Tempting the Fire Page 15

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think that when I’m with you, all that shit falls away and I’m just me—the old Logan. So when I told you earlier that I wasn’t a machine … I don’t know, I probably lied. I have no idea what the hell I am anymore. A real-life version of the Six Million Dollar Man. But I’m not going to hurt you—that much I know.”

  “Logan.”

  It was all she said. She walked toward him, putting the gun down before she reached him. She knelt next to him on the ground and wound her hand into his, and he felt the combination of anger and shame rush through him. He breathed deeply, because he’d promised her he’d control himself, that he could.

  Truth be told, he wasn’t sure—wasn’t sure of anything at all.

  WOW. LOGAN’S STORY WAS STRANGE. HEARTBREAKING. AND IF she hadn’t seen crazier things during her time with ACRO, she’d say it was unbelievable.

  “So, this technology … are there more people like you out there?”

  “Not that I know of. The company wants to perfect it more so the next chump doesn’t get stuck having to inject himself with a quart of motor oil every day.”

  “Is that what it is? Oil?”

  He tore the bottom of his shirt into a long strip. “It’s a lubricant base combined with antibiotics, hormones, immunosuppressant drugs and a few other ingredients I don’t care about.”

  She eyed him. “So where are all the parts? Are they more than functional on a basic level?”

  “You mean, do they give me superstrength or -speed or anything? Yeah.” He sighed. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  She ignored him. “You don’t like having to depend on anything, do you? It must kill you to have to be a slave to your injections.”

  He seemed surprised by her words. “You sound like you know something about that.”

  “I watched my mother go through something similar.”

  “Did she have medical problems?”

  “You could say that.” She leaned back against the cave wall and closed her eyes, the day’s events suddenly overwhelming her.

  “Hey.” Logan’s hand came down on her leg. “You can tell me.”

  She snorted. “You mean that since you spilled your guts, I owe you. Tit for tat, right?”

  “I won’t force you to talk. I’m just saying that you can.”

  “Thanks for the offer, counselor,” she said dryly.

  She listened to the incessant drip of water near the cave entrance, the trickle of the spring at the back of the cave and the muffled sounds of insects and birds in the forest. Through all of that, the sound of Logan’s soft breathing came to her, more soothing than anything she could remember.

  She rolled her head toward him. “Need help with that … laceration?” Could you call it a laceration when the injury involved mostly machinery?

  “Nah. Just need to hide it from prying eyes. The injury itself is minor. The skin on top is mine, but the vessels are small. The bleeding has already stopped.” He looped the strip of cloth around his arm and held one end with his teeth so he could tie it.

  “Here,” she said, taking the ends. “I’ll do it.”

  He watched her with heavy-lidded eyes that might appear drowsy, but she had a feeling he was missing nothing, was merely powering down to conserve energy but not turning all the way off.

  “You never said which parts of you are … upgraded.”

  A bitter smile turned up one corner of his mouth. “Upgraded. Interesting way to put it.”

  “That’s me. All kinds of creative.” She finished tying a secure knot. “So? You didn’t say.”

  “Nope, I didn’t.”

  She ignored his brush-off and slid her palm down his injured arm. “We know this one has been upgraded.”

  “Obviously.”

  Scooting around behind him, she ran her hand down his other arm, admiring the tight ropes of muscle, the thick veins, the warmth that flowed beneath the surface of his tanned skin. “This one is the original.”

  “Yeah.” His voice sounded a little strained.

  Unsure if she was touching him out of scientific or personal curiosity, she slid her hands up his shoulders, kneading and massaging. He was tense as stone, but as she worked the curve between his shoulders and neck, his muscles loosened, slowly becoming pliable, yet firm. When her hands moved up, her thumbs rubbing circles over his cervical spine, he dropped his head forward with a moan.

  His pulse slammed into her palms as she caressed his skin, using her fingertips to work out the knots in the deep muscle. He smelled good, like jungle and man and earth, and she suddenly wanted to taste him. Her breasts pressed into his back as she leaned forward and slid her lips over the back of his neck.

  “These are all original parts,” she murmured against his skin, and he grunted in acknowledgment.

  Slowly, she ran her fingers through his hair, over his scalp. “What about here?”

  “Some of it is new,” he whispered.

  “In your brain?”

  He tensed again, and she silently cursed. He didn’t answer, but she knew. Which could explain why she couldn’t read him during sex. Maybe the circuitry was messing with her psychic airwaves.

  “It’s okay.” She nuzzled his hair, the fading ocean scent of his shampoo seeming so out of place in the musty cave. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  She eased her hands down, over his shoulders to his chest. The hard slab of muscles layered on top of his rib cage twitched when she touched them. “What about here?”

  “Some.” His voice was husky and raspy, as if he didn’t want to talk but was afraid she’d stop touching him if he didn’t. “Inside.”

  Closing her eyes, she rubbed her cheek against his back, a reward of sorts, for opening up. It was a Seducer trick, and she might have felt guilty if not for the fact that she was taking pleasure from touching him, something she rarely felt. She liked that she was enjoying this, because somehow it made her feel like less of a user.

  Less of a whore.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, slipped her hands beneath his shirt and caressed his abs. God, they were hard, rippled, so cut that her fingers disappeared into the grooves between the muscles.

  “These,” she purred, “have to be fake.”

  His soft chuckle rumbled through her and lifted her heart. She doubted he’d ever laughed about the things that had happened to his body.

  She spent several minutes exploring his stomach and chest, all the while kissing his neck and nibbling the tendons that rippled in the curve of his shoulder. Logan didn’t move, but his breathing grew more ragged the longer she played. Her own body heated, burned, until she needed to touch more. What had started as a fact-finding mission was becoming a pleasurable jaunt over his perfect body.

  Eager for more, she eased around him on the uneven ground, feeling the sizzle of his gaze as he watched her. When she was at his hip, she laid both palms on his thigh. It was hard, and through his pants she could feel that it wasn’t as hot as much of the rest of him.

  “New?”

  “New.” His jaw was clenched, as though he was either in pain or having a hard time tolerating her touch.

  She ran her hands down his leg, all the way to the top of his boot. “Can you feel me?”

  “Yes, but sensation is dulled on the parts that are bioware.”

  She moved her hands to his other leg. It felt the same, and she knew it was artificial as well. “What about pain?”

  “I can feel pain in my limbs, but it’s mild, because the only nerves are in the skin.”

  God, she wanted to tell him she was sorry—but she remembered how people had looked at her when they learned who her mother was, what she was. She knew what pity felt like. It made you feel small and helpless. And Logan was anything but that.

  With a firm touch, so he could feel her hands, she massaged her way up his leg until her fingers brushed the bulge at the juncture of his thighs. His entire body shuddered, joining
her own shiver of pleasure.

  Boldly, she cupped him. “Real?”

  He sucked air. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” she mused, as she trailed her fingers up the fabric-covered ridge of his shaft. “The way you used it earlier can’t have been natural.”

  “Is that so?”

  Smiling, she tore open his fly. His erection sprang free, the dusky column swollen, and even in the dim light she could see a drop of moisture glistening at the tip. Her mouth watered and her core went utterly wet.

  She didn’t tease or stall. She took him into her mouth. His response was instant and fierce as he drove his hands into her hair and let out a raw curse. She swirled her tongue over the smooth cap and dipped it into the slit before taking his cock to the base and swallowing the head.

  Another curse broke from him as he arched up. She was good at this, a true professional, and she knew it. His earthy, male flavor tingled on her tongue, and Logan’s reactions, everything from the heady sounds of his breathing to the way his cock bucked against the roof of her mouth, delighted her.

  Gently, she scraped her teeth down the underside of his shaft, following the thick, winding vein to his sac, which had drawn up, the satin skin tight and textured against her lips. Soft, springy curls tickled her as she slid her tongue beneath his balls, separating them, bouncing them lightly while humming. He let out a tortured hiss. Everything inside her that was female melted, loving the ability to control this big male’s pleasure.

  “Can’t … take … much … more,” he groaned. “Fuck me—fuck me now.”

  She dragged her tongue up the length of his shaft. “This is for you. Just you.” Rolling his balls between her fingers, she closed her mouth over him again and sucked hard. A muffled shout accompanied a tensing of his fingers against her scalp and a sudden pulsing against her lips. He was close.

  “Touch yourself, then.” His voice was distorted with pleasure, deep and rough. “Please.”

  “I can’t resist a man who begs,” she said, smiling as she tore open her pants and drove her hand between her legs.

  She was wet and slick with need, and the instant her fingers slid past her clit, the beginnings of an orgasm caught her off guard.

  Not yet …

  Desperate to taste his orgasm as she came with him, she flicked her tongue across the head of his cock and returned to the firm up-and-down rhythm that made him rock into her. She scraped her teeth gently on his glans on the upstroke and swirled her tongue into his hole on the downstroke.

  “Yes,” he rasped. “Fuck, Sela … I’m gonna come …”

  She appreciated the warning, but she intended to swallow. She’d always hated the act, but as a Seducer it had been required. For the first time, she was going to do it because she wanted to. Wanted to give him a blow job he’d remember forever.

  As his hands tightened in her hair and he began to lose control and fuck her mouth, she rolled her clit between her fingers and lost it. Ecstasy washed over her. Logan shot his hot seed into her mouth in an endless rope of salty cream. When it finally eased off, she continued to suck him, and though he begged her to stop, she didn’t.

  She had another trick up her sleeve.

  Using her own slick moisture, she slipped her fingers behind his sac to the smooth, sensitive skin there. She rubbed there, tight circles as she kept up gentle suction on his cock. Curses tumbled out of his mouth, sounds of agonized pleasure, and in moments, he was climaxing again, his hips coming completely off the cave floor.

  She sucked on him while she pumped her fist on his shaft and slid one finger to the tight, puckered flesh between his cheeks. He roared in release, arching his back and bucking so hard she had to pin down one of his legs to keep from being thrown.

  Gradually, he eased, and his flow trickled away. “Jesus,” he breathed, flopping onto his back. “That was … just … Fuck.”

  Smiling, she crawled up his body and snuggled down, half on, half next to him.

  And that was when she realized that for the first time in her life, she’d been with a man without experiencing any psychic sensations that had always accompanied orgasm. No external noise, no horrible thoughts, feelings or scenes. She’d forgotten to even try.

  There had been only blessed silence, and two people taking pleasure in each other.

  CHAPTER

  Twelve

  Sela woke, feeling like she was lying against a hot stove burner. Disoriented, she sat up, blinking in the shadowy darkness until she realized she was in the cave with Logan.

  He was beside her, sleeping. Breathing a sigh of relief, she sank down next to him again—and hissed when her hand came down on his arm. His real one. It was on fire.

  “Logan?” She put the backs of her fingers on his forehead. Same thing. He was hot to the touch, clammy. “Logan!”

  He groaned. “Yeah?”

  “You’re burning up. I’m going to get you some water.” They’d used up their one bottle of water last night, but she could refill it with water from the spring at the back of the cave.

  Logan didn’t respond, and since she needed an excuse to get away so she could contact Dev, she made her way to the spring and stuck the bottle in the trickle of water running down the wall. Keeping an eye on the bend, she dug the tiny texting device out of her pocket and tapped out a message to Dev, doing her best to fill him in on everything she could in the short time she had.

  A twinge of guilt pricked at her; she hadn’t asked for backup, but she knew he’d soon send in agents to extract them and take down GWC, and Logan would hate her after that. Then again, he’d probably hate her for lying to him all this time anyway.

  Sighing, she hit the Send button and tossed the one-use device into the water. After it sank into the murky pool, she headed back to Logan, who was sitting up, one arm draped over his knees and resting his forehead on his wrist.

  She knelt beside him, urged his head up and put the bottle to his lips. He drank gratefully, until the water was gone.

  “I wish I had some aspirin or something for you.”

  “Wouldn’t help.” He cleared his throat. “I need my injection.”

  “That’s what’s causing this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you going to be able to travel? I could always—”

  “I’m fine,” he snapped, and she couldn’t help flinching. He cursed, and his voice softened. “Who hurt you, Sela?”

  A ball of adrenaline drop-kicked into the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to talk about it. Hadn’t talked about it even after ACRO had patched her up and forced her to go to a bazillion therapy sessions.

  She screwed the cap onto the bottle, more to busy herself than anything. “It’s in the past and not important.”

  “Bullshit. If it were in the past you wouldn’t cower every time I raise my voice.”

  She threw down the bottle and shoved to her feet. “I don’t cower.” Though she did notice that before they’d been intimate, none of his angry or threatening actions had truly frightened her. It was only after she’d begun to know him that suddenly every move he made had her flinching. The fact that he’d noticed bothered the shit out of her.

  Lightning fast, he grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. But you do react, like you expect me to hit you. Someone did a number on you, didn’t they?”

  Sighing, she sank back down, because there was no point in denying it. He knew. “Yeah.”

  “Who? Tell me, and I’ll kill him.”

  “How sweet,” she said dryly. “But he’s already dead. Car crash.” The car crash part wasn’t true, but Arnaud was dead. After the Itor agent had nearly killed her, Dev had sent Akbar after his ass, and within hours, the guy was ruing the day he’d been born.

  “Tell me.”

  She shrugged. “We dated for a while.”

  They’d fucked for a month while she’d read his mind during sex and communicated the sensitive information to her supervisor. The guy had been fond o
f sharing, and she’d been forced to entertain some of his buddies as well. After she serviced his friends, he’d go into violent, jealous rages. But if she refused to fuck them, he beat her even worse. It had been a nightmare she couldn’t escape … not if she wanted to get information for ACRO.

  Afraid that the psychic Triad assigned to her for that mission would report the abuse and have her extracted from the situation, she’d pleaded for their silence—Arnaud had been using the drug operation’s profits to plan coordinated dirty bomb attacks on a dozen major U.S. and European cities, and ACRO needed to know where.

  And then, just as his beatings were escalating, she began to get more out of him regarding the terrorist attacks, so she stayed. Which had turned out to be a huge mistake.

  “And?”

  “And one day he got mad at me. Beat me into a coma. Broke every rib, my jaw, my left orbital bone, my skull, my leg, both arms … Do I need to go on?”

  “No,” he rasped. “Jesus. How did you survive?”

  Actually, she’d fought back, her ACRO training allowing her to hold her own for a little while. But he’d been equally well trained, stronger, and he’d gained the upper hand with a vengeance. Thankfully, her Triad had picked up on her failing vital signs and had alerted the local authorities. In the meantime, as she lay on the floor of Arnaud’s bedroom, dying, the psychics had banded together and kept her alive with their own life forces.

  “I was just lucky, I guess.”

  Before she could blink, he folded her into his arms and held her against him. “You’re so strong. God, Sela, what you must have endured.”

  Her? His experience made her hell seem like nothing, and while she might have some mental scars, his were emotional and physical.

  “Did you have family to take care of you?”

  She’d had ACRO, but obviously, she couldn’t tell him that. “Not really. My mom died of AIDS ten years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” His soft voice drifted down to her, barely audible. “Is that what you meant by your mom going through something similar to me?”