Bonded by Blood

by Laurie London

  “Did you find any interesting silent auction items?” She directed her attention to the woman sitting across from her. As she replied, Mackenzie found her mind wandering.

  You want me, the imaginary voice whispered melodically in her ear, almost as much as I want you.

  She stiffened her spine and popped a roasted vegetable into her mouth. What was it with that damned voice in her head? Her stupid wishful thinking. Who cared that she found Dom massively attractive? That she longed to feel his hand sliding along her skin again. His lips against her throat. What the hell was wrong with her? Yes, he was gorgeous, but—

  She glanced at him again. He twirled a few strands of pasta on his fork and lifted it to his mouth. As his lips closed over the utensil, he looked up at her and their eyes locked. His jaw flexed as he chewed slowly, then swallowed, never dropping his gaze from her face.

  The fluttering of her heart belied her cool exterior.

  Too much wine. She pushed the glass away to reach for her water, but the base of the stemware caught on a fold of the tablecloth and slipped from her fingers. In an instant, Dom’s hand was there and caught the glass before a drop was spilled.

  How did he move so fast? I’ve had way too much to drink.

  “Finished?”

  She nodded her head. With a lift of his brow, he held the wineglass in front of him in a silent toast.

  To the most enticingly beautiful female I’ve ever met, the imaginary voice spoke in her head.

  To the most infuriating male.

  She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch just before he took a sip from her glass, which really made no sense. Better switch to water only.

  When the live auction started, the energy in the room ratcheted up. As the auctioneer called out dollar amounts in a dizzying frenzy, people laughed and shrieked, urging the bidding higher and higher. Mackenzie’s head began to swim with too much wine and thoughts of the exorbitant amounts of money people were spending.

  After excusing herself, she skirted around the tables, a little wobbly on her heels, and headed to the ladies’ room. She dampened a hand cloth with cool water and held it to her neck and wrists. She leaned against the basin and waited until the cloth was no longer cold. Although refreshed, she still felt a little light-headed. A glance in the mirror showed she needed lipstick, but she’d left that damn little purse back at the table. Hopefully Martin was keeping an eye on it, because she really needed some fresh air. She straightened her dress, smoothed her hair and left the restroom.

  THE AUCTIONEER’S SING-SONG voice clipped along at a rapid pace, barking out increasingly higher dollar amounts, and with every lift of a bidder’s paddle, the crowd whooped even louder.

  Dom kept an eye on the archway leading toward the restrooms and the rooftop terrace and sensed Mackenzie wasn’t far away.

  “Sold to number one-ninety-three.”

  While the next item was being readied, Dom leaned toward Martin and casually slipped his leather coat over Mackenzie’s evening bag on the chair beside him.

  “So tell me about your painting, Martin. It’s her, isn’t it?”

  Before he could reply, two burly men in tuxedos lifted the nude painting up at the front of the room so that everyone could see, and the auctioneer began to read the description. Martin stood up as the spotlight trained on him and when he bowed to the applause, Dom reached a hand under his coat and opened Mackenzie’s purse.

  Quickly locating the damaged phone, his hand touched upon a silky piece of fabric. She didn’t seem like a handkerchief sort of woman, so he peered under the coat. Sweet Jesus. A pair of dark purple lace panties were wrapped around his phone. His cock shifted against his thigh for the millionth time tonight. So that was what she’d meant when he detected her thoughts about panties. He rubbed his fingers briefly against the lace before he snapped the purse shut, tucked the phone away and discreetly rearranged himself. Again. She wasn’t planning on going home with one of these bozos, was she? His pupils dilated and he ran a finger under the suddenly tight collar of his shirt.

  “How did you know?” Martin sat down as the bidding started. “Did she tell you? Or did Mrs. Thorn-Steuben?”

  “Who? No. Those sweeping, graceful lines of the composition could only belong to her. Although your piece is gorgeous and you’re quite talented, it’s not even a fraction as beautiful as the real thing.”

  Several people around the room raised their bidders’ paddles as the tempo of the auctioneer’s calls increased, and Dom glanced around. A horse-faced letch with oversized teeth, a slovenly old man with a blond trophy wife, a barely-out-of-puberty dot-com geek. Damn if he was going to let anyone else have that painting.

  He raised his paddle, doubled the current amount, and the crowd went wild. The Bill Gates lookalike had the nerve to bid again and when Dom doubled the amount a second time, the whole place gasped in a collective orgasm.

  “Sold to number three-twenty-two.”

  It’s about time. He tossed his number on Mackenzie’s empty chair, gathered up his coat and her purse, and put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Do me a favor. Don’t tell her it was me.”

  “Why? She’ll be thrilled it went for so much. The Alzheimer’s Foundation is a cause she cares deeply about.”

  “Trust me. I can sense these things. She’d be angry and would think I— Just don’t, all right? I’m going to be out of town for a while. Can you arrange delivery in a couple of weeks?”

  “You bet.” Martin flipped him a business card. “Just call when you get back and I’ll have everything arranged with our installation boys.”

  ON THE DECK of the rooftop terrace, the lights of the Space Needle twinkled against the ink black sky. Sea air from Elliott Bay blew into Mackenzie’s face, cooling her heat-flushed cheeks, and her hair swirled around wildly. The melancholy cawing of a seagull sounded in the distance and a ferry with its lights ablaze headed toward one of the islands. She heard footsteps behind her and her neck began to tingle.

  “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

  She turned and faced Dom. His eyes were shadowed, unreadable.

  “That’s the second time you’ve said that tonight. Need a thesaurus?”

  He laughed then—a deep resonant laugh, the kind she imagined she’d never tire of hearing—and handed over her evening bag.

  “Here, you left this at the table.”

  Well, that was considerate. She took it from him and set it on a nearby cocktail table, not wanting the thing to snag her dress again.

  “And I’ve said it many more times in my head tonight,” he continued. “I don’t have a problem with redundancy. Would you prefer gorgeous, exquisite, beautiful, magnificent?”

  “Whatever. Is this the part where you suddenly get mad again and look like you could eat me alive? You must have some serious anger management issues. That, or you’re totally manic.”

  “Perhaps, but I do know what I want.” He slid his hands down the backs of her arms and grasped her balled fists. Her knees almost buckled as he slowly brought her hands to his lips and kissed the inside of each wrist.

  “Just so you know, in case you’re wondering,” she said huskily, “I find pricks really unattractive.”

  He rubbed the tip of his nose against the delicate flesh and she shivered. She should pull away, right now, leave the terrace, get back to the auction.

  With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath, as if he was savoring the fresh sea air. When he opened them, his pupils were dilated again. How strange—she’d never seen eyes like his before. He looked eager, and yes, almost hungry, but not angry like he had before. His expression was softer, almost gentle.

  “I’m terribly sorry if I came off as rude earlier. I know I did. You are just so startlingly beautiful, it caught me off-guard and I lost my head for a moment. Normally I’m much more…in control of myself than that.”

  She raised her eyebrows. What an odd thing to say. “I had no idea I’d elicit such bizarre responses from people with what I wor
e tonight. Maybe I should’ve come in jeans.”

  “That wouldn’t have made a difference. Forgive me.” There was an edge to his voice and the moment the words tumbled out, he scowled.

  In a sudden burst of courage, she steeled her shoulders and turned away to face the city lights again. Forgive him? “I’ll think about it.”

  Neither spoke for a moment, just looked out at the water and the lights twinkling on the distant shore of Bainbridge Island and the peninsula. But her brain didn’t register much except for a strange but delightful sound flickering in her head and the warmth emanating from his body. The little hairs on her skin stood on end as if they were reaching out, pulling her toward him.

  “Will this take long? Your thinking?” His voice whispered roughly in her ear. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

  The backs of his fingers brushed aside a few wind whipped pieces of hair from her shoulder and when his warm breath heated her skin and his lips grazed her neck, she had to lock her knees to keep from wobbling.

  She was strong, but not that strong. He was so damn hot and she hadn’t felt a man against her in ages. What harm would there be in a little kiss? Even though it really wasn’t like her, she turned to face him again and snaked her arms around his neck. What the hell. She could suspend her better judgment for tonight and imagine his apology was sincere.

  His mouth crushed against hers, parting her lips, and she felt the tip of his tongue. Oh God, he tasted so good. She melted into him, her fingers twining around his ponytail, as if they operated independently of her brain.

  Through the haze of all the wine, she knew she was capable of getting carried away, succumbing to more than just his kisses. Maybe she should just walk away. Right now, before things got really out of hand.

  Yeah, right. Everything about him was perfect. The taste of him, the smell of his hair, the feel of his chest against hers and the way his urgent hands caressed the bare skin of her back. Although she remembered drinking only a couple glasses of wine, she had to be drunk because his overwhelming presence muddled her rational sensibilities until she doubted she possessed the strength to pull away from him.

  Not that she really wanted to. If she couldn’t have long-term happiness, what would be the harm in a little short-term fun? She might be tipsy, but at least she was still practical. And who better to be practical with than someone like Dom?

  His warm palm slipped down her back, lower until it cupped her bottom, molding her body to his. His length was a steel ridge against her stomach, and for some outrageous reason, she rocked her hips, imagining no fabric between them.

  He froze. His hands and lips stopped moving along her skin. With her eyes closed, she could sense the tension in his face, in his body, as if it was her own. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Shhh. Hold very still.” His voice came out in a ragged whisper.

  They stood that way, clasped together, for what seemed like an eternity. She barely felt him breathing. Then it hit her. Was he about to have an orgasm? Fully clothed? Was that even possible for a man?

  She could’ve sworn she felt the rumble of laughter in his chest. The tension seemed to melt away beneath her fingertips, and when his lips caressed her skin more fervently than before, it was as if he’d been rejuvenated. She ran her hands through his hair, the leather cord loosened, and his dark locks spilled down around her upturned face.

  He kissed her neck, her hair, her shoulders with such intensity, she wasn’t entirely sure she could get him to stop if she wanted him to. A delicious chill, almost a numbness, radiated outward wherever his lips touched. Did he just graze his teeth along her sensitive skin? The blood sped through her veins and she clutched the muscles of his arms a little tighter, felt her nails dig into him, drawing him even closer. With a swift movement, he cupped her buttocks again, but this time he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was vaguely aware of her no-panty situation but didn’t care at that point. She was hungry for him and any misgivings had thawed with that first kiss.

  He stepped toward a darkened back wall, ran his hand up her thigh and hesitated. “Are you okay with this?”

  How could she not be? Did she act like she wasn’t? “Yes,” she mumbled against his lips and grabbed his hair in her fist. “I want you. I want this.”

  He didn’t act surprised when he encountered no panties, his fingers easily finding her delicate cleft, slipping carefully inside. She moaned into his mouth as he explored her sensitive folds, the pad of his thumb massaging her flesh. The feeling was so sudden, so intense, it almost hurt.

  The night air, the city sounds, the cold wall against her back. Gone. The only sensations she was conscious of were those caused by him as he touched her. “Dios mio.” He spoke so softly, almost to himself. “I can hardly believe…”

  Her body rocked automatically against his hand and he mirrored her movement. Already slickened and ready from the drawn-out foreplay of the evening, she sighed as the night began to crescendo around her.

  He pressed his thumb more tightly against her, circled it ever so slightly. “Yes,” he whispered into her ear. “There you go. Give in to what you’re feeling.” Give in to me.

  And something inside her broke loose.

  An intense surge of pleasure, unlike anything she’d ever felt before, crashed through her. Starting in the center of her body, where his fingers were, it shot upward, outward until she felt she might burst. Somehow, through it all, her legs with their silver-heeled shoes stayed clasped around his waist.

  When she finished trembling, he gently lowered her to the ground, as if he knew her knees were capable of buckling. She wasn’t entirely sure she could stand on her own after that. He brushed a few loose strands of hair from her shoulder and placed his lips there—not moving, not kissing. In small little circles, he ran the tip of his tongue along her flesh like he was tasting her and when he pulled away, cool air chilled the lingering moistness. Needing him to stay close, she ran her fingers along his scalp to keep his mouth there. She wasn’t done with him, but she wasn’t sure what she was craving. Only that she needed more. He raised his head, his shoulders stiffened slightly and he held her out at arm’s length.

  Apart from him, she was cold. She wanted to see his expression, read what he was thinking, but his face was hidden in shadow.

  Of course. It was his turn now. How could she be so completely absorbed in her own needs? She bent to unzip his pants but he clasped her wrists and straightened her up.

  “Just you tonight. I can wait.”

  “Wait?” What does he mean by wait? As in not right now? As in yes, but later?

  A hint of anxiety gnawed at her stomach—her conscience? She’d never gone home with someone she just met, let alone experienced an orgasm like that, or offered oral sex to a man who was a perfect stranger mere hours ago.

  The muscles of his arms bulged beneath her palms and strange feelings tightened around her insides like a fist. Maybe she wasn’t reading him correctly. He was apprehensive for some reason.

  Was it simply an excuse to get her to stop? God, he wasn’t married, was he?

  At that moment, the door opened with a bang and two couples stumbled onto the rooftop terrace. One of the women erupted with laughter when her companion dropped his wineglass onto the concrete floor with a crash. Sounds of music and clinking silverware wafted through the opening.

  Mackenzie tore away from his embrace and grabbed her handbag. “I should go. Martin’s probably wondering where I am.”

  She cast a glance over her shoulder as she reached for the door handle. Dom remained near the back wall, the orange light from an overhead infrared heater giving his features an eerie glow while the rest of his body all but faded into the shadows. It was obvious he wasn’t going to stop her, so she swallowed her disappointment and pulled open the door.

  “There is no one else,” she thought he said, although she could’ve sworn she didn’t see his lips move.

  UNDER A B
URNED-OUT streetlight on the other side of Fifth Avenue, Dom leaned a hip on the hood of the Porsche parked halfway down the block and watched as Mackenzie stepped through the revolving doors of the Columbia Center building and into the taxi line. Perfect. He’d wait for her to jump into one of the yellow cabs, then get the phone to the Agency’s tech lab only an hour late. Santiago should be satisfied with that.

  He took a deep breath to filter the smells and detected nothing unusual. His olfactory receptors weren’t nearly as sensitive as Lily’s—he smelled only the salty air rolling off the bay and the wet roadway—but he wouldn’t relax until he knew Mackenzie was safely on her way home. His hair whipped across his face, still loose from when she pulled out the leather tie. When he brushed it away, he caught a whiff of her musky, exotic scent still on his fingers and the blood rushed to his cock yet again.

  Another chilly burst of wind whistled up the city street and the skirt of her flimsy dress Marilyn Monroed. With a little shriek, she caught it just in time and laughed with the people standing around her. Something tugged at his insides and for an instant he wished he were over there, sharing in that silly moment with her. She flung her wool coat around her shoulders and when a taxi pulled away, she moved to the front of the line.

  Aware of a faint throbbing, like the pulse of a vein behind his eyes, he shook his head to clear away the sensation, but it didn’t change. It neither lessened nor intensified. Of course. He jammed his hands into his pockets. This was her headache, not his. Her blood levels still weren’t what they should be. Combined with the several glasses of wine she’d drunk tonight, she undoubtedly felt like hell. All because of him.

  Finally, another cab pulled up, blocking everything but her face from his view. He could stretch out his senses to her, get her to look down here, her gaze meeting his one last time. But he didn’t.