Read Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1) Online

Authors: Shannon McKenna

Tags: #contemporary romance, #The Obsidian Files Book 1, #suspense, #paranormal suspense

Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1) (33 page)

“Love to.” Sisko rolled his eyes. “Thanks, boss.”

“About time you took a turn,” Zade observed. “I’m always on call.”

Caro left them to their bickering and headed up the stairs. Noah ran up behind her and swept her into his arms again, carrying her into the big master bedroom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He shrugged off his jacket, and disappeared into the bathroom. Soon she heard the roar of water jets filling a capacious tub. Scented steam floated out the door. Lavender, honeysuckle, a hint of manly mint? Nice, whatever it was.

She smiled at him when he emerged from the bathroom. “Mmmm. Smells good. OK, you can take care of me.”

He unbuttoned her coat, tossing it away and smoothing his hands slowly down over her bare shoulders as he looked her body over, before pulling her gently into the bathroom. He pulled swabs, gauze and ointment out of the medicine cabinet.

“Let’s see those cuts,” he said. “Lift your chin.”

He examined the nicks at the base of her throat, washing and disinfecting them, treating every little wound with his usual focused intensity. He smoothed adhesive bandages over them, and pressed a slow, searching kiss against the nape of her neck.

Her nipples tightened. But she had to return the favor. “Now you.”

He sighed. “If you must.”

“Sweatshirt off, Mr. Gallagher.”

He tried. “Can’t roll up the sleeve. It’s stuck to my arm. You do it.”

Slowly and carefully, she peeled the ripped, bloodstained sleeve up and away from his forearm. The gash underneath looked messy and painful, but Noah was stoic, pulling the sweatshirt all the way off as soon as she was done. No longer bleeding at all. Just as he’d said.

Avoiding the still raw but rapidly healing tissue, she rinsed the dried blood off with careful pats of a wrung-out washcloth, and saw to his scabbed knuckles as well. She smoothed antibiotic ointment over both wounds and bandaged them.

“This is terrible,” she fussed. “I’d bet anything you need stitches. And a tetanus booster, and serious antibiotics.”

“No need,” he said calmly. “It won’t get infected, and it’ll heal very fast.”

“But it’ll leave a scar!”

He let out a short laugh and glanced down at his heavily scarred torso. “Oh, no. Anything but that.”

“You should see a doctor,” she snapped.

“Look who’s talking.”

Before she could reply, he pulled her closer, cupping the back of her head. His masterful kiss changed almost instantly into something lingering, pleading. His tenderness melted her.

When their lips parted, she looked away, and sniffed back tears. “Don’t kiss me just to shut me up,” she said, her voice wobbling. “That’s unfair.”

He shrugged and bent down to turn off the thundering jets. There were still surging bubbles below the surface of the water. She wanted to sink into it almost as much as she wanted him to kiss her again.

“Your bath is ready. But before you get in, I have something for you,” he said.

Apprehension gripped her. “What’s that?”

He pulled the flash drive from Luke Ryan’s lake house out of his pocket and held it out to her. “We didn’t really flush it,” he said. “I’m sorry I jerked you around.”

She just stared at him, open-mouthed.

“I copied it, of course, so that we can analyze every second of it,” he said. “This one’s yours. But as a favor to me, don’t take it to the police yet. Let me see if I can resolve this somehow, without exposing us all. Please.”

She couldn’t even trust herself to speak. She didn’t know what to think.

Noah went on, his voice gruff and uncertain. “But, ah. It’s your call. Like you said, you found it, and you paid for it. And if you need to use it . . . well. Whatever.”

She curled his fingers back down over the flash drive and pushed his hand away.

“Thanks, Noah,” she said. “Keep it safe for me.”

“OK. Thanks.” He put it back into his pocket, and kissed her forehead.

It felt like the seal on a truce.

He started in on the buttons of her jeans. When they lay in a crumpled pile with her underwear and the remnants of her slashed open T-shirts, he helped her into the tub. In a startling rush, she became aware of her body again. Her nakedness. The hot amber flash of his eyes made her heart speed and brought a burning flush to her face, a tingle to her nipples and between her legs. His eyes dragged over her, lingering.

Instant energy pulsed through her. A deep inner heat. It made her head rise and her back straighten and her shoulders go back. Boobs proudly out. On display.
Take that.
Nipples tightening eagerly, as if his ravenous gaze were a skillful, caressing touch.

There was an impressive bulge in his pants. She wondered if it had been there all along, or if she’d just woken up to it now.

“Coming in?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, but images flashed through her mind, just as she knew they were flashing through his. The caressing lap of warm water over flushed, gleaming skin, and sloshing against the tub as she wrapped herself around him, straddling him, kissing him. All the while penetrated and tenderly rocked by the slick, rhythmic thrusts of his cock inside her. This tub wasn’t as big as the one at the lake house, but more than big enough for anything they could dream up.

His mouth tightened. “Not a good idea.”

She could have screamed in frustration. “Please?” she urged. “Isn’t Sisko downstairs, keeping watch?”

“Yes. But I’m too jacked up to relax. I want to patrol the perimeter with an AK-47 right now.”

She sank down into the water very slowly, eyes locked with his. The heat of the water embraced her skin, inch by slow, taunting inch. Her hair touched the water and spread out on the surface like a lily pad before sinking down. She dipped down to her neck, and then rose up again, letting her gleaming breasts bob right at the surface. “I want to be with you,” she said. “I want to feel you. Inside me. Right now.”

He let out a low, rasping groan. “Oh, fuck, Caro. Not fair.”

“Nope,” she said. “Suffer if you want to. Or . . . not. You decide.”

Noah let out a shuddering sigh and kneeled behind her. He leaned over the tub, smoothing the wet hair off her shoulders, and sudsed up his hands with scented cleansing gel, slowly massaging it over her shoulders and chest. Drifts of scented foam floated out onto the bathwater. “Lean back,” he said. “Let me wash your hair.”

That was such a delicious sensation, she could almost reconcile herself to the forced waiting. She floated in the hot water with his strong fingers massaging her scalp. Gazing up at his gorgeous face, fiercely intent upon the task of washing her hair.

She made sure her breasts were bobbing right at the surface. Pink-tipped, gleaming-wet islands in the foam. For his viewing pleasure. Sweet torture.

He took the torture stoically, kept his focus, refusing to yield. When it was time to get out, she rose slowly. Dripping. Succulent. Alluring. He remained in full control of himself, though he did seem to have silently decided that playing the part of the mouthwatering sex god bath attendant was a reasonable compromise. He was naked to the waist, which could only have been improved by him being stark naked.

But naked to the waist was already a hyperstimulation to all her senses. He was so big and powerful, with that wild predator glow in his eyes, looming over her protectively with the towel. Squeezing water out of her hair, turning her, swabbing off the drops of water beading her skin with long, slow, caressing strokes and pats. Making sure there was no spot left untouched.

Then he positioned her naked in front of the bathroom mirror and just stood there behind her for a moment, their eyes locked in the foggy reflection. She wasn’t sure if it was him, moving forward, or herself leaning back, but soon they were touching. His hand clasping her, stroking her belly. Creeping up . . . and then stopping.

He grabbed the towel. Wrapped it around her. So damn close. Stubborn hard ass.

“Let me comb your hair,” he said gruffly.

Fine. She watched Noah’s blurry reflection as he slowly and patiently worked a comb through her hair, never once making her flinch.

He took his own sweet time. When he was done, her hair was almost dry, and so was the mirror. It reflected them with crystalline clarity, but all she could look at was his hungry eyes. She craved that bright, luminous amber glow. It meant joy, pleasure, power. It connected her with all the strength she had left.

Noah put down the comb, and ran his hands gently over her shoulders. The towel had come loose, so he tossed it away.

“Should I get dressed?” she asked. “Do you have a robe?”

He sank his fingers into her hair and separated the strands, draping them. “Yeah, but I don’t want you to wear it. You’re more beautiful like this. You’re a goddess.”

On impulse, she trapped his hands, and pressed them against her breasts.

Noah went rigid. As if he was afraid to breathe.

She couldn’t breathe, either. But he hadn’t pulled his hands away. They were so big and warm. Her skin tingled madly at the contact. Heat bloomed in her chest, sweeping up until her face was poppy red. His fingers curled, stroked in tender circles.

His face was a taut mask, but the hot glow of his eyes betrayed him. “Caro,” he murmured. “Don’t push me.”

“I want you,” she said. “I want to look into your eyes, while we make love. It feels incredible.”

He looked wary. “What do my eyes have to do with anything?”

“That thing your eyes do, when your AVP is working,” she said. “The way light gets caught in them, and flashes out. I just love that.”

“Oh.” He opened his fingers slightly and trapped her nipples, tugging.

“It makes me all hot and bothered,” she whispered.

He seemed puzzled. “That’s the first time anyone ever . . . oh, never mind.”

“Tell me,” she urged.

“Just the idea that someone could actually want to look into my eyes . . . it’s strange.”

“Not strange,” she told him. “Beautiful.” She covered her hands with her own, arching her back to heighten the sensual pressure and rubbing her ass against the thick, hot bulge in his pants.

Noah dragged in a harsh breath, his fingers flexing, stroking her. “Just tell me what you want.” His voice was rough.

“You,” she said. “Now.”

“Jesus, Caro,” he muttered. “You know just how to yank my chain.”

Oh, yes.
She exulted silently, took one of his hands, kissed it, and moved it down to her belly. Then lower.

His fingers tangled eagerly in the puff of damp ringlets, teasing and petting and parting her. He groaned when he found her already slick and hot. Ready.

“Those eyes,” she murmured. “Told you.”

She arched her back with a soft moan as he pressed his lips to her shoulder, her neck, kissing, licking. His hand slid, stroking and delving into her slick channel.

She squeezed his hand between her thighs, like she wanted to trap him there, as he slowly, expertly teased her closer to an erotic edge . . .

And then took her all the way over it.
Yes. Oh, yes. Ohhhhh . . .

A blinding flash of oblivion. Intense pleasure throbbed voluptuously through her.

Her eyes fluttered open to see him still holding her tightly against himself.

Caro shifted, putting both hands on the edge of the bathroom sink, and bent over. Standing on tiptoe, legs apart, in silent invitation.

Noah stared down at her posed body, his color high. He stroked his hands slowly down over her hips. “You have bruises.” His rough voice was concerned. Still.

“Make me forget about them,” she said. “You’re the only one who can.”

He opened his belt, then his pants, shoving them down, and finally, she felt the blunt pressure of his cockhead, prodding at her sensitive folds. He swirled it around in that hot well—and drove inside her all at once.

They both cried out at that moment of exquisite intimacy. She felt like a flower blooming wide open, a blaze of colors, and with each caressing stroke inside her, he became another color blending into her where their bodies joined. Molten, marvelous.

Each stroke was a lash of erotic pleasure. Each thrust propelled her deeper into her own wildness. She braced herself for all that he was giving her while still craving more. Biting her lip to keep from screaming at how shockingly good it felt.

Pleasure swelled . . . and then erupted, overwhelming her.

Afterwards, they couldn’t look at each other for a long while. He bent over her, spent, his cock still throbbing. She steadied herself against his body, loving the feel of his weight, and the ebbing sensation of his explosive release.

Finally, he withdrew and fastened his pants. She swayed, clutching the sink for balance. He caught her tightly against himself, hungrily kissing the curve of her neck.

“Wild thing,” he murmured.

She almost choked on a burst of startled laughter. Her, wild?

But the more she thought about it, the more she liked it. Wild was good. Wild was hot, wild was strong. She needed wildness to survive.

“Fuck being tame,” she said.

His answering grin was so beautiful. Lingering on his face. Always before his smile had fled so quickly, as if afraid to be caught in the act. Not this time.

“I’m going to run downstairs for a while,” he said. “I promised to debrief Sisko and Zade on what happened out there. I’ll come back up soon. You get some rest.”

She stood there for a moment after the bathroom door shut after him, staring at her own feverishly bright eyes and flushed cheeks. She stared down at her battered, scratched hands, clutching the shining white porcelain sink. Rocked by feelings, too strong to suppress, too sweet to deny. Crazy wild feelings she was afraid to examine.

Ever since Tim’s death, she’d been so careful to organize her life so that she didn’t have to feel afraid for anyone but herself. She’d just plod along on her lonely quest, and if the powers of darkness won out, hell. Everybody had to bite the dust sometime. And at least the damage would be limited to her alone.

That had been her strategy so far. Such as it was.

But Noah had dragged Mark’s attention onto himself by brute force, just to keep her company. She could hardly believe he was for real. He wanted to protect her, bind her wounds, buy her clothes, wash her hair, fuck her senseless.

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