Secret Worlds (488 page)

Thomas shook his head. “This isn’t about feelings.”

“I said leave it. It’s not negotiable. I’ll deal with Danny, and all the repercussions that will bring when she finds out. I’ll take all of that. But you will let this go, Thom.” Alex willed his friend to feel how deadly serious he was about this. He wouldn’t have her, have any of them, used like that. Not ever. “Not just for Lena. For all of them. Whatever will happen with the future, with children…leave it be. Let it happen naturally. Or we’re no better than the Council, and we have no right to keep going.”

Thomas tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling. When he turned back to Alex, it was clear he’d made a decision. “Fine. But she stays in the dark. And so does Danny. Until it’s a done deal, mission accomplished, risk averted, and you’re all heading home, neither of them will know the other’s role.”

Alex nodded. It wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for. It wasn’t what she needed. But it bought her a larger freedom. He hoped it would be enough.

***

Alex’s hand paused above the lock plate. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t know why he’d told Jackson that morning that he would conduct Lena’s daily check-in himself. Yes, he had to share the chef’s critique of her progress with her, but he’d already written his comments and planned to hand them off to Jackson to take to her.

He had no reason to be hovering outside the safe house door, except for the itch that had been keeping him up, distracting him every day, pricking at his awareness. He’d planned to stay away. It wasn’t only logistically smart, but it was emotionally best, too, especially after his deal with Thomas. He didn’t want to deal with the soft, wounded sound of her voice if she asked for her brother again.

He’d managed to hold out four days before he mentally slapped himself for being so obtuse. You didn’t get rid of an itch by ignoring it. There was only one way to settle it down.

You scratched it, good and hard.

He keyed the lock and went in. Even here in the foyer, the layered spicy and savory aromas of what was cooking made his mouth water. And the chef claimed she couldn’t cook?

When he turned around, Lena was framed in the light from the sunny living room, eyes wide.

“Alex? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Her feet were bare, and she had on a summer dress for relief against the heat in the little house. The dress billowed light as a breeze around her small body, two thin straps all that held it on her shoulders. A riot of blues and greens swirled together across it. Flour dusted her chin and nose, and coated both hands, and her face was puzzled.

The night he’d left her here, he’d told her she wouldn’t see him again until they were on the caravan and it was her time to take out the Councilor.

He came down the hall. The pressure inside eased at the sight of her, even as his heart rate increased. This was a bad idea. He smiled anyway. “Chef Domenico had some issues with his latest evaluation of your skills. I thought I should come over and talk them out with you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Chef Domenico is a pompous ass.” She turned and went back into the kitchen.

Alex laughed as he followed her in. “He is. But he’s also your cover, so we need to work smart. We need to keep him happy.”

“Uh huh,” she responded. “Work smart. Got it. I guess you came to tell me how to do that?” She leaned against the kitchen counter between them, waiting for him to answer her.

“Where did you get that dress?” he asked instead. The colors did amazing things to her eyes.

Where’d you get that dress?
His inner voice howled with laughter.

He cleared his throat, a stern warning as he settled into one of the kitchen chairs across the counter from her, and added, “You didn’t leave the house, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t.” She paused and tilted her head. “Jackson brought it for me.”

“Did he?” Alex worked hard for that neutral tone.

She shrugged, looking down now to fiddle with dough in a bowl to the side of her. “I think it was kind of an apology. I’d been complaining how hot it was in here with the oven going all day—it is summer. He said it looked cool.” She twisted a smile and peeked up at Alex through her lashes. “He said the color reminded him of my eyes, if you must know.”

Alex gritted his teeth.
Oh, hello, Jealousy, you bastard. Get the hell out of my head.
She was manipulating him. He knew it. It didn’t mean it wasn’t effective.

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.

She seemed put out when she didn’t get any other reaction from him. She raised her brows. “Were you going to impart any ‘work smarter’ wisdom? Or was the stare supposed to cow me into behaving?”

“Pay attention. Don’t be careless. If chef says presentation matters…then
present
the food on the plate. C’mon, you know this makes a difference.”

She lowered her gaze again, and nodded. “Got it. Guess I can get back to work then.” When Alex didn’t move she looked back at him. This time, she only raised one brow. “Was there something else I screwed up? Or did you want a sample of my shitty cooking? Because the chicken won’t be done baking for another fifteen minutes.”

She turned away, dismissing him and busying herself at the side counter, fingers pulling off bits of dough, rolling them into small logs between her palms, and then shaping them into crescents on the wide, flat pan in front of her. Her posture told him that not only had she been bored, but now she was pissed, too.

Fifteen minutes, huh?

It was probably best that her back was turned so she didn’t see the wide, predatory grin he felt spreading across his face.

He rose and padded into the kitchen to ease up to her. Her body stiffened when she felt him close in behind her. He pressed his palms to the counter on either side of her working space and lowered his mouth to her ear.

“Fifteen minutes sounds perfect,” he growled into her ear. “I think that’s what you asked for when you were stressed out and in need of distraction, wasn’t it? Fifteen minutes? Well, now it’s my turn.”

He closed his mouth around her earlobe, his lips gentle while the tip of his tongue ran along the soft curve of flesh, leaving a trail of popping sparks behind.

She shivered but pulled her head away and turned her face to him, angled down so she didn’t have to meet his eyes.

“You’re the one who said I had to work smarter to make the chef happy. Well, I’m working…” As if to prove her point, she showed him the curved crescent in her hand before settling it onto the pan.

The sugary, nutty scent of the dough rose up and swirled in his nostrils, mixing with the heady, heated fragrance of Lena herself. The scent cued the memory of her taste, and his blood pounded lower.

Dust, I need this.

He dipped his head down to press his lips to the curve where her neck joined her shoulder. When he ran his teeth along her skin, she shuddered in response.

“Stop it.” Her voice was husky in his ears. “You’re distracting me. This is hard.”

A low chuckle bubbled up and hummed against his lips on her skin. “That’s not the only thing that’s hard.” He pressed closer, rubbing himself against her back. “And I promise, I’ve been far more distracted by you than you know.”

She leaned away. He could hear her swallow and then suck in a breath. She shook her head. “You said this was a bad idea. You said you didn’t want—”

“I know what I said, dammit. But I can’t stop thinking about you.” He moved his arms in, wrapping them around her and tucking her in against his body. Her small back curved against his front, and the Dust started swirling, moving in where they were in contact. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he repeated, and kissed the spot low on her neck that had made her shudder for him, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

“About kissing you.” He feathered light kisses across her shoulder and the back of her neck.

“Holding you,” he murmured against the curve of her neck on the other side. His left hand slid up and across her to tug the thin strap of material off her shoulder. He moved his face down to the edge of her shoulder and licked little sparking explosions back up toward her neck again. He finished at her right ear.

“I can’t stop thinking about how amazing it was,” he whispered in her ear, “to slide inside you. Do you remember?”

She had the tightest, sweetest little—

Her head tipped back, opening her neck to give him access to the sensitive skin.

He pounced, licking and kissing, drawing up the Dust then releasing it. Her breath came in little pants now, and the sound of it made him crazy. He pulled her tighter against him, lifting her onto her toes so that he could feel the curve of her round ass.

She gulped air. “Fifteen minutes, huh?”

He reached one arm up, supporting her weight easily with the other as he tilted her face toward him. “Fifteen,” he answered, voice just as breathless. “Say ‘yes.’”

“Yes.”

He captured her mouth with his, not gentle and not caring. She matched him heat for heat, pressure for pressure, electric and hard. His hand slid down, drawing down the other strap until both breasts were bare. He palmed one, using his thumb to play with her nipple until it pebbled before moving to the other. He toyed with them, loving how her body responded to his touch, before dipping his hand lower.

He pulled at the dress, gathering it up until he had access to the vee between her legs. She was naked under the dress. His blood pounded even harder. Though he ravaged her mouth with his, he kept his fingers gentle, easing between her legs to stroke at her most sensitive skin, dipping his fingers lower to draw up her wetness.

Her lips fell away from his, and she dropped both hands to wrap around his wrist and arm. Her eyes were closed as she focused on what his hand was doing. She rose up even higher onto her toes, leaning back into him for support, and spread her legs a little to offer him easier access.

He increased the friction and the pressure of the tight, swirling motions he made, and she responded. Her fingers tightened and released around his arm. The sounds she made were deeper, primal. Her brows drew down, and her eyelids squeezed shut.

He wanted to take her higher. He wanted her to scream for him.

Alex bore down, with more than just his finger. The Dust that had been swirling within them, surging between them like tides called by two moons, exploded toward the pressure.

She didn’t scream. She went silent as her body spasmed, even the sound of her breathing stopped. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop watching her face transformed by the bliss that rolled over her in waves as the current rolled through her and he brought it back again and again.

She made no sound until she had finished. Then little moans caught in the back of her throat, slowly shifting to soft hiccupping breaths.

His head was going to explode. He needed to be inside her.

Now.

He slid his hand from between her legs so he could ease her back onto her own feet again, but her knees were jelly. With a proud grin, he scooped her up and moved around the counter to the table, kicking aside the chair and sitting her down on the table top. The dress he’d pulled from her arms had pooled at her waist. He slid his hand up her side and curved in to her breast, dipping his head down again to lick at her nipples while he eased her back. He wanted her bright-eyed again before he finished. He wanted full participation, but he was so hard he ached, and he couldn’t wait.

Alex chuckled with anticipation as he worked at his pants with his free hand, but the sound that huffed against her skin came closer to a deranged cackle.

It must have got her attention. She threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back. She wasn’t gentle. And he hadn’t thought he could get any harder than he was.

“What are you laughing at, Reyes?” Her smile was a little crooked, a little woozy, just a little drunken.

He laughed again. “Just thinking about what I’m going to do to you right now, Gracey.”

Her lips curved up at his answer, and she leaned back and gave a little shimmy with her shoulders, making the rest of her undulate in a way that stopped his heart. It took some effort, but he brought his gaze back to her face.

She grinned back at him, orgasm-drunk no more. She was back, and clearly ready for more. He gave it to her, gripping her hips to pull her to him and thrusting inside. The wet friction and electric heat sizzled along him, over and over and over. His head fell back as his face contorted. He held on as long as he could, tendons straining, back tense. Her soft voice chanted his name in rhythm to his thrusts, and she let him have the charge she’d been building inside. He reared back, a shout exploding from him as he released.

He came back to himself slowly. The blood pounded in his temples still, and his breath sawed in his ears. He moved his head and discovered it was cradled on her chest, a small breast and small hand to either side. A smile flitted over his face, and he lifted his head to carefully rest his chin instead of his forehead on her chest.

She stared up at the ceiling, her smug smile answering his own. He laughed, and lifted himself up onto one arm.

“I think,” she said between soft pants as her breath equalized, “that was even better,” and she swallowed, “than the first time.”

“I think,” he said and closed one eye as he focused to think, “we may well get better every time.”

She gasped a laugh. “You mean you’re not running away this time?”

Alex shook his head. “Nobody’s allowed to run away. Deal?”

“Deal.” She shrugged. “It makes the most sense, after all.”

He struggled to stand, pushing himself up with both arms now. “What does?”

“Not running away. I mean, this revolution stuff is pretty intense. I have to imagine that’s a lot of fifteen-minute increments of stress relief between the two of us.”

Alex laughed, the sound rumbling up from deep in his chest. “I think you’re right.” He took a step back, glanced down, and then groaned as he reached down to pull his pants from around his ankles.