Enemy Mine (The Base Branch Series Book 1) (9 page)

S
loan sat so rigidly
in the chair next to him, he could have used her as a human flagpole. An image of her naked body draped in Union Jack flashed in his mind. The red cross of Saint George covering her breasts and baring her…
Saint Mary, Mother of God
!

What in the blue bloody balls was wrong with him? She’d walked into the room and turned him into a horny teenager, all semblance of higher cognitive function out the door.

Baine laid the fork on the edge of his plate and leaned toward Sloan. When he felt the warmth radiating off her skin, he breathed, “Act like I just said the most indecent thing you’ve ever heard and you like it.”

On command she leaned back, meeting his gaze head-on with wide eyes and her lower lip caught between her teeth. She poked him in the ribs hard enough to break one, and somehow she made it look playful. Baine sucked in a breath and grit his teeth to mask the pain that radiated through his middle. The cunning woman curved her sultry lips, batting her thick lashes like an innocent.

Once the pain subsided he moved in again. Maybe this time she’d administer a lethal blow, making all his worries disappear. He braced and whispered while he nipped her jaw. “Make it look like you want to screw my cock so hard you’ll break it, so we can get out of here.”

Her sharp draw of air wasn’t feigned, neither was the blush on her cheek. The thought of a hooker blushing shook his shoulders with humor.

“What’s so funny, Son?”

“Just enjoying the entertainment,” he drawled.

“A toast,” his father said. “To success, family, friends, and gorgeous women.”

“Hear, hear,” Baine agreed, but only to the first and last.
His
success and the remarkable woman to his left.

After Sloan returned her champagne to the table, she seized his hand from his lap. A mischievous expression played over her lovely face as she interlocked their fingers and brought them to her mouth. Slick warmth enveloped his middle finger. Desire so hot and heavy it made movement impossible, except for the slightest rise and fall of his chest, rushed over his body. Her tongue cradled his sizzling nerve endings. Those pouty lips clamped down in a perfect O, then dragged from knuckle to tip.

With little care of anything else in the world, much less the room, he grabbed her arm, pulled her up from the table and out of the room. Unlike the last time he’d hauled her like a cave man, she followed with eager steps barely missing his heels. If only she knew what he had in mind called for little talk and a whole lot of action...he wondered, would she come as willingly? Because, if he had anything to do with it, she’d be coming soon.

They practically flew through the foyer and up the stairs, footfalls striking as rapidly as the beat of a Massai drum. Baine’s heart drummed much the same. At the top of the stairs, Sloan pinned him to the wall. He should have reigned her hands or, at the very least, prepared to block an attack. Hard to do when he operated on primal instinct, filling his palms with her exquisite backside and pulling her against him.

“Tell me why you haven’t killed me already, and,” she added when their bodies met, “why your hands are always on my bottom?”

“Well,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “they haven’t found a better place to be, but with you this close, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

She punched him in the gut with as much force as a man three times her size. He would have groaned or congratulated her on a straight-up sock, if he could breathe. All he managed was staying upright.

“Start answering my questions or this is going to get ugly fast.”

“You’re supposed to be a hooker, remember? You might try acting hookerly,” he gasped.

Her eyes, tiny shimmering suns, darkened like an eclipse as her brow knitted.

“Fine,” he said, “but we can’t talk in my room until I turn on the music.”

He motioned her ahead.

“You first.”

A snort of laughter broke the tension. “You always this suspicious?”

She returned it. Her nose wrinkled. “Usually, far more cautious.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said as they fell in step together.

At his bedroom door he paused and flashed her a wicked smile, just because he knew it’d irk her. “There are three cameras with audio in the room.”

“Sick bastard.”

“Yep, Kobi sure is. So, make it look real, escort.”

Her mouth fell open and he flung the door wide to escape her wrath.

Like a professional, she fell into the role. Eyelashes batting and hips swaying, rocking the shit out of his world, Sloan entered the room.

He locked the door and passed her, heading straight for the music, but she caught his arm.

“Not. So. Fast,” she drew out in a voice made for perfume ads or dirty call lines. But her biting grip sent the real message.
Not so obvious, dumb ass.

“We do have all night,” he said, matching her languorous tone.

“Scotch. Straight.”

Something about the way she demanded his drink of choice wormed its way under his skin and awful close to his heart. Then again, there wasn’t much about the woman that didn’t get under his skin...in the most terrifying way.

He poured one drink and slammed it back before flipping on the haunting violin and fixing another. When he turned she was there, probably making sure he hadn’t spiked her drink.
Smart
. She drank it as he had, with a toss of her head, and then placed it on the nearest shelf.

Fingers fisted in his lapel, she pulled him down and held him a scant inch away. For a moment they breathed the same air. Though he longed to ravage her mouth, he savored her, mapping the features of her magnificent face—the natural arch of her brow, eyes large enough to lose himself inside. The round tip of her cute nose and the sharp V of her jaw. The dark cream of her skin he could never tire of tasting.

Hoarsely she pressed, “Why? And I swear, if you don’t answer, you’ll regret it.”

Yep, balls. Big brass ones
. She didn’t care that he looked down a good foot into her eyes, that he doubled her in weight and tripled her breadth. Her fierce gaze told him as much.

“We want the same thing, where my father’s concerned.”

Her top lip trembled, almost imperceptibly. “I doubt it.”

Baine smoothed his hands around her slight waist. “We can help each other.”

“Are you going to hold him down while I disembowel him on the grasses of the Highveld and watch as the animals have at him? Are you going to listen to his screams? Smile when he begs for death?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He pulled her to him. “And neither are you.”

“Am I not?”

“It wouldn’t make you any better than he is.”

She shook her head.

“You’re better than him.”

Her head continued to shake. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Lord, he longed to tell her how wrong she was. To tell her everything, but so much hinged on his mission’s success. He couldn’t blow it over feelings. Over history. So, he hedged.

“I know him. I know how to hurt him far worse than any blood sport you could dream up.”

“I’m very creative,” she taunted.

“So am I.”

Baine unfastened the hook at her neck and tugged the zipper down to the base of her spine. Sloan stood motionless, except for her breathing and searching gaze. As he continued, he gauged her reaction for the slightest clue that she wanted him to stop. Her hold on him remained steadfast. The rise and fall of her chest increased when he hitched the hem of her dress an inch, then another, until the curve of her bottom peeked out.

Like before, he filled his hands with her ass, and then lifted her up to eye level. And he waited. Prayed and waited.

Finally, she moved.

All semblance of thought evaporated. Only the feel of her was left. The scent, the need also remained. Their noses bumped before her lips crushed his. Hot and wet. And again, her response was more ardent than he could have imagined.

The fabric of his jacket creaked as the seams strained under her intense grip. It bit into the back of his neck and he smiled as their lips battled.

“I won’t drop you. Promise.”

“A promise from a killer? I think I’ll hold on.”

Her words bit more than the fabric, and they shouldn’t have. Even as she kissed her way down his throat, anger, frustration, and longing fueled his retort. “Are
you
not one too?”

She pushed out of his arms in a flash and he let her go, immediately hating the chasm he’d created between them. But he was a fool not to realize it’d been there all along. Craving something didn’t make it so. It only emphasized the futility in wanting it so damn much.

Moisture gathered in her eyes, but nothing fell. Sloan’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t yell or flee. Only stood looking disheveled, and hurt, maybe.

Her voice cracked on the first words. “I am what your father made me.”

Fuck her all the way to hell and back. Baine’s eyes burned and his gut rocked unsteadily. He laughed to keep from crying. “I am what my father made me, but I am not what you...”

He stopped for a minute. Unable to breathe, he ripped the suffocating jacket off and tossed it on the bed. His fingers pinched the muscle of his waist. That grip was the only thing holding him together. The only thing keeping him from exploding with truth. Which would help neither of them, and put Sloan in further jeopardy.

His eyes closed on her confused expression and on the rage building inside. As much as she hated his father, he hated the man more, and himself a little for the familial blood flowing through his veins.

Her palm cupped his cheek. A sign of what? He didn’t know and didn’t open his eyes to find out. Sloan was a professional killer. She could rid him of his weapons and shoot him dead in less than a second. If she killed him, his fight would be over. His worries. His anger. He didn’t want to die, but he chose to put his life in her hands. To trust her as he hoped she would trust him.

That was his last thought before she yanked the tie free from his neck. In a breath his torment morphed into lust. His eyes flew open to Sloan’s slender hands working his holster over his shoulders. She placed it on the bed with his jacket and returned to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. That combined with the sheer look of erotic excitement smoldering in her gaze set him off. He grabbed her thighs and levered her off the floor. Unquestioning, her legs wrapped around his middle while she continued to work on the buttons. Her warm weight settled around him and his cock surged back to life, constricting against the front of his slacks and nudging the V of her legs.

With three ground-eating strides Baine reached the balcony doors and threw them open.

“Plan on tossing me over?” she asked with a smile.

He bit her shoulder and she moaned. The sound rolled down his spine, landing heavily in his balls.

“I plan on fucking you senseless, without an audience.”

“So, logically, you head for the nearest terrace,” she said, sarcasm thick in her voice.

Despite himself and every obstacle they faced, Baine laughed. “The cameras face away from the house. Guards won’t start patrol for another hour. And everybody’s at dinner.

“Besides,” he added with a nod toward the potted shrubs, “there’s foliage.”

“Then you won’t mind this?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief a second before she tore the remainder of his shirt apart. Tinny sounds
pinged
off the concrete and
tinged
off the glass.

“God, no,” he breathed. “Not at all.”

She peeled the fabric over his shoulders and bared his chest. Her palms frantically roamed his exposed skin.

“I like your impatience,” he said as he pinned her body to the house with his own.

Sloan’s fingers entwined in his hair then heaved his head toward hers. His fingers left the nestle of her neck, and when they were eye level, she drew him to her mouth. It was less of a kiss and more of a mauling. Their lips shoved together, wedged in between each other.

Baine seized her bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth, then drew it out between his teeth. Her hips bucked and she arched. The motion sent shock waves through his dick as she rocked on its tip. Velvety cleavage spilled out of her dress as she pressed against him. And suddenly, he was as impatient as she.

He pushed the green dress over her hips. His reward was two overflowing handfuls of smooth skin. It molded in his palms as he squeezed. While one hand ran up her sleekly muscled thigh, the other sought warmer, wetter flesh. His fingers dipped into the valley of her silky cheeks and found a swath of lace. She groaned into his mouth as he followed the fabric around, pressing firmly over her most sensitive nooks and crannies. When he found the lace at her core soaked through, it was his turn to groan.

“You’re so fit and goddamn ready. Tell me you’re ready,” he begged.

She nodded as she kissed a trail from the curve of his mouth to the slightly ticklish skin below his ear.

“No. I need to hear you say it.”

She tracked her way back until the moonlight gleamed in her eyes. “I’m ready.”

With both hands he ripped the delicate barrier from her body. The pads of his fingers slipped between her folds. She arched again and he attacked her exposed neck, nibbling and inhaling her unique scent. Verbena and scotch. He found her clit and gently stroked the slick ridge. It grew larger and firmer from his attention and her breathing became shallow.

Baine found her mouth and slowly inserted his tongue as he mimicked the same motion with his finger, burying it inside her. God was she ready. Hot and smooth and tight.

“I thought you’d be bigger,” she panted.

Laughter shook him and she licked the bend of his smile. He abhorred leaving her core, but if ever there was a time to prove your manhood, this was it. A belt buckle, button, and zipper later, gravity and his erection nearly did the job for him. The broad head of his penis buffeted her slick feminine opening.

With little thought or finesse, Baine pushed. She keened and her hold tightened on his hair as velvety heat surrounded the entire length of his cock. Her swollen lips clasped its base, sending bolts of ecstasy straight to his balls, numbing his brain. He pulled completely out then thrust home again, reaching the wall of her cervix.