Authors: Keri Arthur
I tossed the jacket on the nearest chair and moved down to the far end of the room.
"Lighting level dim," Quinn said behind me.
His voice had an edge and I looked at him. He smiled grimly. With all his makeup, it wasn't a pretty sight.
"That dress you're almost wearing is dead see-through in bright lights."
I struck a pose and batted my eyelashes innocently. "And you don't like the view?"
"Oh, I love the view, but unfortunately, I need to concentrate on what we're here to do."
I grinned and motioned to the seemingly blank wall in front of me. "So do you want to open the cabinets so we can start?"
"Cabinets open," he said, tone still gruff.
There was a soft click, and the wall slid aside. I walked to the cabinets at the far end, my smile growing as I heard the soft groan behind. Obviously, the dress was see-through in dim lights too.
"I don't know what Jack hopes to find," I said, pulling out the first drawer. "Surely Brown is not stupid enough to keep anything incriminating in his office."
"It would certainly be a lot safer than keeping it at home," Quinn commented from the other end. "This place normally has more security than Fort Knox."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you know this because . . . ?"
A smile tugged his lips--lips that were still full and lush and oh so kissable. "Because I've had a somewhat less-than-respectable past."
So Jack had said. "You robbed Fort Knox?"
"Their security wasn't as sophisticated back then. Certainly not strong enough to keep a determined vampire out."
No wonder he was megarich. I shook my head and he chuckled. "It wasn't the first bank to suffer unexplained losses."
"You made a habit of it?"
"I had several brief flurries into crime. Respectability gets boring after a few centuries."
I raised an eyebrow. "So how far into the current respectability phase are you?"
"Far enough for it to start feeling old." He pointed to the cabinet I had open. "If you don't start looking, we're never going to get out of here."
And I wanted to get out of there, because I wanted to make love to him. Whether or not he was still wrapped in an ugly outer layer.
I began flicking through the paperwork. In this age of electronic marvels, it was amazing just how much paper was still used. Of course, paper was no longer just paper, more a special form of recycled plastic, but it felt the same and was used in the same copious amounts that it ever was.
It was a half hour before we found something.
"Financial costings," Quinn said. "For an unspecified project." He flicked through the papers with a frown. "The project wasn't approved by the Directorate."
I opened another drawer. "Nothing unusual in that. From what Jack says, a good half of the projects presented to the board are turned down."
His gaze met mine. "This was for genome research. The proposal was presented fifteen years ago."
I frowned. "Why would he be keeping something like that?"
"Why indeed?" He tossed the folder on the nearby chair and continued searching.
The drawer I'd opened was filled with boxes and boxes of fingertip-sized silvery disks. I plucked one free and grinned. "What's the betting Brown likes to record his exploits for posterity?"
"Is there anywhere here we could check them?"
"Yeah, but we can't go through all of them. It'll take years."
"Check a couple from each box. I'll continue searching the drawers."
I flipped the disk across to him. "You check. I don't need to be looking at other people making love right now."
"Neither do I, believe me."
"Yeah, but the consequences of your getting all hot and bothered are far different from a werewolf's getting all hot and bothered."
He smiled. "Ah, but getting a wolf hot and bothered definitely has its benefits."
"Not at this precise moment it doesn't."
"You have a point. Just select some and we'll examine them later."
I grinned. "In the privacy of a bedroom, perhaps?"
The words were barely out of my mouth when movement caught my attention. Soft steps in the hall outside, coming toward the office. I blinked, flicking my vision to infrared. The walls melted away, revealing two men. Though they were little more than red heat blurs, the metal at their sides suggested guards.
"Quinn," I warned softly. "Guards are headed our way."
He swung round, eyes narrowed slightly. "They've been told about the babe Brown has in his office, and intend to check her out under the guise of a regular security check."
The fact that he could read their intentions when the building had psychic blocks situated right through it only confirmed Jack's earlier statement that the Directorate would never hold a vampire like Quinn. And the wolf in me reacted to the knowledge with fierce desire.
"Apparently," Quinn continued, "Brown lets them get away with it, as long as they keep quiet about what he does in here."
"If Jack knows, it's no state secret."
"I'd suggest Jack knows more about what goes on in this place than most of the directors." He paused again. "The guard downstairs is asking them to make sure the camera is on. Which cuts out attacking them."
I met his gaze. "We attack them and we warn Brown and whoever else might be behind all this that we're on to them. We can't risk that yet."
"So we give them what they want--a show." He walked over to one of the visitor's chairs and sat down. "You'd better get that beautiful butt of yours over here, because they're almost at the door."
I did as directed and sat on his lap, my thighs straddling his hips, legs stretched wide either side of the chair. It was a devastatingly intimate position that had the blood pounding through my veins and yet it wasn't anywhere near intimate enough for my liking. I slid back and, before he realized what I was up to, quickly undid his zipper, freeing his cock from all restrictions. Then I wriggled over him until he was right under me, hard flesh against wet.
He groaned. "Jesus, Riley, don't move or I'm gone."
I grinned. "We are supposed to be giving those men an eyeful."
"And that's all I intend to allow them." He touched a hand to my face, his fingers so warm against my skin. "When I make love to you for the first time, it won't be with an audience at my back. And it will be somewhere decidedly more comfortable than an office."
"You are
so
old-fashioned. And an audience can definitely add to the spice." I wriggled a little, just to tease him some more. The tremor that ran through him was fierce, as was his intake of breath. "Besides, if you just sit there like a store dummy, they're going to suspect something is wrong."
The grin that touched his lips was decidedly wicked. "Oh, I have no intention of just sitting here."
His hands skimmed my sides and lifted the gossamer creation away. He dropped it beside the chair, then slid one hand around to my spine, pressing me forward until my nipples brushed his mouth.
His breath was hot and damp across my flesh, sending goose bumps rippling. Then his tongue replaced his breath, and slowly, languorously, he worked his way toward an engorged point. When his lips surrounded it, sucking it deep inside his mouth, I trembled, a helpless sound of pleasure escaping.
He chuckled softly, a throaty sound that was as seductive and as arousing as his touch, and moved his attention to my other breast.
The door clicked open. The breathing of the two men rasped against the silence, a sound that roughened, quickened. I couldn't have given a damn what the two men were seeing or feeling. Not when every fiber of my being thrummed with pleasure.
Quinn cupped my breasts, lightly pushing them together, his tongue sweeping from one hard nub to the other. I squirmed on his lap, enjoying the press of his erection, the way he pulsed and twitched.
When he finally pulled away, I groaned. His hands slipped down to my hips, holding me still, then he leaned his head against the back of the chair, and said, "I believe you've seen enough for one night, gentlemen."
The door closed. Footsteps moved away.
"Oh God," I said, my voice ragged. "You can't stop now." I'd
die
if he stopped.
"I have no intention of stopping just yet." Though it was Brown's voice, the heat, the passion, so evident within it stirred my already aching senses.
His hand slid up the inside of my spread thighs, his fingers grazing me. I shuddered, thrusting into his touch, sure I was going to bust if he didn't get on with it. "Stop teasing," I moaned, when he did it a second time.
He chuckled again, then wrapped his free hand around my neck and pulled me down. His kiss was hot, lavish, branding and possessing my mouth in a way no other man ever had.
As his mouth claimed mine, his fingers slid between us, pressing into my slickness, caressing, delving. I shifted, giving him greater access, moaning when his fingers slipped inside. Then his thumb pressed into my clit, and he began to stroke, inside and out. I shuddered, writhed, as the sweet pressure built and built, until it felt as if every fiber of my being was going to tear apart from the sheer force of pleasure.
Then everything did, and I grabbed his shoulders, my fingers digging into his flesh as the tremors rolled through me.
After what seemed like ages I remembered how to breathe again. "Wow," was all I managed to say.
"Wow indeed." His voice was a mix of male satisfaction and simmering tension. "Feel a little better now?"
"I'm feeling a whole lot selfish now, actually. Which is why"--I shifted, capturing him, driving him deep--"I think I should return the favor."
His hands came down on my hips and held me still. Then he smiled his dangerous smile and sent my pulse rate skittering again. "When I make love to you, Riley, it will be after a long, slow, seduction of your senses. I like to do things properly the first time."
Bedevilment ran through me. He really didn't know much about werewolves if he thought I'd let him get away with a statement like that. Or without taking some pleasure himself.
And there was more than one way to give pleasure, as he'd so amply shown. I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Really. I told you, I'm an old-fashioned man."
"Then I guess I'd better rise and get back to the business at hand."
"I guess you'd better."
I placed a hand on his chest, holding him still and in place as I threw one leg over his. His erection, all veins and knots and hard, hard flesh, looked positively painful, his flesh red and glistening with my moisture. Keeping one hand on his chest, I leaned forward and kissed him, long and slow. Then, before he could react, I dropped to my knees beside him, claimed his erection with one hand, and ran my tongue around the tip. He jumped, then groaned. "Jesus, don't--"
"Don't what?" I murmured, running moistened lips up and down his shaft.
"This is dangerous. Any delay is dangerous."
There was a desperation to his voice that made me smile. This vampire wanted what I was offering, no matter what his words were saying.
"I love the taste of danger." I ran my tongue back up to the tip, and added, "And I love the taste of you."
I took him in my mouth. Drew him deep, sucking and tasting and teasing him, until his movements became desperate and the salty taste of him began seeping into my mouth. I sucked again, harder this time, and he came, fiercely and violently, his whole body jerking with the force of it.
When he was done, I licked the tip of him and looked up. "So how did the old-fashioned man enjoy that?"
"You're a witch." He shook his head, as if still unable to believe what I'd just done. "And as I said, any delay could prove costly. Even glorious ones."
I grinned. "Going out with a tent pole is dangerous. The guards would be wondering what you were actually doing in here."
"True." He gently pushed me upright, then handed me the dress. "Shall we continue investigating?"
I was half-inclined to continue what we'd started, but he was right about one thing--we were there to work, not play.
We continued searching the drawers. I was on my final one when I found a folder marked "White Phantom Project." It wasn't anything I'd ever heard of--though I was hardly in a position to hear or see anything top secret--but something about the name stirred my curiosity. Inside, there were old floor plans, building sketches, and the like, as well as the names of several people who no longer worked for the Directorate. I handed the folder across to Quinn. "Look at this."
He took it and had a quick glance. "It doesn't give us much." He glanced at the name on the spine, and his frown deepened. "You know, Genoveve is a form of Guinevere, which is both French and Welsh. I believe Guinevere means either white wave or white phantom."
"So?"
"So, white phantoms are a form of vampire."
I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"
He nodded. "It's a bit of a stretch, but at this stage, I think we can afford to grab at anything."