by Lora Leigh
But she wondered if any woman could be.
The long sheer black chiffon robe with its gathered sleeves and small train at the back went on as soft and light as a breath of air.
The sheer romance of the creation had always made her feel intensely feminine, soft.
That thought stopped her.
She was feminine, but she realized in that moment she hadn’t been raised as most girls were.
To be delicate and soft and sweetly charming, or even secretly bitchy.
She’d been raised to be an agent.
She’d been taught from the cradle to trust no one.
And she’d been made aware of the monsters that inhabited the dark from a very young age.
Rumors swirled that the new division to the bureau had been created for children like her, but that wasn’t really true. The parents of the children who had joined that division were those who had protected their children by teaching them how to protect themselves at an early age.
They were children who hadn’t been trained to be agents, but were trained to either step into the agency, or one like it. They’d been raised, as Skye had, to always know the monsters that invaded the dark.
Giving her head a hard shake, she refused to allow herself to delve further into those memories or into the implications of the effect her emotions were having on her now.
Emotions she’d never felt before.
Or was it emotions she’d never allowed herself to feel before?
Whichever, rather than allowing them into the serenity she found in the daylight, she forced herself to face Logan and whatever the hell it was he was making her feel.
Stepping from the shower to the bedroom, she watched Logan returning as well. He’d obviously showered himself. His long hair was lying in dark blond, damp strands nearly to his shoulders and a bead of water gleamed on his beard.
It was sexy as hell.
He wore a pair of soft cotton pants rather than jeans, and his feet were bare.
He looked as sexy as hell.
As arrogant as hell.
His arms crossed over his chest as he stared back at her, his gaze somber but the look on his face implacable.
She didn’t have time to deal with him. Calling Ivan had always been stressful, and after she had spent more than six months away from D.C. he would of course be curious. Especially if he had questioned her absence and found out about her medical leave.
Moving to the dresser, she picked up her cell phone before she stepped into the sitting room on the other side of the hall rather than, as she fielded Ivan’s flirting and curiosity, enduring Logan’s too-perceptive gaze if he was in the mood to be irritating this morning.
“I don’t think so.” Logan stepped in front of her before she could reach the door. “You can make that call right here.”
She stared back at him silently for long moments. “Don’t try to order me around, Logan,” she finally warned him. “I won’t deal well with it.”
“It’s not an order, Skye; it’s a warning. This isn’t something you want to do. Not right now. Not while my survival instincts are mixing with my possessiveness,” he promised her. “As long as I’m sharing that fucking bed with you”—his finger stabbed at the mussed bed—“you belong to me. That means any time you’re dealing with a man like Ivan Resnova on something more than a purely business level, I will be there.”
“Says who?” she demanded in disbelief now. “All you ever have are one-night stands. How do you know if you can be possessive or not, Logan?”
Her arms crossed over her breasts defensively as one hip cocked forward and she faced him with pure defiance.
“Do you really want to push me on this?” he asked her. “Go ahead, Skye; walk out of this room and make that call.”
She was trembling in reaction. The coil of emotions she couldn’t seem to unravel was tightening in her belly now and sending dark fingers of shadowed impulses, fears, and needs skating through her senses.
And she couldn’t handle them. She couldn’t deal with them.
Gripping the phone tightly, she moved deliberately around him before turning her back on him and doing just that.
She walked out of the room to make the call.
She left the door open.
She moved only as far as the curtained window at the side of the smaller room before flipping open the phone and pulling up the address book and choosing Ivan’s secured sat phone number. Only God knew where he was right now.
“Ah, sweetheart, I was wondering when you would deign to inform me that you were still living.” Ivan answered the phone on the first ring, his dangerously dark voice filled with amusement. “Amara has missed her shopping friend greatly.”
“Yeah, you don’t have the same sense of style, Ivan,” Skye pointed out, fully aware that Logan could hear her side of the conversation from where he was standing.
“Ah, but what I have is a sense of my daughter’s reluctance to dress as she once did,” Ivan sighed, his tone suddenly somber. “It is still extremely difficult to get her to act as other teenage girls do.”
“It’s going to take her time, Ivan,” Skye told him, not for the first time. “Is she still seeing the psychologist?”
“Weekly,” he promised her. “Now, tell me, how does someone as sweet and delicate as my little Skye manage to get herself into the mess that you have managed in that dreary little town you’re currently living in?”
She should have expected it. She knew she should have. Still, the fact that he seemed to know exactly what was going on surprised her.
“How do you know?” she asked. What did he know?
“How do I know that you are currently sleeping with a man whose very presence in your life has placed you in the utmost danger at a time when you should be healing?” She could see the dark frown on Ivan’s face and instantly realized just how much he was like Logan.
“Do I have to repeat my question?” she asked softly.
He sighed heavily. “No, you do not. As always, my dear, those I cherish most I keep an eye on. My helicopter is prepped and Alexi is currently coordinating our best men to arrive with us to ensure Miss Flannigan’s protection. Tell me, am I taking the pup as well? Amara is quite enamored of the pictures that were sent to me.”
Ivan’s tone was darker now, more dangerous.
Fuck, and she couldn’t even rail at him. Logan was listening much too closely.
Ivan chuckled. “Ahh, you’re not calling me an arrogant prick and telling me to fuck off. Shall I guess he’s listening closely?”
She lifted her hand and rubbed at the bridge of her nose wearily. “What time will you be here?”
“Ah well, as I am currently in Colorado Springs, I would guess no more than an hour; what do you think?”
“An hour,” she agreed.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “Very well. But I do not consider this your IOU, Skye. That chip is for you personally; it does not apply to friends.”
“In this case, it will have to,” she stated carefully.
“It is in my discretion to decide how the IOU is repaid,” he informed her. “Your friend Logan Callahan will pay this debt at some future date, or his cousin Rafer. Each man has skills I’m certain I may need at some point.”
“That won’t work,” she tried to warn Ivan carefully.
“Now, my dear, that just makes me more determined to prove you so very wrong. Be prepared and have your friend ready to fly. We will apprise you of her intended location when we arrive.”
“Do you have my place bugged or something?” she muttered. “How the hell did you know, Ivan?”
“Would you believe that I know you, my dear?” he asked her then. “I have many contacts in many areas. When your name came up six months ago in that tiny little hole, I of course was curious why. At dawn this morning I was informed that Rafer Callahan’s fiancée was nearly killed by one of her bodyguards, and taken out of the safe house she was in by her lover. But what upset me more,” his tone
became pure, dark violence, “was the fact you nearly died because some bastard believes you are unprotected by anyone but your lover. It is my intent to prove him very, very wrong.”
“And do you have any information concerning this particular situation?” she asked him as he fell silent for a moment.
“We will discuss these things when I arrive,” he promised her again. “You have not the time for a nap, dear heart. Be watching for me, as I wish to get your friend out of there as quickly as possible to allow my own doctor to examine the injuries my contacts informed me she had. He will of course be with me to check you over and assure me of your good health as well.”
Skye had parted her lips to inform him that she didn’t need his damn medical care when she suddenly found the phone lifted from her hand, flipped closed, then tossed carelessly to the floor.
Logan was tired of waiting.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
He’d heard enough.
Logan stalked into the sitting room, one hand grabbing her wrist as she held the phone, the other snagging the phone out of her hand, flipping it closed, and tossing it to the floor as he gripped her robe and tore it from her as he swung her to the wall.
All in one smooth move until he had her, breasts pressed to the wall, his hard body pressed behind her, before she could do more than give a startled cry.
Hooking one hand in the back of the gown, he ripped it, the slender straps at her shoulders snapping apart. The sound of rending material, the feel of the power and dominance swirling around her like a heavy cloak of lust, sent a surge of moisture easing from her sex.
Pushing from her hips, Logan allowed the gown to pool in a puddle of silk at her feet, leaving her completely naked.
“Oh my God, do you know how much that cost?” she cried out, more in amazement than any actual fear. More in arousal than in actual anger.
“Do you know how bad I want you naked?” he asked, pressing her to the wall, his head bent to her ear, strong teeth nipping firmly before his tongue eased, then teased the little sting.
She was ready to explode. Her womb was clenching in spasms of incredible need while her clit throbbed with imperative demand.
“Independent little cat, aren’t you?” he growled before his teeth raked her ear again.
“Are you crazy?” Disbelief filled her voice. “Logan, what are you doing?”
“Showing you who’s boss, baby,” he said, scraping his nails lightly down her back as he held her firmly, ignoring her struggles. “Showing you when the day is done I fucking own that pretty little soft body.” His lips brushed over her shoulder as his free hand, palm flat, smoothed down her quivering belly to the swollen, saturated mound of her pussy.
“And this sweet, tight little pussy?” He was suddenly cupping his hand between her thighs, his fingers curving, one tucking at the entrance to her pussy. “Mine, Skye.”
Skye shook her head desperately. “You can’t own me!” she wailed hoarsely.
“I already own you.” His teeth raked over her shoulder, sending a hard, desperate surge of sensation racing through her.
Skye could feel her heart racing out of control, her stomach tightening nervously as her pussy creamed in reaction.
Her juices flowed along her tense muscles, heating them, saturating them, and preparing her for his possession. Preparing her to be taken by the man threatening to steal her soul.
“Deny it all you want,” he growled. “Sing it to the fucking wind, sweetheart, but you know who you belong to.”
Curling her fingers into fists, she closed her hands into fists and fought back the need. The need to belong to him. Because she had never really belonged to anyone in her life.
His teeth scraped over her neck before he kissed it. Laying gentle suckling kisses along the sensitive column before licking over it with hungry demand.
Shudders of sensation were wracking her. It felt as though flames were shooting through her veins. Each touch of his lips awakened nerve endings previously hidden and sleeping. Each touch drew out a part of her sensuality, a part of the hunger and the emotions she had been fighting since the day she had seen him.
His hand smoothed along her thigh, then up to her rear, where he clenched it, palming her rear with obvious pleasure.
“What are you trying to do to me?”
“Trying?” His tone grated with rough hunger. “I’m not trying, baby; I’m doing.”
“Would you force me, Logan?”
Logan stilled behind her and she was certain she had won. Certain that the dark, addictive emotions rising within her would be vanquished by an end to the dominance he was displaying.
“You can say ‘no,’” he told her softly, sending relief flowing through her, and regret as well. Regret because she was too frightened of the emotions, too frightened of the needs tearing at her now. Relief because she knew she was on the verge of giving in and admitting she did belong to him.
“When you say no, I walk right out of here. I’ll call your precious Resnova myself and he can take both you and Cami.” A tight, triumphant smile curved Logan’s lips. “And I bet he will.”
He would, Skye admitted silently, to herself. Before he arrived in Sweetrock he would have the information he hadn’t already gathered. And if Logan dared to even suggest she was in danger herself, then Ivan wouldn’t have a problem forcing her to leave.
“Is that what you want, Skye?”
“He’ll never be able to hold me,” she snapped, knowing Ivan couldn’t hold her when Logan already owned a part of her. She would be drawn right back to him, unable to stay away while danger swirled so thick and heavy around him.
“Say no and he’ll be your only option until the year is out. Because I won’t be here,” Logan promised her as he bent his head to her neck, the caress of his lips sending chills racing over her body.
“Why?” Her forehead pressed into the wall as she tried to convince herself he was lying. He would never give his inheritance, everything he was trying to give his cousins, so easily.
She breathed in roughly as his lips moved to the back of her neck and his strong teeth tightened on her nape.
The animalistic bite had her pussy clenching, her womb spasming with a hard punch of sensation that sent shocks of pleasure racing around her swollen clit.
“Oh God, Logan, what are you doing to me?” Panic threatened to take hold of her; hunger already had her.
“Proving to you who this sweet, hot response belongs to, baby,” he assured her. “Showing you, Resnova may want you, but as long as you sleep in my bed he will not have you. No part of you, without my ability to oversee or overhear every second of it.”
Before she could protest, before she could even think to protest or consider if that was what she wanted, he had her turned, her breasts suddenly pressing into his chest as his lips covered hers.
Delving past her lips, licking at them with arrogant greed, he drew her into that vortex once again. The one that grabbed her up, flung her into pure pleasure, and sucked her straight into the pure, unqualified lust she couldn’t fight.
Pulling back enough to allow her to draw a breath, he caught her lower lip between his teeth and worried it gently for one heated second.
“You’re mine,” he growled as he eased back. “And I’ll show you tonight just how much.”
As he held her arms over her head, his lips returned to her. Each deep, possessive kiss was drugging, addictive. The pleasure sank inside her, built, amassed, and struck at each erogenous zone with lightning-swift power.
With his free hand he played with her breasts, her nipples. As he cupped the curve of the firm flesh, his thumb raked over the tender, pebble-hard tip. Nerve endings came awake with furious hunger, throbbing and aching for his touch. Any touch. More touch.
His lips sipped at hers, nipped at them. He loved her lips, and she loved his back in turn. Licking at them, tasting him as he tasted her. When he pulled back, his lips burning over her jaw to her neck, she couldn’t help but arch to hi
m, straining to be closer.
One hand continued to hold her hands overhead, ensuring the deepening sensation of feminine weakness built inside her. That sense of feminine hunger to be sensually dominated, to lay aside the demand for strength, and, in this part of her life, to just belong to a man whose inner strength exceeded hers, whose physical strength overwhelmed hers.
“Damn you, Logan!” she cried out as his lips traveled closer to her breasts, to the hard, peaked nipples.
“You damned me from that first kiss,” he informed her, his voice hoarse, grating with his own pleasure.
His free hand traveled to the curve of her ass once again, cupped it, then pulled back and, before she knew what to expect, delivered a light, heated tap to the dip of the firm curve.
His hand flattened again, then cupped the curve and petted it with sensual strokes as the rasp of his calloused palm sent the rasping sensations to mix with the others and build the heat burning inside her.
Caressing the cheek gently, he then tapped at the curve again. Flares of heat attacked her pussy, her clit. As she rose to her tiptoes, he suddenly covered her lips with a hungry groan, his tongue slipping past her lips to lick at hers, to taste it. Lifting her from her feet, he picked her up and carried her to the bed they had shared earlier. Rather than putting her on her back, he rolled her to her stomach.
Trying to roll back, she was stopped by the simple measure of his hand flattened against her lower back.
“Stay right there, little cat,” he ordered her, his tone harsh and commanding as his hand landed lightly on her rear once again.
“Oh God.” Her hands clenched in the sheets beneath her, she was uncertain and confused at the feelings suddenly rising inside her to mix with the chaos that already existed.
Skye gasped as his lips brushed her lower back a second later. Then the dip above her buttocks, finally brushing over the heat lingering just beneath the flesh of the curve of her rear on which he had bestowed the firm little pat.