Mine (7 page)

Long, callused fingertips feathered over her 63

legs, lowered to massage her injured ankle gently.

A shiver ran through her veins, one he’d have felt even if he hadn’t been Vampyre. How would those sexy legs feel wrapped around him while he buried himself deep inside of her?

Chagrined at his own wayward lack of mental control, he forced himself to look away from her legs. However, the alternative didn’t seem to be any safer to his equilibrium. Her trim waist and delicious breasts called him to look…and touch…and taste.

Cole dragged his gaze upward, until his eyes locked on her face. But even her face held inherent perils. Sensuous lips, mesmerizing eyes, and an enticing splash of color filled her cheeks.

The warm surge of blood pulsing beneath her satiny skin made his fangs throb again. Tousled hair invited his fingers to tangle.

The hand tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear was every bit as unsteady as her breathing. “So, what now?”

“Now…” His long, long fingers eased up the length of her leg, languid and full of purpose, from ankle to calf to knee. And higher. His voice dipped, low and seductive, as the very tips of his fingers edged beneath the hem of her skirt. “I have you completely at my mercy…” 64

His hands were nothing short of divine on her skin. His smoldering stare was strangely compelling.

Swallowing convulsively, Alex
trembled. Her eyes went wide, incredulous, at his suggestive innuendo. Laughter, deep as the night and rich as velvet rumbled up in Cole’s chest.

Before she could scramble away, Cole tightened his grip, pulling her more securely onto his lap.

He leveled amused eyes on her then.

“Now you
have
to talk to me.” His grinned turned wolfish. His hand caressed its way down her leg, allowing her a much needed breath. It didn’t take long for that hand to make its way back to her knee, or for her lungs to freeze again.

“That is, unless you have something else in mind?”

As Cole’s fingers began toying with the hem of her skirt once more, Alex’s lungs screamed for air. She was an attractive, financially secure, modern woman who knew her own worth. She’d fended off far worse than the brazen, single-minded purpose of the man beside her. But the way he kept shooting those intense, concentrated stares her way, sent shiver after shiver down her spine.
Never
had she been so tempted in all her life.

Not even Griffin had been able to…

Griffin!

The enchanted haze evaporated in the blink of an eye. She seized his wrist and pushed it away with an icy hand. “Let’s talk.” 65

Disappointment flickered in his hypnotic eyes, but he gave a slight shrug, settling his hands on her calf with a defiant grin.

“Hey, Slim…” Styx voice broke over them as he pushed the door open and strolled inside. “I looked all over, but I can’t…” His voice trailed off when his gaze landed on the couple nestled with such intimate familiarity on the sofa. His grin widened, a devilish glint darkened his golden eyes as he thrust his hands deep in his back pockets and cocked an eyebrow.

“I rest my case.”

Her companion shot the drummer an irritated glance. “What are you yammering about?” Styx pointedly eyed Cole’s hands where they rested on Alex’s legs—legs draped across Cole’s lap—and he grinned, smug. “I told her you always get the best ones.”

Sputtering, Alex struggled to sit upright. Cole took hold of her shoulder, gentle but firm, and pushed her back against the cushions, his other hand clamped on her knee allowing her no escape.

She shot Cole a frustrated glare, before turning alarmed eyes to Styx. “This isn’t—”

“A good time,” Cole broke in with smooth finesse. “Come back later…much later. And close the door behind you.”

“Styx!” Alex pleaded, her voice laced with equal parts exasperation and desperation. But it was too late, he’d had already deserted her, ducking out with a sly wink, closing the door behind him. Abandoning her to her fate.

Alex turned an indignant glare to Cole. “Why did you do that? Now he’s going to think…” She couldn’t even finish her statement. Embarrassed heat burned her cheeks.

Cole shrugged. “Styx knows when to keep his 66

mouth shut.”

“There’s nothing to keep his mouth shut about,” she protested.

The look he gave her declared otherwise, and he argued, “Then why are you getting so upset?” Alex scowled, subsiding back against the cushion with a harrumph. What was wrong with her? She was stronger than this. She did
not
want to crawl across this couch and taste those tempting lips. She was cool and professional.

Detached. Aloof. Unfortunat
ely, it was next thing to impossible to remain
any

of the
aforementioned when such a blatantly sexual male caressed her bare legs with such masterful, enticing strokes.

Her resolve softened with each gentle caress.

He must have been able to read the vacillation in her eyes, because his hands moved with more purpose now. His fingers feathered over her skin.

One taunting corner of his sensual lips curved up. He brushed the arch of her foot, and her leg jerked. An intrigued brow lifted and icy blue eyes narrowed on her, speculative and assessing.

Without any further warning, he repeated the motion. A giggle slipped free before she could stop it.

A sinful grin lit his face and he accused,

“You’re ticklish.”

“I am not,” she denied.

He arched a brow and skimmed his fingers over her arch again. She gasped and jerked once more.

“Okay, maybe a little,” she conceded with ill grace.

Cole assessed her with shrewd eyes and then, without warning, his fingertips skimmed the inner curve of her knee. Alex’s eyes flared. She gasped and squirmed, wiggling farther onto his 67

lap without meaning to. Her hand grasped his wrist, but when he refused to let her draw his hand away, she frantically pressed his palm against her thigh, just above the inside of her knee.

Granting him a grudging, reluctant smile, she pleaded, “Stop!”

She needn’t have spoken. The minute she pressed his hand flat against her inner thigh, he froze. His eyes were riveted to the place where their hands rested—right at the edge of the widened slit in her skirt. His smoldering gaze lifted to her eyes, half veiled by the thick sweep of his dark lashes, pinning her to the spot with heat and intent. A delicious little chill slipped through her, sparking a shockwave of violent fluttering deep in the pit of her stomach.

Drawing a ragged breath, Alex tore her eyes away from his. The piano loomed before her, a cold reminder of her purpose here. Though her movements were sluggish and reluctant, she released his hand. Cole’s palm remained firm on her thigh. His thumb began tracing lazy circles on her sensitive skin, and the swarm of butterflies inside her stomach took flight once more.

Dropping her gaze to his hand, she cleared her throat. The sound came out more as a nervous gesture, rather than the firm rebuke she’d meant it to be.

Doing her best to ignore his provocative touch, she cleared her throat again, reminding him, “I thought you wanted to
talk
.”

****

Cole was utterly lost. Warm wild honey tickled his nose. Her skin was exquisite beneath his fingers, pure ambrosia. Try as he might he just couldn’t stop touching her. Her skin, baby soft and quivering beneath his fingertips, had 68

become an addiction on which he was suddenly and irrationally eager to over-dose. The myriad expressions flickering across her face captivated him, the unease and the temper, the laughter and the desire, made him want to push to see what else he could wring from her.

Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, wanton and wild, driving him crazy. Her blouse—

the way the blood-red silk molded to her curves—

was nearly his undoing. She had the look of a woman who’d just been well and thoroughly loved…a woman who needed more loving still.

Innocent. Erotic. Those delectable lips of hers were moving, but the lust pounding through his veins overpowered the sound.

He blinked, forcing words around a mouthful of painfully extended fangs. “What?”

“I said, I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Talk…” he echoed blankly, fighting to regain a slippery grip on his control. Talking was the farthest thing from his mind, but he relented.

“Yeah, we need to talk.”

“I’m listening.” She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest.

Well, he hadn’t expected her to go easy on him. “First of all, I owe you an apology.” Surprise flared in her eyes, but she offered nothing more than a slight inclination of her head, the only acknowledgement for words that never came easy for a man like him.

He gritted his teeth and forged on. “I’m sorry for assuming you were… I didn’t realize who you were, or I would never have… That is to say, I don’t generally…”

Finish a sentence, you sound like a bloody
idiot!
He ground his teeth, irritated at this sudden inability to express himself. Cole opened his mouth to try again, but nothing came out. The 69

beguiling smile spreading across her delicious lips went straight to his head.

She laid a gentle hand on his forearm, burning him to the bone. “I’m sorry for assuming you were the mechanic.”

Glancing down at his stained clothes, he returned her grin, careful to keep his fangs concealed. “I could see how you might make that assumption.”

“I’m sorry I touched your piano,” she offered, her tone sheepish.

“No, that apology should be mine,” he corrected. He caught her confused frown and explained, “I thought you were one of
them
, and
they
aren’t allowed in this room for any reason.” Then he found himself offering an invitation he’d never extended to anyone. “You’re welcome to come here whenever you want, and you can use the piano anytime.”

She frowned, confusion etched in her eyes.

“Why aren’t
they
allowed here?”

“This is the only place I can get any peace and quiet. Well, here and the garage…” The corner of his mouth curled ruefully as he shot his stained jeans a meaningful glance.

Obviously anxious to steer the discussion back to safer, more impersonal waters, she demanded, “Tell me what you have in mind.” His mind betrayed hi
m, filling with so many erotic

sensual images that he shifted
uncomfortably in his seat. However, the efficient, coldly professional frown on her face forced him to redirect his rebellious thoughts.

“You’re still willing to give us the three weeks?” He cringed at his own question, kicking himself for giving her the opening to walk out the door again.

Her response was terse, her eyes reluctant 70

but resolved. “I gave my word, Mr. Gunnarrson.

You have three weeks.”

“Cole,” he corrected automatically. Relief swelled in his chest. He hadn’t been eager to discuss the angry note of resignation she’d thrust at him before storming from the house, determined she wouldn’t slip away so easily. “We obviously don’t keep normal business hours,” he began, focusing his gaze across the room, fighting to cool his blood. “That’s going to make it difficult if we have to wait for you to drive up every time we get an unscheduled urge to work.” His gaze slid to hers to gauge her reaction.

“I’d like you to stay at the estate for the duration.” Impassive, Alex stared at him for a moment.

“What if I have other obligations?” His hands stilled on her legs, and a flash of alarm speared his chest. An unfamiliar, vicious, green-eyed monster had him by the throat, and he couldn’t shake free. The unexpected stab of irrational jealousy blindsided him.

“I didn’t think… I mean you’re not… Are you involved…”

He’d kill the son of a bitch. Tear him limb from
bloody limb and bathe in his entrails.

Preoccupied, she replied, “No, I have the next three weeks off from the paper, but my replacement will have to check in once in a while.”

That didn’t quite answer his question. “Is there someone waiting at home for you?”
Odin’s teeth, please say no, woman, please…

Alex’s wary gaze shot to his, and she stared hard at him for a long, long moment. “No, there isn’t,” she replied, succinct. Then in a calmer tone, she changed the subject. “If I’m going to stay here I have a few requirements.” A heavy weight eased from his chest. Up until 71

that point, it hadn’t even occurred to him she might be involved with someone. The knowledge she was available hit him like a potent aphrodisiac, and once again, he had to work to focus on her words.

“I need privacy,” she warned, unwilling to bend on that issue. “I won’t expect you to curb your lifestyle, but I will need someplace that I won’t be constantly barraged by all those women.” She thumbed toward the back of the house and grimaced in distaste.

“You’re guaranteed privacy in this room—

except from me, of course.” His smile fairly glowed with iniquitous thoughts. “I’ll set you up with the quietest room I can find.”

“I have my cell, but I’ll need an internet connection and a place to park my car,” she haggled.

“Done,” he agreed without batting an eye.

“I understand the creative muse. For the duration, you can consider me on call, day or night. However, I require one full day a week to myself.”

Fighting to squelch the arousing thought of her within easy reach, Cole’s jaw clenched, and he fought to keep a lid on the lust boiling through his veins. His voice was gruff, oddly strangled.

“Deal. If there is anything else that you need, just let me know. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” Somehow, though he hadn’t meant to make the words sound so suggestive—and he chided himself for tossing his rule of not letting a Mortal affect him right out the window—he didn’t regret the provocative, sexual note in his voice. As if to punctuate his remark, he sent a transparent, seductive smile her way and caressed her silken thigh once more.

“None of that,” she warned, poking him in the 72

chest with her manicured finger.

He flared his eyes in a poor imitation of innocence. “What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.

This is a working relationship,” she warned. “If you can’t keep that in mind then…”

“No, no.” He massaged the abused spot on his chest. “Point taken…literally. I’ll behave myself, if I have to.” He shot her a heated sidelong look, adding, “So long as I’m not provoked.” Alex shook her head at him, visibly torn between the urge to laugh and the need to scold.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed herself upright, and made to swing her legs off his lap.

Loathing the mere thought of relinquishing skin that made his fingers tingle with need, his hands held her in place. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to go home.” She nudged his hands off her legs. “If I’m going to stay here, I need to pack a few things.”

He reluctantly released her, and an unsettling sense of loss overwhelmed him. As he pulled her to her feet, his hands found their way to her slender waist and lingered, cautiously supporting her weight. “Can you put any weight on your ankle?”

Alex’s small hands gripped his biceps as she tested her injury. She chewed on her lower lip and stared straight ahead, her nose inches from the middle of his naked chest, as she transferred the majority of her weight to that foot. Her breath tickled his skin. She must have found the pain manageable. Not that he wanted her hurting…but dependant was appealing.

Tipping her head back, she smiled up at him with radiant relief. “You definitely earned your Boy Scout badge for First Aid, Cole.” 73

There was nothing
Boy Scout
about the thoughts racing circles in his mind. As if able to read his intentions clear in his eyes, she cleared her throat, and stepped back. His hands fell to his sides, flexing and empty. She reached for her purse, and Cole gathered her shoes, hooking his fingers through the thin straps.

“Where’s your cell phone?”

She stopped and dug in her purse. A moment later, she drew the slim device out and handed it to Cole with a curious look. He flipped it open and began thumbing in a sequence of numbers.

“I’m giving you my personal number.” He flipped it closed and handed it back before pulling his own phone out of his back pocket, depressing keys as she gave him hers. “Call me as soon as you leave the city. I’ll be here this time to meet you when you get back.”

She smiled, nodded her agreement, and he led her to the front door like an invalid.

Cole opened the door with care, then let out a slow, thankful breath. The sun had dipped below the tree line, and, although heat still rolled off the land in dizzy waves, for the time being, he didn’t need to worry about frying. They reached the front step, and Alex glanced down at her bare toes, frowned at the gravel.

She groaned aloud. “You better give me my shoes back.”

Incredulous, Cole stared at her, waving the spike-heeled shoes just out of her reach. “You can’t put these things back on. You’ll break your neck.”

“I don’t have a choice,” she replied, making an impatient, useless grab at her shoes. “I have to get to my car.”

Before she could blink, he swept her off her feet once more, cradling her effortlessly in his 74

strong arms. She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck. The thin barrier of silk between her soft flesh and his naked chest teased him.

Ropes of steel flexed and bunched beneath golden, smooth skin as he shifted her in his arms. She gripped him tighter, and he grinned shamelessly at her, enjoying her hands on him.

“Is this one of your little quirks? Do you make a habit of sweeping women off their feet and carrying them around?” Alex eyed him, a suspicious, dark scowl crinkling her brow.

Her question gave him pause. He tilted his head to the side and star
ed at her for a moment, giving her question serious
consideration.

“Actually, I’ve found just tossing them over my shoulder much more effective. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I did it this way.”

“Oh,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the steady thump of his pulse at the base of his throat.

“Which one’s yours?”

“Huh?”

His lips curled in conceited satisfaction. His brow arched. “Which one is your car?”

“The red one with racing stripes,” she mumbled. Color climbed up her neck and blossomed in her cheeks.

Cole glanced over at the drive, and his gaze shot back to hers, widening with interest. His footsteps faltered. “The Shelby?” Alex nodded, and Cole grinned, feeling like a child on Christmas morning. He covered the distance to her car in a few, long legged strides.

After settling her behind the wheel, he popped the carbon composite hood featuring the classic Shelby KR design open before she could do little more than gasp in surprise.

In a blink, Cole’s head ducked beneath the 75

hood, scanning the motor in ab
ject fascination. A 5.4-liter supercharged V-8 producing an
estimated 540-horsepower and 510 ft.-lbs. of torque gleamed back at him. The racing power upgrade package featuring a revised calibration and cold air intake system nearly sent him into fits of excitement. Cars fascinated him, and this one, like its own
er, was a beauty. Long minutes—
and several pints of drool—later, he dropped the hood with a low whistle of admiration. Stepping around the side of the car, Cole leaned close and braced his forearms on the door.

“You know, I should probably drive you into town,” he suggested, admiring the six-speed manual transmission. “I’d hate to see you injure your ankle any worse, and all that shifting…” Shaking her head with a patronizing smile, she inserted the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Patting his arm, she crooned, “You’re concern is touching, but I’ll be just fine.”

Heaving a disappointed sigh, he straightened and stepped back. “I’ll be expecting you back tonight. Don’t forget to call.” He stepped back, whistling again as Alex eased the muscle car down the long drive. Miss Sinclair was proving to be one fascinating surprise after another. How in the name of Valhalla he was going to sleep with her under the same roof—and not sleep
with
her. Then again, maybe the question should be,
after
he slept with her, would he be able to remain emotionally removed. Her shoes dangled from his fingers as he trekked back inside the house and down one long hallway after another, floating on her lingering scent every step of the way.