THE FIRST SIN (35 page)

Donovan gave me an amused look. “Oh?” “You give me the most amazing kisses and mindblowing orgasms, but you act like I’ll crumble if you go any farther.”

He settled his hands low on my hips and his mouth crooked in that sexy way.

“Maybe I’m afraid I’ll crumble.” “Let’s find out,” I said.

And he kissed me.

Heaven.

His taste, the way his tongue explored my mouth, the way his lips moved over mine—I could seriously get addicted. Fine by me if we stayed here forever. He gently nipped at my lower lip and I gave a sigh of pleasure.

That kiss was doing serious things to my body. Nipples at attention, and lord did I ache between my thighs. Donovan drew away and I sighed, still in total bliss as I said, “This is worth missing dinner for.”

Cast be damned. I just about crawled right up him when he ran his finger over the curve of my ear. “You are not missing dinner.”

His T-shirt felt soft and warm as I clutched it in my good fist. “Pretty please?”

“No.”

“How about dessert?” I said. “I don’t mind missing dessert.”

That cute little quirk again. “What if it involves strawberries and whipped cream?”

“As long as I’m wearing it.”

A full-fledged grin. I got a grin out of him! He traced his finger down my collarbone and stopped at the swell of my breast. “I have the strangest desire to skip dinner, too.”

“Oh. I love it. Straight for dessert.”

“No.” He tugged at a lock of my hair. “I bet your mother would think you’ve been starved to death if she got a good look at you now. After a week of only broth—Steele, you’re too thin.”

I raised my shirt just enough to show my bandages. “You can’t see my ribs anyway. So who’ll notice?” I dropped my shirt again and pressed against him.

He brought his fingers up and brushed his knuckles along my cheekbone.

“Look at me, honey. The exhaustion and the fact you haven’t had decent meals for awhile—it’s right in those pretty green eyes of yours.”

“Then feed me.” I crossed my arm and my cast in front of me, and gave him a pretend glare. “And I demand dessert. Strawberries. With lots and lots of whipped cream.” I tipped my head to the side. “On second thought, skip the strawberries.” He pressed his lips tight to mine. “Maybe,” he said when he released me.

I looked down at the hard fine of his erection and met his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

April 24

Wednesday evening.

My system was haywire and I could barely think, much less concentrate on dinner.

The moment Donovan set his empty plate on the coffee table, I tackled him, knocking him back on the couch so that I straddled his thighs. I was real careful not to sit on the part of his body that was still healing from the bullet wound.

A grin. Ha! I got a grin again when I tackled him! As he settled his hands on my hips, I pushed his T-shirt up and ran my palms over his taut abs. Such warm skin and hard muscle—I wanted to kiss and lick and taste every square inch. Not enough time. Had to have him. Now. ‘Time for dessert, Donovan.”

“What about the whipped cream?” The look in his eyes was absolutely wicked.

“Can’t wait that long.” I pushed his shirt higher up and settled myself over his erection. He felt so big. “I want you inside me right this minute.”

Donovan cupped the back of my head with one of his hands, brought my mouth to his, and spoke against my lips. “Don’t you think it might help if we weren’t wearing clothes?”

“Damn,” I murmured before he brought me down hard, kissing me with the same intensity as he had when he’d found me a few nights ago.

Mmmm, delicious. The Guinness he’d had with dinner mingled with this new taste that I didn’t think I could get enough of. No describing the flavor, it was uniquely Donovan. My tongue met his again and again as I braced my good hand on one shoulder. He sure didn’t seem to mind my cast pressing against his other.

I groaned into his mouth as his hands moved from my hips and slipped beneath the oversized T-shirt, up my belly, and settled on my breasts. Smart me. No bra. Had my nipples ever been so tight, ached so much to be touched?

Licked? Sucked?

Whoa. Dizzy. His kiss actually made my world spin. I rocked on his erection as he squeezed my nipples and I felt how hard he was between my thighs.

Unfortunately there was the tiny matter of his jeans and my shorts between his cock and my achy, achy parts. I wanted to feel his length, his hardness, to have every inch of him inside me.

I gasped when he took his lips from mine and adjusted me so that he could lick one nipple before running his tongue over the other.

“Donovan—“ I started to say something, but my mind blanked when he gently bit my nipple. How many times could a woman cry “Oh. my God!’ when with a man like Donovan? I was on my way to finding out.

My shorts were completely damp between my thighs as I squirmed against him. Couldn’t take much more. What was I going to say? Yeah. “Clothes.” I moaned with the next nip of his teeth. “Off.”

He adjusted me so that he could skim his lips along the curve of my ear.

Shivers along my spine. “How loose are those shorts?” A growl. I swear he said it in a low, husky growl that reverberated through me.

Shorts? Loose?

Yes, oh yes. “Loose enough.”

His jeans roughened the insides of my thighs as I scooted down just enough to unbutton his jeans. Small problem of the cast.

He did the honors.

What an honor. The sheer size of him was going to feel so good again. Oh, yeah.

The need to taste him first was so strong that I wrapped my fingers around his cock and slid my lips down it. I heard the catch in his breath as I flicked my tongue and tasted the salt of his skin and the bit of semen on the head of his erection. He gave a loud groan and clenched his hands in my hair as I sucked hard.

I looked up at him and his jaw was tight as our eyes met. “Got to fuck you.”

He sounded like it was costing him just to talk. “Be inside you.”

I raised my head enough to say, “Oh, yeah. Talk dirty. I love it.”

He pushed his erection into my mouth before he released my hair, with one hand. I flicked my tongue and sucked his cock as he reached beneath him and drew out a packet.

The moment he got that packet open, he tossed it aside and made me stop sucking him so that he could roll the condom down his erection.

Donovan drew me up so that I was directly over him. His hand brushed the curls on my mound as he pulled the crotch of my shorts aside.

“Christ. Lexi,” he said. “I’m going to take you hard and I’m not going to stop until you come.”

He brought me down so fast that I didn’t expect it. The moment he drove his cock into me I gasped and almost shouted. So thick, long, and hard. My eyes nearly watered as he reached deep inside me. His grasp on my hips tightened as he raised and lowered me in time to every one of his thrusts. He hadn’t been kidding.

I’d never felt anything like this. I clenched my fist in his T-shirt as I hung on for the ride. Trying to keep my eyes from crossing wasn’t easy as my climax came rushing toward me like a subway train that had decided it wasn’t stopping for anything. No brakes.

Donovan didn’t slow his pace, but from the tenseness on his features and the way he clenched his jaw I’d bet he was as close to coming as I was.

When our eyes met and the intensity of his passion hit me, my orgasm slammed into me. I just about screamed. But my cry was almost that loud.

I didn’t close my eyes because I wanted to see his face, while my whole body trembled with sensations I couldn’t begin to do justice to explaining. A whoosh of heat and the feeling that every nerve ending was on complete fire.

My core contracted as he continued to thrust. Then he gave a shout, with a few final thrusts, and I spasmed even more, my channel gripping his cock as he throbbed inside me. I swear I felt every pulse, like it was in my veins.

Whoa. Muscles wouldn’t be supporting me much longer after that orgasm. Or orgasms. Mine and his. He drew me to him just in time or I would have hit his chest hard.

Donovan held me tight, the side of my head to his heart as we both breathed hard and unevenly. His heartbeat was as crazy as mine.

When I could finally catch my breath, and some of my strength came back, I rose and met his eyes. “Let’s try it with whipped cream now.”

April 26

Friday noon

At RED HQ, Donovan stood with his arms crossing his chest while we stared at the wall monitors covering every restroom, faculty lounge, and all the professors’ offices—including their private bathrooms.

The quick research we’d done by interviewing certain staff members had pointed out professors worthy of being checked out, and Weiss had been hot on their tails the past two days, three if you count today.

The old farts with the sticks up their butts, who practically needed walkers or had canes, we weren’t bothering with. Yet.

Right now twenty different locations had been cued up on the single giant screen. Each place had more than one camera angle and was monitored by an agent with earphones as the agent listened to conversation in their assigned area. “I want to scrape this damned cast off,” I grumbled to no one while wishing I could itch my arm. The throb that had been in my dislocated shoulder was almost gone—it had been almost two weeks since Danny yanked my arm out of its socket. My face was looking better and my chest didn’t hurt so much.

“This is boring as hell,” one of the newer agents said.

I gave a low laugh. “Welcome to the world of surveillance.”

Yeah, it was boring as hell, all right. A yawn threatened to escape me during our constant surveillance of the monitors while we followed Weiss and Jensen throughout the day. We were into our third day of the Harvard K-Team op and it felt like we were gradually closing in. Right now Donovan studied one of the monitors as we watched Weiss. The agent casually walked behind Galsband, a professor who was one of our prime suspects, into a faculty lounge.

Our sources had said Galsband had been forward with several of his female students, more so than most of the other professors. Then we’d seen it happen for ourselves. No one had ever complained about sexual harassment against Galsband, which was interesting. Probably had something to do with grades—threats perhaps. Who’d believe the word of a young grad student over a well-respected professor? The scowl that hurt my face gave me a headache. I wanted to spit the sour taste out of my mouth, a taste that increased just at the thought of what the man had done already, right before our eyes. On film in brilliant color. Over the course of just this one day, two female students—at different times—agreed to have dinner with Galsband this weekend. Then there were the arrangements he’d made with a student on Wednesday, and one on Thursday.

Afterward, the professor had stroked his dick through his slacks and given a grin that sent frissons of disgust through me. The man had to be sixty, and the coeds barely twenty. Donovan and I changed the frequency of our earphones to pick up sound in the lounge Weiss had gone into. Another reason they’d picked Galsband was his low, frequent conversations with Professors Grumman, Allen, and Michaels. Nothing overt had been said other than Michaels’s casual mention of a “poker game” at his house on Friday.

Tonight.

What interested us most was the way the men said the words and the looks they gave each other that included sly grins and innuendos. Reading expressions was something I’d always been good at, and I’d lay bets that it wasn’t a poker game the professors were planning.

Which meant Weiss and Jensen had some work to do. Those professors had it good at Harvard. Rich-looking furniture and an air of wealth.

When Weiss walked into the faculty lounge, Galsband glanced over his shoulder and gave a brief nod to him before reaching into a fridge for a bottle of Perrier. “Professor Galsband, isn’t it?” Weiss said as he bypassed the professor to grab his own bottle.

The professor’s hair was trimmed neatly, his sophisticated graying hair on each side of his head like friggin’ silver bat wings. He twisted the cap off his bottle and tossed the cap into a waste can. “I met you earlier with, who was it? Allan and Grumman, I believe.”

Weiss took a swig of his bottle and swallowed before nodding. “Name is Zimmer.”

“That’s right.” Galsband had a self-important tone to his voice. “What is it you teach?”

Weiss gave a smug grin. “What I’m best at is doing a little tutoring on the side with a few coeds. If you know what I mean:” Galsband raised his eyebrows. “Really, Professor.” Weiss shrugged, but kept what you’d definitely call a lecherous smile on his face. “A bennie that comes along with the job.”

“Indeed.” Galsband looked like he was suppressing a smile of his own. “I must be getting to class now.” “I’m between classes. Time to do a little ‘tutoring.’”

Weiss tossed his empty bottle into a garbage bin. “Cute little redhead . . . “ He winked and headed out of the lounge. For a moment Galsband stared at the door after it swung closed behind Weiss. His mouth curved into a smile and he tossed his own green bottle away. “Benefits, most certainly,” he said aloud before heading out of the door. The camera switched and the RED agents watched as Galsband walked to his class.

“Jensen, Weiss, you’re on,” one of the agents said into a microphone. Both Jensen and Weiss were wired.

Weiss glanced up at one of the hall cameras a RED agent switched to. “Ready and willing,” Weiss said as he walked toward Galsband’s office.

“Can’t wait,” Jensen said from around the corner, with an expression that meant she’d rather be doing anything than what they’d planned. I Jensen had done a great job of making herself look like a J hot little coed, with a very padded bra that would put j Georgina’s balloon boobs to shame. Weiss had pulled off the | fifty look well when he added some silver to his hair, and a (

pair of older-guy glasses. ‘

Once they met at Galsband’s office, Weiss tried to twist ] the knob. He glanced at the camera as he spoke. “Locked.” “Watch the monitors, HQ.”