He didn’t want to break the contact between them. He’d hungered after this closeness, this comfortable intimacy, yet had kept himself from seeking it out for far too many years. Could this be love? Hell, he didn’t know. All he knew was he liked being close to Faith.
That for the first time he felt complete.
Now that he’d found this little slice of Heaven, he didn’t want to let it go that easily.
He didn’t want to let her go.
“The question is,” he said, “what do we do now?”
****
He needed to ask?
Faith’s body burned for Horace. So much so she couldn’t seem to remember why she had needed rush over to the club and talk to him so desperately. Feelings of desperation bounced around in her mind, no doubt about that, but they had nothing to do with talking and everything to do with action. Her body felt needy. She needed Horace. She needed him to touch her. To fill her.
Forever.
Keeping her gaze connected with his, Faith slipped the green tunic off over her head. Since she’d dressed in a hurry, she wore nothing underneath. Her nipples tightened in the cool air of the club.
“The mark is still there,” she said, touching herself.
Horace looked uncommonly pleased with his handiwork as he slowly raked his gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, caressing her with nothing more than a look. Faith took his hand and pressed his open palm against the mark.
Horace teased her nipple, and then gave it a pinch. “I’d like to make another mark. But not on your breast this time.”
She squeezed her legs together guessing where he might want to sink his teeth. Her panties grew damp from anticipation.
“Will you get naked for me?” he asked. He sounded serious, too serious. The somber look in his eyes made her feel like a virgin being led to sacrifice.
She swallowed over a lump in her throat. “Yes,” she managed.
He grabbed the waistband of her jeans and tugged her close to him. His arousal pressed against her belly through his khaki pants. He kissed her while his nimble fingers unbuttoned her jeans. Together they stripped her.
He reverently kissed the bite mark he’d made on her left breast, and then suckled her right nipple with more force.
She reached for his belt and started to unhook his buckle, but he pushed her hands away. “No,” he murmured, “only you.”
He guided her down onto the glassy smooth dance floor. He took hold of her ankles and pushed her legs apart until they spread wide. As she held her breath, waiting and wondering what he would do next, he knelt between her legs and sighed with pleasure.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he whispered. His voice felt hot and tingly against the sensitive skin on her upper thighs. And the awe in his voice made her believe it. No matter what she’d thought about her body before, at that moment she truly became the most beautiful woman in the world. She glowed and felt uncommonly sexy because of the reverent, loving way he was gazing at her.
Touching her.
Loving her.
He trailed kisses up her thigh and then gently licked her moist center. His tongue felt warm and rough against her petal soft folds. Faith felt an urgency in the way he caressed her with his raspy tongue. In response, her hips rose off the floor.
“Hmmm...” His voice vibrated against her flesh, pushing a wave of pleasure through her entire body. Faith arched her back and groaned. Horace seemed pleased by her response. As a reward, he flicked his tongue in and out of her, mimicking the motions of lovemaking, heating her until she feared she might be singed by his wet, hot tongue.
Faith grabbed his hair and groaned. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her firmly while she gripped his hair. He sucked on her swollen nub until she felt wild with need.
Horace scraped her soft flesh with his teeth.
He wouldn’t.
She squirmed against his mouth when he sucked on her throbbing flesh again.
Please, she silently begged. She wanted this. She wanted everything he could give her.
While she panted and moaned, he rained kisses over her upper thighs, teasing her. Driving her senses into overload. She cried out with pleasure when he nipped the tender skin between her leg and crotch. He then licked the sting. All the while, his hands roamed between her legs, stroking her, caressing her.
Just like last night, his touch had the ability to wipe away coherent thoughts. She became nothing more than a bundle of pleasure.
Feeling.
Experiencing.
Loving.
He slipped one finger into her. And then another.
She rode his hand, pushing against him. He pressed deeper and deeper into her. A third finger joined the other two. With it came another bite. This one much harder than the first, but the sting got all mixed up with the pulsing pressure building between her legs.
“Ohhh,” she cried while his strokes grew heavier and more demanding. She was swimming in sensations that were swirling around her and inside her. She felt like she was spinning deeper and deeper. Fuller and fuller. His teeth scraped against her sensitive flesh and then dug into her skin, sending her thoughts spiraling back into the erotic.
His mouth was oh so close to where his fingers were pumping her, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he sank his teeth into her sensitive folds that were now throbbing with need.
Faith wanted him inside her. She bucked against his pulsing fingers while wishing that he would enter her. She needed to feel his large cock between her legs, to feel him press deep inside her.
Horace smiled at her enthusiasm, and pushed a fourth finger into her, stretching her. She felt tight, and his fingers moving in and out of her made her feel vividly alive. She let her head drop back onto the floor and gave herself over to the sensation of him plucking her body like he would a stringed instrument.
And the feel of his teeth and his hot mouth against her flesh became a rhythm that matched the movement of his fingers pumping into her. His teeth scraped her tender flesh. And then his tongue tasted her. Faith became his meal. His lover. His strength.
Her body grew tauter and tauter. She wanted this to last forever. But at the same time, she felt herself reaching a pinnacle.
She cried out and arched her back off the floor as his teeth ripped into the skin beside her tender folds, marking her for a second time, making sure that she knew that she belonged to him.
A rainbow of colors swirled around them as she felt herself slipping off the edge of that lovely abyss. She had never felt so connected to another. She had never loved so fully—
A flash.
A memory slammed into her.
She couldn’t quite hold onto the images bombarding her mind. There were too many. And were of lands and peoples that didn’t make any sense to her.
Horace roared and pushed her away.
“We can’t.” His breath turned ragged. His heart thudded an uneven beat underneath Faith’s palm.
“We can’t,” he said again as if trying to convince himself.
It took considerable effort to push herself up onto her elbow. “Why?” she asked, sounding as confused as he looked. “What-what’s going on? Why can’t we do this?”
He was rubbing his temples and squinting—all telling signs of one whooper of a headache.
“I can’t,” he amended.
“Because your head hurts?” She tried to be understanding. She truly did. But his timing couldn’t have been worse. And why wouldn’t he look at her?
Feeling naked and more than a little vulnerable, Faith hugged her legs to her chest and tried to ignore the throb between her legs.
“Have you tried aspirin?” she asked.
Horace rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Don’t you understand? This is wrong. We were wrong to play this game. It’s dangerous...too dangerous. You and I can never be together. Never. I can’t be with anyone. Not without—without—”
; Without what? she wanted to shout at him.
Wasn’t it the woman who was supposed to be fickle? Didn’t a man pounce at the chance for sex like a dog would tear into a steak?
Faith dropped her head to her knees to hide the tears in her eyes.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, which almost made her laugh.
Horace didn’t want her to get hurt, did he? Well, it’s too late for that, buster.
She hurt. And not just her body, which still felt aroused and needy and cried out for his touch. Her ego had been bruised. And her heart—
She didn’t even want to think about what all of this had done to her heart. It felt all twisted about.
“I’m afraid that if I get involved with you that you’ll lose more than you have already,” he amended.
“Oh.” Faith hugged her legs tighter and stared at a point on the floor. Not looking at him seemed to make it easier for her to accept his rejection. “This is about what happened last night? And why you didn’t want to call the police?”
When Horace didn’t say anything, she added, “It’s obvious that you’re in trouble. That’s why I came to talk to you this morning. I came to get answers.”
“I don’t have any I can give you.”
“I see.” She reached for her pile of clothes. But Faith had one question that needed to be asked. “What about the bullet wound? That man shot you in the chest last night. There had been so much blood, too much blood. But today you’re okay. Why?”
“You saved me.”
The pain in her temples flared. She shook her head, trying to will the pain away. “That’s-that’s impossible.”
Horace looked up at her.
She could feel the press of his gaze.
“It is impossible, isn’t it?” she asked.
“If you remember what happened last night, Faith, you know the truth.”
Now she felt a need to rub her throbbing temples. “But it hurts to remember.”
“Then don’t. Go,” Horace said. There was a power in his voice. Faith had heard him use that power before. “Go back to your university. Forget that you ever met me. Forget about last night. Live the life you were meant to live.”
Though she nodded that she would forget, Faith knew she could never forget him. Deep down she knew fate wanted her to take this path.
Horace needed her.
She reached out and closed her hand over his. It took considerable courage for her to risk yet another rejection. But she refused to give up. Not on him. Though she barely knew Horace, Faith couldn’t find it in her heart to give up on him. They’d been made for each other. What had happened last night had happened for a reason.
Faith climbed onto his lap and straddled his hips. It wasn’t about whether he wanted her or not. She already knew he wanted her.
Without saying a word—words seemed too risky right now—she pressed herself against the length of Horace’s hard chest. Swirling her tongue, she flicked the nub of her piercing against the velvety skin of his ear.
“Don’t to that,” Horace groaned, but he didn’t push her away.
Encouraged, Faith sucked on his earlobe. His skin tasted salty and warm. Hmmm, what an enticing flavor. She wanted more. She wanted him. She tried to unbutton his blue cotton shirt, but he caught her wrists with an unbreakable grip and held them over her head.
When she tried to tease his earlobe with her pierced tongue again, he pulled away.
His gaze pressed down on her until the air felt too heavy to breath. He studied her. Taking in every piece of her. Making her feel delicate and vulnerable.
“This is wrong,” he said.
But Faith could tell Horace’s defenses were breaking. She wiggled against the bulge in his pants. She’d done it to tease him, but she ended up teasing herself.
“This is what you want.” She bit his shoulder. His arousal jumped. She bit him again.
“Oh, hell...Faith...” Horace took her into his arms and crushed his lips against hers. This time when she reached for his belt, he let her unhook the buckle.
“My, my, my...” a voice from the door startled them both. “You, my stubborn foundling, are supposed to be dead.”
A dark-haired man, who Faith would later have one hell of a time describing, walked toward them. He held a huge gun that he kept trained on Horace’s back. And when he spoke, his lips didn’t move. “Never mind, I’ll simply kill you again.”
Chapter Seven
Kill him? Faith’s heart slammed into her throat. The dark-haired villain, with a deadly glint in his eye, aimed the gun directly at them. She had no doubt he meant to do them harm.
Horace grew very still. His grip tightened on Faith’s hips. “Now, let’s not be hasty. Let us talk about whatever is—” Horace started to say but the dark-haired man shook his head. The force of the movement seemed to slap Horace in the face. He jerked his head back in pain.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Lion. The contract has been made. But I do feel like I need to say something first.” The assassin clucked his tongue. “I never would have guessed you would treat your woman so carelessly. She’s not a whore, but your mate. She should be honored. Celebrated. Not tossed to the floor and taken like some common...like some common...”
Words seemed to fail the villain.
“Who are you?” Horace asked. He shifted Faith in his arms, shielding her with as much of his body as possible from the assassin.
“They call me Ballou.” The assassin’s gaze narrowed. “And I’m your death.”
“My death? Why? What have I ever done to you?”
“You exist.”
“Okay...okay,” Horace said. Faith could feel the tension coiling in his body. “Your quarrel is with me. Let the girl go.”
Ballou shook his head. The mechanical movement turned Faith’s blood cold. “She stays. Because you had sex with her last night, you and she are now a package deal. Perhaps this is for the best.” The anger in his voice vibrated through the room and rattled the ceiling tiles. “You don’t deserve her.”
The assassin pulled the trigger. He gun fired with a deafening blast.
Faith felt as if she’d been hit by a train. Oh God, had she been shot? She found herself lying on her back on the floor, waiting, praying for the air to come back to her lungs.
No, not shot, she slowly realized. Horace, moving with preternatural speed, had somehow rolled her and himself out of the bullet’s path.
Probably just dumb luck that they were still alive.
Ballou adjusted his aim and fired again. This time Faith felt the bullet wiz by her head before Horace sent her skidding across the dance floor and out of harm’s way for a second time.
She curled into a tight ball and prayed some more, remembering all the reasons she should have stayed away from Horace’s sexy-as-sin body. What had she been thinking crawling back into his lap?
He’d warned her and warned her, and now because she’d been too stubborn to listen she was going to die.
She didn’t want to die.
Nor did she want to lose Horace to some madman’s bullet.
But Faith didn’t know what to do. Her earlier bravado had fled as soon as the bullets had begun to fly. Perhaps if she tackled the gunman she could buy enough time for Horace to escape. That way least one of them would survive the ordeal. But she couldn’t gather enough courage to make such a risky move. All she could seem to do was huddle on the floor and try not to cry.
Horace pulled himself up to his feet and started moving toward the assassin with his arms raised, his body slightly hunched and ready for a fight, even though confronting the armed assassin head-on like that had to be nothing short of suicide.
Run, a voice—one that didn’t belong to her—ordered from inside her head. Get out of here, Faith. Go. Run.
“No,” she whispered. She couldn’t leave Horace. He needed her. Faith had to get up. She had to find the courage to stand with Horace and face their attacker. Perhaps together they could—
/>
The front doors of the club crashed open with an angry force that literally crackled in the air.
Someone shouted.
Its force jolted Faith out of her turtle-pose. She peered through her half-opened eyes and between the fingers covering her face. A giant shadow of a man rushed toward her. Faith yelped and scooted out of his way.
Not too brave, but she had no experience with life-and-death situations. She didn’t know how to act. With this new unknown on the scene, staying out of the way seemed like her best course of action.
Action. She needed to act. Since she’d already decided she couldn’t leave Horace, Faith crossed running away off her list.
It took some doing, but she finally pried open her eyes all the way so she could see what was happening and hopefully avoid letting it happen to her.
With her eyes wide open, she could see that the shadow man that had charged into the building wasn’t a giant, but a man. She recognized the pale-haired Frank Stone and foggily remembered meeting him the night before.
This afternoon he stood directly behind the gunman who squeezed off several shots as Horace dove toward the bar.
Stone raised his arms like some cinema-grade sorcerer and shouted, “Be gone!”
Ballou whirled around. The aim of his pistol shifted from Horace to Stone. Faith fought an urge to bury her head in her hands again. Someone was about to be killed. Perhaps all of them.
Faith’s heart beat so hard in her chest she couldn’t seem to breathe right. She scooted across the floor. Though her hands trembled, she managed to pull her cell phone from the pocket of her discarded jeans. She pushed her clothes in front of her as she quietly edged toward Horace’s office.
No matter what Horace might think, she needed to involve the police. Their lives depended upon it.
Before she dialed, she slipped her green tunic on over her head. If she’d thought there had been time, she would have pulled on her jeans too.
Though she’d spent most of her childhood with primitive tribes with no qualms against nakedness, her parents had done a good job of instilling a healthy dose of modesty into her upbringing. Public nudity made her uncomfortable, especially when coupled with the chance she might be killed.
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