by Joan Swan
Unease passed over Mitch’s features, followed by resolve. He crossed to the banister, planted his elbow on the painted wood and looked down at where he’d just been standing with Alyssa. “Because according to the papers you pulled from Rawlings’s office, his father, Tara’s stepdad, owned two properties under a defunct corporation. One in Coos Bay, here in Oregon, and one in Victoria, British Columbia.”
Vancouver. British Columbia. Somewhere near Queen Elizabeth Park. Vancouver, not Victoria.
“Victoria?” Teague asked, thinking back to what Rawlings had said in that house.
“Yeah. Canada. I figure we may have a headstart on Vasser. He may not know about the corporation ties. They can be a little tricky to unravel. We’ll split up tomorrow and cover both locations. I’m betting Tara took Kat to either Coos Bay or Victoria.”
“Alyssa and I should go to Coos Bay.”
Mitch’s expression turned defensive with a firm mouth.
“It only makes sense,” Teague said before Mitch could argue. “Neither of us can cross the border into Canada. You and Luke can get special privileges. Get on the next plane and get back almost before Alyssa and I can drive to Coos Bay from here.”
Mitch’s eyes, so much like Alyssa’s, sparkled with thought.
“If Tara and Kat aren’t there,” Teague pushed, “you can just come straight to Coos Bay from the airport.”
“I guess,” Mitch conceded, but his jaw rolled as if that thought was anything but “okay.”
“Say whatever is eating at you, Foster.”
Mitch turned to fully face him. “I meant every word I said to Alyssa. You may have been a good man in your past life, but past is the key word here and we both know it. Regardless of how the system screwed you over, you’re not the same man you were before. Bottom line, Creek—today, right now, even five years from now—you don’t have a thing to offer my sister. Any connection to you, even after you’re exonerated, will hurt her career. Which is all she lives for.”
Teague crossed his arms over his chest, counterpressure to the pain. “Didn’t sound to me like that was going to be a problem.”
Mitch cast a look toward the living room, then shook his head and started for his own room. “Where that girl is concerned, there’s always a problem.”
Teague waited for Mitch’s door to close before he headed down the stairs, all the while telling himself it would just be smarter to do exactly what Mitch wanted. Which was stay away from Alyssa and not prolong the inevitable. But he couldn’t. With Alyssa in the same house, he was on auto pilot, drawn to her regardless of his conscience.
“Mutagens are found in chemical compounds or ionizing radiation.” As Alyssa spoke to Luke about the science behind their abilities, Alyssa’s voice was filled with an excitement Teague couldn’t ever remember hearing before. “Chemical compounds could be anything. They’re just two chemical elements stuck together. Ionizing radiation comes from radioactive materials, and based on the burns you’ve described, the quarantine they put you under, this whole conspiracy they’ve developed and the lengths they will obviously go to keep the incident classified, that’s where I’d put my money.”
He wandered into the dim living room. Only one light was on, casting a warm glow over the sofa, where files and papers were strewn across the floor, on the cushions, teetering on the arm.
Luke spotted Teague first, long before he came out of the shadows. Alyssa either caught sight of movement with her peripheral vision or she was following Luke’s line of sight, because she cast a glance his way as he came into the room. The excitement lingering in her eyes from her previous topic died. She turned her attention to the papers on her lap, straightened them and set them aside.
“There he is,” Luke said. “Lys was just telling me how it is that you’re so screwed up.”
“We’re screwed up, Mr. Fireproof.”
Luke shrugged and pushed up from the sofa. “Yeah, but you’re way more screwed up than me. You definitely got a higher dose of that radioactive shit.” He narrowed his eyes. “Come to think of it, I’m sure I’ve seen you glow now and then.”
Teague lifted his brows. “You think? Did you tell Alyssa how your powers used to change when Keira—”
“Don’t go there.”
Luke’s warning stare should have brought Teague a sense of accomplishment, but it didn’t. It only made him miss Keira, and all his other former team members, and his old life.
Teague crossed his arms over his chest, wandered to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out on the expanse of Upper Klamath Lake. The calm waters glittered in the moonlight.
Alyssa remained silent after Luke said good night, his footsteps echoing up the stairs. They were finally alone for the first time since he’d abandoned her. Yet she didn’t say anything, which, he discovered, was worse than if she’d screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Who are Mitch’s clients?” he asked.
She didn’t immediately answer. “I’ve never asked specifically. His work, like mine, is very confidential. Why?”
He lifted his arms to the cathedral ceiling, and turned to face her. “This.” He gestured to the T-shirt and gym shorts he’d been given upon arrival. “These.” He waved a hand at the light blue halter she wore with straps as thin as yarn, the bodice so fitted he could see every curve of her breasts, and the loose-fitting silky pajama bottoms of the same color. “Those. On a moment’s notice.”
Fire sparked in her eyes. “You don’t trust him?”
“I’m asking a question no one seems able or willing to answer.”
“After all he’s done for you?”
“I never asked for help.”
She stood and pointed at him. “That’s because you don’t know how to ask for help, and you don’t know how to accept help. You don’t know help when it’s staring you in the face. How in the hell are you going to help Kat?”
Her question hit him square in the chest. He hissed out a breath and rubbed his face with both hands, trying to quell his anger. She wasn’t his target. He was angry with himself. He was angry with all the mistakes he’d made, all the people he’d hurt along the way. He was angry that his own stupid choices kept him from reaching for her now.
“Why are you here, Alyssa? You should be as far away from this as you can get.”
“I’m as caught up in this as you are.”
He shook his head. “With a brother who could obviously take care of you, with resources you could use while the mess is getting straightened out, you could be doing this research from anywhere in the country with Mitch’s contacts. Where you’d be safer, comfortable. Why are you here?”
She planted her hands on her hips, pressed her lips into a thin line and kept those eyes on him. “You walked out on me. I fully understand that what we had may have been a fling for you. A biological need. I knew that going in. But the least you could have done was face me when you left. After everything, I deserved that much.”
Regret, guilt, loss grew in a burning pressure at the center of Teague’s chest. “We both know how that would have gone, Alyssa. Look at where we are now. There is no easy goodbye for us.”
The anger in her eyes flattened into resignation, but the pain he’d sensed before remained. She walked toward him, stopping only a foot away. Her sweet scent swirled in his head, bringing memories of her taste, her touch, that were forever burned into his mind. Everything inside him screamed to act. Take what he wanted. What he needed. What he loved. Ease her pain. Fix this mess. Make it right. Only it wasn’t that simple.
“There is,” she whispered. “Just tell me you don’t want me. To my face. Right now.”
The look in her eye told Teague she would accept nothing but an answer. There would be no excuses, no rationalization, no middle ground.
He drew a shaky breath through a tight throat. “I ... don’t ...”
“You are so full of crap.” She nailed him with a glare as hot as the flames snapping in the fireplace. “You know what you are?
You’re a coward. Plain and simple. I should have seen it before. Oh, yeah”—she made a sweeping gesture over him from head to foot—“you’ve got the macho exterior, the bark, the occasional bite, but underneath it all, when it comes to the strength that really matters ... nothing, nada.” She leaned forward. “Go ahead and lie to yourself if you want, if it makes you feel safe. But we both know better, Teague. We both know you are full of shit.”
She dropped her arms and turned away.
He should have let her go. That would have been the end of it. But he was pissed—because she was right. Too damned right.
He barely had to touch her to have her whipping back around, ready for a fight. Her hair swung around and over her shoulder. Her eyes sparked with fire. Her hands balled into fists at her sides.
“You’re right, dammit. Is that what you want to hear?” He sucked in air and forcibly lowered his voice. “You’re right, okay?” He darted a glance at the stairwell for signs of the others, but the hallway remained dark and silent. “My God, you are a pain in the ass. Do you always have to push? Can’t you let anything go?”
She crossed her arms, cocked her hip and pressed her lips in a firm, frustrated line.
“This is so screwed up.” There was too much to say and it was all too little, too late. “I didn’t want ... I’d already made such a mess... . I left because—” He dropped his head, rubbed his face with both hands. He was so screwed. So utterly, royally screwed. “Dammit, Alyssa, I can’t tell you I don’t want you, because I want you more than I want to breathe.”
“Well, you sure have a piss-poor way of showing it,” she muttered, the fight gone from her voice.
Teague huffed a humorless laugh and squared his eyes with hers.
“I know why you left,” she said, dropping her tight stance. “I just had to hear it from you. That’s why I’m here.”
He closed the distance between them, squeezed her shoulders and slid his hands down her arms. “I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry.” He looked down at their hands, entwined. “I’m so sorry, for so many things.”
“So make it up to me.”
“Huh?” He looked up at her, confused.
She opened her hand and threaded their fingers. The slide of her strong, lean fingers along his sent sparks up his arm. “Make it up to me.” She took one step closer, but didn’t press up against him. “I know you know how. And as I recall, you’re pretty damn good at it.”
The invitation was on the table, but she wasn’t going to make the move. She was giving him the opportunity to back out. He could still walk away. He should still walk away. But those beautiful eyes were searching his with a film of pain he wanted to erase. Everything in him said yes—mind, body and soul.
“Alyssa.” The last syllable of her name floated in his throat as he leaned in to kiss her.
She returned his kiss with an immediate hunger that shocked him—a mixture of passion and anger and frustration and need that shot sparks through his body. He answered her demand, increased pressure, swept his tongue past her lips and rolled it against hers. She murmured into his mouth, part whimper, part moan. Her hands slid up his chest and locked around his neck. Her body pressed against his in all the perfect places, and his mind evaporated in the sweet heat.
He lifted her, and she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, putting direct pressure against his erection. Alyssa added fuel to the fire by running her hands under his shirt, over his chest and belly. On a groan, he turned and pressed her against the wall, driving his hips into the softness between her legs. He held her head with both hands, slanting it so he could kiss her one way, then the other. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get enough. He needed more, needed to fully and completely reconnect with her.
A sound caught Teague’s ear. The click of a door, followed by running water. Reality chilled over his shoulders. You don’t have anything to offer her. He gripped Alyssa’s waist and set her feet on the floor.
“What ... ?” Her eyes opened, glazed with passion.
“I think that was a wakeup call, baby.” His excuse didn’t relieve the choking regret. “Too many people here. Your brother’s right upstairs.”
With a spark in her eye, she flattened her palms against his belly, turned until they’d switched positions and pushed him back against the wall. “I don’t care who’s where.” She slid her hands under his shirt again, scraped her nails across his lower abs. Heat gushed into his groin. “But this is your call.”
His call. Oh, man ...
“Jesus, Lys.” He looked around the open room. No private corners, no enclosed spaces. “This isn’t the best place.” His hand lifted to brush the hair out of her eyes. “Not that I’m complaining, because Lord knows I’m not, but you’re not exactly quiet, baby.”
She rested her chin on his chest, eyes heavily masked by low lids and thick lashes. “Ever think that might be your fault?”
A grin started in his chest and traveled to his mouth. “God, I hope so.”
“I have a place.” She took his hand and led him to a door a short distance away made out of the same paneling as the wall.
“What’s this?”
“Wine closet.” She took his hands and walked backwards into the darkness. “Found it earlier.”
Teague squinted around the space. Sparse light drifting in from the living room, illuminating rows and rows of wine bottles stacked neatly in racks along three walls, leaving a walkway five-feet wide and one solid, flat wall.
You don’t have anything to offer her.
“Lys ...” He searched for the strength to turn her down, but his body pulsed with need and his soul ached for the connection only she could give him.
“Teague.” She pulled him into the closet and shut the door. The intoxicating aroma of sweet wine and pungent spices filled his nose, wafting through his head.
“Wow.” Her surprised whisper made a smile creep over his face. “I didn’t expect it to be so dark. I can’t see a thing.”
“You don’t need to.” Excitement pulsed through his blood. He might not have anything to offer her in the future, but he had plenty to offer her in the moment. “I know your body. I know what you like.”
He slid his hands down Alyssa’s body until he felt the hem of her halter and swept it off over her head. Her deep-throated murmur rippled through his body, urging him to satiate the white-hot burn radiating from his groin. But his heart begged for slow and deep, longing to mend the bond he’d damaged by abandoning her the night before.
With nothing but blackness surrounding them, he swept his hands over her shoulders, down her sides and across her belly, avoiding her wound. She was so warm, so soft. He pushed her against the one free wall and trailed his hands up to cradle her breasts. The supple masses teased his hands with their swaying weight. He rubbed his thumb over the nipples and kissed his way along her neck, over her collarbone and finally replaced one thumb with his mouth, exciting the flesh with slow, hard, suckling strokes of his lips and tongue.
Alyssa’s initial high-pitched cry drifted into a sighing moan. When her back arched off the wall, she pushed her breast into his mouth. He added pressure, and bit gently at her nipple.
“Teague,” she groaned as if she couldn’t stand another minute, her hands clawing at him. She had a way of making him feel like a superior lover, which only made him want to work harder to both prove her right and maybe even outshine her wildest fantasies.
Her hands slid from the back of his head, scratching her nails over his scalp and all the way down his back to his ass. She gripped him hard, pulled his hips to hers and rubbed against him with a groan of barely restrained patience. “I want you inside me.”
She pushed at his shorts and boxers, and the fabric slid past his hips and dropped on the floor. Then her hands skimmed his belly as she reached for her own pajama bottoms.
Teague grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the wall at her sides. “That’s my job.”
“Then hurry up.”
<
br /> “You’re getting a little bossy, Lys.” Teague bit his way down her neck. “I like it.”
He bent his knees enough to get his hips between her legs and with heavy pressure rubbed his way to her soft center, wedging himself there. She shivered with need. One he could fill, right here, right now. Being wanted, needed, to this degree, by this woman, was so incredibly erotic, Teague could hardly hold back. But he wasn’t ready for this to end. Wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready. She was a heady mix of sex and sweetness he wanted to possess.
He lifted both hands above her head, clasped both wrists in one hand and held them against the wall. With his other hand, he explored. When he caressed her face, she turned her head and took two of his fingers into her mouth and sucked. He ran his wet fingers over her lips, down her neck. Circled her nipple over and over before moving on. Scraped his fingers down her belly, as she’d done to him, and smiled when she trembled.
When his hand dipped below the low waistband of her pants, Alyssa lifted her hips to him. A sexy offering he couldn’t resist. As slowly as he could, he let his hand drift lower. Hers strained against his hold, even as her fingers wrapped around his. He toyed with the thin strip of curls between her legs, let her hips rock and sway beneath his hand until she whimpered.
“Teague, please.”
“God, that sounds good.” He kissed her, gently. Sucked her lower lip between his, then her upper. “Say it again. Just one more time.”
“Teague,” she put more deliberation behind the word and lifted her hips higher. “Please.”
He pressed his hand downward, pushing between her legs. Simple sensations passed through his foggy mind: hot, soft, wet, sweet, good. And those simple concepts kept replaying over and over in his head, music to the amazing sound of Alyssa’s pleasure.
Rocking his hand deeper into the soft flesh between her legs, Teague searched. With the tips of his fingers, he stroked the wet crease. Pressed his finger into her.
“Yes.” Her whisper sounded high-pitched, a little frantic, like she was about to lose it. Too soon. But it couldn’t happen too soon for Teague.