Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1) (11 page)

She shook her head. “We could just, you know. Not talk.”

His heartrate surged. Hers, too. He was getting a baseline vibe. Hot pink intensifying to an erotic shimmer of scorching red. Undoubtedly what her sig looked like when she was urgently fantasizing about sex. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You don’t want me to take you out for dinner. Or let me get to know the real you.”

“Nope. Can’t do that.”

He studied her with narrowed eyes. “You want me to take you home and fuck you up against a wall in the dark with my mouth shut.”

She recoiled, but her sig didn’t. The colors flared and deepened. “No,” she said.

“OK,” he said slowly. “We’re making progress. I didn’t think you were the no-name, one-timer type.”

“I’m not,” she admitted. “But we do this my way or not at all.”

“Can I agree without saying that I understand? Because I don’t.”

She waved that away. “Forget it. This is a bad idea. I’m sorry I even suggested it. Go home. Heave a sigh of relief and raise a glass of wine to your narrow escape.”

“Why? Are you on a Wanted poster? Armed and dangerous?”

“
No
questions,” she said.

He snapped his fingers. “Right. Slipped my mind.”

She glared at him, and just waited.

“So . . . are we on?” he asked.

“Yep.” She held her chin up. Elegant and poised, in spite of her shabby, shapeless clothes, but with his mods, he could see that she shimmered with excitement.

Curiosity was already dogging him. He liked gathering data, knowing all there was to be known, but she wasn’t giving anything away

She’d rejected the gallant suitor scenario, so fuck it. She’d have to deal with the lust-crazed predatory animal that was beneath.

A powerful impulse roared up from the depths. He pulled her into a ravenous kiss.

Chapter 8

A childhood memory flashed through Caro’s mind. Of herself, thirteen years old, diving off a high, smooth granite cliff and into the old quarry. In midair, just before the frightening plunge into the dark, deep water.

The universe had distilled itself to this intersection of space and time, this room, this man. This kiss, charged with worshipful hunger.

Her own hunger roared up to answer it. She clung, melting, craving his heat, his strength. Her nails slid over his shoulders and his suit jacket, frustrated by his starched collar, his thick silk tie. She wanted to rip away all barriers to his hot skin. His lips were soft, seductively insistent. His mouth tasted so good. She drank in the subtle spice of his cologne, his glossy hair, sliding her fingers through it.

She abandoned herself to the sensations. Her body gave her no choice, and it was great not to have a choice. She was exhausted from choice-making. Her body had decided for her that the most important thing on earth was to be kissed as if she were this man’s heart’s desire.

She’d felt nothing but fear for so long, curled up like a seed in a pod. His touch made everything inside explode outward in a wild riot of color, scent, sensation.

Dangerous.
Of course. This man was a luxury that she could not afford, and there would be a reckoning. Yes. Yes, she knew that. Fuck it. The knowing was just a shrill yapping in the back of her head. What was happening was all that mattered.

His arms were steely hard. His erection prodded her belly, made her ache and squirm, thighs squeezing around the hot, surprised glow. Shivering waves of tension convulsed and released, each new almost-orgasm blooming from the one before, each new one deeper. Noah Gallagher was a vast, undiscovered realm, and she wanted to discover him, all of him. To lose herself and stay lost. Seeing him and being seen. Tasting him and being tasted.

Their hands were all over each other. His grip was so warm and strong, gripping and caressing. Hers skittered, frustrated by that damn tailored jacket, trying to dig into the thick muscles of his massive shoulders. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, showing her how wonderful his sensual mastery was going to feel when he entered her.

He lifted his mouth, slowly. The tiny, liquid pop that their mouths made as they disengaged made Caro’s eyes flutter open. She was lost instantly, hypnotized by those bright, astonishing eyes that seemed to see all the way into forever.

He spun her around, so that her back was pressed to his front. She felt disoriented until he lifted the weight of her hair and pressed his lips against the side of her neck, and started systematically unraveling her with his slow, dragging kisses, his breath so hot, his teeth gently nipping each and every exquisitely sensitive nerve ending.

His hand slipped inside her belt. Her jeans were very loose, since chronic fear was as much of an appetite killer as her current grocery budget. He caressed her belly, her hip, kissing and nibbling her neck as his hand moved over her mound, his long fingers pressing the springy curls beneath her nylon panties.

He made a low, inquisitive sound, giving her throat velvety, questioning kisses. Wordlessly asking permission to go further, with each touch, everywhere he touched. In no hurry at all. Patiently waiting for a sign. She wanted to give him one, desperately, but her voice was locked in place. Like her muscles, jammed and frozen.

“Can I?” His low voice rumbled in her ear as startled pleasure rippled down her entire body, right down to her fingers and toes.

She nodded, and clung to his thick forearm pressed against her belly, moaning inaudibly as his hand teased beneath the waistband of her panties and then lower, where she was damp and hot. His fingertips slid slowly around the bud of her clitoris until she began to shake with excitement.

He just kept at it, lazy and languorous, as if he would be happy to spend the rest of his life making slow, sweet love to the nape of her neck while petting her into an erotic frenzy. Sweet torment: his melting kiss, the sure touch of his hand. He leaned back against his desk and perched her against his thigh so that he could slide his finger deeper inside her, and found her swollen and slick. She clenched his finger eagerly at each gentle intrusion. Every caress took her higher. Made her want him more.

His erection prodded her ass, his teeth grazed the curve of her neck. She worked herself against him with sobbing gasps, taking his hand into her as deeply as they both wanted it to go.

Explosive waves wrenched her. She wailed and shook, but he held her together with unwavering, implacable strength.

Caro just floated for a little while, unmoored. Forgetting who or where she was. Blushing pink and shy with nameless emotions. Glowing echoes of delight still throbbed through her body.

He turned her, shifting her to face him and settled her on his desk. It all rushed back to her, with a cold thud. Who she was. What was at stake. How crazy this was.

He pressed her gently down, flat onto her back against the cool, gleaming expanse of fine wood. He was backlit by the glittering city lights outside the huge windows again, a dark silhouette looming over her as he pushed her legs wider and pressed the bulge of his groin against the crotch of her jeans. He pushed her shirt up high, stroking up her belly, her breasts. And more.

Even through the layers of cloth that separated them, he got the pressure against her labia just right. Not too hard . . . around and around . . . a well timed, rocking shove . . . and oh.
Oh.

His hips surged against her as if he were inside her. Still in that suit and tie, for God’s sake. Perfectly composed and put together as he slowly, skillfully dry-humped her to molten bliss. She felt so exposed, her back arched and legs spread, the bared skin of her belly and breasts goosebumped in the cool air.

He made a low, feral sound in his throat. “You want to come like this?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, yes. Please.
Please.
”

“Then come,” he insisted. “Come now. Give it to me.”

Whatever she was going to say lost itself in the rising surge of terrifying pleasure. It crested, broke, and thundered through her once again. Shattering her.

She came back from that one to find him collapsed over her. His breath was ragged and hot against her chest. He cupped her breasts, kissing between them as his fingertips circled over her hyperstimulated flesh. His erection was still pressed against her labia. She could felt his heartbeat in that hot bulge, quick and strong.

She felt so soft now. Like a faint, golden mist.

Caro shifted her hips to wrap her legs around his waist and reached to touch his cheek. She felt it all so keenly. The damp sheen on his hot, supple skin, the fine rasp of beard stubble, the sculpted angles of his cheekbone and jaw. She sensed his unfulfilled need, straining to be released, but he held it in fierce check.

He pressed her fingers to his lips. “God,” he murmured. “That was amazing.”

She couldn’t reply for a minute. The wires weren’t connected. When she she found her voice again, she whispered. “You. The amazing part is you.”

“This is the thing,” he said. “I want you so bad, but I don’t have condoms here. I don’t carry them around with me and I never assumed that I’d get lucky enough to end up in this situation tonight. With you.”

She licked her dry lips. “Um. I don’t have one, either.”

Noah sagged over her, gave a sharp sigh. “Ah. OK. Let me make you come again, at least. Here, at home, in the car, wherever, however you want. Say the word.”

She cradled his head against her chest, feeling his sweat on her fingertips. It was true. He would just keep at it, making her come until she totally melted, and just wait for his own satisfaction indefinitely. Until she demanded that he take it.

“I want to go down on you,” he coaxed. “Let me get those jeans off you.”

She stroked his hair, soothing the rigid tension in his shoulders. He’d just driven her to a blinding orgasm twice, in minutes. An orgasm that redefined for her what an orgasm was. With her luck, it might never happen again. She intended to make the most of this.

“I think I could relax a little more if we were someplace private,” she said shyly. “It’s weird, having your admin staff right outside the door.”

“Fine.” He lifted himself up, and grabbed the phone as she adjusted her clothing. “Harriet? Yes, we’re all done here. You, Karen and Aurelia can all go. I appreciate you staying so late. Don’t forget to put in for overtime. Stanley’s waiting downstairs for you, and . . . . yes, thanks very much. Say hi to Philip for me.” He set down the phone. “Our chaperones are leaving.”

Caro’s face heated as she slid off the desk. “Do you think they heard?”

“No. I had the room soundproofed a while ago. For corporate security,” he added when she looked at him sideways. “Not for this.”

She burst into laughter. “So what was the point of chaperones in the first place?”

“Hey. Give me credit for going through the motions.” He retrieved her coat from the floor, and held it up, feeling the layered hump of foam padding sewn into it. “Looks very natural,” he commented. “Professional work.”

“No questions,” she reminded him swiftly.

“Right.” He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small bottle that contained contact lenses. In a few practiced moves, he’d applied them. He shrugged on a coat, slid his dark glasses into the pocket, and picked up her duffel bag. “Shall we?”

Sure enough, the luminous gold glints of his eyes were gone, transformed into inky darkness. She shook herself out of her fascinated trance. “One moment, please.”

She twisted up her loosened hair and tugged her wig on over it. Jammed the wide-brimmed hat over the top. Then the jaw-changing thing for her mouth. Pop, suck, and it was in. Then the glasses. Done.

They were both wearing their respective armor now.

He scrutinized her. “Are you trying to beat facial recog bots?” he asked. “I could give you pointers on how to do it better.”

“Don’t get tricky with me,” she warned. “The rules are the rules.”

“I’ll be good,” he said easily.

“You saw through my outfit this afternoon,” she said. “How did you do that?”

“Any kind of disguise jumps out at me. You know those online ads with GIFs that jiggle? Disguises look like that to me. But your camouflauge is pretty effective, all in all. Inappropriate for this context, but good in theory.”

Great. She’d managed to get herself seduced by the guy with X-ray eyes.

They walked through the deserted offices, and waited for the elevator. She kept her gaze down, partly because of the security cameras, but mostly out of embarrassment.

The silent walk out to the parking garage felt so purposeful, so deliberate. Never in her life had she gone after sex so shamelessly. Just met a guy, and decided to do the deed. That had always happened in the context of a relationship. One that she could fool herself into thinking had a chance to go somewhere.

They never did, of course. Sooner or later, she managed to scare any would-be boyfriend away. She eventually got blindsided by a stress-induced vision, and could never hide her reaction fast enough. It freaked them out. Invariably.

She hoped she could manage not to scare this guy away, at least not tonight. Not until she had gotten herself a nice stiff dose of his sexy magic. Something suggested to her that he was way different from any of the other guys she’d been with.

It was ironic, that this relationship had no place to go at all.

She’d blocked all the exits herself.

* * *

Mark stared down at the GodsEye safe that Lydia had failed to open for him. It was squat and ugly. He’d even say it looked smug, sitting on the floor. Taunting him.

He mentally reviewed every word of the conversation he’d had with. Masks, the general said. Caroline invited him to an art show that featured masks. It made sense. She was a rabbit, a coward. She needed a mask to cringe behind.

Masks.
To find something hidden, all one needed was the right filter.

Mark adjusted the light on his monitor. It would look like a dead screen to an unmod, but anything brighter than near black and his AVP would zap him into a fugue state.