Christine Feehan - Murder Game

"What are you doing?" Her voice was a mixture of sexy and drowsy, playing along his nerve endings, so that every muscle tightened and electricity arced over his skin.

He teased his way up the outside slope of her breast, swirled around her nipple, and then bit down gently. A broken cry escaped her throat. She tugged at his hair.

"I'm not awake yet." If it was meant as a protest, it failed miserably; excitement edged her voice.

"You don't have to be." He drew her breast into his mouth, suckling strongly. She was evidently very sensitive, because she arched into him, nearly coming off the bed.

Tansy closed her eyes, allowing the sensations to roll over and into her. His voice was pure velvet, brushing at the insides of her thighs until she was shaking with arousal. His knee roughly pushed apart her legs, allowing him better access as he kissed his way back down her belly, making her stomach muscles bunch with need.

He was fully clothed, the denim rubbing roughly against her skin, and there was something very decadent and forbidden at being totally naked, held open beneath a fully clothed man. His hands went to her thighs, pushing them even wider as he dipped his head low. His hair brushed against her inner thighs, making her jump and shiver. The shadow along his jaw scraped, sending flames dancing over her skin.

He bit at her inner thighs, his tongue bathing the tiny stings. Her hips bucked and she tried to pull his head away, squirming, moaning, rather shocked at her body's uninhibited reaction to him. His breath hissed out at being denied, and he caught both wrists in one hand and pinned them against her belly, raising his head an inch to look at her with dangerous eyes.

"Lie still."

"I can't." Her head tossed on the pillow. "It's too much." His weight pinned her down while his shoulders kept her legs spread apart, her silken sheath open to him.

He didn't bother to contradict her, but simply lowered his head again, taking long, slow licks, lapping at the spicy cream her body rewarded him with. Her hips continued to jerk and buck, as she writhed beneath his relentless tongue.

He took her over the edge in minutes, enjoying every moment of her soft body melting beneath him. He loved the look on her face, the shocked delight as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Kadan laid his head on her tummy, his arm slung around her waist, feeling the aftershocks gently rock her while he touched her mind. He'd driven out the demons, slammed the door closed on the voices, and left, in the place of cold and evil, something altogether different. There was a feeling of warmth, of love even. He winced away from the word, but it was out there now, in his mind. Love. What was it and how had such an emotion twisted its way into his heart and mind.

He pressed kisses from her belly to her breasts. "It isn't about the heart, Tansy, it's all about the soul."

She brushed the hair from his forehead with gentle fingers. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you don't. It's just as well. I'm the tough guy, remember?"

He pushed up, but Tansy caught his arm. "Are you all right? Tell me if something is wrong." He'd just sent her rocketing to the moon, and now he was already slipping away from her into a remote, distant man she could barely read, and he knew it bothered her. He hated separating himself, but he had to get her parents to safety before deciding if they should live or die.

"Everything is right, baby. I just wasn't ready for the way I feel about you, but I'm getting there." He'd accepted that she was his world. That didn't mean he was comfortable with it yet.

Kyland Miller wasn't at all what Tansy had expected. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with, tough and scarred and built like a fighter. His steel gray eyes seemed to look right through her, his dark hair spilled in unruly waves over his forehead, but his smile was kind. She had emerged from a shower, dressed, little makeup, hair still damp, to find Ryland sitting comfortably with Kadan.

Kadan glanced up, and something in his energy chilled her at first, but then he smiled and got to his feet, and she immediately felt a shift inside of her, a melting. Kadan took her hand and tugged until she was beneath his shoulder, one hand sliding possessively around the nape of her neck while he performed introductions. Ryland's expression went from speculative to knowing, and she had to fight to keep from blushing.

"Ryland is married to Lily Whitney. They just had their first child," Kadan said.

Tansy struggled to keep her face from showing anything but polite interest. She still found it difficult to believe that a friend of Kadan's could be married to Whitney's daughter.

She glanced at Kadan, but as always, his expression gave little away.

You can trust him.

Kadan's expression might be remote, but his warmth poured into her mind. She managed to keep smiling and nod at the introductions, keeping her gloved hands behind her back. She detested wearing the gloves now that she'd had months in the mountains and her brief time with Kadan without them. It was as if she'd gone from freedom back to prison, although even to her that seemed a melodramatic analogy. She couldn't help it. Her fingers felt tight and confined, itching to get out of the cramped quarters.

Three men waited in the living room, all coming to their feet when she entered. Ryland Miller might not look like a man who could be trusted; in fact, he looked a man of few words but long on action, yet there was a steadiness in him that appealed to her. She could feel respect and even a certain friendship in Kadan's mind for the man. It would take a strong man to marry Whitney's daughter. Kadan was blocking a good deal of the energy, but he was allowing enough to slip through, and she recognized that Ryland was a psychic talent as well.

"This disreputable scoundrel is Raoul 'Gator' Fontenot. He's going to try to steal you away from me with his charm."

Gator grinned boyishly. "Ma'am, I got me a mean little hellcat at home and she'd have my head if she thought I was flirtin" he drawled in his Cajun accent and winked at her, declaring her safe even though his smile could and probably did melt hearts.

"Is Gator some kind of nickname?"

"Yes, ma'am. In the Special Forces we often give each other appropriate handles. Kadan is 'Bishop.' Rye there is 'King,' and Sam, one of our team members, is 'Knight.'" Gator grinned at her, his drawling voice like molasses on a Sunday. "I don' play boring chess, honey, but I wrestle alligators."

Kadan pinned his friend with a steely-eyed stare. "You keep flirting with her and you'll be wrestling with Flame. That woman is the only person who may be meaner than me."

Tansy sent Kadan a sharp glance. As a rule he could read people's minds. It was fairly clear that Gator might flirt, but he was definitely a one-woman man.

Yes he is , Kadan agreed, but it's good for them to know the score .

His hand slid from the nape of her neck to her shoulder, his fingers brushing her neck, small, caressing strokes that were featherlight, but she felt them all the way to her toes.

Tough guy . She did the equivalent of mind eye rolling, not wanting to show that even that light touch could affect her the way it did. Shivers of awareness raised goose bumps on her skin and down her spine.

Kadan merely shrugged, his hard expression and cold eyes saying it all to his friends.

Gator's unrepentant grin widened, flashing white teeth. "Flame's the better half of me and she sure keeps my life interestin."

Tansy's mind was racing with the idea of themes and nicknames in the Special Forces. Each ivory game piece had been carved obviously for a specific killer. If they were military and GhostWalkers, it couldn't be that difficult to track down their handles. There just weren't that many GhostWalkers, if what Kadan said was the truth. Wouldn't it be a matter of just going through the teams and finding out what they call one another ?