Deliver Me from Temptation (15 page)

Hell, was that her moaning like some porno slut? Was that her hand clenching his ass? Her other tearing at the bottom of his undershirt, trying to release it from his jeans?

Something hit the back of her thighs. She realized belatedly that while she’d pulled him closer with her hand on his ass, he’d done his best to oblige, only he was so much bigger and stronger and she’d inadvertently given ground and now here they were, her ass pressed up against the antique table, her left leg lifting—without permission, darn it—to wrap around said luscious ass. He made another sound like a growl, lowering her down with one hand as his other swept behind her, dozens of paint brushes clattering on the floor. Then he was over her, his weight heavy against her pelvis, and holy heck yes those were his hands kneading at her breasts through her shirt, making them throb and ache. Only now that they were there, she didn’t just want his hands
over
her shirt she wanted them under.

“Logan, wait. Let me…” She pushed his hands away, ignoring the low growl he gave her as she did. Then, without even a thought to the implication of getting naked with him, she started pulling at the buckles on her holster. And since what she was doing obviously seemed like a good idea to him too he started doing the same, with the buttons of his shirt that is, only his buttons were easier than her stiff buckles as he just had to yank it off along with his undershirt so, considerate man that he was, he started helping her.

It didn’t take them long. Seconds maybe for him to jerk her up enough off the table to free her shoulders so he could void her properly of her blazer and shoulder harness, another two to yank her tank over her head and for his mouth to come down over her breast, but way too damn long as far as she was concerned. She needed him.

***

He was so fucked.

Giving in to the temptation of her lips had been a fatal mistake, but the small bit of logic screaming at him that this was a stupid, stupid idea was no more than a bucket of water against the raging inferno of a forest wildfire.

He couldn’t stop. But damn, he should at least find them a bed. Certainly something better than the paint-splattered floor or some unstable table. But the thought of lifting his mouth from her breast, even if it would only be for the short period of time it would take to get down the stairs and down that short hall he’d seen, to a bedroom seemed like too much. Too much time. Too much effort.

He needed to save his energy for this. Because damn if she wasn’t going to consume him.

“Jessica, wait. Let me…” He tried to shift her away from the table. If they were going to do it here, he was going to be on the bottom.

He would not have her lovely ass covered in splinters.

“No. No waiting,” she insisted, taking the opportunity to stand up and rapidly strip off her jeans and boots. She must have thought the process took too long because she was swearing vividly the whole time, practically ripping the laces to get her boots off, but he didn’t think so. God, she was gorgeous—the spill of dark curls over her shoulders, her long torso, the tapered waist…that ass—and his. All his. He could look at her forever and not get enough, but she obviously had other ideas. Her second boot barely hit the floor and she was up, kicking her ankles free of her jeans as her fingers eagerly sought the waist of his. The button had already popped so it didn’t take much for the zipper to give, and then, oh hell, her slim hand was wrapping around his cock, tugging it free from his jeans, her other hand pushing down the offending material.

“Just a second. I need to…” He tried to step back further, but her slender hands were amazingly strong and amazingly sweet on his cock and he ended up tripping in the tangle of his jeans. It was either fall backward or forward and since forward put him closer to his ultimate goal…

They bumped back into the table, only this time he helped her—okay pushed her—all the way back onto it. Her eyes widened—probably thought he was some lust-crazed monster, and wasn’t that damn close to the truth. But first.

He grabbed her wrist. “Let go.”

Her answer to that was a glare, and a tightening of her grip, which felt way too good. He couldn’t do this much longer, not without losing all control, but before he did he had to do one thing.

“Please,” he managed to articulate from behind his gritted teeth.

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly she let him go. But not before she dragged a finger across the tip of his cock, swiping up the bead of moisture that eagerly waited there, and bringing it to her lips to suck up.

He cursed, his head—both of them—practically popping off from the eroticism of it. She had no idea what she was doing to him. None. He may not know every hidden secret of her soul but he knew one thing…his Jessica, tough as she was, wasn’t cruel. And what she just did was beyond so.

He tore his gaze away from her swollen lips, trying not to think of where that drop of moisture had gone and yes, where his dick now badly wanted to follow—inside the slick heat of her mouth.

Only thing better would be the slick heat of her sex.

Pulling at his rumpled jeans he worked to free his wallet from the back pocket. Even though it had been a non-issue since for pretty much forever, he always carried a condom for that just-in-case scenario. And yeah, there was a part of him that wanted to screw the condom. The thought of getting Jessica, his woman, pregnant, her belly plump and round with his child, brought a chokehold to his throat and had him hesitating. But no, that would not be fair to her. Besides, what if the child didn’t inherit his genetics for power? Then two people he loved beyond life would die on him.

As
if
that
would
really
matter. Your mate is as human as they come so you’re already fucked, dickwad.

But even that gut-twisting thought didn’t stop him from rolling on the rubber, cursing the whole time he did because, yeah, he shouldn’t do this. He knew what the consequences would be beyond the obvious losing his sanity to the mind-blowing sex he knew they would have…but she didn’t.

Right now she could walk away and suffer nothing more than some momentary, soul-deep what-ifs. But even then she’d be okay. She’d move on. She’d find another man. She’d marry him and have kids and have a completely fulfilling whole other life without him in it. And damn but didn’t that make him angry just thinking about it. But the point was whether it was too late for him or not, it wasn’t for her, and if he were any sort of decent man at all he’d stop, pull up his pants, and walk out the door.

“Jess, I can’t—”

“Logan, so help me if you don’t get inside of me right now…” she didn’t finish the threat, but lifted herself enough to fuse her mouth back to his. And goddamn, it was too late. Because, yup, that was his cock that he was guiding toward the slick, sweet folds of her sex and yup that was his tongue playing tonsil hockey with hers as she grabbed onto his ass, pulling him closer, urging him on. The call to claim her burning like a hungry fire.

And then he was there. His cock tucked tight into the gripping entrance of her vagina. And she was right there with him because her gasp, the sweet sound that meant she was too breathless to actually say how fucking amazing it felt, mirrored exactly what he would’ve said if he weren’t similarly struck dumb by this most exceptional, soul-consuming experience. And as he pressed deeper into her tight, hot center, her nails biting into his hips as she tried to wiggle down further onto him, his lingering concerns disappeared in white-hot, blazing pleasure because, fuck it, there was nothing else for him. Nothing to look forward to when his time with her ended because he was there. He was in Heaven.

This isn’t real.

It was Jessica’s first thought as she woke, face tucked into the crook made by Logan’s arm, neck, and chest, one of her legs draped casually over his hip. Sure her body felt whole—though admittedly sore—but her mind was definitely slipping. She knew when it had started to go. Something had happened with that first kiss. A wall blocking some well-guarded emotion crumbled, exposing a selfish sliver. She let that sliver taint her, allowing emotion to overwhelm her, and to overlook her misgivings. Allowing her to dismiss what her own eyes told her as she watched the grainy video. She’d brushed her concerns away, making excuses for taking what she wanted and initiating the second kiss. And then she fought tooth and nail against logic and doubt as the passion she’d unleashed had erupted into hours and hours of lovemaking.

Lovemaking. She didn’t do love. If one loved they could hurt and right now she was in for a world of it. She’d thought when it was over, when the passion subsided and she’d taken her fill, she could turn from Logan. Tuck in the shreds of her self-respect, gather her emotions and walk away. But she could deny it no longer. She was truly, irrevocably compromised and there was nothing she could do about it.

The barriers between her and her memories had fallen. She remembered. Maybe not everything, but enough to know that the man she’d made love to, who’d pleaded with her for his trust, had already broken hers. Somehow, someway, he’d stolen her memories. And though her head screamed at the wrongness of it all and her heart howled in agony, there was a sick part of her that just didn’t give a fuck.

“Mine,” she whispered, fingers digging into the hard muscles of his chest.

Logan murmured a “hmmm,” his arms closing tighter around her, pulling her closer. Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes as she realized what she said and was smacked upside the head with the insanity of it all. She knew she had to pull away. In her mind she pulled away, slipped out of the bed, grabbed up her clothes and evidence and snuck from the house, but the part of her that wanted to believe in Logan, in
them
, stayed.

She could not set the wheels in motion that would turn this man in. The man she’d made love to, the one curled around her with such tenderness, was not a criminal. True there was no explaining some of the things she thought she saw him do, just as there was no explanation for the serious case of brain-fog or the warped sense of knowing she’d experienced since Logan entered her life.

There were also no such things as vampires and demons. People couldn’t wipe out other people’s memories. And words such as kismet and soul mates were the types of things you found in one of her sister’s cheesy romance novels, not real life.

Nope, the only explanation for the warped reality that she thought she remembered was either
a
, she had finally gone completely off her rocker, or
b
, it was all a dream.

She liked that idea best. The dream one, that is. Though it made her sad to realize that no matter what, if the messed-up nightmares she had weren’t real, then the mind-blowing sex couldn’t be real either, nor could this totally awesome post-coital cuddling.

One
more
time. If it’s not real, then what does it matter if you indulge one last time before you wake?

Freed by this thought, Jessica boldly slipped her hand between them. Logan stirred again, making one of those half-growl warning noises as she shifted, but the moment her hand closed over him it turned into another sort of growl. She decided she liked that sound. It was empowering. More empowering was how it only took a couple of pumps for him to harden, and less than a dozen more to have his shaft slickened with liquid coaxed from the slit on its tip. Prime male. Luscious male.
Her
male.

“You’re a tease,” he told her, his voice all gravely and rumbly and far from his typical fluid baritone. She liked that too. What she didn’t like, however, was how he tried to shift to pull her under him.

Nuh-uh. It was her imagination. Her dream lover. Therefore she could dictate the conditions.

“No. I want to be on top,” she told him firmly, squeezing down on his cock to emphasize the fact that she was in the lead.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes opening, their depths all dark and stormy as he seemed to search her out, as if trying to determine her real intentions. She tilted her head questioningly, not sure what her dream self was supposed to reassure him of, but then he smiled, dimples flashing as he rolled onto his back.

“Then lead on,” he said, linking his hands on the pillow under his head. “Just be gentle, I’m fragile you know.”

She laughed at that. Fragile her ass. Though he
was
superb, all spread out like that, every rippling muscle, every inch of his maleness exposed and begging for her touch.

Oh, where to start.

Top to bottom? Best for last? Didn’t matter, both halves were sublime.

With one last lingering twirl around the top of his cock, she dragged her hand up his body, tracing the hills and valleys of his delectable abs, curving around the underside of his pectorals. It thrilled her that as she did, his muscles tensed, showing her that he was not unaffected by her explorations. And if something as simple as her fingers tracing his torso could make him tense with anticipation, what would…

She bent down, lowered her mouth to his chest and then firmly stroked her tongue across his nipple. The small bud dimpled from her attention, his chest rising against her lips as he sucked in and held his breath. She did it again only this time she followed the lick with a gentle scrape of her top teeth.

“Fuck that’s good, Jessica.”

Maybe, but she was aiming for better than good. She wanted him so wild he couldn’t remember how to form coherent words.

Abandoning the nipple, she slid the rest of the way up his chest. She’d meant to start there, after all, but had been distracted by that succulent stretch of man between cock and mouth. She found his mouth and was pleased she’d taken the time to explore. Gone was the smug smile he’d given her as he’d laced his hands behind his head. Yes, his arms were still raised, but he’d had to go one step further, his hands wrapped in tight fists around the bars of the wrought-iron headboard, his eyes closed tight, and his mouth pulled into a firm line. Fighting for control. Her touch made him lose control.

Oh yeah, what a most excellent dream.

Straddling him, knees on either side of his hips, hands beside his torso, she flipped her head forward and then swayed, letting the tangled mass of curls that she normally hated drag across his torso, teasing the edges of his neck then down to his abs.

“What do you want me to do first, Logan? Kiss you?”

He swallowed, his tension easing somewhat. “That would be nice.”

“Where? On your lips?” she flicked her head forward, her hair lashing against his chin. “Or lower?” she asked, dragging her hair lower and lower as she started to ease down his body.

“Don’t.” The bed jerked, hands grabbing onto her upper arms to stop her. She tipped her head back up, staring into his stormy eyes. They were darker than she’d ever seen them, only she swore there were the smallest splotches of gleaming silver shining through.

“Logan?”

“Don’t kiss me there,” he explained, easing his grip somewhat. “I couldn’t take your lips on me there. Not without risk of losing my mind.”

“And would that be so bad?” She ran her tongue across her lips, ending the erotic action with a slide of her bottom lip through her teeth.

He growled, his eyes flashing, doing what she could have sworn was that glowing silvery thing again. Before she could take a good look he sat up, forcing her to do the same. She opened her mouth to remind him she was leading this time, but all that came out was a yelp as he grabbed her hips and then flopped back down, pulling her up over him so she had to grasp the headboard for support.

So much for being in control.

Any objections she might’ve made were obliterated the moment his mouth touched her. And not to her lips—which, granted would’ve been impossible in this position—but
there
.

And oh God it was magnificent. And intimate. With any other man she would’ve been embarrassed by the vulnerability of the position. To expose that part of herself to possession, to allow herself to be seen, tasted and touched was a major thing for her. She’d always felt too awkward to let herself go to this sort of primal lovemaking, but with him? It felt right. It felt natural. It felt so…effing…good.

“Logan. God. Please…”

She’d meant it as a plea, an oh-please-stop-so-I-can-catch-my-breath, but he gave a growl followed by the shock of thick digits plunging into her weeping core. She cried out, her body clenching around the invading fingers, but all that did was make things hotter, rake her nerves a bit more, send her dangerously close to the brink.

She shook her head, trying to hold off, trying to draw it out, make it last. An orgasm might wake her and damn it she didn’t want to wake.

“Come for me, sweetheart. I want to taste your need.”

His raspy voice, speaking of his own desire, coupled with another deep plunge of his fingers had her arching, clawing at the headboard. His tongue stroked across the swollen little bud of her pleasure, trying to tease her over the edge. She shook, but held on.

Another
few
seconds. Another few moments before I have to wake.

And then he nipped her. Not hard. Barely a scrape of teeth before he suckled her deep into his mouth, but it was enough. Nerves shattered. She screamed, hot juices slicked her channel.

“Fuck, that’s it.” Logan slid his fingers from her, his tongue stroking across her with such erotic languor that she shattered again, lights exploding behind her eyes. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t see. Her only senses were the clench of her center timed to the beat of her pounding heart.

Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up. This is too good to wake from
.

The bed shifted. Mournfully she realized that Logan’s mouth was gone and furthermore he’d left too, scooting out from under her. She didn’t have more than a sliver of brainpower left to figure out where he went or what he was doing, but before she could recover, she felt the heat of him leaning over her from behind. All of him. Including his oversized and overly eager friend tapping the cheeks of her ass.

Would he take her like this?

The thought was both scary and exhilarating and sent another bout of post-orgasmic shudders through her body. Lights were still exploding in the back of her eyes when he touched her face, twisting it to the side and kissing her so soundly she had to work double time to catch her breath again.

“You still want to be on top?” he asked, his eyes hot on hers as he laid a trail of kisses across her cheek toward her earlobe. As if she would actually be able to answer that.

She must have managed some sort of noise because he chuckled, his fingers helping pry her own from the headboard. With him steadying her, he got her turned around, then pulled her down on top of him. She probably would’ve flopped over—okay, most definitely would have—but he held her with one broad hand firmly on her hip, the other sliding up her front, cupping the underside of her right breast.

“Come on, sweetheart. Show me what you can do.”

And that sounded distinctly like a challenge.

Tipping her chin up, she reached between them. Her orgasm ensured that she was ready for him, and when she touched his cock, finding it already sheathed in a condom, there was no reason to wait.

She thrust down, taking him all the way to the hilt. Neurons she thought were too fried to react zapped as her body stretched to accommodate him, the first tingles of the promised explosion racing through her.

Wow, this wouldn’t take long. Not long at all. And judging by how hard he felt inside her and how tightly his jaw clenched, he was already fighting not to come.

Bottom lip tucked between her teeth, and what she was sure was a smile in her eyes, she gazed down at him and began moving. She’d show him what she had. And she’d take all he had to give her at the same time.

She started to move. Up, down; hips rotating, inner muscles clenching.

“God, Jessica. You’re killing me.”

She was killing herself too, each movement like fire through her body, the burn in her lungs as she swallowed great gulps of air.

So much for control; it was all she could do not to melt upon him. So she moved, letting her body lead her. There was no predetermined pace to draw this out. Only the beat of heavy breathing. Only the slap of bodies as she drove herself down on him.

Only this.

Only him.

This wasn’t pleasuring. It was succumbing. And as another orgasm burst through her, pulling him along, all she could think was that she hoped she wouldn’t be the only one to surrender to the fall.

***

Jessica lay with her head nestled against Logan’s chest, listening to the rapid whoosh of his heart. Her own thundered to match. Neither spoke. Hard to do so when they both still gasped for air. Which was good.

Jessica didn’t want to speak.

So she closed her eyes, nuzzling in further as she tried to ignore the clamminess of their sweat-slicked skin. But she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t ignore the truth plastered all over her.

People didn’t sweat in dreams. And women who had dedicated their lives to justice did not throw it out of the window for a roll in the hay.

Reality really, really sucked.

Sighing, she opened her eyes, pushing up on her elbows. “You’re still here.”

He smiled, pressing his hips up against her, his hard shaft stretching the desperately achy tissue of her vagina, eliciting an unconscious moan of pleasure. Tenderness aside, that felt good. Damn good.

“In more ways than one,” he said, grabbing her hips and popping her off him as he rolled for the edge of the bed, his bicep straining as he reached down for the box on the floor.

She moaned again. This time in defeat. She’d never heard of a man who could recover as quickly as he did. She’d think maybe he wasn’t coming but the evidence of that was there in the number of foil wrappers littering the bedspread. And yeah, maybe those wrappers should have had her questioning her original dream theory before, but, really, how many men took such care and accountability to be 100 percent responsible for keeping them safe?