Spirits Shared (12 page)

A legal document wouldn't change that. When
she gave her heart she gave it completely. It was a testament to
her love for Clay that she'd allowed another man to touch her.
Claim her.

Tekoa's cock filled, an outward show of a
desperate need, not only for her body, but for everything she had
to offer a man. He wanted what Clay had, open declarations of love,
the acknowledgment in public that he was one of two men in her
life.

He nudged her onto her back and lay between
her open thighs. He lifted his mouth from hers. "Put me inside
you," he said, and moaned when she grasped his shaft, sending fire
racing up his spine.

She guided him to her entrance and that
alone was enough to have him struggling to breathe. It might be too
soon to tell her he'd fallen hard and fast, but he could
demonstrate the truth.

He worshipped her with his hands and his
mouth and his cock. His feelings deepening with each thrust, with
each sweep of her hands over his back, with each of her soft
whimpers.

He gave himself to her. Swallowed her cries
of pleasure and release until finally he couldn't hold back any
longer, and then he poured his love into her with a hot rush of
semen and whispered words in his native language.

"What did you say just then?" she asked,
long moments later, combing her fingers through his hair, her eyes
again like deep, still water. Mesmerizing and unfathomable.

He nibbled her bottom lip. "Maybe I'll tell
you if you beat me at poker."

The phone rang and she tensed. He gave her a
hard, quick kiss. "I'd better get that. It's probably one of my
deputies calling with an update on the convicts."

He rolled away and Jess stood, snagged the
discarded shirt and escaped to the bathroom. She paused in front of
the mirror and the woman staring back at her wasn't a complete
stranger.

She looked well and truly loved. She looked
like she often looked at home, after being with Clay.

Only she hadn't been with Clay. She'd been
with another man.

Yesterday morning that wouldn't have been
conceivable. But she couldn't say she'd given herself to Tekoa for
Clay. Or even because of Clay.

She got in the shower and the hot water
cascading over her made her think of Tekoa's hands and lips. Of the
fluid play of his muscles and the heat that radiated off his
skin.

This isn't casual for me, Jess.

Unlike Clay's push-the-limits,
grab-for-the-brass-ring approach to life, she'd always been more
introspective, more cautious, but the end result was the same. No
regrets.

No regrets.

If she'd met and dated Tekoa first, she
would have fallen in love with him first. He had the qualities that
were important to her in a man—honesty, strength, tenderness,
intelligence, and that was a small sampling of what she'd
discovered in him since he found her on the road. Add those to a
body that was mouth-wateringly gorgeous… She'd never find a better
man to share with Clay.

Her heart throbbed harder, faster. They
hadn't crossed that line.

They would. And then what?

Her gaze dropped, ache invading at the sight
of her bare ring finger. Before the conversation that had led to
The Revelation
, they'd been talking about possible places to
hold the wedding.

She lifted her left hand to her mouth,
rubbed the smooth back of her ring finger against her lips. There
was no guarantee that this would work out. But if she spent the
rest of her life running from potential hurt, that would lead to
far greater devastation, a vast expanse of emptiness and waste.

Taking a deep breath, she turned off the
water. Resolutely pushing the uncertainty away, she left the
shower, dried off and put on the red flannel shirt.

One step at time
, she thought and
left the bathroom.

Tekoa was still on the phone. He'd pulled on
a pair of dark gray sweatpants but hadn't bothered with a
shirt.

Healer. Lover. Warrior. How could sex with
him be anything other than a mystical experience?

Her gaze flicked to the Thunderbird carved
into the mantel. Her nipples beaded and her body hummed with
pleasure, relived the minutes when he'd taken her from behind to a
phantom drumbeat and ancient chants.

She laughed softly, fairly certain it'd be a
major ego stroke if she told Tekoa it'd seemed as if he'd brought
the Thunderbird to life. She crossed the room and slipped her arms
around his waist.

He pulled her more tightly against him, his
voice serious as he gave instructions to whoever he was talking to
and she inventoried his bookcase. There were police-type books,
texts about forensic science and criminal profiling, but there was
also a surprising amount of fiction. He favored mysteries and true
crime, though she recognized some of the wilderness survival books
that Clay enjoyed.

Tekoa hung up the phone. She said, "That was
a long conversation."

He laughed and rubbed his cheek against her
hair. "That was actually my third call out in response to the one
that came in."

"Everything okay?"

"As of a few minutes ago, seven of the ten
convicts have been recaptured."

"That's good."

He slipped his hand beneath the shirt and
cupped her ass. "Not as good as this. You make me feel like a guy
who's just been let out of prison after serving hard time."

She laughed. "Insatiable in other
words."

"Insatiable is an understatement." He
nuzzled her neck, kissed his way to her ear. "Spread your
legs."

She shivered at the hard edge that was back
in his voice.

He fucked his tongue into ear. "You don't
want to make me ask twice."

Defy or submit?

Those were the two moves in this game.

She parted her legs and he cupped her mound,
his eyes darkening, heating at finding her wet and swollen. "I'm
not the only one who's insatiable."

He slid two fingers into her and her hips
jerked, her hands went to his hard biceps.

"I want my shirt back," he said.

"Now?"

Her feline smile told Tekoa she was very
aware of her effect on him. The sultry swipe of her tongue over her
upper lip had his cock spasming, licking across his abs.

"Now, Jess. Take off the shirt."

He should temper his orders or
he'd
be the one paying the price given his promise not to punish her
today. But he couldn't seem to stop himself. She was beyond
anything he'd ever imagined having in a mate.

The temptation to push him flashed in her
eyes in a small hint of defiance. But his promise not to deliver
carnal discipline was a two-edged sword.

There were ways he could retaliate. And one
of them would be to leave her hot little pussy empty and her body
screaming for his touch.

Her hands left his arms and went to the
front of the shirt. Slowly, a button at a time, she bared herself,
her channel sucking on his fingers.

His cock banged against the sweats,
screaming for freedom so it could imprison itself in her. "How
often do you and Clay play these games?"

"Most days."

He laughed silently. Yeah, they might kill
him off. But what a way to go.

She reached the last button, undid it and
pushed the shirt off her shoulders. Damn she was beautiful.

His eyes went to her breasts. He fucked her
with his fingers, had to grasp his dick when her back arched and
she made a little sound of need. Living with her was going to make
it hard to leave the cabin and get to the job.

His heart did a quick spin, like the cherry
light on top of an old police car. He blocked the worry that they
wouldn't want to move to Thunderbird lands. Covered her mouth with
his and swallowed her moan of needy pleasure.

Her tongue greeted his as if they'd been
separated for hours. Her hands glided over his biceps, his back,
gripped his hair as her hips rocked and she fucked herself on his
fingers.

The scent of his soap and her arousal
swirled off her body and surrounded him. He wanted to kiss downward
and rediscover her sweet, erotic taste. He wanted to hear her
scream and feel her spasm against his tongue. He wanted to take her
clit into his mouth like a tiny penis and torture it with
pleasure.

His foreskin pulled back in readiness. His
cock pulsed in warning and the connection forged by their accepting
the cups allowed him to sense Clay's location. His time alone with
Jessica was about to end.

He pulled his fingers from her channel,
shoved his sweats down and lifted her onto the desk. Her lashes
lowered, sending heat scorching through him.

She leaned back onto her palms, knocking
over the carved mother grizzly bear, tilted her head so her hair
spilled over the wood of his desk like golden feathers.

"Watch while I take you," he said, slowly
entering her, unable to take his eyes off the place where their
bodies joined, where darker, harder flesh slid into pink, delicate
folds.

She was so wet, so slick. And still her
channel clung, gripped.

Each time he slid into her she moaned. Each
time he slowly pulled out, she whimpered.

It was intoxicating to see her skin flush a
darker shade of pink and her body arch with pleasure. It was
exhilarating to hear the sounds of her enjoyment. It was completely
and utterly satisfying to know she belonged to him.

For long moments he tortured them both with
the slow fucking in and out of her channel. But when her hips
lifted in need with each inward stroke, when she begged him to come
inside her, denying her became impossible.

He braced his hands on the desk, anchored
himself so he could give them both what they wanted. One hard, deep
thrust became another, and another, and another, and his world
became the hot, tight sheath of his mate.

She cried out in release. Clamped
mercilessly on his cock and pleasure scorched through his dick and
his brain sizzled.

His breath heaving, he rested his forehead
against hers, afraid if he tried to move he'd stumble and go down
like a drunk.

Her arms went around his neck, her breasts
pressed to his chest and still in her, his cock twitched.

She laughed and wrapped her legs around his
waist. "Definitely like a convict who's just gotten out of
jail."

He hugged her to him, held her as their
breathing steadied and his strength returned.

"A shower is definitely in order," he said,
reaching over, picking up the fallen grizzly bear. His heart did a
slow roll at seeing her engagement ring between a bear cub and the
framed picture of Erik and Hunter.

Ask her about it? Let it go?

Instead of a drumbeat, his heart took on the
cadence of an inmate pounding cell bars. He set the mother grizzly
on her feet and lifted Jess off the desk.

There'd be time to talk about the ring
later.

He carried her to the shower. And beneath
the hot spray of water he cared for her, soaped her pussy and inner
thighs, denied her when she would have tended to him, though he
promised himself that next time, he'd accept her offer, he'd accept
the willingness he read in her eyes to slide downward onto her
knees and take his cock into her mouth.

He dried her off, then himself, returned to
the office and tugged on the sweatpants. Jessica reached for the
shirt but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. "No. I want to
look at you."

Jessica shivered. This was a game she played
with Clay.

It always made her feel deeply desired, but
it also made her feel incredibly vulnerable.

"Fair is fair," she said. "Take off the
sweats."

Tekoa pulled her to him. "It doesn't work
that way."

His hand went to her breast and she couldn't
hide the tremor of pleasure. She liked to be touched. She liked
being admired and petted and loved. Clay had taught her to enjoy
this game though it always took some coaxing to get her to
play.

"Just until Clay gets back," she said.

Tekoa laughed and the lines at the outside
edges of his eyes deepened. "Are you telling me Clay prefers you
wearing clothes?"

She flushed at imagining Clay's reaction to
walking in and finding her naked while Tekoa was bare chested and
wearing sweatpants. Her heart fluttered and her sex grew more
swollen.

She buried her face in the crook of Tekoa's
neck. Part of her wanted to hide but the other part trembled in
anticipation.

His arms went around her waist. He nuzzled
her cheek, sucked her earlobe into his mouth. "Stay naked for
me?"

"Yes." It came out breathless.

Intellectually she knew they were strangers
in so many ways but that didn't stop her from feeling deeply
connected to him. She'd always believed that for the most part
people's choices dictated what their lives were like. But she also
believed there were intangibles, luck, fate, higher powers that
interceded for reasons of their own. Standing in Tekoa's arms it
was easy to believe that one or all of the intangibles had
something to do with their coming together.

How would we find a third person?
She'd asked in the car. And he'd come into their lives.

She placed a hand on his chest. His heart
beat strong and steady against her palm. His erection pressed hard
and willing against her mound and she couldn't resist the
temptation to rub against it, or the smile that came when his cock
pulsed beneath the sweats.

His arms tightened around her. "Clay will be
here in a few minutes. I have no problem with him walking in and
seeing us making love."

She heard the truck's approach over the rain
and instinctively reached for the shirt.

Tekoa captured her wrist. "No." This time
his voice demanded obedience.

The engine noise grew louder. The cautious
part of her wanted to cling to Tekoa and avoid seeing Clay's
expression when he walked in and was confronted with the reality of
her accepting another lover. But the part of her that had firmed
with resolve earlier insisted that she tackle this head-on.