The Hacker

by Leslie Georgeson

  And down we went.

  Bump, bump, bump, bump.

  All the way to the bottom.

  This time, it hurt. This time, I received a nasty carpet burn, while she mostly rode down on top of me.

  When we finally reached the bottom, we were both gasping and heaving, our bodies taxed from the workout, and sore from the bang down the stairs.

  Then she let out a soft laugh. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. Honest. I was just trying to get your attention. Are you all right?”

  I sat up slowly, taking stock of my injuries. A painful friction burn on the back of my left forearm hurt the most. It stung like a SOB, the skin scraped off near my elbow.

  Shannon lifted my arm, her gaze narrowing on the injury. “Ouch,” she whispered sympathetically. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

  I lowered my arm, looking into her eyes. “Yeah. I saw one in the bathroom upstairs.”

  “Let me help you. I can put some antibiotic ointment on it, or some of that soothing gel, if you have some.”

  I cleared my throat. From the angle of the injury—the lower underside of my arm near my elbow—it would be difficult for me to do it myself, but not impossible.

  “Uh, okay.” I was curious to see what she’d do. And I couldn’t deny I wanted her soft hands on me in any way possible.

  This time, Shannon rose first and held her hand out to me.

  I looked into her eyes, seeing nothing but genuine concern in her gaze.

  I slipped my hand in hers. Warmth spread from her touch, seeping into my hand and spiraling up my arm. I was acutely aware of her small, feminine hand in mine, the softness of her skin, the firmness of her grip as she pulled, helping me to my feet. Shannon might be beautifully delicate on the outside, easy on the eyes, stunning to look at, to admire, to desire. But there was a definite strength deep in her core. She was not weak. I wanted to know more about her.

  “Well?” She smiled up at me. “Lead the way, and I’ll see to your wound.”

  I cleared my throat, then headed back up the stairs. Shannon trailed behind me, the heat of her gaze burning into my backside as I climbed. I had never been so aware of a woman as I was around Shannon. Normally, I barely noticed women. Until Shannon, I hadn’t met one who captured my attention.

  But Shannon consumed my thoughts almost constantly. The more I was around her, the more I discovered she was not the stereotypical senator’s daughter. Sure, she was beautiful and spoiled like I would expect, but she was also unexpectedly strong and brave, kind and giving. She was determined as hell, a bloodhound on the scent. She possessed a strong will that rivaled my own. She was intelligent, a seeker of information like me. A truth seeker. Shannon was my dream woman in the flesh. My ultimate fantasy.

  But my distrust hovered over me, making me wary of her. She planned to do a story on me, even though I’d asked her not to. She was a reporter, through and through. What lengths would she go to get her story? I was leery about getting too close to her. She could destroy me with the information she knew about me. Would she sleep with me just to try to get more information out of me? Why did she want to stay here instead of going home? What did she want from me?

  He fascinates me. I want to know everything about him.

  Her words came back to me then, flashing in front of my eyes. If I let her in, would she take me down? What was her true intent?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Shannon

  I followed Noah into the bathroom and waited while he pulled a first aid kit down from the cabinet. He opened it, rummaging around through the contents, then pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment and held it out to me.

  I took the ointment from him and lifted his arm to inspect the wound.

  He didn’t speak as I wet a washcloth and gently dabbed at the wound, before spreading ointment over it. Then I unwrapped a large Band-Aid and placed it over the wound.

  “There. How’s that?”

  He grunted. “Fine. Thanks.”

  I touched his arm. “Noah…”

  He turned away, heading out of the bathroom. Dammit, why wouldn’t he listen to me? Why was he being so damn stubborn?

  “I’m not going to write a story on you,” I shouted after him, growing increasingly irritated as I followed him out of the bathroom. “Will you just stop, for God’s sake!”

  He disappeared into his room down the hall and slammed the door. What the hell was his problem?

  I would just wait for him to come out. And get him to talk then.

  I dropped down onto the floor outside of his room. And waited.

  Fifteen minutes later, the door jerked open.

  His scent reached me first, clean man and sexy, masculine shower gel. I bolted to my feet as he strode past me. My stomach quivered with awareness. God, he smelled good.

  “I’m not going to write a story on you.”

  He halted, then slowly turned to face me. “Then why are you here, if not to get your story? Why don’t you just go home?”

  Seriously? I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. “Because you brought me here. Did you forget? And you said it was too dangerous for me to go home, so I don’t really have any choice now, do I? Besides, I feel safe with you.”

  “You feel safe with me?” he asked softly, taking a step closer to me. “Even though I bought you at an illegal flesh auction? Even though I’m a killer and am perfectly capable of hurting you?”

  I swallowed hard as he paused before me. I felt extra small when he was standing directly in front of me like this, trying to intimidate me. My heart hammered wildly as I stared up into his eyes. There was a slightly feral look on his face that made my breath catch. What was he doing? Was he just trying to scare me? Why? Had my notes made him uncomfortable? What was his deal? I couldn’t figure him out.

  I took a hesitant step back. Then another.

  He stepped forward, forcing me to step back even more.

  Until I hit the wall behind me.

  I rose to my full height, never lowering my gaze. “You won’t hurt me.”

  His lip curled in a half snarl. “I won’t? Says who?”

  He stepped even closer until his body pressed into mine. Awareness snaked through me, desire raging hot at my core. I let out a soft gasp, my gaze glued to his.

  “If you’re trying to intimidate me, Noah, it won’t work. I’m not scared of you.”

  He quirked a brow. “You’re not? Hmm. I can hear your heart beating rapidly. Is it from fear? Or excitement, maybe? You’re a reporter, Shannon. Do you get off on danger? On the thrill of chasing a story? Is that what I am to you? A dangerous story?”

  While his words insulted me, the closeness of his body was turning me on. Damn him. I couldn’t think straight. “You’ve never been just a story to me, Noah. I’ve wanted you from the very start, even when you scared me.” I lowered my voice. “I want you still.”

  He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  He’s scared. He’s afraid you’re using him.

  He slammed his hand against the wall.

  I flinched.

  “You think you can seduce me to get a story out of me.” He turned back to me. “But I’m smarter than that. I don’t kiss and tell.”

  Why did he have such a low opinion of me? Didn’t anything I say register in that thick head of his?

  “If I was this seductress you’re trying to make me out to be, then why haven’t I draped myself all over you and promised sex in exchange for information? Explain that one to me, Noah!”

  His gaze bored into mine. But he didn’t speak. Just stared at me as if he was trying to see inside my skin. Inside my soul.

  “I don’t understand where all your distrust is coming from,” I went on. “I’m the one who should be distrustful. You’re the one who’d killed my father. You’re the one who bought me at an auction, who kidnapped me and brought me here. I haven’t done anything to you!”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t done an
ything to me?” He pressed both arms against the wall on either side of my face and leaned in, a fierce glint in his natural eye. “You haven’t taken over my senses, over my mind? You haven’t made me want you so fucking bad that all I can think about is getting you naked beneath me?”

  A soft squeak pinched from my lungs just before he crushed his mouth on mine.

  I gasped under the assault, my head thumping into the wall. He pressed his body deeper into mine as he angled his head, thrusting his tongue against my lips, forcing me to give, to let him in. For a moment, I resisted, lifting my hands to his chest to shove him away. But then he gentled the kiss, his hands tangling in my hair, his mouth going soft against mine, his tongue gently probing. Oh God.

  I moaned in surrender, the flame sparking between us, his touch overwhelming me with need. Instead of shoving him away, I urged him closer, pulling at his shirt, slipping my hands up inside to feel along his sleek, hard muscles.

  He made a sound in his throat, a low growl, kissing me deeper. And deeper still. It was an erotic dance, the gentle tangle of tongues, the pressure of lips meeting and retreating, and meeting once more. A sexual foreplay.

  I don’t know how long he kissed me there against the wall, his mouth so hot and seductive against mine, dragging soft moans and whimpers out of me, but the longer he kissed me, the weaker and more pliant I became, my legs trembling, my hands clutching at him to stay upright. As if he sensed I was about to melt, he suddenly hefted me up in his arms. I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, as carried me into his bedroom.

  His mouth never left mine, his lips persistent, his tongue taking and giving in a sensual dance that kept me in a complete “Noah high”. I’d never felt like this before. So…overcome by a man’s kiss. By his touch. By his very being.

  I couldn’t breathe without inhaling his scent. I couldn’t move without feeling his touch. I couldn’t see without being blinded by his presence. His pure masculinity.

  He leaned forward, laying me back on his bed. He didn’t give me time to think, to breathe, to attempt to escape. Not that escape was even in my mind at that moment. All the fight had drained out of me. All I wanted was for him to kiss me again. To touch me. To join me on that bed and take me. To make me his.

  He came down on top of me, leaning on his arms, wincing slightly as he bumped his injured elbow. His mouth was back before I could blink, taking mine in a fierce, demanding kiss. I was so consumed by him that he was all I could think, smell, feel, see, breathe…

  “You’re not seducing me for information,” he growled out, his voice husky, as his mouth moved to trail tender kisses along my jaw, then down across my throat. “I’m doing all of the seducing.”

  “Yes,” I panted out in total agreement. “You’re doing the seducing.”

  He paused, his gaze darting back to mine, as if he thought I was mocking him. I lifted my hand to the back of his neck and tried to urge his mouth back to mine. He resisted, his natural eye darkening as the blue overtook the green. Suspicion filled his gaze.

  What now?

  “Please, Noah. Don’t make me beg. I want you, truly. I need you.”

  He breathed out harshly through his nose, then he sat up abruptly.

  Not again, dammit! He wasn’t going to get me all turned on, then walk away again. I wouldn’t let him! I bolted upright, bracing myself for battle.

  “Why?” he ground out. “Why do you want me? For your damn story?”

  I shook my head, tears burning my eyes. Why did he think so little of me? “No, you dimwit! I want you for you, dammit. For you!” Why couldn’t he see that?

  “I saw your notes, Shannon. You wrote down that you wanted to write a story about me.”

  I let out a disbelieving huff. “Wanting and doing are two separate things. I also wrote how attracted I am to you. How fascinated I am by you. Why aren’t you asking me about those things?”

  He glanced away, looking uncomfortable.

  My heart clenched. Was Noah truly afraid I was using him? How did I convince him otherwise?

  I slipped my hand in his.

  He turned back to me, his gaze burrowing into mine, searching. “Then prove it.”

  “Prove it? What do you mean?”

  He glanced down for a moment, giving me a glimpse of his insecurity, then pulled his gaze back to mine. “Prove that you really want me. That you’re not using me.”

  What? I contemplated that. How did I prove to him that I truly wanted him and that I wasn’t using him for a damn story? How?

  The notes. I needed to make him believe my notes were genuine.

  I leapt up from the bed and strode out of the room. Retrieving my notes from my room, I came back. He was still sitting on the bed, his gaze filling with wariness as I approached.

  “Here!” I thrust the wrinkled paper at him, pointing at a paragraph. “You want proof? Read this!”

  He jerked his gaze down, staring at my words.

  I shouldn’t want him, but I do. He murdered my father. But when he kisses me, I melt into a puddle of need. His touch is like magic. I want more. And more. He makes me feel alive for the first time in my life.

  “And this!” I slammed my finger at another paragraph.

  He fascinates me. I want to know everything about him. I want to break through his walls and see who he is underneath.

  “If you want me all vulnerable, that’s exactly where you’ve got me.” My eyes welled with fresh tears. “These are my feelings, Noah. They’re not fake. I don’t understand why you think I’m out to get you, but I promise I’m not.” I drew in a ragged breath. “What do you want from me? I don’t know how else to show you I want you.”

  I turned away before he noticed the tear slipping free.

  His hand snaked out, wrapping around my wrist. “Shannon, I’m…sorry.” He heaved out a sigh. “I’m not a very trusting person. You have to understand. If I make the mistake of trusting the wrong person, it could be the end for me. I was starting to trust you—really trust you—until I read your notes, and it freaked me out.” He sighed. “I thought you were just using me for your story.”

  I turned back to him, the earnestness in his eyes tugging at my heart. “No,” I whispered. “I would never do that to you. I swear. I do like you, Noah—a lot. And I care about you. You’re all tough on the outside, but you’re sweet and caring underneath. How could I not fall for a man like that? How could I not fall for you?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he heaved out a sigh. “Ever since my recruitment into The Company, I wasn’t allowed to have any friends outside of my unit. I was kept in a fucking cell whenever I wasn’t out on a mission. I was taught not to trust anyone, not to care about anyone. So trusting others is difficult for me.” He paused. “I like you, too, Shannon. A whole hell of a lot. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t…mean to. Call it self-preservation, if you will. I was scared, so I pushed you away. I can’t guarantee I won’t do it again. I’m good at fighting physical battles, but emotional ones scare the hell out of me.”

  Oh Noah. How could I not care for this amazing man? Did he realize how much he was revealing with those words?

  I sat on the bed next to him, turning to face him. “Do you want me, Noah?”

  He puffed out a breath. “You know I do.”

  “Then trust in me. I’m not going to betray you. There’s something special, something amazing between us. I know you feel it too. It’s like magic whenever we touch. I’ve never, in my life, felt anything as wonderful as I do when you touch me.”

  He sucked in a breath, his gaze darkening. Then he tangled his hand in my hair, tilting my head back.

  “If we do this, we’re exclusive. You’re mine. Partners in everything. I won’t share you with anyone else.”

  “Yes,” I conceded. “Partners in everything.” I liked the sound of that. “But why would you think you’d have to share me with someone else?”

  He hesitated, lowering his gaze. “Because the only women I’ve ever
been with were whores at the facility. Whores that everyone else fucked, too.” Color crept up his neck and into his face. “I want…more than that. I don’t want to share you. I want you to be mine.”

  He did? His admission stunned me. My heart melted. Emotion clogged my throat. Partners in everything.

  “When I’m in a relationship with a man, I’m only with him. Right now, I want to be in a relationship with you. I want to be yours.”

  He jerked his gaze back to mine, searching…

  Then he lowered his head and brushed his lips against mine.

  And the magic sparked between us again. Zap. Zing. Amazing.

  He quickly turned me into a hot, aching pool of need. There was something so intensely erotic about kissing Noah. About being kissed by Noah.

  “Make love to me,” I whispered against his lips. “Make me yours. Fly with me.”

  I leaned back and slowly lifted my shirt over my head. His pupils dilated. His breathing quickened. I reached back and unclasped my bra, then pulled my arms free of the straps and let it fall, revealing myself. He stared at my breasts, his nostrils flaring.

  His gaze filled with reverence as it swept over me. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his words full of awe. “I’m almost too scared to touch you.”

  “I won’t break,” I teased gently, “but I will die of anticipation if you don’t touch me soon.”

  His gaze came back to mine, his lips twitching. We stared at each other, our hearts racing.

  “Shannon,” he breathed out. “God, what you do to me.” He lowered his head, sliding his mouth over mine again. I leaned up, meeting his kiss, pressing my mouth to his. He moaned softly, his arms coming around me, pulling me closer. I wrapped my legs around his waist, getting as close as I could, kissing him back eagerly and threading my fingers through his short hair.

  From there, it just got hotter. So much hotter.

  His mouth moved to my neck, sending little shivers of desire shooting through me. I moaned and arched back, giving him better access. Letting him taste me however he wanted. His lids heavy with desire, he kissed down my throat and in between my breasts. I leaned back farther in his arms, letting him take, closing my eyes in sweet ecstasy.