“Impressive.” She smoothed her hands over the soft velvet top before adjusting the hem and turning to stalk back into the room. “You can leave now.”
He chuckled at that. “I don’t think so.”
Her hair whirled around her like a silken cape, thick, falling nearly to her hips as her eyes sparkled back at him in anger and desire.
“Play time is over, Bengal.”
Rather than arguing with her, he closed the balcony door and pulled the curtains together.
“Play time has only begun.”
Turning back to her, Tanner hid his smile as he sensed the sudden insecurity running through her. Scheme was said to be without vulnerabilities, without weaknesses. He had always known better. What he knew about her and what he sensed from her wasn’t meshing. Until it did, there wasn’t a chance in hell he was letting her go.
For years he had plotted to kidnap Tallant’s little darling. First, because he wanted Tallant to suffer. Now, he didn’t give a fuck what the general felt; he wanted the woman. The secrets. And now he wanted the hot kisses and shuddering releases. And until now, Jonas had always managed to foil his plans for one reason or another. Tonight, he would die before he released her.
And that thought brought a shadow of discomfort. Nothing should be this imperative. He shouldn’t need any woman this desperately.
He checked his tongue again. Nope, no swollen glands. It might not be mating time, but it was definitely play time. And Tanner did like to play.
Her lips parted, her lashes drifting over her eyes as he stalked toward her, moving slowly around her.
“Tanner.”
He could hear the warning in her voice, but he also heard the excitement. And that was good. Real good. Because the next time that sweet pussy clenched in climax, he intended to have his dick buried so deep inside it that he felt every luscious ripple.
“I smell you.” He nipped her ear, his hands tightening on her waist as he pushed her against the wall.
“I said no,” she panted.
“No, you didn’t.” He chuckled against her neck. “You’re not a coward, Schemer. Or are you?”
His fingers spread open just below her breasts before sliding down slowly, burrowing beneath the soft elastic at her hips.
Her fingers curled against the wall as she rolled her forehead against it with a moan.
“I think I hate you.”
“That’s not hatred, that’s hunger. Admit it, you’re as hot for me right now as I’m hard for you.” He pressed his erection against her ass.
Damn, he loved that curvy, rounded ass. A bubble butt. It lifted against him, grinding against his cock as his fingers slid into soft, drenched curls.
“Stay put.” He held her to the wall as she tried to turn. “I just want to touch you.”
If she turned to him, he was going to fuck her where she stood.
“This is insane.” Her cheek pressed to the wall now, her lashes lowering over her flushed cheeks.
“Just let me feel,” he crooned, pressing a kiss to her cheek, holding her steady as his fingers grazed her swollen clit.
It was still sensitive. The light orgasm moments before had affected only that tight little bud. He could feel the needy clenching of her pussy even now as his fingers rimmed the small opening.
“Do you want me?” he whispered at the corner of her lips. “Tell me, Scheme, do you want my fingers inside you?”
“I want…” She bit her lower lip, a grimace crossing her expression as her breath caught.
“What do you want?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me, pretty girl.” He needed the words. Needed them with a ferocity he couldn’t have imagined before.
“I want you. To fuck me.”
He caught her as she tried to turn, held her steady, and thrust two fingers into a silky heat so tight, so fucking incredible, he nearly came in his pants.
Scheme went on her tiptoes, her head slamming back against his shoulder as her eyes burst open, colors and heat shimmering in front of her gaze as he filled her.
And he stroked.
She tried not to scream, not to beg. Her thighs clamped on his hand, holding him in place, his fingers inside her, his palm cupping her, rasping her clit.
“There, pretty girl.” That growly thing again.
She shuddered, pleasure swamping her as a whimper left her throat.
“Come for me now,” he purred. “All over my hand, Scheme. Come for me.”
Wicked, carnal, his fingers reached deeper inside her, finding a nerve ending she didn’t know she possessed, stroked, thrust and sent her senses careening.
She came with a cry. She never cried from something so tame as this. She cried in arousal when being spanked. She cried at the carnality of anal sex, but rarely, rarely in orgasm.
This one shook her. There was nothing forbidden in the act. Nothing to tempt the most depraved senses. But it rocked through her until she was gasping, whimpering, her nails biting into the arm crossed beneath her breasts, holding her against him.
And she wanted more.
“Enough.” She was surprised when he allowed her to push away from him, his fingers sliding slowly from the clenching depths of her pussy, stroking over her clit before he let her jerk his hand from her pants and stumble away.
“You need to leave. Now.” Her voice quavered. She could feel her nostrils flaring, the tight jerk of her lips as she fought to push back needs she had never known before.
Sex was a sport. A hobby. A manipulation. External pleasure was all she desired. A good hard orgasm was all she needed. She didn’t need this, this clawing desperation she could feel building inside her.
Then she shook, shuddered as he brought his still-damp fingers to his mouth and licked. His expression tightening, gold eyes gleaming with a brilliant, fierce hunger.
“You taste like sunshine,” he rasped, clearly enjoying the taste of her, relishing it. God, had any man ever done such a thing?
“It’s the soap,” she snarled. She had to fist her hands at her sides to keep from reaching for him. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t handle it. Not now.
His lips curled in satisfaction. “It’s sweet, hot pussy. I want my lips there next, Scheme. I want to go down on you so bad my teeth ache.”
Her knees went weak.
“Stop that,” she hissed, hating the hunger on his face, the open, wicked gleam in his eyes. This wasn’t a game anymore. For the first time in her life something inside was responding, a part of herself she kept hidden, even from herself. “I want you to leave, Tanner.”
“It’s not going to happen, pretty girl.”
“Then I’ll call Security.” Yeah, right, she was going to let the tabloids have this one.
“No, you won’t.” He was openly, clearly laughing at her. “Daddy might not be pleased that you’re cavorting with Breeds, sweetheart.”
No shit. If her head weren’t already on the chopping block here, it would be then.
She had opened her lips to at least try to bluff her way out of this one, when a sharp knock sounded on the door. Her eyes widened as alarm skittered through her. Dammit.
Tanner winked. Grabbing his jacket from the couch, he pointed to the bathroom. There, he slipped inside, leaving the door carefully cracked as he pulled the silencer-equipped handgun from the inside pocket of the jacket.
He didn’t have a good feeling about this. He could feel something odd, smell it—cold, yet tinged with regret.
“Chaz.” There was a note of fear in her voice, almost undetectable except for the scent of it suddenly whipping in the air.
Scheme didn’t linger by the entry door. Tanner caught her scent moving closer, entering the bedroom. She was suddenly off balance, uncertain.
“What the hell do you want?” She questioned her visitor.
Anger and hurt mixed with the fear now.
The bedroom door closed softly.
“Chaz, this isn’t a good idea right now.”
Why did he have a feeling she wasn’t talking about sex?
“You took one chance too many, Scheme.” Chazzon St. Marks, an ex-lover and her father’s assassin for hire. Tanner knew his voice, his scent. He stiffened at the note of death in the other man’s voice. Hell no. This had nothing to do with sex. “Wasn’t the beating last month enough? Did you have to keep pushing our luck?”
“What are you talking about?” Cool, composed. Her voice was a direct contrast to the fear bleeding from her now.
“You’re busted,” Chaz said gently. Too gently. “Did you really think you would get away with this?”
Terror. She wasn’t just frightened now. She was terrified. Tanner could smell it, almost taste it.
“Excuse me?” Her tone was scathing. Oh yeah, she definitely lived up to her name.
“He didn’t even order you to be brought in for questioning,” Chaz sighed. “He doesn’t think you can be broken, Scheme. I had hoped he was wrong. I hoped that last beating you received from him would convince you to change this course you seem to be on.”
Ice built in Tanner’s veins.
“Nothing to say?” Chaz asked her then.
Tanner could feel the other man preparing to kill. He couldn’t smell a weapon, and that meant only thing. He intended to break her neck. That was St. Marks’ specialty.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” she bit out, obviously retreating from him. “And I wish you would leave.”
“You’ve hated him for eight years,” Chaz sighed then. “He was watching out for you, Scheme.”
“Shut up!” Agony resonated in her voice. “Just shut up.”
“You had no business getting pregnant. I didn’t want the brat, and your position didn’t afford you the luxury of unwed motherhood. Would you have really wanted him to have such a hold over both of us?”
“I won’t discuss this with you!” Ice dripped from her voice. “How are you going to kill me, Chaz? I don’t see a gun, or a knife.”
“I’m going to break your neck.” His voice was heavy with regret now. “It won’t hurt, Scheme. There’s no pain, no blood. You’ll be as beautiful in death as you are in life.”
Like hell! And Tanner would be damned if he would wait around to see if the bastard was going to change his mind.
He jerked the door open, seeing the pale shock in Scheme’s eyes as St. Marks turned. There was no time for a defense. The bullet struck right between the bastard’s eyes, dropping him to the floor as Tanner palmed the syringe he slid from his pants pocket.
“Sorry about this, pretty girl.” He grabbed Scheme, twisted her around, laid the pressure syringe against her neck and pressed the inject.
She collapsed into his arms.
“Shit.” Laying her on the bed, Tanner crossed quickly to the fallen assassin, running his hands over his body with quick, sure movements.
St. Marks carried nothing on him. No weapon, no identification. Grimacing, Tanner pulled the earpiece and sleeve mic from his pants pockets. Inserting the receiver, he lifted the mic to his lips.
“Cleanup, boys. Pronto.”
Cabal’s and Jackal’s curses filled his ear, the sound of movement assuring him they were on their way. He dropped the electronics into his pants pocket before jerking his jacket on, pocketing his weapon and lifting Scheme into one arm.
His arm curved around her back, holding her to him, her head on his chest. If they were seen, the assumption would be much different than the truth. Not that he intended to be seen.
Moving quickly from the suite, he headed for the stairs, pushing through the door as the elevator sounded on the other end of the hall. He knew it wouldn’t take Jackal and Cabal long.
Tanner didn’t wait around for them. Why it seemed imperative to slip past the other two men, he couldn’t be certain. But from the moment he blew Tallant’s man away, the animal inside him had taken over.