“This is more fun than catching trout.” He licked at the shell of her ear. “Takes more patience. Callan says I should work on that patience issue I have.”
A soft, feminine snort had a silent laugh tugging at his chest.
She was settling against him, relaxing a bit more, and as she did, the scent of sweet female heat became thicker. Damn, he’d loved that smell before he’d met her, but her particular scent he had become addicted to. It was sweet and tinted with spice, like syrup on a crisp winter morning. It had his mouth watering and his dick throbbing.
“I could see you with a patience issue,” she said softly. “That lazy Bengal Breed act of yours doesn’t fool everyone.”
“Most people it does,” he argued with a grin. “You’re just a perceptive little thing, pretty girl. You see me for what I am.”
“I studied you,” she admitted. “For years. Studied your lab files against the persona you project. You lie to a lot of people, Tanner. I can almost tell when you’re lying on television.”
“Hmm, dangerous thing to admit to,” he grumbled, feeling warmth he shouldn’t have felt, because she had managed to learn anything about him. “I can see you sitting in front of the television telling your daddy what the Breed plans are as you watch me lie.”
She was silent.
“Did you?” he whispered.
“No,” she said with a hint of sadness. “It was what he had me trained for, observation. He was very upset that I couldn’t tell him what he needed to know.”
“So he beat you?”
“Not always.” She was lying, and she was a very adept liar, so he could barely detect the scent of it. She didn’t want him to know she was lying. For some reason, this woman who should have been his enemy didn’t want him to know he had been the reason for any pain she had felt.
He nipped her ear.
“What was that for?” Her head tilted back, a frown creasing her brow as she glared back at him.
“That was for lying to me, pretty girl,” he growled, lowering his lips to hers because he couldn’t resist them. Because he needed the taste of her, needed it to clear the scent of her lie from his head. “Never lie to me.”
He didn’t take her easily, he didn’t ease her into a kiss, and he sure as hell didn’t ask for permission. Asking for permission from this woman was an instant debate.
She struggled without force as he shifted to the side, moving her into the crook of his arm to allow for a deeper penetration of her mouth.
One hand pressed into his chest, the other into his side. Her sharp little teeth nipped at his tongue; his nipped at her lips.
She pulled back; he buried his hand in her hair, cupped her scalp and forced her mouth back to his and let her teeth nip at it.
Damn, it was good. The sharp little sting, a flick of her tongue, and he was ready to come in his jeans. His other hand gripped her jaw, holding her still, his fingers controlling her ability to bite as his lips covered hers, his tongue impaling her mouth with a hunger that should have worried him.
Flickering, inquisitive, her little tongue met his, battling, a heated erotic battle that ended with one of her hands buried in his hair and her br**sts pressing into his chest as she turned to him, her legs straddling his hips, rising over him, taking control.
Fuck. He gripped her hips, pulling her down to him, grinding her pu**y against his jeans-covered cock. Slender fingers tangled in his hair as she began to ride him, the silk of her pants sliding against his jeans, her heat seeping through and raking over his dick.
Hell. He was going to f**k her. If he didn’t f**k her, he was going to die. Last night wasn’t enough; it had only whet his appetite for more.
He had unclenched his hands from her hips, lifting for her br**sts, when suddenly, just that fast, she was gone. Stumbling, whirling around, her hair creating a silken fan as she faced him, pushing it back impatiently.
“Watch Gilligan,” she rasped. “I told you not to do that.”
“Hell.” He laid his head against the couch and stared up at the stone ceiling, almost to the point of begging her. Damn, if he’d thought begging her to ride his c**k would work, he’d have been on his knees in front of her.
“Yes, hell,” she snapped in agreement. “Find something else to amuse you while you hold me here, Tanner, because I’ll be damned if I’ll stand in for your stupid reruns.”
He lifted his head as she stalked to the cavern doorway.
“Where are you going?” he called out on a sigh.
“I’m finding my out of here,” she retorted. “Right now. I’ve had enough of you and enough of stone walls. And when I do, I’ll find those stupid trout and shove them up your ass for Jonas.”