Dreamwalker (16 page)

She crossed her arms, still uncomfortable with thinking in terms of
enemy
. In the past, it was always
the mark
or
the target
, with no hard feelings involved; this was personal.

Obviously taking her grunt for agreement, Damon unfolded another sheet and they bent over it to harvest whatever intelligence they could get together.

They kept at it until she called a halt, her interest no longer sufficient to keep her jet-lagged brain from protesting the information overload. They’d have to go over it again tomorrow, anyway, to make sure they hadn’t overlooked anything in their fatigue.

Rory watched Damon thread his way through the crowd milling in the plaza below, off to secure wheels for the next leg of their journey—and probably a final briefing. She didn’t mind sitting that one out; she had her own plans for the day. Marveling at how he managed to blend in despite his exceptional good looks, she tracked his broad back until she lost sight of him when a flock of gray pigeons suddenly took to the air in a flurry of wings, blocking her view.

Assured he’d be gone for some time, she turned away from the window and checked her e-mail for anything from Lucas. Big Brother should have something for her by now, and she probably wouldn’t have another chance to find out in private before they left for Kosovo. While she was willing to work with Damon, she wasn’t about to reveal her contacts to him— possibly exposing her family to government scrutiny—so the secrecy was necessary. Besides, this
was
why Damon’s agency was paying her the big bucks.

The sufficiently cryptic message waiting in her in-box made her grin.

Kitten,

Your friend upgraded to a 2RK a few months ago. A sweet setup. Any ideas why? Drop by the Bear when you’re in town. We should catch up.

The Light of Your Life

Trust Lucas to have the latest news. This would certainly help, so long as she could get to tapping distance. She knew the system the code referred to, could recite its weaknesses and the backdoors built into it in her sleep.

Which meant she now knew what additional equipment to get. And if Big Brother was true to form, the stuff she needed would be waiting for her at the Bear.

She checked her watch. She should have time for an errand before Damon got back.

When Damon returned to the hotel, a strange woman was in their room, bent over a small black rucksack gaping open on the bed. He tensed in automatic wariness at her presence, cursing silently, then his mental sense caught up with trained reflex.

Rory.

She’d changed appearances again.

“What do you have there?”

His master thief looked up at him as the door clicked shut, giving him the full impact of her metamorphosis. “Supplies.”

Damon struggled to maintain an unruffled demeanor. He had a sneaking suspicion Rory took a positive delight in throwing him for a loop and didn’t want to encourage the behavior. But seeing the extreme change in her appearance made his usual icy calm difficult.

Her hair was mahogany brown, straight, and hung past her shoulders, her skin olive. The bridge of her nose was higher, lacking the delicacy of her previous redheaded persona. Almond-shaped, chocolate brown eyes peered at him from deep beneath equally dark, luxuriant lashes. Her chin was narrower, coming to a delicate point under a smaller mouth with thinner lips.

Feature for feature, she was completely different, and none of it explicable by cosmetics—unless she’d gotten eyelash extensions while he was gone. Damon was reminded of the Asian woman he’d followed from the museum and whom he’d lost in a bleached blonde. If it weren’t for Rory’s aura, he’d have taken her for a different person altogether. The thoroughness of her transformation was uncanny. How was it possible?

It took an effort to wrench his thoughts back to the conversation. “Electronics?” Joining her by the bed, he raised a brow at the jumble of devices in the bag, wondering at her sources. She’d been busy.

Rory abruptly zipped the rucksack shut, the shrill squeal of plastic cutting the air as her equipment rapidly disappeared from sight. “You hired me for my expertise. Change your mind?” Though she didn’t face him, wariness radiated from her in prickly waves he couldn’t miss.

“I can help.”

“I work alone.”

“Normally, so do I. But with the stakes this high, can you afford to turn down help?”

“Good point.” Moving the rucksack to the floor, Rory finally turned to meet Damon’s gaze. “If I need help, I’ll keep you in mind. But in the meantime, just leave me to work the way I know best.” The unflinching look she gave him said the point wasn’t negotiable.

His master thief didn’t quite trust him, which was smart of her since he was willing to do whatever it took to complete this mission . . . even if it meant sacrificing her.

CHAPTER TEN

The whine of jet engines on final approach to the airport filled the night, rousing Damon from light sleep. Tomorrow, they would begin the mission in earnest. Automatically, he scanned his surroundings for hostile intent, but sensed nothing more inimical than feminine annoyance from a foot away—a first for him. Although it had been days since he’d agreed to become Rory’s lover, they’d never actually shared a bed for sleep before. So far, the experience was proving to be . . . interesting.

“I’m cold.” The plaintive statement floated through the darkness. The wide bed squeaked lightly as though for emphasis.

“You don’t have to sleep naked,” Damon pointed out in what he considered to be a reasonable tone.

Already clad in pants and shirt in readiness for their early morning departure, he was actually on the warm side—enough that he’d thrown off the comforter—and became more so when he remembered how he’d gotten the full impact of his master thief’s disguise. In preparing for bed, she’d revealed that her muff now matched her mahogany brown hair, while the skin around her groin was just as olive as the rest. Large, dark nipples completed the package, every part of which seemed completely natural.

“Clothes are too constricting.” The mattress rocked under Rory’s weight, accompanied by a flare of mischief from her direction. “Besides, there’s something kinky about sex when you’re still dressed and I’m not.”

He rolled his eyes, reluctantly amused by her reasoning. “Come here.” Reaching out, he pulled the minx over and tucked her against his side to share his heat. The chilled skin that met his hand was liberally covered with goose bumps, despite the comforter.

“Damn, you
are
cold. Let’s warm you up.” Damon pressed his face into her cleavage. Since he’d stopped shaving yesterday in preparation for the mission, his action elicited a startled squeal. Nice to know he could surprise her. He followed it up by capturing a tight nipple between his teeth and nibbling.

“Ooooh!” Rory arched her back, her arms winding around his neck in definite welcome. The musky scent of feminine arousal that reached him matched the delight she radiated.

Fuck, she was so responsive, it went to a man’s head—both heads.

Reminding himself that they had an early start tomorrow did little to cool him off. Since he couldn’t take his time pleasuring both of them, he decided to make it quick. After all, he’d started making love to her to warm her up, not get his rocks off.

He fanned her curls and parted her pussy lips, which were already hot and slick. Her clit was a hard button just waiting to be pressed and diddled. He tweaked it in unison with a nip on the captive bud in his mouth.

Rory jerked and shuddered under him, fresh cream spurting over his hand as she murmured something approving.

Damon drove his fingers into her, gritting his teeth when she clenched around them, tight and ready. He could easily imagine that grip around his cock. He bit back a groan at the thought.
Back to business, Venizélos.
The delight she projected, however, was just as distracting—and flattering to his ego.

Transferring his attention to her other breast, he continued to finger her, fascinated despite himself by the satiny flesh that clung to his hand and the soft mounds pillowing his stubbled cheeks.

And her scent! Sweat and sex and all woman.

She raised her hips, her pelvis rocking to meet his thrusts, her soft cries sure encouragement. Her scent deepened, a spicy aphrodisiac that fogged his thoughts.

It made it difficult to remember he was just supposed to be warming her, not sending them both up in flames. They didn’t have the luxury of staying up all night to sate their appetites.

Knowing sexual frustration lay ahead for him, Damon steeled himself to finish her quickly. Sucking more strongly on her nipple, he circled her clit and pulled on it, searching for a fast rhythm that resonated with her arousal. He varied his pacing until a bright flare of delight announced his success.

Rory fisted her hands in his hair, pressing his face against her breasts with a breathless shout of pleasure. She writhed beneath him, her thigh gliding over his length and rubbing his aching hard-on to painful proportions until his pants felt like a straitjacket.

Desperate now to cut his self-inflicted torture short, he exploited his knowledge, strumming her clit and G-spot to drive her to a hard climax.

Now, while his control held out.

She shuddered in his arms, her voice breaking on a low moan as she convulsed around his fingers, hot cream pouring on his hand. The heady essence of her pleasure made Damon curse their early departure; he wanted more of it and not just on his palm.

“Oh, God, that was wonderful.” The satisfied purr in Rory’s voice had his cock throbbing in complaint.

Releasing her nipple, he stole a quick lick of his fingers, stifling a moan of his own at her sweet saltiness. The musky scent of her juices smelled so much better up close. He pressed a kiss on the slope of her breast, noting the lack of goose bumps with a masochistic sense of satisfaction. At least his plan worked. “I guess you’re warm now.”

“Mmm . . . definitely.” The minx wriggled against him, hooking an ankle behind his knee.

Gritting his teeth, Damon adjusted himself in his pants, hoping his hard-on would soon subside. As it was, even his toes ached for relief.

Rory snuggled deeper into his embrace, already falling asleep, her contentment a warm glow to his mental sense.

Damon supposed he would eventually adjust to having a regular bedmate. Certainly it had some compensations. He laid his head on her soft breast to take advantage of one such compensation and closed his eyes.

Just before he, too, succumbed to sleep, he realized that none of what he’d licked, nipped, or touched had felt artificial or part of a disguise. Another what-the-fuck moment with his master thief.

Rory woke to find herself wrapped in sleeping male. Since she was toasty warm and had no objection to her situation, she had to wonder why she’d roused when it was still dark outside.

Oh, yeah. Early departure.
She had to dress up.

The tackiness of her thighs registered, reminding her that last night’s carnal activities had a price.
Make that wash and dress up.

Just then, Damon’s arms flexed, mashing her against hard male muscle.

But not just yet.
Right here and now felt too wonderful to leave at the moment. She’d never really slept with a man before, not in the purely slumber sense. The transatlantic flight with Damon didn’t count since it hadn’t been in a real bed.

Surfeit with contentment, she sighed, suspecting she could develop a liking for it.

Her human blanket rolled to his back with a grunt. “Awake already?” He raised bent arms beside his head and stretched— back arching, chest rising, pectorals flexing, biceps and deltoids bunching—in a mouthwatering display of prime beefcake.

“Unfortunately.” Tempted to irresponsibility, Rory stroked the clean line of his torso, marveling that such an exquisite physical specimen could exist. “So how is . . .
someone like you
different from most?” She didn’t say
incubus
aloud, since their room wasn’t secure, but surely he’d understand her meaning. Her hand came to a natural stop at his groin, which of course she had to explore, discovering he tucked to the right.

“Not that way.” Damon chuckled as his cock swelled under her palm.

“Oh?” She trailed a finger up that long, intriguing ridge, remembering how he’d felt in the park, the very first time they’d met. Even though she now knew what he looked like and how he felt inside her, the knowledge didn’t diminish his attraction— especially when she also knew he didn’t stuff socks in his pants to look bigger.

“Oh,” he echoed firmly, his hand clamping down on hers. “We don’t have time.”

Rory grimaced in agreement. Unfortunately, he was right; they didn’t, not if they were to keep to their schedule. A glance at the clock on the nightstand told her they were past her self-imposed wake-up time—and she hadn’t factored a morning shower into her personal timetable.

Damon wanted to get an early start, to make catching and losing a tail easier—in case they had one—and to cross into Kosovo during the daytime. Apparently, there were patrols to avoid. Since he was the expert in such international covertures, she hadn’t argued with him. His job, after all, was to get her to where she could do hers; far be it for her to throw roadblocks in his way. Starting right now.

Pulling the lousy excuse for a comforter around her, she sat up reluctantly, shivering as soon as her personal bed warmer got out of bed. Suddenly, the short distance to the bathroom with its bare floor looked as inviting as a skating rink.

“Here, let’s speed things up.” Before Rory could register his intent, he had swooped down, scooped her—sans cover—into his arms, and was carrying her to the shower, his chest heating her side, if not the rest of her. He thoughtfully kept her off the floor until the water had reached a comfortable temperature, or at least didn’t feel like ice cubes on her hand.