Black and Blue (11 page)

The interest nearly slayed him.

“In that case . . .” she said. She punched him once, twice, three times. “Better?”

Each of the blows knocked his head to the side. Blood trickled into his mouth, and sharp stings registered.

Amusement doused the hottest threads of the rage—but not his sexual hunger. He spit out the blood, his desire for her
even worse
. “Amendment.
I
have to do the beating.”

“Oh. Well, my bad. I’m going to decline on that one.”

“That one will never be offered to you.”

“But the other . . .”

Yeah. The other. Sex. He noticed she didn’t move away from him but stayed right where she was. Her gaze locked on his lips, and she began to pant.

Thinking of kissing him?

Maybe. Her adrenaline must have skyrocketed. He knew his had.

He stepped closer, unable to resist.

She did the same.

And then he was on her, wrapping his arms around her and jerking her into the hard line of his body. His tongue thrust into her mouth, demanding a response. She gave it, kissing him back with a passion he’d never before encountered, as if she had been starving all her life and he was her first meal.

Desire burned him from the inside out, sparking a fire in his blood, driving him torward the car. He lifted her to the trunk and forced her legs to spread and cage his hips. With his hands on her lower back, he yanked her against him and directed her into a hard, fast grind against his erection.

Hell yeah!

She groaned, and it was the most delicious sound.

The pleasure of her . . . it was almost too much. . . . Her breasts rubbed against his chest, and he could feel the stiff peaks of her nipples. All the while, he continued to feed her a down-and-dirty kiss that mimicked exactly what he wanted to do to the rest of her. Hard, almost punishing. Taking. Demanding.

He couldn’t get enough of her. The honey of her taste was a drug. Beyond addictive.

Necessary to sustain life.

Power seeped from his pores, and he suspected Evie could feel it, because little moans kept rising from deep in her throat, and her fingers kept brushing up
and down the exposed skin on his arms . . . until her hands were tangled in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp; she angled his head just the way she wanted it. He liked that. Liked that she demanded and took with the same fervency he used.

She sucked the piercing in his bottom lip, and a low growl reverberated from him.

More. He needed more. He needed all. He needed her naked, and open. He needed to graze her nipples with his teeth. Needed to devour her between her legs, then pound inside her, deep, so deep she would feel him for days afterward. He needed to hear her cries of rapture.

Yes. He reached for the hem of her shirt, ready to tear the thing off her.

A siren wailed in the background, and Evie stiffened.

“Wait. Stop.” She drew in a deep breath and shoved at him. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “This is wrong.”

Wrong? No. He—

Wasn’t kissing his fiancée.

Yes. This was wrong.

A tide of disgust rolled through him, and with a step back—physically and emotionally—he increased the distance between them.

Evie stood and did the same, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as if she couldn’t bear to deal with his taste a second longer. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“I know.” He wasn’t in love with Pagan, true, but he’d given her a ring. He had rules. Rules he should have followed.

He was ashamed.

He had just betrayed Michael in the worst possible way. Michael, who had done so much for him throughout the years but had only ever asked for one thing in return. That he leave his daughter alone.

I’m scum.

Correction, I’m worse than scum.

Blue had disrespected the man, and for what? Momentary pleasure.

Perfect phrase.
Momentary pleasure
. That was all Evie could ever be.

She wasn’t like Pagan. She would never accept the fact that he had to be with other women, no matter the reason for his actions. She would murder him, and perhaps even murder the female, totally unwilling to concede that what he did was a necessary evil of the job.

He—

Liked that, he realized, a little dazed. Wanted a woman to fight for him. To desire him, and him alone. To crave his unerring devotion and insist upon it.

Who are you?

“It was the moment,” Evie said, her voice hollow. “The rush of surviving the chase and explosion.”

Was it? “I know,” he repeated, his own voice just as hollow.

He didn’t know.

He’d been attracted to this girl from the beginning. Maybe she’d been attracted to him just as long. Maybe it had happened only recently for her. But the fact remained. They were into each other, no matter how wrong it was.

They’d have to be careful.

“Are you good now?” she asked.

Was he? The leash on his power was reinforced, but his mind was in turmoil. Never again taste that honey? Never again feel those teacup breasts smashed against his chest? Never again rub between her legs?

Never thrust his fingers deep?

Impossible.

“I’ll be fine,” he gritted. “Let’s go before the cops arrive.”

They returned to the car, settled inside.

As he reprogrammed the GPS, he said, “As soon as I rise from the dead, I’m telling Pagan it’s over.” He’d just cheated on her for real. Yeah, he’d told her there would be other women, but this was different.

This had been of his own volition.

He really was a he-slut.

There was no way to make this right. No way to reclaim his honor, but he
could
do an honorable thing. He could set Pagan free, allowing her to find someone else. Someone deserving of her.

“I hope you’re not doing that on my account,” Evie said, peering out the window, hiding her expression. “That was our first and last kiss. It’s never going to happen again.”

He’d just thought the same thing—and yet, it still irritated him to hear her say it. “Don’t worry, flower petal. Getting involved with you is the last thing I want to do.”

I
’M IN SO MUCH
trouble.

Before, Evie had only been able to speculate about Blue’s sexual prowess. She’d told herself that all the women flocking to him were fools, and his skill completely overrated.

Now she knew better.

His skills were seriously
underrated
. He hadn’t just kissed her. He’d screwed the hell out of her mouth. And all the while, waves of his power had cascaded over her, heating her, making it feel like a thousand hands were concentrated on her naughty bits.

She’d never been so swept up in a moment, or so lost in sensation.

How close she’d come to letting him take her in public, out in the open, for anyone and everyone to see. How close she’d come to being used—and discarded.

I’m not going to be another conquest. I’m not!

From now on, she would be more careful around him. Although . . . maybe she wouldn’t have to be.

Getting involved with you is the last thing I want to do,
he’d said, and even though she’d agreed with the sentiment, the words had still managed to cut at her.

How pathetic am I?
she thought.
I can’t even get the world’s most promiscuous man to want me unless he’s desperate to release a little power.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Michael, John, and Solo. She wouldn’t forget again. And if she did, she might just give herself a lobotomy.

*  *  *

While Evie set up an external perimeter around the rubble of Michael’s decimated house, creating invisible walls that would keep everyone and everything out, including prying eyes, Blue tossed charred boards out of the way by using his power, clearing the biggest pieces of debris before picking through the section where Fry Guy had tried to cook him for dinner.

He wished he could use his favorite ability. Or rather, he wished he could use a tweaked version of his favorite ability. Blue could stand in one location, any location, and force the last ten minutes to replay. He could watch everything that had transpired, like a movie unfolding across a television screen, whether he’d first borne witness or not. But the explosion had happened over a week ago, too far in the past for this capability.

There was another talent he could use here, however. One he’d always considered useless. An azure glow began to seep from the pores in his hand, and he ran his palm over bits and pieces of scorched wood, metal, and paper, the char disintegrating to reveal whatever was hidden beneath.

The glow could clean anything—except his dirty
thoughts. His desire for Evie hadn’t faded in the silence of the drive. Had only grown.

He was more appalled by the knowledge with every second that passed. He was also extremely ticked.

How had he gone from total dislike of her to this . . . seeming obsession?

“Cool trick,” she said, coming up beside him.

He steeled himself against her honey-almond scent, saying, “Just one of many.”

She placed her hand at her heart. “So humble.”

“I seem to recall your aversion to lies. Or has that changed?”

Ignoring the question, she said, “What, exactly, is it that you think we’re going to find?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Ah. This is a we’ll-know-it-when-we-see-it mission.”

“Yes. Now zip it and help.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

The response was unexpected—where was her anger?—and he barely stifled his laughter. There’d never be a dull moment with this girl, that was for sure.

She worked alongside him for ten . . . twenty minutes without a word, but his awareness of her never dissipated. There was something about the grace of her movements that continually drew his eye.

Why did she have to be Michael’s daughter?

“Just say whatever’s on your mind,” she finally growled, her good humor gone. “I don’t like the way you’re watching me.”

Noticed, had she? “And how am I watching you?”

“As if you’d like to eat me.”

I would. I so would.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Then again for dessert. “Why don’t you do us both a solid and get over yourself, butter buns.” The best defense was a good offense and all that jazz.

“Butter buns? That’s the worst of the lot!” She threw a piece of wood at his head.

He stopped it midway with only a slight thread of power, letting it hover a moment before he sent it flying to the side. Of course, she used his distraction against him and threw another. This one pelted him in the chest, nearly deflating his lungs.

“Do that again,” he growled. “I dare you.”

“Dare accepted.” She did it again.

Like the first time, he stopped it and sent it flying. “I’m warning you, Evie.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do to me, huh?”

She was panting, he realized, and so was he. They were staring at each other, just as they’d done after the explosion, looking for an outlet for their anger . . . and awareness of each other. Only, this time nothing had happened to provoke such a response. If they kissed, they would only have themselves to blame.

He almost didn’t care. His mouth watered for her. His hands ached for her.

“Never mind.” Her cheeks flushed as she stomped away from him. He thought he heard her mutter the word
lobotomy
. “We’re here for a reason. Let’s concentrate.”

How aggravating that Evie Black had become the voice of reason in their relationship.

“Miracle of miracles, you’re right.” He returned his attention to the pile of ash, and his gaze snagged on a small cigarette lighter. The metal had melted, but after a quick cleanup the unique logo became visible. A naked blonde straddled a male that was half white knight, half black unicorn.

The logo represented the Lucky Horn. A strip club he may or may not have visited . . . countless times.

Was it Michael’s lighter? Or could it belong to Fry Guy?

“Ever seen this before?” he asked, holding it up for Evie’s inspection.

She looked it over, shook her head. “No. And to my knowledge, Michael has never visited the Lucky Horn.”

How’d she know the logo?

“Like he’d really tell you if he had,” Blue quipped.

“Like he wouldn’t. He doesn’t think of me as a daughter but as an agent. Well, as a doctor now.”

Threads of deep inner pain stroked over him, cold and stinging. They’d come from her, he realized. When would he stop being astonished by that? “What are you talking about? Of course he thinks of you as a daughter. He’s always spoiled you rotten, letting you get away with crap he would have killed other agents for.” And it had always bothered Blue, though he couldn’t seem to work up any kind of indignation at that particular moment.

Her expression turned pensive as she mulled over his words. A few seconds later she said, “Why did he
leave me in Westminster with Mum, then? Why did he visit me so rarely?”

She thought . . . what? That Michael had never really loved her? Ouch.