wanton. A slut.
What the hell had gotten into her? She’d never done anything like this before.
But she felt delicious, despite her consternation. The man who reminded her of Alec Cain was pushing all the right buttons. The ones that turned off her inner morality police.
“Hurry,” he growled.
Jolting at the sound of his rough voice, Eve resumed her task, somehow managing to tug the belt free and open his trousers. The waistband clung to his lean hips for a moment, then collapsed into a puddle around his ankles. When she lifted the wrinkled tails of his shirt, she discovered he was going commando. He was thick, long, and ready.
“Oh God,” she breathed, her body clenching with excitement and heady lust.
“Yes,” the man purred, just before he caught her by the backs of her thighs and hefted her with effortless strength. “He knows.”
“Condom?” she gasped. Her eyes met his. His gaze was dark and intent, roiling with mysterious secrets and dangerous desires. She began to pant. With hunger. With fear.
“Hush,” he crooned, brushing his lips across hers. She felt the muscles in his buttocks and thighs tauten.
Then he thrust deep.
Her cry was both pained and aroused. He gave her no time to think, to move, to fight. He launched into a hard, pounding rhythm and rode her straight into climax. She writhed and sobbed with the pleasure, her body shuddering violently in his arms. He continued to surge into her, over and over again, stroking through her spasms, spurring her into another violent orgasm. And another.
“No more,” she begged, pushing weakly at his shoulders. “I can’t take any more . . .”
Holding her with one arm beneath her buttocks, he tore at her shirt, scattering the tiny ivory buttons across the floor and down the cement stairs. He bared her shoulder and watched as she came again, the climax arching her body like a tightly strung bow. He lifted his hand and bared his palm, revealing an intricate tattoo in the center. It began to glow, turning into a white-hot brand.
“Bear the Mark of Cain,” he growled, pressing his hand against her upper arm and searing her skin. He took her mouth, swallowing her screams, rocking into her, his tempo unfaltering.
Eve’s nails dug into the flesh of his back, the mixture of intense pleasure and pain overloading her senses, making her see things that couldn’t be real.
Her lover appeared to change, illuminating from within, his clothes falling away to reveal a muscular body and rich golden skin. His dark eyes changed to swirling amber as he threw his head back and roared. His powerful neck corded with strain as he came hard and long. Deep inside her.
It was a nightmare and a wet dream rolled into one, hurling her into an experience that stole her sanity. Huge white feathered wings unfurled from his back and embraced her.
Darkness followed suit, closing swiftly around her.
CHAPTER 3
Ms. Hollis? Ms. Hollis, can you hear me?”
Eve’s eyelids fluttered, then lifted.
“Ms. Hollis?”
She ached all over and felt hot, but she was shivering, as if she had the flu.
Awareness of her surroundings came to her in lapping waves—the male voice calling out to her, the dozen faces that stared down at her, the glass ceiling of Gadara Tower.
She bolted upright, her head whacking into the chin of a rubbernecker. The man cursed and stumbled backward, but her attention was focused on her clothes. As she took note of the crisply ironed length of her skirt, her fingers drifted down the row of tiny white buttons that secured her pale blue shirt.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice hoarse and raw as if she’d been screaming.
“We’re not sure.”
She turned her head to meet the blue eyes of a uniformed paramedic. Her gaze dropped to his name tag. Woodbridge.
“Have you eaten today?” he asked, his arm strong at her back.
Thinking about her morning, she nodded. “Yogurt and coffee.”
Woodbridge smiled. “It’s two in the afternoon. That’s a long time to go with just yogurt. I think your blood sugar dropped. You became light-headed and passed out.”
Two Gadara security guards pushed the crowd back and Eve stood with the paramedic’s assistance. She wobbled a moment on her heels, was steadied by strong hands, then fingers pushed into her long black hair and gently felt her scalp. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
She hurt everywhere, but she knew what he meant. “No.”
“I don’t feel a bump, but I’d like to take you to the hospital as a precaution.”
“Sure.” She held onto his arm as the room tilted.
As