Savage (14 page)

Control. Domination.

He would decide when he would touch her. Waiting for it, anticipating it, was part of the pleasure for them both.

The elevator began to rise. She looked at their reflection in the reflective surface of its interior. Farrell was a dark specter over her shoulder, looming nearly a foot above her even in her heels. His face was stony, devoid of emotion, while her own cheeks were flushed, her lips parted as if in anticipation. She thought he might reach down, lift the dress, run his hands along her bare legs to her hips.

Hoped he might do those things.

He didn’t, and she was forced to stand very still, not trusting her ability to control herself if she so much as brushed against him.

Finally the elevator doors opened onto the sixth floor hall. She stepped out, both relieved and bereft not to feel him so close. He took the key card from her hand when they got to the suite and opened the door.

The living area was almost completely dark, lit only by the crackle of flames in the enormous fireplace. He closed the door behind them, the sound of the lock clicking into place both ominous and erotic. She moved into the room, unsure what to do, and watched him carefully remove his coat and lay it on the back of the sofa. He began to peel off the leather gloves.

“Are you ready to remember, Jenna?”

H
is control was
at its breaking point. It had been torture to stand within inches of her — smelling her perfume, knowing she was naked under the red dress — and not touch her. By the time they got to dinner he could hardly see through the animal lust roaring in his veins. Five years ago he would have taken her to the men’s room — or the women’s — and fucked her then and there.

But not this time.

He’d almost let her ruin him. He was going to stay in control this time, whatever it took. Make her beg for it.

Beg for him.

He removed the gloves slowly, letting his eyes comb her body, wanting her to know that he was making plans for it. Her chest was rapidly rising and falling, a dead giveaway that she was as on fire as him. Good. They were in this together. Had always been in it together.

He walked deliberately toward her, keeping his eyes on hers, letting the anticipation between them continue to build. He stopped an inch away, and she closed her eyes, like it might protect her from what she was feeling.

It wouldn’t. He’d tried that. Had tried everything to banish her from his heart and mind. Now he knew it was impossible. They belonged together. Now and always.

He lifted a hand and pushed the shawl to the floor. Her pale skin stood out in sharp relief next to the red dress, and he put his hands on her arms, ran them all the way up to her shoulders, relishing the feel of her silken skin against his rough hands. She still had her eyes closed as he let his hands continue, stopping at the base of her neck. He rubbed his thumbs alongside the hollow of her throat, felt her pulse jump under his touch.

“Look at me when I touch you.” Her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. They were amber in the dim light of the room, like a pool of fire. “No more pretending. No more hiding.”

He felt the ripple of her throat as she swallowed. She nodded.

He slid his hands to the fragile straps of the dress and slid them off her shoulders. It dropped to the ground in a pool of red silk. And then she was bare before him, her body glowing like alabaster in the firelight.

She had always been lovely, with long legs and curves in all the right places. But she’d grown even more beautiful in the five years they’d been apart. Her breasts were still perfect, full and round with dusky pink nipples like the bud of a rose. He could still span her waist with his hands, and he let his eyes travel past it to the hips that were slightly fuller than they'd been the last time he’d seen her. If someone had told him five years before that her beauty was only a promise of what was to come, he wouldn’t have believed it. She had already been perfection. But now he saw that she had indeed grown more fully into her face and body, and a fresh wave of passion barreled through his body at the knowledge that he would come to know her all over again.

He bent his head to her neck and inhaled the scent of her, forcing himself to go slow when all he really wanted was to fuck her into oblivion. He was so hard his cock was testing the bounds of his trousers, but he’d waited too long. He wanted to take his time with her.

He reached back with one hand and found the pins in her hair as he nuzzled her neck, moving up toward her ear. Her head fell to one side, and her eyes fluttered closed as the chestnut locks tumbled down her back in a cascade of waves. It was like satin, and he slid his fingers into it as he kissed his way along her jaw to her mouth. She was breathing fast and shallow, her nipples brushing against the front of his shirt as he got closer to her lips. When he arrived there, he fisted her hair in his hands, tipped her head back. She gasped, opened her eyes, stared up at him with a complex mixture of emotion he couldn’t begin to decipher.

He lowered his head until he was almost touching her lips with his. “Are you scared?” he asked. “Scared of what’s between us?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Good. You should be.”

He said it because it was true. What was between them was savage and eternal. A fire that never burned out. A tide that never stopped rising. A strong wind that never stopped blowing. They were powerless in the face of it. And nothing was more frightening than being powerless. He knew that better than anyone.

He angled his head over her mouth and took it with all the fierceness that had been building in his body since the moment he saw her again. She opened to him without hesitation, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust, parry for parry. Her arms slid around his neck, and then her naked body was pressed against him and all he wanted was to be naked with her. To feel the heat of her skin on his own.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, still kissing, searching her mouth for every secret, every moment he’d missed with her since she’d been gone. He dropped her on the bed, and she knelt in front of him and reached for his shirt. Her eyes never left his as she undid each button. When the shirt was open, she lowered her mouth to his chest and kissed her way to one of his nipples, then nipped at it until he groaned.

He kept his hands at his side while she unbuckled his belt, undid his trousers. When she pushed them to the floor, his cock sprang free. It should have been a relief, but he already knew nothing would relieve him of the pressure building inside him except driving into her sweet pussy.

He tipped his head back as she closed her hands around the shaft, stroking him in long, easy movements that immediately had him too close to the edge. When she lowered her mouth to his tip, he groaned, then reached for her shoulders and tossed her back on the bed.

He knelt over her, taking in her body. One word moved through him.

Mine.

He took one of her slender feet in his hands and lifted it to his shoulder so she was spread out before him. He could have driven into her right then. She was soaked, the folds of her sex glistening with her desire. His cock pulsed with the need to take her.

This was going to be more difficult than he’d expected.

He kissed his way up her shapely calf, licked the back of her knee until she gasped, then continued up her thigh, nibbling the tender, fleshy skin close to her center. She was already moving her hips, grabbing her breasts, squeezing them in a way that had always driven him wild. She had never been afraid of what she wanted. Never been too ashamed or scared to do anything that would bring them both pleasure.

He skipped over her pussy, knowing it would make her crazy, and continued up her stomach, dipping his tongue into her naval on his way to her breasts. He bent his head to the pink nipple squeezed to a peak in one of her hands, flicked his tongue against it until she moaned. Then he closed his mouth around it and sucked.

Her hips came up off the bed, and she wrapped one of her legs around him, her body searching for his cock. He took the other breast in his hand, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he continued to suck. His cock was engorged and sensitive as it touched her inner thigh, her pussy so wet he could feel the juices on his stomach.

He lifted himself off her and kneeled between her legs, lowering his head to her center, breathing in the smell of her sex. Holding her hips in his hands, he flicked his tongue against her clit until she bucked against his mouth.

“You want me to lick your pussy, baby?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Then you’re going to have to take my cock.”

“Yes,” she said again. She was in the haze of passion now, her eyes cloudy, her body driving out reason and logic and inhibition.

He took her ankles and pulled her farther down on the bed, then turned around and straddled her neck. His cock hung against her mouth, and the velvety softness of her lips almost made him come. He braced his hands on either side of her hips and lowered his mouth to her pussy, running his tongue through the soft petals just as her mouth closed around his cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

He focused on her nub, rubbing circles around it with his tongue, feeling the little bud swell with every pass. She sucked on his tip, then slid him into her mouth bit by bit until he was buried to the balls. He growled, his hips thrusting involuntarily, then licked his way down to her opening. He thrust his tongue inside her, tasting the sweetness of her juices as she moved her hips against his mouth, still sucking his cock, moving in perfect time with him, both of them rushing toward a release that had been building for far too long.

He moved back to her clit, sucking while he slid two fingers inside her. She cried out around his cock, then moved more frantically, fucking him with her mouth while he plunged his fingers into her pussy and sucked on the tiny bundle of nerves swelling under his tongue. She was moving faster now, her body reaching for release as she positioned herself against his tongue. He loved this about her — that she knew what her body wanted, that she asked for it, demanded it, took it.

He let her set the pace, moving his fingers faster, sucking harder as she lifted her hips up to meet his mouth, until he felt her shudder around his fingers, her body convulsing as she finally stepped off the edge. She kept sucking him while she came, and he had to fight not to come with her. It was overwhelmingly erotic — feeling her come against his mouth while she sucked him off.

But no. When he came it would be inside of her.

When her body stopped clenching around his fingers, he slid them out of her and pulled his cock from her mouth. Then he moved between her thighs again, rubbing one thumb against the engorged folds.

“I forgot how hard you come,” he murmured. “Now come for me again.”

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please.”

He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance. “Are you still on the pill?”

“Yes, yes,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “Just fuck me, Farrell. I need you.”

He rubbed his cock against her clit, relishing the way she squirmed against the big head, and slid it through her folds, making sure it was good and wet. Then he lifted her hips off the bed and drove into her so hard a shudder ran through him.

He paused for a few seconds when he was buried inside her, closing his eyes, memorizing the feel of her hot pussy around the flesh of his cock. He dragged his cock out of her, every inch of her sweetness a kind of torture he never wanted to end. When he was almost all the way out he drove in again.

“Oh, god…” she said. “I need you to fuck me hard. I need you to come inside me.”

Her words snapped what little was left of his self control. He pushed all the way into her and pulled out, driving again and again, the friction building between them as they rode the waves of their bliss. He reached down, rubbed her clit while he sank into her, the inner walls of her pussy growing tighter as she reached for another orgasm. Their movements were frantic, Jenna lifting her hips to meet his thrusts as he lifted her legs onto his shoulder so he could go deeper, harder. She was close now, clenching him so hard he could hardly get in and out of her.

“You’re going to come for me again, aren't you, Jenna?”

“Yes,” she gasped, opening her eyes to look at him. “Come with me. Give it all to me.”

“You already have it all, Jenna.”

It was true in more ways than one, and she rocked her hips against him as she came again, this time looking into his eyes until he jumped off the ledge with her, his body trembling as he poured into her, still thrusting, still driving, until she was limp underneath him.

He lay next to her and pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as her breathing returned to normal. She was his. Had always been his. And now that he had her back, he would kill anyone who tried to take her from him.

He kissed her head, spoke against her hair. “Never leave me again.”

F
arrell pulled
in front of the bank and stopped the car. He took off his sunglasses and looked over at her, his gaze familiar and warm. Their night together had banished the coldness between them. Now it was like no time had passed since they were last together.

Except time had passed. And Jenna had a secret. She knew she had to tell Farrell about Lily, even wanted to tell him about her. But she was still trying to figure out how to go about it, to say nothing about how she would explain him to Lily.

He reached out, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, laid his hand against her cheek. “You’re sure about this?”

She nodded. “I need to know.”

“I understand,” he said. “And whatever it is, it will be okay. I promise.”

For the first time in a long time, she believed it was true. That Farrell would make it true if necessary.

She turned her face into his hand, kissed his palm. He smiled, and for a minute she felt like she might not be able to breathe. She’d forgotten the power of Farrell’s smile. The way it warmed her from the inside out.

“Let’s go then,” he finally said.

He came around to her side to open the door, then took her hand and led her to the bank. They were greeted by the same man who’d helped them the day before. Was it only yesterday when she’d been afraid to be alone with Farrell? When she’d actually tried to convince herself she wanted to escape him? Impossible.

He led them into Arturo’s office where they were greeted like old friends. Arturo asked for the key card, then tapped on his computer before asking her a few simple questions: name on the account, birthdate, address of record. That one she got wrong at first, assuming her father had used their home address. He hadn’t, and she’d had to look up the address of the Institute on her phone, the only other address she could think of that he might have used. She’d been right, but she didn’t have time to wonder why he’d used his work address. Arturo wasn’t through verifying her access to the account.

“And are you a signatory?” he asked.

Jenna blinked. “A signatory?”

“Only signatories are allowed access to each safe deposit box,” he said.

“I… I don’t think so,” she said. “But I have the key card…”

Farrell squeezed her hand.

Arturo smiled. “The key card is only one of several layers of security in place to insure the privacy of our clients.”

“Of course,” she said. She should have been disappointed. Instead she felt a twinge of hope. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to gain access to the safe deposit box after all. In many ways, it would be easier. She could walk away without wondering if she’d done the right thing. Without exposing herself to a secret she might be better off not knowing.

“Let’s check, shall we?” Arturo asked with a smile. “You are your father’s daughter, after all. May I have your identification?”

She handed over her passport and drew in a breath as he refocused on his computer screen.

“Ah!” he said. “Here you are: Jenna Carver. Date of birth is a match.” He met her eyes. “Clearly your father was well prepared.”

Things were getting stranger and stranger.

“Is there anyone else on the account?” Jenna asked. “A… Kate Carver, maybe? That’s my sister.”

Arturo returned his gaze to the screen. “I’m afraid not. I only have John and Jenna Carver.”

“I don’t understand…” Her brain was struggling to make sense of it all. Her father’s sudden death. The key card and passport found in his jacket, leading her to this bank in Madrid, a country to which, as far as Kate knew, her father had no ties. The revelation that he’d expected her to come looking for answers. That he’d paved the way for her to do so.

None of it made sense, but she was prevented from thinking about it further when Arturo stood. “Please, follow me.”

They stood, and Arturo smiled at Farrell. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here, Mr….”

“I go where she goes,” Farrell said without filling in the blank.

“That’s simply not possible,” Arturo said. “Miss Carver is the only one listed on the account.”

Farrell tightened next to her, and she put a hand on his arm, hurrying to stop him before he told Arturo he’d shoot his way into the vault with her if necessary. “It’s all right. I’ll be fine.”

He looked down at her, a protective fire in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

“Feel free to wait in the lobby,” Arturo said, gesturing to his office door.

Farrell went grudgingly, every tense step an indication that he was ready to fight his way in if Jenna said the word.

“Shall we?” Arturo asked her.

She nodded, then followed him out of the room and up a set of marble stairs to the second floor. They continued down a long hall to a wooden door on the right. Next to it, a control panel was backlit in red.

Arturo removed a key card — almost identical to the one she’d found in her father’s jacket — from his pocket. When he inserted it into a slot on the control panel, the light around it turned green. A faint beep sounded from inside the door, followed by a soft click. Arturo pushed open the door, and Jenna stepped behind him into a long room lined with metal boxes.

“Here we are.” He held out his hand. “May I?”

She handed him the key card. He consulted the numbers and walked to the far end of the room, scanning the rows of boxes until he found what he was looking for.

“This is the one,” he said. “Simply insert your card into the slot and pull out the box. I’ll leave you alone.”

He stepped out of the room, and Jenna was sealed in its silence. She wondered if the room was soundproofed. The rest of the world seemed a million miles away.

She waited for the door to shut behind him before walking to the row of boxes he’d indicated at one end of the room. Holding up her father’s key card, she scanned the numbers on the boxes until she found its match. The discovery was accompanied by a strange sense of euphoria, as if she’d finally discovered a difficult answer to a troublesome puzzle.

She hesitated, then put the card in the slot. There was another beep and click, and when she tugged on the little brass handle, the box slid out of the wall. Her pulse was racing, sweat breaking out on her upper lip.

No turning back now.

She took the box to the table at the center of the room and lifted the lid, holding her breath. When its contents were exposed, she could only stare. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the thick stack of papers inside the long rectangular box.

She lifted them out, surprised to find it was a rather big bundle, at least two inches thick. She scanned the words on the top sheet, her eyes catching on certain words and phrases.

…
m
arburgvirions contain non-infectious
, linear nonsegmented, single-stranded RNA genomes of negative polarity that possesses inverse-complementary 3' and 5' termini…

N
PC1 cholesterol transporter
protein appears to be essential for infection…

…
e
xhibit symptoms
within ten days of exposure.

I
t was
like reading another language, and she flipped through the pages, hoping for a clearer explanation. It didn’t help. It was all gibberish, punctuated by graphs and statistics that did nothing to clarify what she was holding.

“Miss Carver.” She jumped a little, turning to look at Arturo standing in the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you need more time?”

“Am I allowed to take these?” she asked.

“You have a key. Anything you find is yours to do with as you see fit.”

She rolled them into a thick tube and headed for the door, her mind already trying to work the puzzle of her father’s secret. Arturo led her to the lobby where Farrell was pacing. He strode toward her and took her arm as soon as he spotted her. Then he led her out the door.

She was glad he didn’t say anything right away. She’d come to Madrid for answers. Instead she’d only found more questions.