Night Whispers: ShadowLands, Book 1 (7 page)

“Thank you. It’s a default I can’t take credit for.” With an efficiency of motion, he pulled her closer, tucking her fingers into the crook of his arm and resting his hand on top of hers, beginning to walk down the path. Since she was attached to him, she followed, her first steps stumbling in her surprise. “The programmer uploaded this in the beta program. More of a joke, really.”

Whether he was just an image projected in her mind or not, his arm was strong and solid beneath her fingers. Her steps seemed awkward compared to his, since she wasn’t used to wearing a dress or walking while being led like this. She’d had a few boyfriends back in the day, not that she remembered them well. They’d either been addicted to drugs or violence. Like her. Certainly, she’d never strolled down a lane arm in arm with any of them. They would have laughed at the prospect, and so would she. She was so not that type of girl.

Except she kinda liked it. So maybe she was that type of woman.

Confusing.

She took a deep breath of the sunshine-scented air. It was even purer than the Colorado air, if that was possible. “Why a joke?”

“The purpose of the program was to allow combat training between two individuals instead of a program. They thought it would be funny for the first couple of testers to fight in paradise. There’s also a carnival setting.”

“I saw a carnival once when I was a kid. I could believe a fight to the death would be set there.”

He smiled, a quick flash of even, straight teeth. “Indeed.”

“I like the dress.”

He ducked his head, bringing her to a stop next to a bubbling pond. “Do you?”

“I saw something similar to it in a store window a couple of weeks ago…” He’d been talking to her at the time, she realized, as she’d walked down Rodeo Drive. He must have seen it through her. “Oh.”

A light flush crested the top of his cheekbones. “You stopped in front of it, and I could see you in the reflection. It looked good on you.”

She stroked her fingers over the skirt. Though dresses had never been her thing, Jules could admit she occasionally found them pretty and wondered what it would be like to put one on. Maybe twirl around. “Thanks. I swear, you notice everything. Including the fact that I kind of wanted to run in and grab this thing.”

“You’re the last person to loot.”

“Mmm.” Another thing she clung to to separate herself from her previous life. She grabbed necessities, but there was no point in taking the dead’s luxuries. A dress was frivolous. Where would she wear it, the zombie prom?

“You spent a long time looking at it.” He glanced down at her body, his green eyes lingering over her. She felt their touch like a lick of fire on her spine. “It’s very feminine.”

“I’m a woman.”

“I can tell.”

“Can you?” The words popped out. It was one thing to flirt when she couldn’t see him. She’d assumed that was part of the reason she felt so comfortable doing it, that it wouldn’t be the same when they were face-to-face. Guess not.

James’s gaze returned to her lips. His pupils dilated as he wordlessly nodded.

“Oh.” She dug her fingers into his arm. Sometimes the people she rescued hugged and kissed her, but it had been a long time since she’d touched someone she l— cared for. He felt real, looked real, smelled real. She could almost forget that this wasn’t any different from a computer game.
Reach next level. Make out with handler.
“What now?”

He licked his lips. “I should let you go to sleep.”

What? No.
Disappointed, she let her hand drop from his arm. He didn’t even try to hang on to it, the jerk. “Oh.”

“But I can’t. Yet.”

She paused and shot him a questioning glance. His answering smile was wry. A dimple in his cheek winked at her. He had dimples!

“I need to do something, and I’ll probably never get another chance, so bear with me.” His fingers brushed against the hollow of her throat. The tips were callused. The hands of a laborer, the mind of a genius.

She was hyperaware of the rough skin rasping against the hollow of her throat. He didn’t have to urge her forward. She swayed, caught by the romanticism of the gesture. His lips met hers gently, tenderly. They settled over hers, parting, giving her a chance to push him away.

She didn’t. She couldn’t. Instead, she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to gain entrance, sweep inside.

Oh Lord, his taste. Did he really taste like this outside of this imaginary world, a combination of mint and his own, unique male flavor? She could dine, feast on him.

Maybe it only felt so damn good because of how long it had been since she had kissed a man. The way her nipples peaked put lie to that thought. Even if this had been her hundredth kiss, even if she’d fucked a hundred men, the pure, wonderful, could-not-be-missed enjoyment of his lips on hers couldn’t be fake.

There was a desperation in his touch, as if he had to implant her taste in his memory. As if they really never would have this chance again, a thought she didn’t want to dwell on. Not now, at least. The happiness soaring through her at this display, this confirmation that the feelings she’d been nurturing weren’t one-sided, was too precious to mar with thoughts of never again.

His tongue darted out to brush at the seam of her lips. She opened hers, inviting him in, and he took swift advantage. She caught the tip of his tongue when he flicked it against her lips, drawing her mouth around it and creating suction.

His body stiffened, and he leaned into her. She sank her fingers into his hair, pressing his mouth harder against hers, suddenly greedy, wanting to crawl inside and taste him until she could have his flavor in her mouth forever. When she slept, when she hunted, when she ate…always.

She kissed him so ferociously their teeth clinked. He made a choked sound and backed off. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“No, I’m sorry.” She’d apologize for anything if it would get his body plastered against hers again. She reached for him, bringing him back, this time gently fitting her lips to his, letting her tongue roam his mouth.

He liked that, his hands smoothing up and down her back in an encouraging motion. She slanted her mouth, thinking that perhaps that would take the kiss deeper. It did.

It also made his touch more insistent.

The tips of his fingers coasted down to rest on the curve of her ass. His hands clenched the slightest bit, his fingers biting into the muscle and flesh.

She arched her hips forward in response, nudging the significant bulge of his cock through the loose fabric of his pants. A rush of heat exploded in her belly.
Do that again.

It appeared that he had that same little devil of a voice ringing in his head too. His large hand slid down until it covered her ass cheek, the fabric of the dress and her panties no more than a tiny barrier.

Why, if he’d dressed her, had he given her panties?

The inane thought disappeared when he urged her closer, until his hard cock nestled in the notch between her legs. He squeezed her ass more insistently, opening and closing his hand on her flesh. Despite her lack of recent experience, her body knew exactly what to do, and she reacted as if a prod was being applied to her behind, rubbing against his body like a cat in heat while their kiss became hotter, deeper, wetter.

That wasn’t the only thing that was getting wetter. The rush of moisture between her legs made her more insistent to appease that emptiness yawning inside of her. She inserted her hand between them until she could reach the drawstring at his waist. With one quick tug she had it undone, the fabric instantly loosening enough for her to slide her hand inside.

He made a rough noise when she closed her fist around the hot length of his dick, all smooth and thick and curved. Experimentally, she squeezed, and it ripped another moan from him. So she did it again, this time stroking up until she got to the mushroom-capped head.

When her hand slipped over the wet tip, he ripped his mouth away, his chest rising and falling in rapid sequence. “Jules.”

She prided herself on being a great multitasker, but it felt as though all of her energy was focused on the need inside her and the hot cock in her hands. No time to talk.

He was tall enough that she couldn’t quite reach his mouth without standing on her tiptoes. That was far too much work, so she settled for latching on to the side of his neck, sucking that skin between her teeth as she moved her hand down his shaft.

His pants were in the way. Everything was in the way, and she hated it. She wanted him completely bare, and she wanted to be naked herself as they touched each other in this paradise. She pressed frantic kisses against the side of his throat, working her way down to the hollow where she did her damnedest to leave her mark on him. She added a twist to the upward motion of her hand.

A full-body shudder ran through him. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and grabbed her arm with the other, stilling her motion.
Now why’d he go and do that?
She continued kissing whatever skin was exposed by the V of his shirt, dying to rip the thing off.

“Stop.” His voice was commanding, with none of its usual solicitude and pleasantry.

No one would ever call Jules a pushover, or even particularly submissive. But the firm tone instantly made her go still, some female instinct responding to her male.

Not your male.

For this moment, in this world he’d created for them, he was. She turned her head so her cheek rested against his collarbone. Her mouth, unlike her body, could never be stilled. “Why?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“You were the one who kissed me first,” she reminded him mildly.

“Trust me, I know.” He drew her hand away from his hardness with seeming reluctance. By the time she opened her eyes he’d jerked the pants over his arousal.

A flash of disappointment ran through her. Damn it all, she’d wanted to see it. She liked penises, and it had been a while since she’d gotten to play with one. Especially one attached to a man she actually liked and respected. “So why stop?” He was still ready to go—she could see that much.

He leaned his forehead against hers, his lashes sweeping down to hide his eyes. “Because this isn’t real.”

Funny how a person could go from lust to dismay in the space of a second. What was wrong with her? Of course this wasn’t real. He was her handler, for crying out loud. Her friend. He’d given her this gift as a friend, probably even kissed her as a friend, and God, she’d gone and tried to give him a virtual hand job. She nodded shortly and stepped away, hating that she actually had to blink hard to keep the tears from rising.

“Jules, are you crying?”

“Psht. No. Must be something in my eye.” God damn it, she would not cry over him, would not even admit to crying over him, not even if she had to hack a piece of wood off one of these idyllic-looking trees and shove it in her pupil to make her words the truth.

“You can’t have something in your eyes. There’s nothing here to get in your eyes.”

“Yeah? How do you know there’s nothing in my eye? You don’t know me.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” She looked away, unable to bear his focused, intense, gentle gaze. As much as she wanted to crawl under a rock somewhere and hide, her sense of justice wouldn’t allow her to leave things be. “Sorry about…touching you like that.” What a vast understatement for grabbing another person’s genitals.

“What?”

“I shoulda known better. You’re trying to be nice, and I misconstrued it.” Like she’d been misconstruing their relationship all this time in her head. Letting his voice soothe her. Bleating her life story. Going out of her way to find him fucking poetry. Jesus.

“Nice…”

“Yeah. Well, I won’t make that mistake again. Business as—”

His lips cut off her words. His kiss was as deep as before, but with a harder edge. After a second, she kissed him back, unable to keep herself from responding. The tears she’d tried to hold in check trembled out.

When he backed away, they were both breathing hard. “You.”

“What?”

His laugh ended on a sigh. “It’s you. I dream about you. Lately, you’re…you’re all I can think about, waking or asleep.”

“
En serio?
”
He had to be messing with her. Between the kiss and her raging hormones, thinking had become a challenge. She sought to clarify. “What are we doing in these dreams?”

“Everything we did. More that we haven’t.” His laugh sounded pained. “I put my mouth, my hands, my cock all over you. Inside of you.”

She didn’t need a brain to catch up with that explicit proposal. Excitement shot through her. “Oh. That’s…cool.”

“Is it?”

“That you want me? Yes.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Is there any doubt that I want you? I did throw myself at you.” And she’d do so again, right now.

He must have read the intent in her eyes because he took a step back, holding a hand up as if to stay her. “We can’t.”

“Why not? This is real. If we both feel—” She paused, realizing they hadn’t quite verbalized exactly what they felt.

“I wasn’t saying we weren’t real. I was saying this place isn’t real. It’s easy to confuse reality with virtual reality, and I won’t do that to you. The first time we make love, we won’t be wearing specs. If I have my way, we won’t be wearing anything.”