Christine Feehan - Conspiracy Game

He let go of her as if she had burned him, muttering the local word for “witch.” He grabbed his gun from his companion and spun away from her, hurrying out, snapping a command to the others. They followed him out, slamming the door hard.

Briony sagged with relief, covering her face with shaking hands. Jack slid down the rope and strode toward her, his features hard and set, eyes glittering dangerously.

Jacklocked the deadbolt on the door with a resounding thud and just kept coming, walking right up to her, hands gripping her arms hard. He gave her a little shake. “What the hell were you trying to do? He was going to rape you. If I felt it, you had to be swamped with his intentions. What’s wrong with you?”

“Everyone underestimates me because I’m so small. I knew I was stronger than he was. I wouldn’t have let him touch me.”

“He did touch you. He fucking hit you, while I hid like a dog up on that platform. He wanted to hurt you. He reeked of it. You had to have smelled him. He was excited by the idea of hurting a woman like you.” His palm covered her red cheek.

“And I handled it,” Briony snapped, her own temper beginning to rise and mix with the nearly mind-numbing fear. She jerked her head away from him because his touch affected her way too much. “I handled it. I’m capable of taking care of myself. I wouldn’t just let a man rape me.”

“Hence the word rape .” His eyes narrowed. “You weren’t safe, Briony. Not then and you aren’t now either. You should be screaming your head off.”

“I wouldn’t bring the soldiers in here. They’re trigger happy. And I’m not afraid of you. You want me to be, but I’m not.”

“You should be. Do you have any idea what I want to do right now?” His hand slid back up to her face, cupping her cheek and pressing his palm to her burning skin as if he could take the sting away.

“Yes. You aren’t even trying to keep me out.” The intensity of his emotions swamped her and robbed her of her anger and fear. He needed to touch her-to feel her close to him. He couldn’t think with wanting her. Briony had never had anyone look at her the way he did, or be so fierce in his protection of her.

“I want you to see me for what I am, Briony. I’m hard and can be cruel and I don’t have those gentle feelings you deserve in a man.” All the while he spoke, his hands belied what he said, thumbs sweeping soothing caresses over her swollen cheek.

“I can’t touch you. You have too many stitches, Jack. We can’t possibly… ”

She broke off when he caught her hands, fingers weaving through hers, pushing her against the wall and pinning her arms there while he leaned in to continue kissing her. Hot, needy kisses. Urgent and hungry. Each kiss deepened, roughened, became more demanding than the last.

On some level he knew he was too experienced and rough for an innocent, but he couldn’t stop. Every bit of discipline and control seemed far away, out of reach, no matter how hard he tried to find it. The roaring in his head drowned out all sense of honor and became a pounding desire so intense he couldn’t think beyond burying his body into hers.

It was her scent, the soft skin, the heat of her mouth, and the taste of her. She offered herself up to him and he wasn’t strong enough to resist. The offer had been there in the dark chocolate of her eyes. Shy maybe, hesitant even, but he recognized the hunger growing in her. The moment he slid his hands under her shirt and absorbed the feel of satin and silk, knew the lure of her scent was on every square inch of her body, he had to have more.

“Jack.” Briony whispered his name, fear rising in direct proportion to her need of him. She’d never felt so edgy, so desperate for relief. She wanted his hands on her, wanted his body in hers, yet she knew little of what to expect between a man and a woman. He was too big-too strong-and in his present state she doubted if she could control the situation. She wanted the rush to slow down, to give her time to think.

Jack felt a tremor run through Briony, and he tilted her face to force her to look up at him. “I’ll be careful with you, baby. Trust me.” He hoped he was telling the truth. He’d never felt such an overwhelming desire to be with a woman. He trailed kisses from her temple to her cheek, down to the corner of her mouth. All the while his hands moved over her skin, tracing her ribs, the small, tucked-in waist, gliding up to cup the soft weight of her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks right through her lace bra.

A soft sound escaped her throat, a breathy, urgent plea that made him nearly crazy with wanting to strip the clothes from her body. It wouldn’t be enough to take her like that, fast and hard and without thought. He felt . It was unexpected and even unsettling, but he needed to savor the feel of her skin, the sound of her soft, breathy moan, the dark richness of desire building in her eyes for him. Her body fit his, every curve, the flare of her hips and soft swelling breasts.

Jack had never expected to want her the way he did, or to feel her inside of him the way he did, but he wasn’t going to waste his opportunity. He didn’t give a damn that his body was a mess. He had never experienced belonging. She belonged with him-and he with her. She didn’t look at him the way the rest of the world did. She didn’t see his sins. She didn’t know his heart had died a long time ago. She looked at him and saw a man-not a monster. He couldn’t even look in the mirror and do that, but he could through her eyes.

He leaned in to kiss her again, hands tunneling deep in her thick, silky hair. Her mouth opened for him, responded with hot passion. He took his time this time, refusing to be rough, savoring her taste, the feel of her. He slowed his wandering hands, dwelling on her curves and soft valleys, mapping her body in his mind-storing the images there. This would have to last him a lifetime, and he wasn’t going to rush it.

Briony couldn’t believe how gentle he was-how tender. His mind was a haze of need-of hunger-desire so intense he could barely think or breathe, but instead of stripping the clothes from her body, he unwrapped her as if she were priceless and fragile-with a tender care bordering on reverence. Her breath caught in her throat when he removed his clothes, tossing them aside carelessly, revealing the terrible cuts and burns on his body.

“Jack,” she whispered his name in an agony of need. “We can’t. We should wait until you’re healed.”

“I won’t feel anything but you,” he answered, knowing it was true. He lifted her to set her bottom on the edge of the railing and stood between her legs to give him better access to her body without further damaging his own. He couldn’t afford to pull the stitches loose and risk more infection, but damn it all, he wasn’t about to lose this opportunity.

He kissed her again, long, slow, drugging kisses until her eyes were glazed and her body trembled beneath his touch. He trailed kisses down her neck, over the curve of her breasts to her nipples. He felt ravaged with hunger for her, his mouth suckling a little too wildly, teeth teasing and tugging and dragging her into a much more experienced foreplay than her innocent eyes told him she should have, but he couldn’t stop from taking the gift she was giving him.

“I’ve never felt like this, Briony.” He couldn’t wait, couldn’t make love to her as he wanted, and it was frustrating to him. He needed a bed and about twenty-four hours instead of a practice room where someone might attempt to come in at any time.

He pressed a finger into her tight channel. She made a soft sound of need, her slick cream making it easy to stretch her a bit with two fingers. He couldn’t wait. Her scent was teasing him, his body swelling to painful proportions. She was hot and wet and so tempting-looking part sexy temptress and part innocent.