Hidden Embers (19 page)

Except that she’d stood in this room with a group of people who had seemed eminently reasonable, including a woman she trusted above all others, and they told her that dragons really did exist. And now, staring into Quinn’s eyes, seeing the predator in there looking back at her, she knew what they said was true.

She started to lean back, to ease away from the power and the pull of his gaze, but Quinn was having none of it. His low, deep growl reverberated through the empty lab, telling her that much. Even after he’d managed to sheath his claws, to return his body to normal, his eyes didn’t change.

What did it say about her that she wasn’t sure she wanted them to? There was something exciting, something infinitely arousing, in being the focus of a stare that powerful, that intense. And even as she wondered if she had lost her mind completely, the rest of her didn’t care.

She wanted to touch Quinn, wanted him to touch her. Wanted to feel again what she’d felt back in that motel room. Being with him had been the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. It was one of the reasons she’d run—she’d been afraid of all the things he’d made her feel.

Fate had a hell of a sense of humor, for here she was again, right in Quinn’s path. The look on his face said that this time he had absolutely no intention of letting her go, which was fine with her—for the short term. She’d spent the last three years in one stressful field position after another. Maybe a brief fling with a hot—make that very hot—dragon shifter was exactly what she needed.

If she got a little singed in the process, well…she had a feeling the pleasure would be more than worth the pain.

Reaching a hand out, she tangled her fingers in Quinn’s shaggy black hair, savoring its silky softness as the strands wound themselves around her fingers. His eyes darkened to the lush, verdant green of the rain forest at twilight, and his mouth—that sensuous mouth with its full, kissable lower lip—parted on a harsh, indrawn breath.

“This isn’t a good idea, Jazz.” His voice was lower, harsher than she was used to—like talons scraping across velvet—and it sent shivers down her spine.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Because from where I’m sitting, it seems like an excellent idea.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the doctor who likes to play around in the world’s hot spots with some of the most contagious diseases on the planet. Your sense of self-preservation is definitely not what it could be.”

“And yours is?”

He started to answer, but she stopped him by laying two fingers across his mouth. “Before you answer that, remember that I saw you in action today. You’re no different than I am. You just manifest it differently.”

“You should probably find a better yardstick to measure yourself against. I’m not exactly sane,” he said, then nipped at her fingers.

Heat shot through her, straight from her fingertips to her sex. It was an electric, incandescent feeling that lit her up like a strobe light and had her body begging. Begging for everything it knew he could give her…and more.

But things were getting too intense—
she
was getting too intense. Lightening things up a little, Jasmine tucked her tongue firmly in her cheek and murmured, “What if I like your yardstick?”

There was a moment of stunned silence and then Quinn cracked up. His laugh was warm and infectious and only increased the inferno blazing to life within her. This wasn’t the outcome she’d been looking for, but even after only two days or so, she knew that while he could joke around, it was rare for him to truly smile. The fact that she’d made him happy—even for a moment—did something to her that she wasn’t quite ready to poke at yet.

“That might very well be the worst line I have ever heard,” he said, sinking to the ground, so that he was kneeling between her thighs.

“Surely not.”

“I don’t know. It was pretty terrible.”

“Too bad I won’t be sticking around all that long. I’m sure I’d be able to come up with worse.”

As soon as she said the words, she knew they were the exact wrong thing to say. The amusement fled from Quinn’s face as quickly as it had come, the darkness once again overtaking his expression.

This time the shiver that worked its way down her back was from nerves, not desire.

Quinn felt the last of the ties that bound the dragon to the man snap taut inside of him at Jasmine’s words—a condition intensified by the dawning awareness in her eyes. She knew what she’d said, knew that she’d thrown down the gauntlet, though from the wariness in her look, it might have been unintentional.

The dragon didn’t care. All it cared about was marking her all over again, punishing her for leaving him like she had and threatening to do it again.

Quinn lunged to his feet and with a growl pulled her to standing. Then he spun her around so that the front of her thighs rested against the desk where she’d been working. With one hand, he sent the papers on the right side of the desk floating to the floor while his other pressed on her lower back, bending her over the desk until her stomach and breasts were flush against the wood.

Her round, sexy ass was in the air, the threadbare seat of her jeans making it look even more inviting. There was a small hole near the pocket on her left cheek, through which he could see the black lace of her underwear.

He slowly slipped his finger into the hole, twisting it back and forth until the opening widened a little bit, and he could feel the soft warmth of the lace and the silkiness of the skin that lay beneath it.

She gasped, but this time it wasn’t in fear. Or not entirely in fear, he should say. The dragon could smell her uneasiness, the nerves she was working so hard to hide. But it could also scent her desire—a hot, spicy richness that came out of her in waves and drove the beast absolutely insane.

Leaving his finger where it was, stroking the near bare skin of her ass, he leaned forward and nuzzled his way along the skin of her upper back, left bare by the fire engine red tank top she was wearing. The smooth, tanned expanse of skin had been driving him crazy from the second he’d laid eyes on her this morning, and now that he was actually touching it…

He sunk his teeth in, unable to resist the desire to mark her. She stiffened, moaned, then relaxed as he used his mouth to soothe the small hurt. Her body quivered against his and the warm, heady smell of her desire grew more blatant, more seductive until he wanted nothing more than to glut himself in it, in her.

“You left.” The words came out unexpectedly, another window into his soul that he’d had no intention of opening. But there was something about her that made him speak without thinking first.

The accusation hung in the air between them, and for long seconds neither of them moved. The spicy scent of her arousal dimmed, and his annoyance with himself grew.

Shit.
He didn’t just say that, did he? Was he acting like some kind of candy ass who sat around whining because a woman wasn’t interested in a second round with him? Except this one obviously was interested, so what the hell was he bitching about? He must still be suffering the ill-effects from bringing Ty back from the brink. If he’d been stronger, more himself, he never would have slipped up like that.

Jazz squirmed against him, as if she wanted him to let her up. But he didn’t do that—couldn’t do that, if the truth were known. Not when he was aching with the need to bury himself so deeply inside her that she could never get him out.

She settled down, as if she realized that she wasn’t going anywhere until he got an answer. With a sigh, she murmured, “Phoebe said it was urgent, so I was in a hurry to get here. It isn’t like I exactly knew we were heading to the same place, you know.”

He could smell the lie on her and the scent of it enraged the beast. He called her on it, not understanding why it was so important to him. All he knew was that he wanted only truth between them. Whatever it was, whatever she had to say, he didn’t want her to lie to him.

“You weren’t expected until tomorrow. We both know that.”

“Yeah, well, I was more than ready to jump into this thing. I’ve been sidelined for almost two months, and if I didn’t do something useful soon, I swear I was going to lose my mind. Of course, if I’d known what I was running to, I might have stuck around that motel room a little longer.”

There was truth in her words, not a lot, but enough that they appeased him and the dragon. “So, you’ve got a thing against ancient dragon clans?” His stomach clenched as he waited for her answer.

“No. I have a thing against senseless brutality. I left Africa to escape it, and it looks like I landed myself smack dab in the center of another bloody conflict, if this afternoon is any indication. Only this one doesn’t follow any of the rules I’m used to. It’s…disconcerting.”

There was nothing he could really say to that. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring in anyone else for that very reason. Things are becoming more and more dangerous for us with every day that passes.”

“I got that impression.” She shifted a little, and it rubbed her ass against his cock. His arousal roared back to life, and he pressed himself more firmly into the soft lushness of her.

She went still, the prey catching the scent of the predator, and for one never-ending moment neither of them moved. Then she arched her back, pushing her ass out. The suddenness of the move had his eyes crossing with lust.

He wanted to see her face, needed to see her eyes, had to know if she was feeling the same incredible urgency that he was. Burying his hands in her hair, he turned her head so that her right cheek lay against the desk and her eyes—a storm-tossed violet—were locked with his.

“You can still leave,” he said, his voice nearly unrecognizable with desire.

She shuddered, arched against him a second time. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Are you sure?” He thrust against her a second time, wanting to make certain she knew what he was asking of her.

Proof of her arousal flooded him, the sweet, sexy scent reaching out to him as nothing else could have. His fingers tightened in her hair, and with a roar, he lifted his torso off of hers, pulling her with him as he went.

Twisting her head even farther to the side, he slammed his mouth down on top of hers and took everything she was willing to give him and then some.

She gasped and arched her back, clutching the edge of the table as if she didn’t trust her knees to hold her. As she did, he yanked her jeans and underwear down before sliding his fingers deep inside of her.

She moaned, her body running like honey around him as he rubbed against her sweet spot. She was so responsive it blew him away, so hot that he burned with the need to see just how fast he could send her up and over.

He pulled his fingers out, pinched her clit between his thumb and middle finger at the same time he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

She jerked against him, screaming, her fingers reaching back to grab his cock through the thick material of his jeans. He groaned, thrust against her, though he knew better. His dick was on fire, burning for her, and her unexpected touch had taken him all the way to the jagged edge of his control.

She laughed, low and a little mean, as her fingers worked his zipper down. His cock leapt from between the parted denim, and she palmed him, rubbing while he thrust helplessly against her soft hand.

Shit. He was as ready to go off as a teenager with his first girl. How could she do this to him so easily? Make him lose it when he’d had four hundred years to learn the reward in taking things slow? Was it the mating connection that made him feel like this, or was it her? Did it even matter, as long as he could be inside her?

Fumbling in the back pocket of his jeans, he grabbed a condom. Tore it open with his teeth. Rolled it on in a fever of need. Then sank into her waiting heat with a shudder of relief.

Jazz came at the first thrust of Quinn’s cock inside of her. How he’d gotten her so hot so quick, she didn’t know, but each stroke of his fingers had sent heat shooting through her like fireworks.

She’d wanted more time to play with him, more time to touch him, but she couldn’t complain—not when he was making her feel this good.

But then he was pulling out, robbing her of the last sweet waves of her orgasm. She pressed back, tried to take him again, and he laughed darkly before pushing himself inside her, one excruciatingly slow inch at a time.

She shuddered, again tried to press back against him so she could take all of him, but he stopped her with a steady hand on the small of her back. Held her in place so that her screaming nerve endings felt every inch of his invasion.

And it was an invasion, a slow, deliberate conquering that she recognized even through the incredible pleasure. Quinn laying claim, establishing dominance, challenging her to deny his possession.

It was the last thought that had her bucking beneath him, smiling in triumph as she dislodged him. She was no man’s possession—and she never would be.

“Jazz.” His voice was low, warning her, as he brought both hands to her hips and pulled her sharply against him until he was as deep inside of her as he could go.

Her muscles clenched involuntarily around him, her body in thrall to his mastery even as her mind rebelled at the limits he set for her. For them. Twisting her hips, she slid away from him again, shimmied until he’d once more slipped from her body.

One of his hands grabbed her hip while the other shoved her shirt up before tangling in her hair, holding her in place. He leaned forward until he covered her, until her breasts were pushed tightly against the unforgiving marble of the lab table and her back was wedged just as tightly against his heavily muscled chest.

“Take me,” he demanded, his voice low and harsh in her ear. “Take me now.”

He slammed into her so hard she rocketed up onto her tiptoes. Then he was pulling out and slamming into her again and again. He was wild, out of control. She’d challenged him, defied him, pushed him past his limits until the only drive he had was to mark her. To dominate her. To show her who had the upper hand.

It was delicious, every thrust a shocking invasion. Every slam of his cock a test of her own limits as unimaginable pleasure rocketed through her.