Drawing Deep (18 page)

Tiny muscles fluttered around his tongue, her hips bucking up and driving him deeper. He continued the steady rhythm, licking over the hard ridge of sensitive tissue he knew would make her crazy. Peeking up, he watched her, his eyelids growing heavy at the sight of her cupping her own breasts, the heavy pants escaping her lips. Savage lust nearly tore the thread of control he still retained on his raging libido and he shut his eyes to the erotic sight.

He slid his tongue out of her sweet pussy, up and over to her throbbing clit, suckling the hard nub gently. At the same time, he pushed one finger in her wet sheath. Her hips were pumping now, pressing into his face as he felt her climb, her open responsiveness driving him insane. He added a second finger. She was so tight and hot, so damn wet he knew she was about to come. Twisting his wrist, he increased the speed, tunneling over those delicate inner muscles that clamped on his invasion like a vise. He suckled harder on her clit, and then she was coming on a soft cry, her spine arching, jerking so violently she nearly knocked him loose from his decadent feast.

Knowing she would be so sensitized that touch would border on pain, he eased her down with barely-there kisses, and then slowly made his way up her twitching body.

She made a sound of contentment, matched by the small smile on her face. When he reached her breasts, he flicked his tongue over the soft nipples until they hardened in renewed sexual interest. He kept one hand between her thighs, gently coaxing her, building her up again.

Her eyes opened, confusion as well as hunger filling their depths. “How do you do this?”

He found he had something in him other than raging lust. Chuckling, he kissed her. “Chemistry. I knew we’d be fantastic together.”

“Some chemistry,” she sighed as he nuzzled the side of her neck, nipped at her ear. “But if you’re thinking about taking this to the next level, you’re overdressed for it.”

As in still completely dressed. Dropping his forehead to hers, he spoke softly against her mouth. “A preventative measure. I want you too much.”

She slid her hands under his shirt and ran them over his muscles. “So take me already.”

Like a shot, he was off the bed and stripped in seconds, so hungry for her he almost forgot to wrap on a condom. With the mating heat flaring hot and bright between them, she could easily become pregnant, and while a primal part of him thought to leash her to him with a child, his pride demanded this woman, his mate, choose to be with him of her own free will.

Settling himself over her, he slid his legs between her own, spreading them wider until he was cradled right where he wanted to be. His mouth on hers, her arms clutching his neck, he devoured her, one hand under her head while his other tested her readiness. He would die before he ever hurt her. Slick heat coated his fingers, making his body shake with carnal anticipation. His cock was so hard he had no problem aligning their bodies groin to groin, feeling her juices lubricating the thick crest of his cock. Fire raced through his body, slashed at his balls and melted his brain. Then he was parting her, her sex sucking at the head, clenching as he eased in an inch, then another. He flexed his hips back, drawing nearly out of her body, and then he thrust back. She was so wet, but so fucking tight. Sweat beaded at his temples as he forged his way inside her body, stretching the sensitive tissue until, with another powerful thrust, he sank in to the hilt.

She lifted her knees to either side of his thighs, sending him impossibly deeper. Spreading his own knees for greater purchase, he withdrew, thrust. Repeat. The scent of her pleasure whipped around him while the fist-tight grip she had on his cock nearly undid all his restraint. Grimacing as the need to come forged a fiery path through his system, he rolled his hips, solely focused on the intense pleasure enveloping his cock as he tunneled through her soaked pussy.

“Hell. I’m not going to last long.” His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his chest heaving as he plunged harder and faster. With his hands holding her head steady, he kissed her, the thrusting of his tongue in sync with the driving force of his hips. Bracing himself with forearms and knees, he surrounded her with his heat, his body, as she surrounded him, pumping into her with shattering friction that had her hips raising to meet his every thrust with a wanton demand as earthy as his own.

Dragging one hand from her face, he squeezed it between their sweat-soaked bodies, rubbing his thumb over her throbbing clit even as he covered her soft breast with his mouth, drawing deep.

Under him, she went taut as a bow, her shocked cry captured by his lips when he pressed them to hers. Her release triggered his own and with a final thrust, his body fragmented, propelling him into euphoria. Unable to move, muscles trembling from the force of his orgasm, he collapsed on top of her, retaining enough brain cells to keep most of his weight on his forearms so he wouldn’t crush her. Face buried in her neck, he concentrated on breathing.

Slowly, feeling returned to his limbs and he rolled to the side, taking her with him so they lay face to face. “You okay?”

Her response was a very satiated, “Hmm.”

Damn if that didn’t make a man smug. With reluctance, he pulled himself free, pressed a kiss to her forehead. Rising to his feet, he found some tissues on the nightstand and disposed of the condom before crawling back onto the bed. “You’ll get cold if you don’t get under the covers.”

She opened one sleepy eye. “Are you staying?”

He threaded his hand through her hair. “Definitely,” he whispered. “I’m far from done with you.”

That single eye narrowed. “You’re joking.”

“Never.” He slipped an arm under her and nestled her against him. He couldn’t help the deep rumbling of contentment that reverberated in his chest. He was purring. And her silence at the unmistakeable sound was confirmation Ria not only knew what he was, she accepted it.

A huge leap of trust that both delighted and encouraged the cat’s desire to play. “But I’ll let you have a nap first.”

Silence for a moment, and just when he thought he might have gone too far, she gripped his nipple in her fingers and twisted. “Ow.” He laughed in spite of the pain.

Then she was straddling him, her legs on other side of his waist and giving him an unobstructed view of her perfect breasts. “Maybe I don’t want a nap. In fact,” she leaned over and stated in a conspiratorial voice, “I have a theory. And it’s that you’re the one in need of a nap.”

Quick as a wink, Santos flipped them over so he was back on top, his eyes twinkling with more than merriment. “I’m more than happy to disprove that theory.”

* * * *

Just before dawn Santos reached for Ria again, slipping inside her welcoming sheath in slow tenderness, taking them both to peak in long, gentle strokes. Afterwords, he dressed and kissed her smooth forehead with the same tenderness. “Don’t go to the site without me. I’ll be ready at ten. Meet me in the maintenance room and we’ll take the quads.” He brushed her hair. “Kitten. Are you listening to me?”

She didn’t even open her eyes. “Hmm. Ten. Maintenance. Quads.”

He rubbed a hand over the ache in his chest, bemused by his churning emotions. She’d been a perfect match for his unquenchable ardor, meeting his passion every time he’d reached for her with equal desire. Claiming her for his mate was no hardship. She had brains, beauty and bravery in spades. He only had to work on gaining her trust.

With a last lingering look, he slipped out of the room the same way he’d entered.

A large hand crawled up the back of her thigh and squeezed her right butt check, making her tingle in all the right places. “Watch it, pal,” she glared at Santos with feigned heat. “Working here. We’re both working here.”

That provocative touch only continued up along her back to wrap around her neck and pull her to him for a hot, wet and thoroughly debauched kiss. “You’re a slave driver.”

Her voice was embarrassingly husky. “One with a deadline. You finished with that side yet?”

“Almost.” After he turned away to complete the task she’d given with a brush that looked ridiculously small in his hand, Ria shook her head to clear the cobwebs. Damn the man could kiss.

“You ever hear back from Chris and Robby?”

“Yeah.” Ria frowned as she stared at the altar. Something just seemed hinky about it. Each carved stone had a Roman numeral attached to it, from one to ten. Why? “Neither took the coin.”

Her fingers trailed along the jutting edge where the bricks stopped and the altar started. The thick line of embedded dirt was driving her nuts for some reason. Getting out her pick, she scratched at it. “You have a chance to speak to the staff?”

“They all denied taking it and I believe them. The only one who acted nervous was Sarah, but then she’s always been nervous around me.”

Remembering Sarah’s quickly averted look at the football game, her jaw clenched. “That’s because she’s got a thing for you.”

Dead silence.

Ria glanced over to find Santos looking at her as if she just grew a second head. The shock doused the jealous flame burning a hole in her gut enough that her brow kicked up in question. “What? You didn’t know?”

He made a face. “That’s ridiculous.” Seeing what she was doing, he walked over to the tarp, exchanged the brush for a pick similar to hers and tackled the opposing side of the altar.

“You really think a meteorite created this.”

An obvious change in subject that worked for her, though her lips curved at his momentary discomfort. Catching him unawares in the maintenance room, cursing at inanimate objects aside, she doubted Santos experienced many awkward moments.

She shrugged. “In the billions of years the earth has existed, anything and everything is possible.”

More silence. It stretched on and on until, curious, she turned her head. His expression was that of when they first met. A mask of absolutely nothing. “What?”

“Nothing.” A stiff response.

A woman’s pissed response.

Bewildered at the abrupt change from playful to remote in a matter of minutes, she scowled at the wall. This was exactly why she avoided deep connections with people. An unknown remark, a stray comment and voila, pain and disappointment. And after their intimacies of last night, the emotional distance caused a sharp laceration in her chest.

Disturbed by the internal ache, her fingers tightened around the pick and she dug into the packed dirt with renewed determination. If he was pissed about something then so be it. She was not about to put herself out there and ask what she’d done wrong. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Several more exceedingly strained minutes passed before she couldn’t stand it anymore. “What?” She blurted, overcome with exasperation and hurt. “What did I say?”

The dark eyes he leveled on her were unfamiliar. She never realized how much she’d come to not only expect, but cherish the warmth in them whenever he looked at her until it was absent. The ache in her chest grew.

“Let’s just say I don’t agree with a lot of the scientific theories floating around, including how the universe was created.” When she only remained baffled at his words, he clarified. “My family did not come from primordial ooze.”

Her jaw nearly dropped. That was it? Seriously? “You’re lucky. I know mine did.” When his look only hardened, she wanted to laugh in relief. “You don’t believe in the Big Bang Theory and since I doubt you believe in aliens, that leaves Creationism. That’s great. So do I. What’s with the crap-ass attitude?”

Biceps flexed when he crossed his arms over his chest. “You just said that the earth was billions of years old and you’re telling me right now that you don’t believe in Evolution?”

“Oh, I believe it. All you have to do is interact with a few people to know some haven’t evolved as much as others.”

“Ria.”

Ria, not kitten. Another pang of hurt she shoved into her box of excessive emotions. She would not let it show. Instead, she lifted her hands in an I-don’t-know gesture. “Does anyone really know how long human existence is compared to a day in the life of God? A thousand years? A million? Ten billion?”

When his eyes narrowed she quickly added, “Look. Science believes the continents were all joined at one time in a single mammoth land mass they call Pangaea. What’s to say that land mass didn’t become divided at the time of Noah’s flood? One train of thought does not negate another. One’s logical, the other spiritual, supernatural or, better yet, emotional. Since the Bible states God is love, let’s go with emotional.”

An infinitesimal twitch of his head. Warming to the subject, she extrapolated, not wanting to loose his interest. “Think of it this way. One cannot cannot function at optimal levels without both logic and emotion. An individual lacking emotions would eventually become cold and arrogant, only superficially interested in another’s well-being. On the other hand, emotion without logic can cause a person to react without thinking of the consequences, to the extent they will justify all kinds of atrocities based on rampant emotions. Ever hear of the Insanity Plea? Which also makes my case as it’s a scientific evaluation based on temporary emotional overload created by erratic electrical impulses and/or a chemical imbalance. Oh.”

Santos was immediately at her side. “What is it?”

As she’d blathered on, she’d turned back to that line of dirt, scratching unceasingly until her hand suddenly hit the stones as the pick went all the way through. She pulled it out and looked at the hole she’d made. Crouching, she peeked in, blinking as a gentle flow of air caused her to tear up.

“Oh.” She said again, looking wild-eyed up at Santos. “There’s air.”

Gently, he pushed her out of the way and raised his hand to the tiny opening. His own eyes went wide. “What the hell? A door?”

“Oh.” Evidently it was Ria’s word of the day. Racing to the tarp, she picked up two tools with ends that resembled small claws.

Santos looked at the one she held out to him, then at his hand. “Uh.”

“Quickly. We don’t have all day.”

Mischief glinted in his eye. “All right.”

Within ten minutes they’d sawed through the remaining dirt, Santos completing three sides to her one. She slanted him a dark look when he stepped back, suspecting he’d used one of his hefty claws while she’d had to rely on a thinner and less effective tool. If he had, well. Hmm. Talk about being useful on the job.

He took several steps back to view their handiwork. “Now what? I don’t see a handle or anything.”

Ria stepped back as well, arms crossed, head tilted as she eyed the altar-turned door. “A riddle maybe?”

“The etched stones?” Santos too cocked his head in thought. “Possible. But it’d be nice to have a clue.”

Her lids closed in a slow blink. “A clue.” The painting of Cort Fylin – who was possibly Claude Morgan – popped into her brain. “A clue.” Her mind started pinging as she connected dots. “XLV. It’s not initials, it’s a clue!”

“What?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Roman numerals.”

Santos opened his mouth but Ria waved an impatient hand, shutting him up and leaving him looking bemused. “Let me think.” She paced. “The X is ten and the V is five, but I can’t remember what L stands for. Crap.”

Before she could whip out her phone to google it, Santos supplied her with the answer. “L is fifty.”

Startled, she glanced up, stared dumbly at him for a moment. Then she pointed a finger at him. “Yes. Sixty-five.”