Touched by an Alien (50 page)

“No, get used to the gates.”

“If I must.”

We got to the Science Center without incident, which seemed like a first to me. My car was added into the motor pool there with instructions that it was mine, not for general use. Tim met us there. “Christopher, we had a report that a bomb went off in Pueblo Caliente.”

“Yeah, it was at my apartment. Can I get my stuff to my room before we go into the next big briefing session?”

Christopher nodded and called over some A-Cs I didn’t know but had seen around. “Run everything in these bags, computer especially, for bugs, bombs, toxins, and anything else you can think of.”

“Snakes,” I added.

“Do it fast, get anything uncontaminated to her room right away.” They took my stuff and trotted off.

“Okay, I want to go back to my room, just for a minute. Particularly since it is, for the moment at least, my home.” Boy, saying that made it feel final and scary.

“Can you get there on your own?” Christopher asked.

“Sure.” Hopefully. “Where are we meeting?”

“Fifteenth level.”

“Okay, see you there in a few.”

“Make it snappy, we’re back into a situation.”

I rolled my eyes. “Got it, Commander.”

I WALKED TO THE ELEVATOR BANKS
and managed to get to the eighth floor all by myself. Found my room. Nothing I’d packed was in it yet, but I had to assume a thorough check took longer than five minutes, even using hyperspeed.

I eyed the bed, but it was made, and there were no unusual bumps in it. Good. Still safe to lie down here. I plopped my purse onto the bed. I had to figure I wasn’t going to need it for a while.

Brushed my hair but opted for no ponytail this time. Washed my face. Ready for anything.

I went back to the elevators. I was sort of ready to roll into action again, but I was also tired and still worried about Martini.

The elevator doors opened, and my jaw dropped. He was in there, leaning against the side wall, full Armani ensemble in place, looking drop-dead gorgeous and as though nothing had happened to him. “Get in.” He didn’t sound happy, and he wasn’t smiling.

I got into the elevator and felt immediately guilty. “How are you feeling?”

He hit the button for the fifteenth floor. “Fine.”

Okay, he was mad at me. No idea why, but I had a feeling I was going to find out. “What’s wrong?”

He gave me a long look. “What were you doing at your apartment with Christopher?”

“Getting my stuff out before we got snake-bit or blown up. Jeff, are you seriously accusing me or Christopher of doing something, anything, while you were out of it?” This time, I had to add in my mind for honesty’s sake.

“Maybe.”

I felt hurt and found myself wondering if the ordeal he’d been through had damaged him in some kind of lasting way. “Well, we didn’t.” I looked down, mostly because I didn’t want to cry again. I felt cried out and wanted to stay that way. “Do we have to talk about this right before a meeting?”

He hit the “stop elevator” button. “Meeting’s canceled.”

“What? Then why—”

He grabbed my upper arms. “Prove it.”

“Prove what? Jeff, I—”

“Prove who you belong to.” His eyes flashed as he pulled me to him and kissed me.

He’d never kissed me like this before. It was violent, more violent than Christopher’s kiss had been, almost bruising in its intensity. His tongue was beating mine, forcing my mouth to submit to his.

Martini moved his hands, one to the small of my back, the other to the back of my head. He twined his fingers in my hair and controlled my head. I couldn’t move my head or body, he had such a tight hold on me.

His kiss grew deeper and more demanding, and I realized my arms were around him, my fingers clawing at his back. Martini slammed us into the side of the car, though his hand prevented my head from being hurt.

He was pressed against me, his body grinding against mine. Then he pulled away, and, still with one hand wrapped in my hair, ripped my shirt open and flicked my bra undone at the same time. It dawned on me that he knew exactly what Christopher and I had done in here.

He slid my body up against the wall so I was off the floor and being held up by his pelvis. I wanted to say something, tell him I was sorry again, that he didn’t have to do this, but I didn’t—because I liked it. Instead, I wrapped my legs around him, and he ground against me. As my eyes rolled back, he stroked and squeezed my breasts, and then he let go of my hair, grabbed my waist, pushed me a bit higher up, and let his mouth have its way with my breasts.

The thought that I had an important briefing meeting to attend with a large number of people waiting for me flitted through my brain. But Martini
had
said it was canceled, and besides, his teeth found my nipples, and all coherent thought was being asked to leave and not let the door hit it on the way out.

However, coherency did make a last-ditch attempt before it left the building. I grabbed his head and managed to wrench him away from my chest. He looked up at me, let go of my waist, and then caught me as I slid right back where I’d been before—pelvis locked against his, mouth being ravaged by his tongue.

Coherency gave up and went for a latte.

The slide down the elevator wall had scrunched my skirt up past my hips. Martini helped that along so the skirt was bunched around my waist. Then he slid his hand beneath my underwear, and the real howling began.

His fingers danced over and inside me, moving fast and expertly, centered on the spots guaranteed to make me helpless to do anything but beg for more. Just like everything else he was doing to me, my climax was violent—sharp, fast, and strong. Again I found myself praying for soundproofing.

Martini moved and let my legs drop, though he still held me off the ground. He stripped my underwear and shoes off with one motion, then he flipped my legs back around his waist. His mouth assaulted me again, and while his tongue controlled mine I felt him undo his pants.

I probably should have said no, or stop, or any number of things to establish myself as an independent woman who didn’t need a man to make her complete. Instead, I just moaned into his mouth and shoved my pelvis closer to his.

He didn’t wait for a wordy invitation, just slammed inside me, causing another orgasm. I had hopes this one might not be heard by the entire complex, mostly because I was screaming into his mouth.

Martini pulled his head away as my scream subsided. One hand was back to my head, his fingers wrapped in my hair, controlling my head’s movements. The other he slid under my thigh, which caused him to go deeper inside me. I gave a strangled cry.

“Does it hurt?” he growled at me, his eyes burning.

“A . . . little, but . . . oh God . . . .” He stopped thrusting. “Don’t stop . . . please don’t stop, Jeff, please.”

He smiled slowly. “You like this, baby?” he asked as he thrust back into me. My wailing must have been correctly taken for a yes, because he kept driving into me, hard and fast and deep. I wrapped my limbs around him and held on.

Martini moved my head again, so he could spend some time on both sides of my neck. This combined with what the rest of him was doing brought on another climax. This one triggered him, and he bit down where my neck met my shoulder. I almost fainted, but I managed to hang on as my orgasm spiked and I felt him throb inside me.

Then it was over, and my whole body went weak. Martini was still inside but no longer controlling me. He held and kissed me softly, first where he’d bitten me, then up my neck to my ear, the line of my jaw, and then my mouth. This kiss was tender, not violent.

He let me slide down his body until my feet were on the floor. Then he leaned me back against the wall.

I couldn’t do much more than stand there, whimpering and trembling, but he seemed to know this. He zipped his pants and then rehooked my bra, stroking my breasts as he did so. He buttoned my shirt, and I was amazed again that all the buttons were still on it. Armani was clearly worth the money. He slid his hands over my hips and down my legs as he knelt to pick up my underwear.

As he slipped it over one foot and then the other, he took a moment to run his tongue over an area of my body that was again hovering on the brink. His hands stroked the skin on my legs as his tongue stroked what was in between them. This orgasm was intense, almost painful it was so strong, and I grabbed his head, half to keep him down there and half to drag him back up.

He captured my wrists in one hand. It didn’t hurt, but I couldn’t get out of his grip. He finished making me sob with erotic exhaustion and then pulled my underwear on with his free hand.

He stood up and pushed my wrists over my head and held them there as he smoothed my skirt down. Then he looked right at me, and his eyes were burning again. “Are you mine?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to say it.

“Kiss me.”

I tried to resist this, but I couldn’t. I moaned as I tried to move to him, but his hold on my wrists kept me locked against the wall.

He moved his face closer to mine. “Kiss me.” It was an order, and I tried to obey it, but he was still too far away.

His mouth was right by mine now. “Kiss me,” he growled.

I could finally reach him and as our mouths met he released my wrists and used both hands to pull me against him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he held me as though he was never going to let go, while his tongue ravaged mine again, and I submitted to his will.

He ended the kiss slowly. “Are you mine?” he asked, looking right into my eyes. “Do you love me?”

I couldn’t avoid saying it aloud any more. “Yes, Jeff. I’m yours, only, and, oh, God, I love you so much.”

Martini gave me another slow smile. “Good. I’d hate to be madly in love by myself.”

MARTINI PICKED ME UP
and cradled me in his arms while I buried my face in his neck. “I thought you hated me again.”

He kissed my head. “I just didn’t want to have to feel your guilt anymore. Seemed like a good way to solve your issue of being in an elevator with me.” He had that right.

“Your blocks aren’t back?” I looked up from his neck, worry crashing over me.

“No blocks from you.”

“But—”

He kissed me, deeply, but not violently. “I don’t want to explain it now, but it has to do with being in love with you.”

“Oh. That’s okay then.”

My body finally stopped trembling. He put me down, though he kept one arm around me. Then he hit the button and the elevator started moving again. “Jeff, I can’t go to a meeting looking like this.”

“You’re not. I wasn’t kidding—the meeting was canceled. I was coming to tell you it was moved to tomorrow so we could get the rest of our team assembled.”

“Then why are we going down?” I had no argument about how he’d chosen to share this news. I was ready to stay in the elevator and stop it on the way up, too. The elevator doors opened, and he pulled me out.

“Because I want to be alone with you, and there are only a few places where we can do that right now.”

“One of our rooms wasn’t an option? Or staying in the elevator?”

“No.” He led me into a room that didn’t look as though it saw a lot of visitors. It was the most normal room I’d seen at any of the A-C locations. It looked like a typical family living room—couch and love seat, a couple of easy chairs, large television set placed, as almost all humans with TVs do, as the room’s centerpiece. There was a wall unit with stereo equipment, VCR and DVD players, and a variety of books and magazines, the usual coffee table set, some throw pillows, and an afghan.

There was also a small refrigerator. Martini went to it. “Regular Coke or Cherry Coke?”

“Um . . . Cherry.” I stopped worrying about how they got this stuff and rejoiced that my soda habit wouldn’t suffer.