Mindhunters 4 - Deadly Intent (35 page)

In a hunger for flesh, he drew her nipple more deeply into his mouth, scraped it lightly with his teeth. Any satisfaction he got from her shudder was immediately lost when her hips did a quick grind against his. And he knew then that he’d been fooling himself earlier.

Slow wasn’t going to be an option.

He moved one hand to her butt, torturing himself for a few moments at the feel of the soft cotton over warm flesh before greed reared up. With less finesse than normal, he pushed the bottoms down her legs, lingering to stroke the smooth thighs he’d bared, with the whisper of muscle beneath the sleek flesh. He released her breast to raise his head, lifting her a little to kick aside the pajama bottoms, and then walking her backward until the wall was at her back.

And then he feasted. Her breath was coming rapid and hard, and it mingled with his when he pressed a deep open-mouthed kiss against her mouth. He couldn’t tell which of their hearts was hammering the hardest. Was very much afraid it was his. His lips streaked over her jaw, down the sensitive cord of her neck, where a quick nip made her shudder. Over the rounded curve of her shoulder. Across the delicate angles and hollows made by her collarbone. And then lower.

Her hands clutched in his hair, but he was only dimly aware of it. He’d never before experienced this primitive greed for flesh. His lips followed the curve of her breast, and he traced the shadowy under curve with his tongue. He wanted to touch her everywhere again. Taste her everywhere. To explore the gentle sweep of curves from breast to hip, the indentation of ribs, the smooth warm curve of her belly.

Her hands grew a little frantic on his shoulders as he knelt before her and indulged in the sensual exploration. He cupped her bottom in his palms, kneading the smooth flesh as his tongue delved into her navel. The muscles in her belly jumped and quivered beneath his lips, and he felt a measure of control return at the evidence of her desire.

If he’d been marked by their lovemaking months ago, this time he was intent she would be, too.

He traced the crease of her thighs with his fingers then repeated the action with his tongue. And when he parted her soft folds to settle his mouth over her moist heat, the only sound he was aware of was the thundering of his blood.

The sweet musky scent of her went straight to his loins. Whipped his passion to a fever pitch. The taste of her slick flesh had hunger rising again, faster and hotter, snarling and snapping like a caged beast.

Her hips jerked against his mouth and every movement drove the fire just a little higher. He should have been alarmed by this fever snapping in his blood, fueled by the taste and feel of this woman. His appetite for her couldn’t be assuaged. Refused to be sated. The realization should have set off an inner alarm. He had well-developed instincts for self-preservation. But his mind, his senses, were steeped in her.

He worked a finger into her dampness, began to stroke. The dual assault had her hips twisting against his mouth in a primal rhythm. And when he heard her cry out brokenly, felt her go boneless against him, the fierce exultation he felt was tempered only by desperation.

Rising, he took more of her weight, as she leaned heavily against him. With one arm banded around her waist, he used his free hand to stroke and smooth her trembling flesh, all the while attempting to regain his rapidly flagging control.

When he felt her hands at his zipper, lust rocketed through his veins. Her movements were torturously slow, the descent an inch at a time. Perspiration beaded on his forehead as he battled the overpowering urge to strip himself and end this in a way that lacked restraint or finesse.

Kell dragged his eyes open and tried to focus. Oxygen seemed to razor in and out of his lungs. And what he saw in her expression had need spiking through his system.

Her gaze was still a little dazed, a little slumberous with satisfaction, but there was knowledge in her expression. She was purposefully trying to drive him out of his mind. And doing a damn fine job at it.

Releasing her, he propped his hands on the wall on either side of her, as much for the support as to allow her freedom of movement. He wouldn’t have expected teasing from her. Would have felt a greater appreciation for it if he weren’t so ready to throw his head back to howl.

He leaned forward to string a trail of kisses along her jaw-line, lingering to worry the sensitive spot behind her ear. Her fingers faltered for a moment, then renewed their maddening pace.

There was a roaring in his ears, a fever in his blood that would only be quenched by this woman. There was no way to hide his reaction. It was there in his labored breathing, the muscles that jumped and quivered beneath her touch. And when she’d finished the task, and released him from his briefs, there could be no mistaking his response.

She took him in her hands to stroke, and his vision grayed at the edges. His jaw clenched as he battled back the savage need for completion. Every clever clutch and slide of her fingers seemed destined to shatter his resolve. To bring him to his knees in a quivering, quaking pool of hormones.

He reached blindly for his pocket, searched for a condom before she pushed his trousers and briefs over his hips. Kicking out of them, he had just enough reason left to stretch for the controls of the walk-in shower. To sheathe himself and then, with an arm around her waist, move them both inside it with a smoothness that owed more to luck than to dexterity.

The water was initially cool, and she jerked against him. But the multiple jets felt wondrous on his heated skin. He pressed her against the shower wall, his mouth going in search of hers, the last vestiges of control spiraling away.

They were seamed together. Mouths. Chests. Hips. And still it wasn’t close enough. He was dimly aware of her remounting desire. The way she lifted one slim leg to glide along his thigh. And the dam of his restraint abruptly crumbled.

Mouth eating at hers, he lifted her, urging her legs around his hips. And when the position opened her to him, he entered with one deep stroke that had them both groaning.

The water pounding from the jets around them, above them, had warmed. But he was aware of nothing but her. Of her inner muscles clenching and releasing around his shaft. Her heels digging into his hips. Her mouth under his, frantic and desperate.

Her hips rocked against his then, and conscious thought fragmented. He withdrew partially to surge against her again in a hunger that wouldn’t be denied. His grip tightened on her hips as he pounded into her, in a brutal greed that was beyond his control. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand clutched in his hair. He heard her moan as she crested again, released her mouth to bury his face in her throat as his hips jackhammered against hers, the need inside him a raging ruthless beast.

Sensation crashed into sensation. With one last thrust, his climax ripped through him, a violence that shattered everything but thoughts of her.

Chapter 13

It was hard to tell what time it was, but the sky seemed to be lightening. Ellie trudged farther, her steps sluggish. Or maybe she wanted to think that because she was exhausted. And so sore from that tumble she’d taken down that rocky slope a couple hours ago that it was difficult to move at all.

She stopped. Swayed a little as she tried to get her foggy mind to
think
.

Traveling at night had seemed to make sense because he wouldn’t be able to see her. But she couldn’t see either. There hadn’t been a clue a while ago that the ground had been about to give way before she’d fallen. She’d been dizzy and disoriented as she’d made her way to even ground.

All sense of direction had been lost.

If she had the energy, she’d cry. It was tempting, so tempting, to just sink down right here and give up. So what if he found her. By the time he did, she’d be dead anyway. Stiff and so frozen his knife wouldn’t work on her anyway.

Two years ago she would have done just that.

She’d been frozen then, too, but not by the cold. Numb, the way you get when your feelings hide somewhere deep inside just so you can get through the days. She hadn’t wanted them to come back, even after she’d gone back with her mom and dad.

It was so much easier when she’d felt nothing.

Scooping up some snow, she brought it to her mouth. She hadn’t found anything edible but a handful of berries, but the snow would quench her thirst. Even if eating it just made her colder inside.

And she also realized if she didn’t stop now to build her shelter, she wouldn’t have the strength later.

Stumbling forward, she began looking for a drift of snow at least four feet tall. They were easier to find in a spot where the trees were less dense, and the wind was free to shape the snow into swales. She lost track of time as she searched. But pink was edging the sky when she finally found what she was looking for.

Clumsily, she removed a snowshoe and fell to her knees. It worked like a shovel as she began to dig. She’d been more careful the first day but she didn’t have the will to dig the trench the way her dad had taught her on their winter camping trips. Likewise, constructing the raised sleeping area was beyond her. This time she just dug, arms feeling as heavy as stones as she hollowed out a compartment deep enough to crawl into.

When she’d finished, she took another careful glance around before putting the snowshoe back on and hiking over to the nearby evergreens to break off some branches. Thoughts of soon being able to stop and sleep filled her with new strength. She returned and spread the branches on the floor of the cave, removed the snowshoes and dragged them after her when she crawled inside. The boughs would keep her insulated from the snow floor.

Collapsing against the prickly branches, she lay still. Her muscles began to tremble, not from the cold but from exertion. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep.

And it was hard, so very hard, to care whether she ever woke up again.

“Okay, here’s a quick rundown on what you missed yesterday.” Intent on not giving her a chance to feel awkward about the their time in the shower—both of them—he focused on a subject sure to distract her. “That body Denise Temple told us about—the one in Jefferson County—turned out to belong to Hubbard.”

“Will you give me the towel?” The annoyance in her tone sounded normal enough to ease his fears that she’d try to withdraw from him. “I’m perfectly capable of drying my—Hubbard?”

“That’s right.” Finished with her, he swiped the towel carelessly across himself before letting it fall to the floor. Giving her a friendly pat on the ass to get her moving, he urged her out of the bathroom to stand before her dresser. “Jonesy matched the fingerprints. Helluva a deal, and still not sure what it means, although I’m betting he was just the sucker the kidnapper needed for a thumbprint that would get him inside here.”

Her head snapped to his as he started opening drawers and going through her things. “His thumb was missing?”

“It’s like that commercial says. Miss a little, miss a lot.” He found a filmy camisole—damn if it wasn’t a dead ringer for the one in his fantasy—and thrust it at her. Her fingers closed around it reflexively so he went in search of underwear for her, and got sidetracked. She had what could only be described as a delectable, mouth-watering selection.

She was dragging on the camisole so her voice was muffled. “Did you let Denise Temple know?”

“Damn.” He should have thought of that. He settled on a scrap of white lace held together with two narrow strings on each side and handed the underwear to her. “I’ll have to call her first thing.” Although the news wouldn’t be out until CBI deigned to release it, she deserved to hear it firsthand, not be hit with it on the job.

“That’s not all.” He crossed to her closet and opened it to contemplate the contents. It contained absolutely nothing low-cut, which seemed a shame, given the mouth-watering underwear she was going to be wearing beneath it. “Jonesy got a CODIS match on the bloodstain on the girl’s sheet.” He settled on a pale blue sweater that looked like it might cling and dragged it off the hanger to toss to her. “Turns out he’s in the system. Vincent Dodge. Raiker says he’s an assassin.”

The news seemed to have stopped her in her tracks. “That makes no sense,” she murmured, stunned.

He glanced at the face of the clock next to the bed. They might have awakened before dawn, but their interlude in the shower was going to make them late. And he was fairly certain Macy would want to face the boss before he came to find her. “We don’t know what it means. Put on your sweater.” He turned back to her closet. “Where are those black pants you wore the other day?” If memory served correctly, they’d hugged her ass like a glove.

“What pants? And why are you dressing me?” Belatedly she seemed snap out of whatever fog she was in. “Get out of my closet.” She crossed over to elbow him aside.

“You didn’t seem to mind. And I’d be happy to return the favor.”

But when she ignored the invitation, he strolled to the bathroom to gather up his things. Pulling on his boxer briefs, he carried the rest of his stuff out into the bedroom. “You’d best get the meeting with Raiker over with before you go down for the morning. I’m sure a good night’s sleep did wonders for his temper.” Actually, he wasn’t certain of any such thing, but he hoped for her sake that it was true. “I’ll catch you up on the rest of it when you’re done.”