She ignored the warning. Story of her life.
She ignored the growl and the hard hands on her shoulders and she gave him pleasure—even as she pleasured herself. She took more, deeper, loving the feel of him within her mouth.
“No more!” Cain’s hands pushed her back. “I . . . can’t . . . wait . . .”
She didn’t want him to wait. Eve reached for him again.
In a flash, Cain had her on the bed. Her robe, a loaner from the hotel, was tossed across the room. He had her flat on her back with her legs spread, his hands holding hers to the bed.
His c**k pushed against her sex. “You’re wet.”
More like soaking, but she wasn’t going to argue. Eve arched her hips. “Now.” She could be demanding, too.
She’d sure missed him over the last two weeks.
Cain thrust into her. He groaned. She moaned. And it was wonderful. Perfect. He filled her core, stretched her, sent pulses of pleasure rushing through her.
Then he started to move. Thrusting and withdrawing. Her legs locked around his hips and she held on for that wild ride.
Control was long gone, for both of them. There was no restraint. Only need. A desperate passion driving them toward a release that couldn’t wait.
Her nails dug into his skin. His mouth pressed against her throat.
“Mine.” Cain’s growl, but it could have been hers. She’d thought of him as hers for so long.
Eve stopped thinking in the next instant. Pleasure hit her. Not a ripple. Not a wave. A freaking avalanche of pleasure that had the air freezing in her lungs as her whole body seemed to explode.
Cain was with her. His hold tightened on her. He drove deeper into her and shuddered with his release.
A person could die from that much pleasure. So . . . good.
Eve held him, riding out the climax, knowing only the strong feel of his body against hers and the frantic pounding of their heartbeats.
When Cain finally rose above her, Eve’s hands tightened instinctively around him. She didn’t want him going anywhere. Couldn’t they just pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist? For a little while? Was that too much to ask?
She blinked open her eyes and found him staring at her. Watching her with a look she’d never seen before. “Cain? What is it?”
His fingers trailed over her arm, even as he kept his c**k within her. “I should have left you.”
Well, damn. Her brows snapped together. “Dude, pillow talk does not start this way.”
It was his turn to blink. When she began to squirm underneath him—seriously, his timing was shit—he tightened his hold on her and held her still. “That’s not what I . . . dammit, I just don’t want you hurt because of me!”
She stared at him. “You haven’t hurt me.” Not even when he came back from the fire.
“Genesis kept files on me. The government has copies of all those experiments. Do you think they’re just gonna let me walk away?”
“If they’re smart, yes, they will.” She’d gotten the impression from the FBI agents who’d visited her that—well, they were afraid of Subject Thirteen.
They hadn’t exactly looked eager to walk into Cain’s fire. They could be smarter than Wyatt.
Cain’s gaze was so deep. “I don’t want you hurt.”
“I won’t be.” The promise seemed easy enough to give. Especially when she was wrapped in his arms. “Look, I might not be able to die and come back like you, but I’m strong, Cain.” He should have seen that.
“I know.” His lips brushed over hers. “That’s why I want you so much.”
Want. Need. Lust. There was plenty of that between them. Did she dare mention that for her, there was more?
Love.
Eve wasn’t sure when the phoenix had burned his way into her heart. He had, though. She thought about him all the time. Wanted to protect him. Wanted to make love with him, of course, but she also just wanted . . .
“I want to go to the beach.” The words were silly, but they came out anyway.
Cain frowned down at her.
“I want to see you in the sunlight,” she told him and smiled at the image in her mind. “I want to see you in the sand. Without fire. Without danger. Without anything but us.” He’d smile then, she was sure of it. She’d get to hear him laugh.
They could just be a man and a woman.
She wanted to see what Cain looked like when he was happy. “Can’t we just be normal?” she whispered to him.
His gaze held hers. There was a flash in his eyes. Longing. She knew that look.
Pain.
No, wait. She hadn’t meant that she wanted him to be normal. She loved him as he was. Fire and all. She’d just wanted—
The phone rang. They both tensed and glanced at the bedside table.
“Probably more reporters,” Cain said, voice rumbling.
Eve shook her head. No, there were only a few people who knew she’d be there. She reached for the phone, even as she stayed in Cain’s arms.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Bradley?”
Detective Roberts. She recognized his voice instantly. “What’s happened?” If he was calling her, there had to be a problem.
“There was a werewolf attack in the club district a few minutes ago.”
Hell. Her fingers clamped around the phone as she stared back at Cain. He was so close he had to have heard the cop’s words. “You’re sure it was Trace?” There were other werewolves out there, even ones who attacked. They could get pissed off, just like anyone else. Actually, they got pissed more than most folks.
Werewolves weren’t exactly known for their peaceful natures.
“Witness described a white male, said he was about six foot five . . .”
When she’d seen Trace in that lab, he had been that big. Before, he’d been skirting six feet.
“Fangs, claws bursting from his fingers—”
Still, that could be—
“And he was shouting your name.”
Okay, that narrowed it down. “I’m coming.”
“No, you aren’t. I’m giving you this call as a warning. The guy is here in the city, and he’s hunting you. I told you that you needed protection.”
Eve’s eyes were on Cain. He reached for the phone. “She has protection.”
“Who is this?” Roberts demanded.
“Her protection.”
“Leave that job to the cops, buddy.”
“If I do that, you’ll all just die.” Brutal words. True words. “I’m coming for the wolf.”