Shadow Fall (Tracers Series Book 9) (27 page)

He got to his feet, smiling, and she went at him with a 360 spin kick that caught him off balance and landed him on his butt. She jumped on him, pinning his arms beside him, and she felt a surge of triumph, but it vanished as he heaved himself up and tossed her onto her back. Before she could get a breath, he was between her legs, pinning her to the mat with his hips and clasping her wrists beside her head.

“Give?”

“No.”

He ducked his head down, catching her lower lip in his teeth. She bit back, and then his mouth crushed against hers as his pelvis ground into her. She squirmed and bucked until he pulled away. Heat glittered in his eyes as he gazed down at her. “Now?”

She gave a slight nod. When he released her wrists, she took his head in her hands and pulled him down. The kiss was hot and urgent, and she wrapped her legs around him, squeezing him against her as she dug her fingernails into his scalp. He rolled onto his back, hauling her on top of him with a low groan and shifting her hips so she straddled his lap. She leaned back, panting, but he cupped his hand behind her head and pulled her down for another kiss.

Her breasts settled against his chest. He was huge and strong beneath her, and she rubbed against his body, loving the hardness of it and getting dizzy from all the friction points.

A noise had her jerking back, suddenly alert. “Who’s here?” she asked.

“No one.”

She looked at him as he shifted to prop himself on his elbows, chest heaving. “Liam, we can’t—”

He cut her off with another kiss and rolled her onto her back again, easily trapping her with the weight of his body. She kissed him, letting herself get lost in the heady flood of lust coursing through her system—just for a moment, because they were in a
gym
, for God’s sake, and she was going to have to put a stop to this. Soon. Very soon. He ground his hips against her and she whimpered into his mouth, and he did it again and her entire body started to throb. A warm ache spread through her as the kiss went on and on until finally she pulled free.

“Stop.”

He leaned back, looking slightly dazed.

“We can’t do this here, Liam.”

He stared down at her a moment. Then he got to his feet and pulled her up by the arm. “You’re right.” He ducked under the ropes, pulling her with him. He grabbed her holster off the weight bench and pushed it into her hands.

Tara glanced around, suddenly one-hundred-percent certain she was being watched. She spotted a security camera up by the ceiling, and it was like a bucket of ice water on her overheated body.

Liam grabbed her boots off the floor with one hand and caught her arm with the other. She managed to snag her jacket as he propelled her past another weight bench and to the door of the gym.

A wall of frigid air met her at the threshold, and she stopped short.

“Don’t.” He pulled her against him and kissed her, hard. “I know what you’re going to say, but don’t, okay?”

She blinked up at him, heart pounding, and she had no idea what he thought she was going to say because she didn’t know herself. She only knew that she wanted to go to his house right now, this minute, so they could be away from people and cameras and God only knew what else.

She went up on tiptoes and kissed him, and he took that as the answer it was and practically dragged her across the cold, damp grass toward his cabin. Instead of leading her up the front steps, he steered her to a side entrance that had to be his bedroom. She tripped going up the stairs, but he caught her arm.

“You okay?”

She nodded. And then she stood shivering beside him on the cold planks of the deck in her bare feet. His were bare, too, but he didn’t seem to notice as he tapped a code into a panel beside the door. A quiet
snick
, and he pushed the door open and hauled her inside. He dumped her boots onto the floor and took her holster and dropped it onto a counter. She glanced around the dark little space, but before she could get her bearings, he pushed the door shut and backed her against it.

His mouth was hot and insistent, and lust rippled through her as she kissed him in the confines of the cramped little room.

The wall against her back felt hard, and the tile under her feet felt cool. But his body was warm and solid, and he surrounded her with his musky scent. She licked into his mouth, loving the taste of him and the fierce energy of everything he was doing. She glided her fingers over the contours of his shoulders, and it hit her. This was happening. Now. And the undeniable, rock-hard reality of it was pressed against her waist.

He tugged her shirt from her jeans, and then his hands were sliding over her skin, pushing aside the thin cotton layer of her bra. He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, and warm, tingly shudders moved through her body. Her breasts were small but very sensitive, and he homed right in on her body’s reaction to what he was doing, and he kept doing it until she was so dizzy with desire she could barely think.

He pulled back and gazed down at her in the dimness. “Why are you shaking?” His voice was low and husky.

“I don’t know. Nerves.”

“Relax.”

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back and felt the tension draining away, replaced by a pulsing heat. He pushed her shirt up, and she felt the hot pull of his mouth. She made a sound in her throat and he pulled harder, and she arched against him and combed her fingers into his hair.

Something scraped against the floor, and she opened her eyes.

“Where are we?” she whispered.

“Mud room. Sorry.”

He took her hand and pulled her down a narrow hallway and into a room that felt bigger, but it was hard to see in the nearly pitch black. The only light came from gaps in the blinds that cast parallel stripes over a king-size bed. Tara’s stomach fluttered, but she had no time to think as he came up behind her and pulled her shirt off, his fingers caressing her skin as they slid up her arms. He turned her to face him, and she slid her hands under his shirt, exploring the smooth, hard shape of his muscles. He felt so solid and tantalizingly male, and her pulse thrummed with anticipation.

He pulled his shirt off. She reached back for her bra, but his hand was already there, popping the clasp, and then his palms surrounded her breasts again. He dipped his head, licking her nipple into his mouth as one of his hands slid inside her jeans. He tugged at the snap, and she heard the rasp of the zipper. He knelt down, sliding her jeans down her legs, then looked up at her as he hooked her panties with his fingers and slid those down, too. He nuzzled her navel, and hot shivers raced over her skin as he stroked his hands up the sides of her body and stood up.

She kissed him, pulling at his belt and refusing to break the contact as she hurried to get his clothes off. He pushed his pants down and tipped her back onto the bed, and then their skin touched and everything ignited.

She rolled him onto his back and felt a flood of triumph as she captured his wrists against the bed. He wrestled his hand free so he could reach up and pull her down for a kiss, and she kissed him back, hard, rocking her hips against him as his fingers tangled in her hair.

They moved together, kissing and struggling for control, until he suddenly rolled her onto her back. He stretched out over her and hitched her leg up to his waist, and she squeezed him in close as he pressed into her.

“Condom,” she gasped, and he pulled back, then lunged for the nightstand. She heard the drawer scrape open and waited, gripping the bedspread in her fists, and then he was back, pushing her thighs apart.

“Hold on,” he said, bracing his hand against the mattress as he positioned himself over her.

“Hurry.”

He drove into her, and she cried out, wrapping her legs around him, trying to hold him there as he pulled back. His gaze held hers, hazy with desire, as he took her hands and flattened his palms against hers, pinning them to the bed and making her helpless to do anything but go along with the rhythm he wanted. She thought he might be gentle, but he moved roughly, ruthlessly, pushing her body to the limit as the tension built, and she knew
this
was the competition she’d been looking for all along—not the sparring but this—and she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in close and kissed and kissed him until her entire body ached and burned. She felt the power of his muscles, saw the tendons in his neck straining. She surged against him, over and over, as he pushed and pushed and pushed and her vision started to blur. Finally, he released her hands, and she twined her arms around him.

“Tara—”

“
Yes.
”

The next thrust brought a blinding flash of pleasure, and she cried out, arching against him. His body bucked. She clung to his shoulders as he drove himself into her one more time and collapsed against her.

For a moment, nothing, not even a sound.

She lay there, cemented in place by his weight. His breath felt warm against her hair. Her eyes drifted open, and she was staring at a shoulder.

He pushed himself up on his hands and gazed down at her, but she couldn’t read his expression in the dimness. He flopped onto his back.

“Damn.” He turned to look at her, and the reverence packed into that one little word brought a wave of giddiness.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs as her thoughts drifted back to earth. She felt limp. Boneless. Even with his weight gone, she wasn’t sure she could move. She gazed at the ceiling, making out dark rafters high above her head.

Her clothes were scattered. Her emotions, even more so. Everything felt too strong, too intense. She’d known it would be like that since the moment she met him.

She turned to look at him beside her, still catching his breath as he gazed up at the ceiling.

Panic flitted inside her. She sat up and looked around. Where
were
her clothes? Her boots?

Jesus, where was her gun?

She slipped out of bed and glanced around, trying to get her bearings.

“Holy crap, is that a fireplace?” She stared at the huge maw in the middle of the room.

She glanced over but got no response from the immobilized body on the bed. She snatched a shirt off the floor and looked around for a bathroom.

“On your left,” he said in a rusty voice.

The soft carpet under her feet gave way to cool tile. She shut the door and found a light switch that illuminated a huge bathroom with lots of glass and black stone surfaces. She tapped at the panel of switches until she got it down to one light glowing over a spacious shower. Then she hazarded a look in the mirror.

Even in the dimness her reflection shocked her. Her hair was a wild mane. Her lips were swollen. She leaned in to examine the dark hickey that was already forming beneath her nipple. Then she studied her eyes.

What had just happened? This wasn’t just sex. More like a full-on, no-holds-barred battle. It had been all-consuming.

She cupped her hand under the faucet and gulped down some water. She smoothed a hand over her hair, which didn’t help at all, and picked up the T-shirt she’d carried into the bathroom. It was his, not hers. Should she get dressed and drive back to her motel? Or should she slip back into bed with him?

A surge of heat swept through her at the thought.

Staying was a bad idea. She should go home and regroup.

She crept back to the bedroom and found him kneeling beside the fireplace as he struck a long match. He held it under the logs until the flame caught. Then he stood up, and her nerves skittered at the sight of his huge, muscular body in the firelight. He was completely, gloriously naked, and his gaze settled on her.

So much for leaving.

“What’s wrong?” He took his T-shirt from her hand and tossed it onto a leather chair.

“Nothing.” She gave a careless shrug as his hands stroked over her shoulders. “The whole firelight thing. It’s kind of . . . I don’t know.”

He pulled her toward the bed. “Sexy?”

“Unnecessary,” she said, as he leaned her back onto the mattress. “I mean—news flash—I’m already naked.”

“I noticed.” He slid his knee between hers, and she felt the friction of his thigh.

“So, you can quit trying to seduce me. You won. You got what you wanted.”

He stretched out over her and caged her in with his big arms, like he’d done in the sparring ring. He leaned down and nibbled her lip.

“Maybe I want it again.”

T
ara awoke alone in his bed and immediately knew that staying had been a mistake. Sunlight filtered between the blinds. The smell of firewood hung in the air. The night came back to her in a barrage of images, and she lay on the ocean of his sheets feeling faintly embarrassed and wishing she’d made a cool exit while she had the chance.

She sat up and rubbed her neck as she looked around the room. Her eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, and her limbs felt sore. Not just her limbs—her mouth, her breasts, her everything.

She darted a look toward the bathroom, then slipped out of bed and retrieved her clothes from the floor. His bedroom was impressive in the light of day, with sleek dark furniture and plush gray carpet, and she skimmed her gaze over everything, taking in the details she’d missed before. No photographs, she noted, or artwork or books. Nothing on the walls or the surfaces that revealed anything about Liam’s personality beyond a fondness for wood and stone.