Seduced by the Storm (21 page)

She
covered Wyatt’s hand with her other one, letting the satchel slide to the
floor. "I really don’t want to talk about this. And shouldn’t you be
flying this thing?"

"That’s
the wonder of autopilot, babe. This bird is amazing. Itor must have stolen an
autopilot patent and had this beauty custom-built. I still have to keep my feet
on the pedals, but so far so good. Look, Ma, no hands."

God,
he was cocky, sitting there like every day he wiped the deck with bad guys,
saved the world and won the girl. Of course, as an ACRO agent, he probably did
do those things on a regular basis.

How
many other women had he seduced over the course of a mission? The guy was
definitely an American version of James Bond. Jealousy flared once again in a
rush that made her heart ache. She crushed the emotion ruthlessly, because
although she couldn’t deny that she was starting to feel something for him, she
would not allow her feelings to expand any further.

Except,
how did one stop a rolling tide?

With
a weather machine, maybe,
she thought
wryly.

"Tell
me," she said, "why did ACRO want you to destroy the machine? Why not
keep it, use it themselves? Your agency could protect America’s coastlines,
save lives, property…"

"It’s
too dangerous, Faith. The temptation to destroy an enemy with it would be too
great."

"Not
in the right hands."

"You
can’t know that. Collateral damage could be catastrophic. And just by having
the thing, you’d invite enemies to try to steal it. You’d always be worried
about someone on the inside betraying you for power or money."

Not
anyone on
her
inside. She trusted her people completely. "I’d think
the benefits would outweigh the risks."

"Doesn’t
matter. It’s not my call." His gaze, sharp and intelligent, also revealed
utter resolve, and it struck her that he really wouldn’t consider using the
machine for his own purposes, no matter how noble.

"You
always follow orders?"

"ACRO
has never let me down."

ACRO
was lucky to have him, and she experienced a spark of resentment that TAG had
missed out. "Your loyalty is admirable."

"So
is yours. If misplaced."

"You’re
talking about Sean."

He
rolled his shoulders as though Sean’s very name made his muscles tense.
"Christ, Faith. What did you see in that guy?"

"He
wasn’t always like that." She paused, waited for him to look at her.
"After the mental hospital, I was taken to a very small, very secret
boarding school."

"Run
by who?"

She
hesitated, but hell, she’d already said enough. "A well-known intelligence
agency."

"So
basically, you were raised to be an agent?" He looked at her for a long
moment, as though taking her measure. "We’ve got an operative with a
similar background." That didn’t sound like a good thing, but he didn’t
dwell on the subject. "I’m assuming Sean grew up in the same school?"

"He
arrived a couple of months after I did. We became great friends, were
inseparable for years. But eventually, his gift became too much for him. He
grew angry, power-mad. But I always believed he could overcome his bitterness
and need for control."

"He
really played you, didn’t he?"

"It
wasn’t like that."

When
Wyatt shook his head, like he still didn’t get it, she huffed and stood, intent
upon taking a seat in the rear of the helicopter so she wouldn’t have to answer
any more questions. "I don’t need to explain anything to you. I’m going to
see if I can catch a nap."

He
caught her elbow, and suddenly she found herself sitting in his lap. "No
running away."

"How
dare you?" She shoved at his shoulders, but his grip tightened and he
tugged her closer.

"Be
careful," he murmured into her ear. "One little bump to the wrong
control, and we end up in the ocean. But if you want to rock your hips a
little, that would be okay."

"You’re
so…so…"

"Insufferable?"

"Yes!"

Grinning,
he gripped her waist and helped her out with that rocking thing he’d mentioned.
He was aroused. Shockingly aroused. The rhythmic pulses of the helicopter
engine made their contact vibrate, made him grow even harder. "We have a
few minutes to waste."

She
cocked an eyebrow at him. "You want to go at it now? Right here?"

"The
shocked act won’t fly with me." He kept one eye on the view in front of
them and said, "You fucked me in a boiler room while security guys were
hunting us, remember?"

"Perhaps
danger turns me on."

"You’re
a secret agent. It’s supposed to." His hand slid up to cup her breast
through her cotton and lace top, and her nipples tightened in response.
"But what about helicopters? Do they turn you on? Ever done it in
one?"

"No…You?"

He
opened his mouth over her bare shoulder, bit down lightly. "Never."

"Why
don’t I believe you?"

Taking
her shoulder strap in his teeth, he dragged it down her arm. "Because
you’re trained to think everything anyone says is a lie?" His tongue made
a warm, wet stroke along her collarbone.

"That
could be…mmm, yes, right there…the reason." God, she was falling for his
seduction skills again. No, she didn’t feel light-headed and out of control,
but with Wyatt, all it took was a look, a touch, a lick, and she was instantly
reduced to a quivering mass of lust.

"As
much as I love to remove a woman’s bra, I love more that you don’t wear
one."

"Never
have," she moaned, not wanting to think about him removing any other
woman’s clothing.

His
hand smoothed down her belly to her thigh, and she felt herself spreading her
legs in invitation. In fact, when he slipped his hand beneath her skirt, she
arched against him, seeking his touch where she needed it. His other hand came
up to cup the back of her head, and he pulled her down until her mouth brushed
his.

"We
haven’t had enough time to explore each other," he murmured against her
lips. "We’re going to do that soon." His fingers tunneled inside her
panties and found her center. "But right now, I’m going to make you scream
my name."

"Cocky
bast—"

He
cut her off with a kiss, took her mouth like he was on a mission. And she
supposed he was, if the way he stroked her core with his fingers was any kind
of clue. When he penetrated her, she cried out. He caught the sound with his
mouth, inhaled it like a drowning man taking his first lifesaving breath.

"Oh,
yeah." His mouth curved against hers. "I love how you respond to
me."

"I
hate it." Her head lolled back as he began a seductive rhythm with his
finger. "I hate how you affect me."

He
kissed her exposed throat, his breath a warm caress on her ultrasensitized
skin. "You’ll learn to love it. Crave it. Beg for it."

So
arrogant. And so right. She could see herself growing addicted to him.
"You’re making a lot of assumptions."

His
thumb made a slow circle around her clit, and she nearly gasped. "I’m
stating fact."

She’d
have argued, but he pinched her swollen nub between his fingers and began to
roll it between them, gently, slowly, and God, she was going to come exactly
the way he said, screaming his name.

You’ll
learn to love it. Crave it. Beg for it.

No,
she wouldn’t. They wouldn’t be together long enough for that. She wouldn’t be
screaming his name or begging or any such thing, dammit.

"Stop,"
she moaned, and then more forcefully said,
"Stop."
She
squirmed away from him, nearly falling out of his lap.

"What
are you doing?"

"Nothing.
I just…I need air."

I
need to not fall for him.

She’d
had lots of sex on assignments, most of it no more personal than the
relationship between a waiter and a customer, and she regretted none of it.
She’d completed her missions—if not successfully, then alive.

The
key to mission sex was to stay detached. But she was having a hard time with
the detachment thing when it came to Wyatt.

Frantic,
she scrambled to a seat in the rear of the chopper, ignoring Wyatt’s demands
for her to go back.

"Faith,
dammit. I can’t leave the cockpit. What are you doing?" He was peeking
around the partial divider between the passenger section and the cockpit. She
just stared at him.

Wyatt’s
expression grew determined, and he shot out of his seat. The helicopter banked
to the right and pitched forward. Wyatt seemed to have no trouble moving toward
her despite the rolling and rocking.

"What
are you doing?" she yelled. "Get back there!"

"Not
without you." His arms came around her, and with effortless grace, he
picked her up and carried her back to the cockpit. He planted her in the
copilot seat, sat in his, and straightened out the helicopter.

"You’re
a fucking nutter," she breathed. "What happened to the damned
autopilot?"

"It
only stabilizes altitude and speed as long as you’re still working the cyclic
and pedals."

"Jesus
effing Christ."

"Come
over here and let me finish what I started."

Her
adrenaline was running hot, the scare making her shake, only ramping up her sex
drive. She longed for him to finish, but nothing had changed. He wanted more
than what she was willing to give.

"What’s
wrong, Faith?"

"You.
Us. This is just mission sex, yeah? Nothing but danger-induced fits of lust and
madness."

"Yeah,
this is danger-induced fits of lust and madness, because I am crazy, Faith—make
no mistake about that. But this"—he motioned between them—"is a hell
of a lot more than just lust and madness. So you can keep protesting all you
want, baby…and I’ll keep doing exactly what I’m doing. Now get over here."

They
stared at each other like rival tomcats, neither willing to give an inch. A
mischievous glint lit Wyatt’s eye. One corner of his mouth twitched. She knew
she was in trouble, and damn him, he released the cyclic. The bird banked
sharply, throwing her backward.

"Stop
it!"

"Wanna
play chicken, Faith?"

God,
if he’d chosen any other place and time, she’d have taken him up on it. But she
couldn’t fly the fucking helicopter, so her bluff wouldn’t go far. She could,
however, turn the tables.

"Fine,"
she snapped. "Grab the fucking stick!"

Smiling
that cocky smile of his, he leveled them out again. She crossed the span
between them, but she didn’t sit in his lap. She kneeled on the floor, unzipped
his jumpsuit and jeans, and released his hard cock before he could so much as
blink.

"What
are you up to?" he asked, suspicion and desire making his voice lower into
a deep rasp.

"Did
you really think I’d give in completely?" She ran her hand up his thigh,
which flexed beneath her palm as he made tiny adjustments to the pedals.
"I’m not as easy as that."

"I’ve
never had a problem with easy…ah, yeah…" He trailed off when she closed
her hand around his erection, the hot length flushing dusky crimson from the ring
of her fingers to the tip of the head. "You’ve got magic hands,
Faith."

"You
haven’t seen anything yet." Gathering her power, she let his aura come
into focus. She’d seen it before, but she was still shocked by how it was so
tattered, threadbare.

She cleared
her thoughts, probed one of the many weak spots, and penetrated with her power.
She kept stroking with her hand, and when she found his prostate with her mind,
she stroked that too.

Wyatt
nearly came out of his seat. "Holy fuck." He gasped, swallowed,
gasped again. "Stop. That."

Leaning
in, she dipped her tongue into the weeping slit at the top of his penis.
"Stop what?"

"You
know." He was panting now, his knuckles white around the cyclic.
"Shit, I’m going to pop…"

She
pulled back her power, using it to squeeze gently instead of stroke. A low
groan from deep in his chest told her how much he liked it.

Another
groan, a bit strangled, vibrated his body when she took him in her mouth. He
was hot, hard, tasted of man, sweat, battle. It was such a turn-on that she
slipped her hand under her skirt, her panties, and began to stroke herself as
she sucked on Wyatt.

His
hips began to rock upward, meeting her deep-throated swallows. Pre-cum flavored
his cap as she swirled her tongue around it on each upward suck. Still, she
kept up the mental stimulation of his prostate, sometimes sliding to his balls
and back.

Between
her legs, she was dripping with arousal, swollen to the point of pain. Her
fingers worked furiously, alternately circling her clit and penetrating her
slippery core.