower lip, her upper one. Licked at the corners of her mouth until she gasped and opened for him.
This kiss was different from all the ones that had come before; it was slow, leisurely, exploratory. And arousing as hell. His tongue tangled with her own, stroked back and forth so slowly that she thought she might go insane.
Her knees, usually so steady and dependable, buckled for the third time in twenty-four hours. She would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. For long seconds, Dylan held her against him, the powerful heat he radiated burning her through the thin cotton of her tank top.
And then he was moving away, setting her aside, his smile dark and sinful and so delicious, she wanted to wrap herself around him and hold on for dear life. “Yes, Phoebe.” His voice was a perfect imitation—a perfect mockery—of the one she had just used on him. “Do be sure and tell me the next time you get a craving. I’d be happy to help you out—if I’m available.”
He walked away with a wink and a cocky-as-hell grin, and she couldn’t even be mad. She was the one who had started the battle, after all. Still, as Dylan bent to pick up her backpack, she couldn’t help admiring his fine ass—even as she wondered whether she’d finally met her match.
Dylan was pissed, his dragon even more so. Worse, he was on fire, his body burning for Phoebe’s though he’d had her less than fifteen minutes before. It hadn’t been enough, hadn’t been close to being enough, especially now that he knew what it was like to be inside her, to have her strong, lithe body close around him like a fist.
Making love to Phoebe had been better—and worse—than he’d imagined it could be. Ecstasy and agony and everything in between, loving her had marked him in a way nothing ever had before. And it had only made him hungrier. Usually he couldn’t get away fast enough after being with a woman, but with Phoebe he wanted to linger.
To savor.
To glut himself on her—again and again and again.
And she had dismissed him for the second time since he’d met her—had told him he was nothing more than a pesky little craving. An itch that had needed to be scratched.
The dragon roared, and for once he agreed with it. Like hell. Being with her had been the only bright spot in his life in far too long. If she thought he was just going to give it up—to give her up—before he’d had his fill, then she was nowhere near as smart as he’d given her credit for.
His arm ached a little as he headed for the front of the plane. It was the first time in months that it had, but he’d probably just overdone it a little with Phoebe. He smiled at the thought. One of these days, Silus’s damn magic would wear off and the stupid thing would heal completely. But until that happened, he’d keep doing what he’d been doing for the past eighteen months: ignoring it.
As his mind turned to the other clan leader and the dark magic he practiced, Dylan felt his blood heat. He’d been fighting with Silus for years, trying to keep his clan safe from the bastard’s evil plots. Most of the time he succeeded and came out on top. But sometimes he paid the price—like the battle a year and a half ago that had nearly destroyed the left side of his body as the other dragon had tried, once again, to take control of Dragonstar.
But better him than his people; that’s how Dylan had come to look at it. Besides, the damage had healed. Eventually. And the wounds he’d inflicted on the other man almost made up for any suffering he’d had to go through.
With Phoebe around, it was easier than usual to let the anger go. Leaning forward, he opened the plane’s door, licking his lips as he did so. He tasted her on his mouth and burned just a little more.
Craving, his ass. Before this battle of wills was over, he would show her the difference between a craving and an obsession, pound it into her in the most pleasurable way possible, ensure that she never forgot again.
As Dylan opened the plane’s door, Phoebe gave him a wide berth. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she had severely pissed him off, and while she wasn’t the least bit sorry about that fact, she was smart enough to be a little leery. She understood biology well enough to know just how unpredictable a wild, aching, thwarted male animal could be.
But when Dylan pushed the door open and gestured for her to go through it, she couldn’t think of a graceful way to deny him. Stepping around him—making sure not to touch him, for her sake as well as his—she took her first steps out into the New Mexico desert and gasped in surprise and wonder.
It was everything and nothing like she’d been expecting.
The heat hit her like a freight train—fast and powerful and so overwhelming that all she could do was gasp and wait to be flattened. It might be October in Massachusetts, but out here it felt like the full bloom of summer was still upon them.
Her first deep breath nearly seared her lungs, but it was worth it as she pulled in the scents of saguaro and sandalwood and pure, clean sand. The second breath came a little easier; the third one easier still. And as she stood there, trying to get her bearings, the desert came alive around her.
There were mountains a few miles in front of her—although she was smart enough to know that out here, a few miles could be more like fifty—and the sun had just started dipping behind them. It cast an otherworldly glow on the stretch of sand and rocks and cactus spread out in front of her, turned the land and everything it encompassed fiery shades of orange and red.
She’d never seen anything like it.
The whole desert was on fire, shades of scarlet and plum and rust painting everything the eye could see. The tall cacti, with their crooked, misshapen arms, were dark purple silhouettes against the bloodred sky, the small scrub brush that littered the sand nothing more than dark embers from one of nature’s most spectacular blazes. Even the clouds in the sky—small and dark and plump—looked like curls of smoke wafting slowly through the nearly still air.
And the mountains—God, the mountains—towered over everything like sentinels of old. Ancient, overwhelming, powerful, they wore the sunset’s colors proudly, absorbing the light into their crooks and valleys as if it was nothing more than their due.
Phoebe didn’t know how long she stood there staring out into a land more primitive and powerful than anything she had ever seen before. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back, tickling her, but she ignored it. She was afraid to move, to blink, to breathe, certain that the spectacle she was watching would disappear like a mirage.
There was power here, something mystical and magical that held her spellbound. She could feel it trembling through the ground, smell it drifting on the breeze, hear it in the whispers of the wind sliding around her like lover’s hands. It was enchanting, engrossing, and for once the little voice in the back of her head was silent. There was no room for anything else as she absorbed the land that would be her home for the next few weeks.
“What do you think?” Dylan’s hand was a burning caress on her lower back.
“I don’t—” Her voice broke. “I don’t have the words to describe it. How do you get anything done living here? I’d want to spend all my time outside, just watching as the earth caught fire.”
He smiled at her response, his satisfaction palpable between them. “When I’m here, I hardly notice it. But after I’ve been away—for a few days or a few months—it gets me all over again.”
“I bet.”
“Come on.” He helped her down the stairs the pilot had pushed over to the small plane. She took them slowly, still unable to look away from the breathtaking landscape. She’d seen pictures of New Mexico through the years—the desert, the cacti, the snakes—and never had the least inclination to visit. But now that she was here, s
he could only wonder what had taken her so long.
As she stepped onto the rocky sand, her legs turned to jelly beneath her and she would have fallen if Dylan hadn’t caught her. She shoved away from him, embarrassed by the way her body kept failing her when he was around. But then it occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one who was having trouble standing. Dylan had spread his feet wide to brace himself, and even the pilot had leaned against the plane in an effort to keep his balance.
The ground itself was trembling.
“Is it an earthquake?” she asked incredulously, grabbing on to Dylan one more time. As long as she wasn’t the only one feeling it, she had no trouble asking for his support.
“They happen sometimes,” he murmured, holding her against him as the ground creaked and rolled around them. “Though not usually anything this big.”
He had no sooner finished the sentence than the earthquake seemed to pass. He dropped a glancing kiss on the top of her head. “Welcome to New Mexico.”
Phoebe glanced around warily. “Yeah, I guess. I have to admit, it wasn’t the welcome I was expecting.”
“Nor the one I was expecting for you.” The pilot stepped forward and Phoebe got her first good look at him. He was tall—almost as tall as Dylan—and just as handsome, though his looks were more rugged. He had the same midnight-dark hair as Dylan, but he wore his in a shorter, jaw-skimming length. “It’s been a while since we’ve rocked and rolled like that around here.”
He held out a hand to her. “I’m Logan, by the way.”
As Phoebe reached to take his hand, she realized he had the same tattoo around his forearm as Dylan had around his bicep, only his was the same whiskey color as his eyes. She studied it for a second, much as she had Dylan’s, trying to discern the ancient symbols hidden within. When she had time, she wanted to look them up online and find out what they stood for.
“Hi, Logan. It’s nice to meet you.”