Love, Encoded (Selected Evolution Series Book 1)

by Sandra Harris

  Fire sparked from his balls and poured into his cock in waves of burning pleasure. He muffled a moan and drove into his hand, muscles clenching as spasms of pleasure shot through him and he ejaculated hard at a mere fantasy.

  He slumped back against the tiles, water cascading down his body. If he could achieve that level of pleasure by just the thought of Sarah attending him, what nirvana awaited with her actual touch? What ecstasy awaited with the grace of her allowing them to pleasure her?

  He huffed out a sigh, more determined than ever to get Sarah by their side and keep her there. He waved the shower off, grabbed a towel and dried off. It wasn’t too late in the evening, he’d call her, make his apologies for not arriving on time and persuade her to give them another chance. Five minutes later he walked back into the darkness of the bedroom.

  Adam’s quiet voice arrested his movement. “Turn the light on to its lowest illumination.”

  He knew radiance would feel like knives stabbing into Adam’s retina.

  “No, it’s okay,” he murmured, “I can get dressed in the dark.”

  “There’s something I want you to see.”

  Curiosity and consent overrode his concern and he swiped a finger over the base of a bedside lamp. The unforeseen sight of Sarah asleep, at peace, in Adam’s arms wound a sensual cord around his body and held him a willing prisoner. Emotion grabbed his heart. The air-conditioning caressed his bare, heated skin with cool sensuality and did little to keep his temperature from rising.

  “How did this come about?” He could barely squeeze the words out through the tightness claiming his throat.

  “I asked her to stay. She did.”

  “Did you apologize?”

  “Not yet.”

  He flicked his gaze to Adam’s nightstand and familiarity identified the box of painkillers he used. “So she stayed out of compassion.”

  Happiness swirled through him with blazing force. He let his eyes wander over the exposed pale skin of her legs, rejoicing in the way she wrapped herself around Adam’s lithe, big body. How he desired to see her naked in that position, writhing in the throes of passion. Heat spiked through his lower abdomen and poured euphoric fire into an intense arousal.

  Dear God, what power did she have over him that she could arouse such a response in his recently sated body? He swallowed. “There’s no way in hell I could tolerate someone other than you touching her. She’s ours.”

  Adam nodded. “We just have to convince her of that.”

  “I’m up for it.”

  Adam’s gaze travelled down his body. “Even in this light I can see that.”

  Nick couldn’t seem to drag his eyes from her and Adam. If she woke, saw him like this, buck-naked, standing feet from her with a massive hard on, while she was in a vulnerable position . . . He gritted his teeth. Managed to take a step back. With mammoth willpower he withdrew another step. He heaved air into his lungs, panting as he fought to contain the desperate struggle between the blazing need for the ultimate union of flesh, to glide into her sweet, hot depths while Adam held her close and the desire to bind her emotionally to them before that rapturous event took place.

  Adam threw something at him. “Here, put these on.”

  Soft, silky cloth landed on his chest, he grabbed it and slipped into the boxers. Sarah stirred, made a soft mmm-ing sound and stretched. Envy burned through him as her foot brushed down Adam’s leg and her body arched into his side. Hell, he felt like a green teenager, rampant with arousal, but unsure of how to proceed.

  Apology, we owe her an apology.

  She turned towards him, snuggled her back into Adam, slowly opened her eyes and smiled. Even in the dim light, the dreamy, welcoming look she bestowed upon him sapped the strength from his body and the will from his restraint. He took a step towards the bed. A distant look seemed to veil her gaze, she propped herself up on one elbow and her head tilted to one side.

  She suddenly catapulted upright, scrambled towards the end of the bed and banged into the wooden rise of the sleigh. Concern twisted his gut and he lunged towards her, missed, and she toppled to the floor with a thud. Light flooded the room. He leapt to her side, all protective concern and helped her to her feet.

  “Is she alright?” Adam demanded.

  “Sarah, baby, are you okay?”

  He tried to hold her close, but she pulled away towards the door, muttering in agitation, “iSketch, iSketch.” It was as though she noticed them only on the periphery of her awareness. He followed in bewildered unease, Adam by his side, anxiety stamped on his face.

  “You want an iSketch pad, baby?” He hovered close, clenched his fists to resist the urgent compulsion to drag her into his arms. Her almost vacant glance seemed to slash the bottom out of his gut.

  “Yes.”

  He guessed the paleness of Adam’s face had nothing to do with a headache and everything to do with the almost possessed look she delivered.

  “This way.” He gently wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and led her to a drafting table in their study. Adam called for illumination as he settled her in the elevated chair and activated a large, 3D, touch sensitive graphic tablet.

  Sarah took up a stylus and began to write at a furious pace. A jumble of mathematical symbols, formulas and numbers flowed across the blank sketching page. Schematics bloomed under her pen. For a good hour she wrote, mumbling and muttering to herself, the click of new pages as they generated the only other sound.

  He and Adam waited, exchanged the occasional tense glance, but made no move to interrupt. Finally she sat back and perused the notations, edited here, corrected there. When at last apparently satisfied she looked up and smiled.

  “Now all I have to do is devise a power source,” she said.

  He smoothed a gentle hand down her arm. “Are you okay?”

  She frowned. “Sure. Why?”

  “You seemed . . . absorbed.”

  A shrug lifted her shoulders. “I had an idea for a Personal Defence Shield.” She aimed a sudden glare at him then Adam. “One you’re not to share with your employers.”

  “The design is yours, angel,” Adam said. “You can trust us. Why don’t you forward it to yourself then delete it?”

  “Sarah, did you hurt yourself?”

  Sarah turned her attention to Nick. The bare breadth of his tanned skin leapt on her senses. Her gaze fastened on the hard, broad planes of his chest, just inches from her nose. Adam moved to Nick’s side. Two pure examples of sheer maleness. She nearly swallowed her tongue.

  Trapped by temptation, she lifted her left hand and played her fingertips in concert with her gaze across the expanse of Nick’s thickly muscled chest. They shadowed his collarbone and then trailed downwards over the undulating shields of his abdominal muscles. She defined the shape of his belly button with the tip of her index finger, slowly circled it before dipping to the elastic band of his boxers.

  A proud erection tented the black cloth. The pounding of her heart tripled in pace and she gazed in hungry rapture at his unashamed arousal. Dampness warmed the ache in her sex. She tracked her fingers sideways along smooth flesh then fanned her hand and turned her journey of exploration upward. The hard nub of male nipple teased her fingertips as she slid them one by one over his chest then smoothed her hand upwards over the line of his shoulder.

  The cords in Nick’s neck stood out, his rapid breathing echoed hers. She spread her fingers, unable to entirely cup the anterior bulge of his massive shoulder. A quiver rippled through her. The density of muscle beneath his resilient skin denied the exploratory pressure of her fingers.

  She focused on her right hand where it lay between the hard swell of Adam’s so lickable pecs. She caressed the smooth slope of his chest. Each fingertip tripped across a protruding nipple on its passage of discovery. The golden skin of
his belly clenched, highlighted hard-packed abdominal muscles. She slid her hand down, Adam’s hand captured hers, moved it sideways over his lower abdomen then back up to his chest that rose and fell with deep inhalations. She raised her gaze to his face, tried to focus through sensual haze. For immeasurable moments she floated in the heated hunger of his blue gaze. Nick captured her left hand and brought it to his lips.

  “Angel,” Adam’s husky voice plucked at the sensual tension thrumming in her, “we owe you an apology, but first you’ve got to stop frying our circuits.”

  She blinked.

  Apology? Right! Apology. Hell they were terminal to her sense of reasoning. Their almost bare, spectacularly masculine bodies undermined her thought processes until all she could think of was the way the swell and bulge of muscle called to her every feminine cell. How the thought of rubbing her naked skin against theirs brought forth a flood of heated moisture to quiver at the hungry mouth of her sex. How the—

  “Angel?”

  She sucked in a quick breath. “Sorry.”

  “Baby, we don’t mind you staring at us like you want to eat us, but . . .” Nick and Adam’s chests rose to deep inhalations and she damn near melted into to a puddle of trace elements. As one they knelt before her and her avid gaze followed the ripple and play of muscle beneath tan and golden skin.

  “Sarah?”

  Warmth encompassed her hands, slight pressure beckoned her attention. Nick’s jade eyes, darkened to a deep, mossy green pulled her gaze.

  “Sarah, we were wrong to act the way we did and we’re sorry for offending and hurting you. It won’t happen again.” A grimace cut across his face. “At least we’ll do our damnedest not to do it again.”

  Adam’s hand clutched her knee then smoothed up and down her thigh under her dress. Goosebumps tracked the line of his touch.

  “That’s right. We’re going to make it up to you, angel,” his sincere voice hinted at all sorts of treats in store for her. “We feel terrible for not taking your thoughts into consideration and hope you’ll forgive us.”

  She pulled in a deep breath, the warm scent of their masculinity filled her lungs. Her sensitive breasts scraped against her bra, begging for the relief of a touch, a caress from each man.

  “I’m sorry my reaction was a bit, ah, on the dramatic side.” Her stomach rumbled. “Oh, dear.”

  Nick chuckled and Adam’s smile felt like mellow sunlight on her heart. “To that end,” he said, “we have prepared dinner for you.”

  They stood and held out their hands to her. She accepted their assistance and revelled in their obvious disinterest in releasing her. They shepherded her to a dining table, settled her in a chair and began to wait on her. They plied her with perfectly cut mango, coral trout and fresh salad. Replete, she dabbed her napkin to her mouth. Oh how she wanted to dribble mango juice over their smooth, hard chests and lick it off.

  Adam pushed back his chair and gripped her hand. “Come, we’ll take coffee on the terrace.”

  Nick moved up beside her, his warmth caressed her and reached through the filmy fabric of her dress to draw forth a tingling flush over her body.

  “So, our sweet Sarah, do you accept our apology?”

  Absolutely, but—and this could be the deal breaker.

  She turned her gaze between the two of them. “I do. Thank you. However . . .” She really didn’t want to do this. To disturb this fragile wonder that seemed to weave the three of them together.

  Adam’s hand lifted and he threaded a lock of her hair through his fingers. “You are concerned with a conflict of interest, correct?”

  She stopped herself from biting her bottom lip and nodded. “Yes.”

  “We would never ask you to betray your brother, Sarah.”

  “Or your principles,” Nick added. “We only want you.”

  A warship siren hooted through the house accompanied by someone hammering on wood. Nick sighed and disappeared towards the front door. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind and hauled her close to big, hard male. Adam’s hands locked on her waist.

  “Thank you, angel,” he said. More pounding echoed from the front door. Firm lips pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

  “Where is she?”

  Her brother’s harsh tone feathered a shimmer of concern down her spine. She frowned and turned towards the archway leading to the dining room. Nick walked into view, Paul and Grant, their faces masks of wrath, at his back.

  Chapter 5

  Shrouded in the solemn atmosphere so inherent to cemeteries, Theron Barclese gazed upon a small plot of grassed grave. Sunlight glinted on a three-foot tombstone etched with the parameters of his mother’s short life. The polished grey granite and gold lettering suited her, reflected her personality. She’d been materialistic and hard, selfish to the point of obsession, except with him. From an early age she’d told him his name had been chosen to reflect what he would become, a hunter. By the time puberty rolled around he’d begun to suspect that his mother’s stories of alien life forms and his ability to track them indicated a little insanity.

  Before he was twenty he understood exactly what he was and how he would use it.

  The genetic imprints and appearance she’d programmed into his body were tools of the trade, helped him identify those he hunted. It was his desires that sought to subvert their will. He’d made himself a rich man by seducing a number of half-alien women, ensuring they were never found, bleeding them of ideas and information then dispensing with them when they were of no further use. Their deaths had been regrettable, but necessary for him to remain undetected by the Anaconians. Now he believed he’d found the jackpot.

  His mother’s last words echoed from the past into his mind, “Revenge me, Theron.”

  “I’m about to, Mama, I’m about to.”

  “How’d you get those?”

  Paul eyed the small bruises on his sister’s shins and could not restrain his mouth from tightening. Morning light streamed through the glass doors of the balcony and try as he might he could not erase the sight of his sister in the arms of a nearly naked man. Not that he had a problem with her having a love life, he’d be ecstatic if she did, just not with either one of those men.

  They worked for the Draken Foundation for Christ’s sake!

  And Sarah had not appreciated his intervention. She’d challenged him and Grant about their faith in her, about her ability to run her life, and finally about their belief in her integrity. Her indignation had burned in her eyes like a forest fire—and they’d both been scorched by it. Maybe one day he’d laugh about the astonished look on Grant’s face as a five foot two woman took him to task.

  But not today.

  That had been three nights ago and he still had no idea how to repair the rift between them. They went to work, they came home. None of them mentioned Bannister or McKeoun. She seemed so preoccupied he hesitated to intrude on her reservation. Hell, he admitted, he was terrified of pushing her in case he ended up deeper in her bad book.

  “I fell off the end of Nick and Adam’s bed.”

  What? He couldn’t prevent the horrified widening of his eyes.

  “I was asleep and woke with that idea for a Personal Defence Shield,” she said. “Subconsciously I assumed I was in my room. Falling over the sleigh end of their bed quickly disabused me of that notion.”

  If those bastards harmed her in any way . . . God he had to get a grip, show her some support for her decision to date them. Them. Dismay closed his eyes for a long second. Not just one, but both of them. He forced deep, calming breaths into his lungs. He still wanted to plant his fists in their faces and roar that she was his to protect. That they weren’t good enough for her.

  Nobody is.

  God knew Grant had been a hair’s breadth from doing just that the night they’d walk
ed into the other men’s home. Fortunately neither of them had acted on their impulses. He dreaded to think how much damage that would have done to his relationship with his sister. A shudder pressed through him and he pushed the scowl from his face.

  “Have you everything ready?”

  She studied him for a moment then her features softened.

  “Yes. The picnic basket is packed. Hat, towel and sunscreen are in the bag along with a change of clothes.” A wry smile curved her lips. “I’m sure the address they gave me is genuine.”

  “It is. I checked it on Google Earth.”

  Her short, choked gasp razed across his nerves. Fuck. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut? “I have to go out. Grant is here if you need anything.” He stalked towards the front door. “Have a nice time.”

  Sarah watched her brother retreat and pushed a rueful sigh from her lungs. She had to start accepting his overprotectiveness with grace. He loved her. End of story—and she was damned lucky to have his adoration. Guilty acknowledgement tweaked one corner of her mouth. If their roles were reversed and Grant worked for the opposition, she’d have investigated him up, down, sideways and six ways from Sunday.

  However aggravating it was that the men in her life insisted on making decisions for her, she had to stop taking umbrage at their typically masculine behaviour. What she had to do was gently steer them into her way of thinking—one of the best pieces of advice her mother had given her.