by Nikki Duncan
“What?”
He took himself on a brief tour through the living room with matching and supremely comfortable-looking sofas and accent chairs facing a big screen television. The dining area was small and quaint with the white tiled floor continuing from the living room. A bright blue and burgundy area rug sat beneath the table complimenting the pale blue walls and place mats on the table.
Two wide, arched doorways entered the kitchen from opposite ends of a rounded bar with a few stools settled before it. The kitchen itself was bright and airy, with a large window looking over the darkening backyard. In the distance, he saw the flicker of the fading sun on the water.
“What?”
“Have you lived here long?” The place was obsessively tidy with few personal touches beyond the seafoam green knitted blanket tossed on one of the sofas.
“Long enough.” She headed to the kitchen and pulled a soda from the fridge. Popping it open, she turned and leaned against the nearest cabinet. “What bothers you?”
“Different things.” The way you’re watching me, as if you know who I am. What I did. She couldn’t know. And she wasn’t the type to lambast him for trying to help her. Even if he had stooped to skeezy behavior. “Have you had dinner?”
“Yes.”
He nodded and rounded one end of the wraparound bar. “Super. Then I don’t have to share the loaded New York–style pizza which will be here soon.”
Her stomach grumbled loudly, but she didn’t retract her claim. She stood, unmoving and almost unblinking while he pulled a soda from her fridge.
“Did you screw me?”
He froze with the door open and his index finger below the aluminum tab of the can. Slowly, he raised his head and met her solemn and confused stare.
She couldn’t know what he’d done or so he’d hoped. He didn’t have the ability to wipe her memory, but she’d been out cold. “Pardon?”
She slammed the can down, splashing soda onto the ivory counter. She didn’t cock her hands on her hips, but she may as well have. The furious indignation she’d shown during the energy shot fiasco shrouded her once more. “Did you polish your disco stick in me?”
His finger jerked on the tab. The can popped open with a slopping whoosh. He jumped and dropped the drink. Dark, syrupy soda splattered Ava and spewed across the pale cabinets when it slammed onto the white floor.
“You did.” Her mouth gaped open. She looked down at herself, soaked, and then at him. “You had sex with me when I was unconscious.”
“It wasn’t…like that.”
“Trust me.” She shook her head and moved toward the doorway. “This is a simple question. You did, or you didn’t take advantage of me.”
“You want simple?” There’s nothing simple about any of this. He slammed the door to the fridge closed with a clanging rattle and invaded her space. He backed her to the counter and brushed his body along hers. Towering over her by nearly a foot, she was forced to look up.
“Yes.” Her throat bobbed in a swallow. Her pupils flared.
“Too late.”
She was aroused. The connection they’d had earlier had played a larger role in her orgasm than the serotonin he’d released into her body. That had only heightened the experience for them both.
Not that he could explain to her without revealing everything else about himself. He couldn’t admit to anything he’d done. He had to lie. It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was close enough. The reality slithered with a grimy stench coating his insides.
Her gaze darted back and forth across his face, jumping between his eyes and mouth. “H.”
His frustration fizzled. He stepped back and grabbed the neatly folded towel from beside the sink. “No. I didn’t have sex with you.”
“But I…”
“You what, Ava?”
“Nothing.” She dropped her head and mumbled. “Never mind.”
“Good.” He had done what he had no tolerance for. He’d violated her trust, but rather than admit the truth, he was leaving her with confused memories in her head. He was jumping from one asshole move to another, and didn’t like the feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he would sacrifice his beliefs. “You have more towels? Some cleaning stuff? This is gonna be sticky.”
“Yeah.” She went through a nearby door and came back out with a spray bottle and a handful of towels.
He took the bottle, covering her hand with his and holding firm for a moment. His gaze eased slowly up her body, over the shorts covering the head of the Phoenix and the shirt clinging wetly to her braless chest. She would fit like perfection in his palms. If he kissed her now, she would taste syrupy sweet like the soda.
His body tensed and hardened. Ready and willing to feel her against him again. “You’re going to be sticky. You want help cleaning up?”
“No.” She jerked her hand away and moved to the door leading to a hallway and the bedroom. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
In what way? “If you insist.”
“I do.” She spun on the ball of her foot.
As she walked away, her workout shorts hugged her tight ass and begged him to abandon the task of cleaning up the mess to follow her instead. To help her strip off her T-shirt and wipe away the stickiness. His tongue was wet. Or he could help her shower. Maybe hold her hair.
His shields wavered. A blue mist settled over the room. He adjusted to ease the pressure on his dick.
“Hey,” he called after her.
Her feet slapping the tile floor halted just out of view. He imagined her glancing up to the ceiling for patience or control. The image had him smiling with the desire to needle her.
“What?”
Yeah, her voice confirmed it. So did the waves of arousal bouncing through the air. She was frustrated, and not entirely by his goading. She may not remember his healing her, but she remembered the sensations of him inside her. Her body remembered his as vibrantly as his recalled hers.
“You’re conscious now. Let me know if you’re in a polishing mood.”
“Only if it involves hot wax and a scraper.”
“You mean like on a board? I could get behind that.” He suppressed his chuckle so she wouldn’t hear. He didn’t move closer where he could get a better feel of her. A clearer impression of her arousal would only incite his rising temperature. “You did claim earlier you’re good in the water.”
“I would be concerned you would wipeout prematurely.”
He laughed. An all out laugh that rose from deep in the gut quaked his abs. He hadn’t laughed in too long.
So few things in his life had been laugh-worthy, but however long Ava was around he would enjoy her. He would continue looking for answers lurking in her mind, but now he had a new plan. A plan for seduction.
She’d known from the moment he’d invited himself over there would be trouble, just as she’d known Breck would forbid her to tell H her true identity. The bizarre part for her was how disturbing his presence was and how she’d anticipated it all day. She’d been told to get close.
She’d succeeded. Too well for peace of mind.
Ava stepped into her bedroom on gelatinous legs, closed and locked the door and eyed the drawer beside her bed. He’d barely touched her, but the suggestions in his smooth voice, the heat in his almost eerily blue eyes and the all-too-clear memory of his mouth on hers had her body humming. The hairs on her arms danced. Her scalp tingled—something it had been doing a lot of since meeting him. Her pussy pulsed with an awareness so acute she would swear he was in her.
She headed to the bathroom, stripping off her shirt on the way. The wet fabric scraped against her stiff nipples, shooting a jolt of arousal through her stomach. How had he gotten to her so easily?
Ava stopped at the door and looked back to the drawer once more. Her gaze flitted to the bedroom door and back to the drawer holding the gag gift a college friend had sent for her last birthday.
She’d admit it. She was a healthy woman. She enjoyed sex. An
d sure, there had been occasions when she’d tried to pleasure herself after a rough day to relieve the pressure. It was just as normal for a woman to take care of her own business as it was for a man. It just never worked.
An erotic book might get her close, but even the hottest ones failed to get her wet and ready. Nothing was capable of pushing her over the edge. Especially after the things she’d been subjected to undercover as a call girl.
So how was it ten minutes with H had her body snapping at the tethers, begging for release?
Ava shook her head and went into the bathroom. It didn’t matter what he’d done or why her body responded so readily. She was not going to bust out that finger nubby for the first time with him in the next room.
She dropped her shirt on the floor and turned on the shower to warm up the water. Nope. The toy was staying right where it was.
She pushed the shorts over her hips. Already they clung to her. Sticky.
You’re going to be sticky. You want help cleaning up? His words, smooth and erotic, reverberated through her head as clearly as if he stood behind her.
She tripped herself stepping out of the shorts. The tangy scent of her own arousal reached up and slapped at her. Her knees quivered. Her body wept, excreting more juices to slide down her inner thigh.
“Oh hell.” She moaned as she turned to look at herself in the mirror.
Her eyes were heavy, and not from sleepiness. Her cheeks were flushed in red blotches as the heat of anticipation rose. As the need for sexual release rose.
“No freaking way.” She wasn’t using that thing with him no more than a few walls away.
Decided, she pulled back the shower curtain and stepped beneath the lukewarm spray. Every drop of water was a fire burst of awakening. Each drop struck her skin with the seductive caress of his lips on hers. His hands on her body. His mind and body melded with her.
Steam rose in the air and had nothing to do with the shower. Hot. She was too hot.
Moisture ran down her thigh. Her sex ached and clenched. She needed relief.
Her vision blurred.
Her knees buckled.
The water pounded and by the time she turned the knobs to stop its flow, her body was a mass of raw nerves. She had never been so aware of every nerve on her body. Whatever was happening to her went beyond a need for sexual release.
If she didn’t release some pressure, fast, her mind was likely to break.
Her lungs constricted and silvery blue lights sparked in her vision. She tried to stand. Her legs were too weak.
Desperate, Ava crawled out of the tub and into her bedroom. Barely able to hold herself upright, she jerked open the drawer and grabbed the package holding the nubby.
Sensing the coming relief, her hips jerked forward.
The hard plastic package slipped beneath her wet hand. She pulled it out and ripped it open. The watch-type battery fell onto the carpet. And damn if her hands didn’t shake as she twisted off the end of the vibrator, popped the battery into place and slipped the little bullet thingy into the rubbery sleeve. Her finger—practically having a life of its own—dove through the ring.
What was happening to her? She wasn’t herself. Hadn’t been since that morning in H’s lab.
With a flick of the switch, her finger jumped to life beneath a low hum.
Ava fell to her back on the floor, spread her legs and placed the nubby on her clit. She flattened her free hand over her chest and grabbed her breast, squeezing. Flicking her thumb over her nipple, her need bumped up a notch.
Long and low and luscious, Dr. H moaned in her head. Encouraged her to touch herself. She ran her hand down her chest and over her stomach. Her back arched, as if it was his hand on her body. Her body pulsed. Release flooded through her.
“Ohhh-ooooohh.” She rolled her head. Her hips jerked and sought more.
She’d been so ramped up that once wasn’t enough. Her skin heated and hummed with the alertness she’d felt when he woke her that morning in her car. He’d invaded her space. Now he invaded her mind. He shared the raw bliss of her agonizing pleasure as intently as if he was at her side.
His moans in her mind egged her on. Enticed her to take herself higher.
She pressed her vibrating finger a little harder against her clit. The moisture of her arousal slicked her fingers. She licked her lips, picturing his tongue. His hands. His body, wet from the ocean.
Quaking. Contracting. Quivering. She moved at a frenzied pace, rubbing her clit, pinching her nipple, taking herself higher. Her scalp tingled. The pulse in her temple assaulted her wound, but she couldn’t make herself care.
Mmmm. Let go.
Her eyes widened. If she wasn’t so certain she was behind locked doors, she’d swear that had come from him.
She came again and collapsed with her hand to her side. He wasn’t with her, but he was there. He had propelled her to the finish.
Orgasm without a partner, let alone multiple ones, was a new experience for her. Hell, they’d never been easy with a partner.
She needed to figure out what magic Dr. H possessed.
Chapter Seven
He’d fought to keep his shields in place against the sparking assaults.
He’d fought to not feel her increasing arousal heat his blood mercilessly.
He’d fought desperately to stay out of her head and not experience her orgasms, withholding himself from his own.
The power of her skyrocketing emotions slamming into H, even from several rooms away, battered his defenses until he’d lost the battle.
She’d unwittingly connected with him, and it wasn’t like him accidently walking into a room. He couldn’t quietly back out unnoticed. No. To avoid reopening her wound, he had no choice but to stay with her.
Heat coursed through his veins. Prickling pulses of pleasure skated across the skin of his chest in a searing caress. A caress that wasn’t real.
His dick swelled and pressed against his zipper. After a life of being told how to dress, he always wore baggy shorts and sandals for comfort, but his shorts weren’t baggy enough when Ava was around.
He didn’t make it to the sofa before his legs buckled. He settled for the support of the wall leading into the hallway. Her moans rumbled through the walls and tormented him.
Hums of excitement sighed through his head. Flashes of blinding light and glimpses of rapture exploded. Red. Green. Blue. Orange.
Moans and groans.
In an attempt to restrain himself, H gritted his teeth, biting the insides of his cheeks until he bled. He hadn’t been invited to share this with her. He nudged her mind, hurrying her along. He couldn’t intrude so completely as to go to the finish line with her. He couldn’t hold off much longer either.
Finally, with one last violent shove against his mind, she backed off. Her tension eased off. His body hungered for the physical satisfaction he’d denied himself. His mind whirled.
Sighs and lies.
She was empathic. Whether she knew it or not, she had abilities very similar to him, or she wouldn’t have been able to reach out to him. More interestingly, he’d bet she’d been feeding off his arousal too.
Short of him using his healing abilities on her, this last connection had been as strong as the one in his lab. Instead of draining him, it left him energized.
Maybe they connected so easily because he’d done it earlier and she was susceptible. It could also be a sort of chemical reaction, making it fairly easy for his brain to talk to her brain. His gut told him there was more to it. There was more to her.
If he’d wanted proof for his study that some lovers connected more intensely than others, he had it. They may not be lovers in the traditional sense and he wouldn’t be noting his observations about this experience in his study journals, but his own body, thrumming and pulsing and rushing toward completion along with hers was his proof.
It didn’t make sense to him how a mysterious woman he barely knew could defeat the shields he’d spent his life building. S
he’d done in less than a day what General Scott and his team had failed to do with years of practice. She had to have some natural abilities. Abilities she’d learned to suppress. Abilities he wanted to test more thoroughly. Now.
He pushed away from the wall and headed toward her room through the shimmering blue haze suffusing his line of vision.
No woman had incited him so intensely that self-combustion seemed like a very real possibility. Ava Sebastian made him curious. As a scientist. As a man. She created questions he’d never thought to ask and had him itching to run tests he’d sworn never to run.
Ava had just exhibited one of the abilities he’d originally been taken for. The difference was, while he wanted to know how she’d kept her ability hidden her entire life, he wouldn’t attempt to find the answers by hooking her to brain-scrambling machines.
He stopped outside her room. They’d just shared a supremely intimate act. He craved more, but if she hadn’t intended to call to him, she would be more alarmed than excited by his presence. If she had no idea of her power, telling her under these circumstances would have her reaching for the nearest weapon to skewer him with.
He sank back against the wall, carefully erected his weakened shields until his vision returned to normal and then stared at the white panel separating them. The inner sanctum. Her bedroom. Her bed.
Her door opened and she stumbled to a halt.
“H.” Her post-orgasm tone slipped over him.
His mind surged forward, propelling him to reach for her. Years of conditioning gave him the power to stay still.
Dressed in shorts and another outrageous T-shirt—this one lime green with Hermes holding his hands up in surrender, shouting “Don’t shoot the messenger!”—she was more fully covered than when she’d exited the dressing room in the red bikini. She was more staggering now with her flushed cheeks and dilated eyes.
“Ava. I heard you…” He swallowed, needing to sound less…horny. “You all right?”
The flush tinted the tops of her ears. “I’m good.”
“Good.” Neither of them moved. “What is it with you and the Hermes stuff?”