Lion's Heat (13 page)

Now, sitting too close to him during the luncheon Racert had requested, Rachel found herself fighting to keep her eyes averted.

She'd always had a slight attention deficit whenever Jonas was around, but now it was worse. Significantly worse.

"Jonas, you have to admit, the Breeds have an account that could pay off the national debt." Racert was still arguing his point, nearly two hours into the meeting, as Jonas sat back and simply regarded him with apparent lazy interest. "You can buy public opinion, you know. Hell, politicians do it every day." His laugh was one of forced cheerfulness, his wide smile seemingly sincere. "You could easily make several hefty donations and the Breeds would never miss the money. Hell, it's not as though you need all that damned money at the moment. The U.S. government is lining your pockets damned well with the fees your Enforcers charge for the specialized missions they do for the military."

Rachel watched as Jonas tapped one finger against his temple as though he were actually considering the idea, when Rachel knew full well the explosion that could be coming.

Using the electronic planner's stylus, she pulled up the fiscal file she kept on hand, laid the electronic pad on the table, then leaned forward.

"Senator Racert, I believe this luncheon is concluded." She smiled politely to the four men who accompanied the senator before directing a lesser smile in his direction. "We've been here for nearly two hours now and as I'm certain you know, the party for our esteemed ambassador to Switzerland begins in less than three hours. We do need time to prepare for it."

A frown checked Racert's brow. "My dear Ms. Broen, I don't believe you speak for the Bureau director here." He nodded in Jonas's direction. "Why not be a good little thing and not interfere where you have no knowledge."

Rachel saw Jonas tense from the corner of her eye and heard the tiniest vibration of a growl emanate from his chest.

"I have full knowledge of the Breed security fund in which you are currently attempting to convince the Bureau of Breed Affairs to approve an amount you'd like to use for your own purposes." She smiled sweetly. "And if you may have missed my title somewhere, it is personal assistant to the director of Breed Affairs. I'm fully knowledgeable when it comes to that security fund. Just as I'm certain you're aware that we're possibly skirting unlawful activities in even considering such a maneuver."

"There are ways around anything." Racert's plump lips flattened in barely concealed anger.

"There is no way around the Breed security fund, Senator Racert," she assured him.

Racert turned to Jonas. "She's a mouthy thing, Wyatt. You should consider a replacement."

Before Rachel could consider a comeback, Jonas rose slowly to his feet.

"Let it go," she advised him softly.

"Like hell." There was the faintest French accent to his voice as he stared at Racert, his gaze icy. "A report of this meeting will be turned in to the Breed Appropriations Committee," he informed the senator as Rachel rose to her feet. "And I would highly advise if you need to discuss Breed affairs that you contact one of the Breed cabinet members besides myself."

Racert rose to his feet as well, a glare slicing to Rachel before he turned back to Jonas.

"Come on, Wyatt, you don't want to say no to this deal." His eyes narrowed warningly. "I'm on that committee. I approve those funds . . ."

"You don't approve jack shit," Jonas stated coldly, insultingly. "Don't pretend you do. And the next time you address my assistant with such malicious disrespect, I'll rip your throat out."

There was no doubt he meant every word. The slice of frozen mercury that his eyes became sent a chill racing over Rachel as well as the senators who now stood, facing an animal in danger of losing its appearance of civility.

"Rachel, we're leaving." His fingers curled around her upper arm as she quickly grabbed her pad and briefcase.

A second later, he was leading her from the table and through the restaurant. He didn't stop to pay for the meal, nor did he make the polite attempts not to burn this particular bridge. Not that Rachel blamed him. Racert was asking Jonas to not only steal from his own people, but to do so secretively and selectively.

"That might not have been wise," she stated as he escorted her to the limo waiting at the entrance.

Sliding into the interior of the vehicle, she watched as Jonas took his seat, the door closing behind him as the driver, a Coyote Enforcer, began to pull out.

Slowly, the glass partition between the seats rose, sealing them into a quiet, intimate atmosphere that she could have done without.

"He insulted you," Jonas growled. "Right there to your face."

"He's not the first." She rolled her eyes at his anger. "I get insulted every time I refuse to allow someone who believes they're my superior to talk to you. Get over it."

The next growl that rumbled in his throat had her watching him warily. Her gaze slid from his, to his arms, to his hands. Swallowing tightly, she watched as he slowly curled his fingers into fists to hide the primal claws that had torn through what at first appeared to be scars in the tips of his fingers.

"I will not get over it," he rasped, the icy silver of his eyes unthawing to boiling mercury. "I should have torn the bastard's tongue from his throat."

Rachel's brows arched. "Why? Because he was an asshole? Good Lord, Jonas, when did you decide you were my keeper?"

"The day you walked into my office and I realized you were my mate," he snapped back.

For a moment, the normally suave, calm Jonas was the animal she had always sensed lurking beneath the carefully clothed exterior. His eyes raged, his body was tense with the need for action, his expression shifting between sensuality and fury.

"I'm not your mate . . ."

He was on her. That quick. Rachel found herself lying back along the seat, his large body straddling her, the feel of his cock, heavy and hot, through the material of his slacks as his hips pressed against hers.

"Jonas." Her gasp was part protest, part sudden pleasure.

How the hell was she supposed to control herself when he did this? When the forceful dominance he was displaying was the stuff of her fantasies?

"Never deny me again." His hand gripped her wrists, pulled her arms back and secured them above her head as he stared down at her.

The position lifted her breasts, made them appear fuller, more alluring. Her nipples pressed against the blouse where her jacket had fallen open, as the soft lace of her bra showed clearly through the pale material.

"God, I want to feel your nipple in my mouth." The words sent a punch of sensation straight to her womb. "If I touch you with my mouth, with my tongue, everything you don't want is going to come crashing down on you. You know that, don't you, Rachel?"

She knew it, and still, the sudden ache for it was almost more than she could bear.

"Touch me," he groaned. "Just once." He brought her hands to his chest. "I swear to God I'll control it. Just once."

Jonas found he wasn't above begging. He'd spent a lifetime in those fucking labs and never begged for anything, but now, he would go to his knees for a single touch from the delicate hands pressing against his shirt.

"This is dangerous," she whispered.

"Not touching me is more dangerous," he snarled. "Do it, damn you. You're killing me."

The need for it was ripping him apart.

Slowly, staring up at him, her eyes locked to his, she slid her fingers to the buttons of his shirt and slowly undid them.

She surprised him. He could feel the need in her, smell it. She wasn't trying to hide it. He hadn't expected her to actually touch him, but there was no doubt she was going to do just that.

The only question was, could he survive it?

As she spread the edges of his shirt apart with deliberate slowness, Jonas had to fight just to breathe as her fingertips raked over his hairless chest.

The fine hairs that covered his body lifted to her fingertips as a ragged groan tore from his body. Just the tips of her fingers were like flames as they stroked over the flexing muscles, rubbed, caressed, rasped his flesh with her small nails.

Jonas felt his claws sink into the leather of the seat by her shoulders. Never had he lost such control. Only during moments of rage did the lethally sharp bonelike matter flex from beneath his flesh.

But never had he known such pleasure, or need, either. It was burning inside him, stealing control, making him so hungry for her kiss that he had to clench his teeth to keep from begging for it as well.

"Your flesh is tough," she whispered as her fingertips rubbed against his pectoral muscles.

"Yours is like silk." And he wasn't even touching her. He knew what it would feel like, sensed it from the touch of her hands.

"Jonas, this is so very dangerous." Her voice was husky, filled with arousal.

Shifting his hips, he moved until he was pushing her legs apart, her skirt rising, allowing him to slide into place. Only the clothing they wore separated him from the sweet, wet flesh of her pussy.

"Shh," he soothed. "No danger here, baby. Just touch me. Just for a minute."

Her fingers curled against his chest, two little nails scraping over the flat, round disc of one nipple.

His hips jerked, instinct rushing through him as he fought to bury his cock inside her.

The gasp of her breath as the hard, covered flesh of his dick raked against her clit was nearly his undoing.

"Can I taste you?" The question had pure pleasure exploding through his mind. "Just once."

She wanted. He could smell the want pouring from her, a want he had promised he wouldn't take advantage of.

"Taste me," he whispered. Hell, he had no idea if it would hurt or not. There had been instances that even the tiny hairs on a Breed's body contained minute amounts of the mating hormone. But it was rare. So rare.

Her head lifted to him as he bent to her, expecting to feel the touch of her lips on his chest. Instead, her head lifted farther, and he felt the stroke of her tongue against his neck, the rasp of her teeth.

Goddamn. He was going to melt. Fire raced along his body, tore through his balls and melted his brain. Impulse and instinct were the only things left. He had enough thought process left to thank God that his animal instincts had enough honor to not force the mating heat on her.

"Cinnamon," she whispered. "You taste like cinnamon and cloves, Jonas."

"God. No." He tore himself from her.

Jerking back, he forced himself to his own seat, his head falling back as he ran his hands through his hair and fought for control. Just a little control, enough to keep himself from taking what he so, so desperately wanted.

"What, Breeds aren't allowed to taste like cinnamon and cloves?" There was an edge of frustrated amusement, almost playfulness, to her voice.

Jonas breathed in roughly. "That mating hormone: It tastes like cinnamon and cloves."

"Merinus said it tasted like a rainstorm." Confusion filled her voice as he heard her sitting up.

"Merinus has a big mouth," he muttered as he felt the claws slowly retract and control return by minute increments. "It's different sometimes. It's according to the Breed."

"So Callan is stormy and you're hot?" That was definite amusement. Damn her, she was laughing about it when he felt as though he were going to explode.

"Or something." Lifting his head, he stared into her laughter-filled green eyes.

"Just think of the tabloid stories I could sell with this." Her brows wagged playfully. "Bureau director tastes of cinnamon and cloves, Feline Breed leader tastes of water and sulfur. What surprises will the Breeds come up with next?"

"You have no idea," he growled.

"Tell me, Jonas, do you think if we ever get around to having sex that you'll do the barb thing, or do you think you can convince it to stay hidden a time or two, just until I decide if I want to actually experience it?"

Someone seriously needed to instruct Merinus on the value of keeping Breed secrets
secret
.

"I don't think it works quite that way," he groaned, torn between amusement and frustration. Damn, where had his ice princess gone? The mischievous imp staring back at him now was going to make him crazy.

"Ah well, too bad. That barb thing sounds rather intimidating to me." Straightening her skirt, she licked her lips, her expression shifting as though some taste there pleased her.

Damn, if he actually had the chance to taste her, he would do more than relish it. His tongue would be buried so deep inside her pussy that she wouldn't know where she ended and he began.

As for the "barb thing," as she called it, he had to admit he was looking forward to it. The whispers he'd heard of the pleasure it induced made it sound like a sexual nirvana. A pleasure that radiated to every cell of the body and left a Breed shaking and begging for more.

Blowing out another hard breath, he narrowed his eyes and watched as Rachel licked her lips again. Her nipples were still hard and the sweet scent of her pussy still infused the air, just as the darker, richer sent of her arousal tormented his already starving senses.

She was his buffet, and he was starving for her.

Pulling the electronic pad free of its case, Rachel frowned as she used the stylus to pull something up on the pad's face.

Her forehead tightened as she began to read.

"I need to skip this party tonight," she murmured as though it didn't matter to her either way. "We have information coming in from China concerning several companies there that Brandenmore and Ingalls have contacted. They suspect they've sent in genetic information to those companies. I want to follow the trail."

"Forget it. Put Brim on the trail; his contacts there are more extensive and he has the time for it. You don't."

He could almost feel her frustration now. He knew exactly why she was trying so desperately to get out of that party. She had obviously brought one of her toys with her and intended to use it.

That wasn't going to happen. He smiled at her, one of those slow, easy smiles that he knew her response to. It came instantly. Suspicion darkened her green eyes as they narrowed and her lips thinned in irritation.