Spider Game Read online

  "They aren't in our kitchen," he said. "They don't know what works for us."

  A slow smile curved her mouth, making him want to taste her all over again. There was nothing stopping him so he did, reaching with one hand to curl his fingers around the nape of her neck and pull her to him. Using his thumb under her chin, he tilted her face up and took her mouth. He wasn't sweet and gentle about it because he didn't feel sweet and gentle, he felt a little savage. Taking her on the kitchen table was out, not when he felt like this. He wasn't going to do her rough, not when her first time with him was probably not going to be the best for her.

  He poured himself into the kiss, taking her mouth with his own. One hand caught hers and he brought her palm down his chest to the massive hard-on he was sporting. Using his own hand to curl her fingers around his shaft, he kept kissing her, squeezing her fist down tight around him.

  That's yours, baby. All for you. No one else but you. You wake up needing that, you let me know. I want you sleeping next to me, Cayenne. No more hiding down in that basement behind your silk. You. In the bed. With me.

  The entire time he filled her mind with him, with his warmth and strength. With his demand. He kept kissing her. Over and over. Using his mouth and his fingers wrapped around hers, doing a lazy slide and pumping gently with her palm so that lightning streaked through him, his blood pounded through his body and centered in his cock. It was the perfect way to start a morning. Hot kisses and her hand wrapped tight around his heavy shaft.

  You going to give me that, Cayenne? You. In my bed?

  Very slowly he lifted his head and looked down into her eyes. He brought up both hands to frame her face. To hold her still, so she had to look at him. "Are you going to give that to me, baby? Did you think about it last night? Alone. There behind your silk."

  "Where I'm safe," she said in a small voice.

  "Where you're alone. Existing."

  "Will I be safe with you, Trap? I don't mean whatever is threatening either of us. Not Whitney. I'm asking will I be safe with you?"

  She looked so lost. Very vulnerable. How could a woman be such a warrior, taking on teams of Whitney's enhanced supersoldiers, yet be so completely defenseless when it came to being a woman? She was beautiful. Seductive. Naturally sensual. She kissed like a dream. She'd given him the best blow job of his life. There was no guile in her. No subterfuge. She wasn't flirting or trying to be cute and adorable, both of which she was.

  He bent his head and gently brushed his lips over hers. A barely there touch. "Baby, I'll protect you with my life. I'm not a nice man all the time, and I'll piss you off and maybe even hurt you without thinking when I say or do something stupid. I can be that man, that thoughtless dick sometimes. But I swear to you, on my life, that I'll do everything in my power to make you happy. I'll have your back. I know you'll have mine. If there's one trait I have that runs deep, it's loyalty."

  Her lashes fluttered. The green in her eyes went to an amazing emerald. "You really want me to put on this apron while we cook?"

  His cock jerked. His heart stuttered in his chest. "Yes, baby. Please. I would very much like you to put on that apron and nothing else."

  "Where's your apron?"

  He grinned at her. "I got one to match." He bent and did another brush of his mouth across hers and once more walked through the flour to the pantry door. It was a good-sized pantry, just like everything else in the house, the size of a large bedroom. Everything inside was easy to see with the lighting, and the wall facing him as he yanked open the door, deep inside, was false. With a touch of his palm, he could open the hidden tunnel and have an escape route. His apron hung on the hook next to the one that held hers.

  He loved that she went along with his sexy teasing, making it easy and fun. He wanted that. He also wanted to know she'd want him with the same urgency he did her. He was going to do his best to keep this morning about fun, learning to cook breakfast together with a dash of spicy sexual play to show her she could be his partner in every way.

  "Cayenne," he said softly, as she turned away, presumably to clean up. "Thank you for doing this, for cooking my breakfast for me."

  "It was an utter disaster."

  "It meant everything to me," he corrected.

  Her smile lit her face, made her eyes go a crystalline green and called his attention right back to her full, red lips. "Then I'm glad. I'm going to take a quick shower and I'll be right back." She glanced down ruefully at her clothes. "I'll soak my clothes as well."

  "There's a laundry room, Cayenne."

  She blinked. Went still. Her smile faded. "I don't know what that is, Trap."

  He stepped close and caught her chin in his hand. "I'm definitely teaching you to use the washing machine and dryer, baby, because I despise doing laundry. One summer I didn't wear clothes in the house or lab so I wouldn't have to wash clothes. Then I hired a housekeeper to do it, and I don't like other people around much. My team, you and maybe Nonny, Pepper and the girls. Even with them I'm not the best. Nonny's always threatening to wash my mouth out with soap."

  "Why?"

  "I swear a lot. She doesn't like it, and she's right. I shouldn't swear around her or the girls."

  "Why? Swearing is just words, isn't it?"

  "Not-so-nice words, babe," he said. "Don't follow my example. Most of the time I work by myself so it doesn't matter what the fuck I say. Now, around Nonny and Pepper and the girls, I have to watch my mouth."

  "But I still don't understand. Why would it bother them for you to be you?"

  "I'll be me around you, honey," he promised, knowing she wasn't going to like what he was in every situation. "There's a bathroom just down the hall with a large shower and plenty of towels. It's stocked with shampoo and conditioner for your hair, toothbrushes and hairbrushes. Just about anything you might need. Use that one and save time."

  She nodded, and he watched her go. Watched the way her very shapely ass swayed as she moved, tempting him into all sorts of sinful fantasies. He forced his mind back to the kitchen and the mess she'd created. He found himself smiling for no reason at all. If he wasn't already falling for her, this mess definitely turned the tide. She'd tried. For him. She had no clue how to cook, but she'd gotten up early, looked up cooking videos and tried to make him breakfast.

  He went back to his room and got his cell phone so he could take pictures. Lots of them. He added a video of the entire room. He wanted to have both to remember this moment. His woman, doing her best, giving him a priceless gift. The question came up in interview after interview: What did one get for the man who had everything and could get anything he wanted? You gave him this. A messy kitchen and burned pots and pans. Flour all over your face and clothes. You gave him something no one else had ever bothered to do or would think of doing. Yeah. He was falling hard. And he was framing the damn pictures and putting them up on his wall.

  He got to work. She'd tried pancakes and eggs with some kind of sauce. She hadn't started small, but then she didn't know what was easy or difficult when it came to cooking.

  He put on a pot of coffee and then scrubbed the floor and counters. Trap had the space ready for her, although the way he'd designed the kitchen, he had two kitchens, each mirroring the other with a long center aisle dividing them. He figured if the team and their families had to retreat to his fortress for protection, they would have plenty of cooking space. He had this double kitchen, the large kitchen in the downstairs apartment and a third kitchen in the wing of the house where he'd installed another huge suite. The large recreation room divided the space.

  The burnt odor had faded by the time she returned. He didn't need to turn around to know she was there. She moved in silence, but she had an addicting scent, the one he recognized now. The storms. The flowers. The scent of his woman.

  "Trap?" She came up behind him, her hand sliding up the back of his thigh, over his very cut buttocks. "Is this how I'm supposed to wear this? Does it look right?"

  She stepped close to him and he
felt her tongue slide over the trail her hand left behind. Just the lightest of touches. It didn't matter how light. He felt it sink into his bones.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of her palm sliding over his bare skin. He loved that she was tactile. Loved it more that she was oral. Loved that she was made for sex and sin. For him. That she had no inhibitions and would welcome the way he liked to play.

  He turned slowly, and his breath caught in his throat. "Fuck, baby," he whispered softly, his hand dropping to his cock. Already the loincloth apron was tenting hugely. "You look amazing. So damned sexy I'm not certain I can concentrate."

  She looked sexier than any of the pictures he'd seen with a woman demonstrating what the apron looked like. She might be tiny, but she was all there, an hourglass figure, her breasts high and thrusting against the lace, stretching it, pushing out her red nipples, the lacy webbing emphasizing the soft, full curves. The tie showed off her small waist and flaring hips. The skirt of the apron, short, but pleated and sassy, moved just a bit when she shifted her weight and showed him a peek of her tight black curls and a hint of that red hourglass.

  He drew in his breath as he used his finger to indicate for her to turn slowly. She complied. Her long hair fell down her back, silken waves she'd tamed with a dryer, reaching past her waist to skim the sweet curve of her ass. He definitely was fixating on her body. He reached down and cupped both cheeks, kneading with his fingers, sinking deep, claiming that part of her for his own as well.

  "I can't imagine that we aren't going to whip up a masterpiece with you in that outfit." His apron wasn't lacy, but the material was white and black checkerboard and when his cock was soft the entire crown peeked out under the apron. When it was hard, his cock nestled in the fabric as if being caressed, pushing against the stretchy material.

  "Are you certain about this, Trap?"

  "Absolutely. Do you drink coffee?"

  She frowned. Shook her head. "It always smelled good when others had it in mugs, but no, I was never given coffee."

  "What about chocolate?"

  She shook her head again.

  "Whipped cream?"

  "No."

  "Whipped cream is a specialty item, baby. It can be used for all sorts of things. It can go on top of your coffee, a dessert, in a crepe, or all over me or you so the other one can have the fun of licking it off. Then there's chocolate sauce or fudge."

  "I'm beginning to see a pattern here, Trap," she said. "Does everything revolve around sex?"

  He flashed a grin. "Now you're getting it. Come on. I'll make you some chocolate and you can try that while I whip us up some eggs and potatoes."

  "I want to learn, Trap. I spent the night reading articles about families and cooking and making a home. There are magazines online that specialize in things like that. I'm pretty certain I can turn what I read into practical experience." She glanced around the kitchen a little ruefully. "I was thinking about where I went wrong this morning. I tried to do too many things at the same time, didn't I?"

  He couldn't help himself. He curled his fingers around the nape of her neck and drew her to him. "What you did was perfect for so many reasons I can't even tell you."

  Her eyes went soft. Happy. The tension in her eased. "Even though I totally screwed up, it meant something to you then?"

  "Yeah, baby." He pulled her tight against his chest, just holding her there where she couldn't see his face. He was a GhostWalker, and normally he didn't give a damn about anything, so it was easy enough to keep his features a stone wall. There was no hiding what her gesture meant to him. All he could do was hold her tight against him and bury his face in her wealth of hair. He nuzzled the top of the red hourglass nestled in all that black silk. "It meant a fuck of a lot."

  She slipped her arms around him and held his back. Melted into him. She felt soft and warm and his. Suddenly, it wasn't about sex, and no matter how subconsciously he tried to make it that, he knew he'd slipped past falling and right into gone. Abruptly he pulled back, caught her around the waist and planted her sweet little ass on the center aisle.

  "Sit there and observe your master."

  She laughed softly, and the sound felt like music. He glanced sideways at her as he pulled out a mixing bowl, which he filled with cold water and a grater.

  "I'm going to put you to work. You can grate the potatoes right into the cold water while I fix the eggs."

  "You're removing the starch with the cold water."

  He flashed an approving smile over his shoulder as he quickly washed four potatoes at the sink and handed them off to her. "You do have your alarm system spread around the complex outside, right?"

  She nodded, frowning as she slowly began to grate the potatoes, finding a quicker rhythm and sticking with it. "Of course. I like to know what's coming at me. I've got feelers outside the fence as well as inside. No one will get close without us knowing. Why, are you worried we'll be attacked?"

  He shook his head. "No. I'm worried my team will come check on me, and they don't get to see you looking like this."

  "I thought you liked this apron."

  He paused in the act of breaking an egg into a mixing bowl, his gaze moving over her as she sat there, grating the potatoes for him. Every moment sent her breasts swaying invitingly beneath the stretchy lace. He set the bowl aside, placed a hand on the island surface on either side of her body and leaned in close. So close it forced her body to tip back. To catch herself she had to put her hands back behind her, thrusting her breasts upward. He took the offering, settling his mouth around her right breast, right through the lace.

  The apron and this body are for me. Not for my friends. Not for anyone else. You don't show it to them. You don't share it with them. It's mine. You're mine.

  She made a soft sound and caught his head, cradling it to her with one hand as she tipped farther back on the island. He followed her body, leaning over her.

  Now you're just making me hungry for all that honey. I could have breakfast a different way, and then go back to your cooking lesson.

  Instantly he felt her body go from soft and pliant to tense. He wanted to groan in sheer frustration. Blood pounded through his veins and filled his cock with need.

  Baby, your first time with me is going to be in my bed, not in the kitchen, although we're going to be spending a lot of time in here later. Lots of island space, the table, counters.

  He trailed kisses from her breast up to her chin. Biting gently, he kissed his way to her mouth and caught her lower lip between his teeth. Are you going to sleep in my bed tonight? All night?

  There was a small hesitation. His teeth bit down just a little harder. Tugged on her full lower lip. I want to spend hours making you feel good, baby, and then I want to hold you close while we both fall asleep. Are you going to give me that?

  I'm really afraid.

  I know you are, Cayenne. But you have to trust me sometime. I'll take care of you, I promise that. Say you'll spend the night in my bed. I know if you promise you'll keep your word.

  What if I'm so scared I bite you?

  Then I'll spank your pretty little ass very hard. After, I'll make certain you're feeling good all over again, but you won't bite me again because your hot little bottom will remind you not to.

  How can you make everything sound hot? In your mind it even feels hot.

  Because whatever I do to you is going to be hot and you're going to like it.

  Then it really isn't a punishment, is it? Or a deterrent.

  She had a point, but then he didn't care. He was going to make everything hot and pleasurable for her. His teeth tugged harder. Say it, Cayenne. Tell me you'll be in my bed tonight.

  Yes. Fine. But if I bite you, that's on you, not me. You won't be able to spank me because you'll be paralyzed and at my mercy. That might be disappointing.

  He let go of her lip, his tongue sliding over it to soothe the sting. "Maybe, but sooner or later, I'd come out of it and you'd have to face the music." He stra
ightened. "And then, baby, I wouldn't be disappointing you in the least."

  He turned resolutely back to their breakfast. She'd given her word and he knew she wouldn't break it, no matter how terrified she was. She had too much courage. "I've been considering this cooking business, Cayenne. Do you really want to learn?"

  "I told you I did." Her breath was still a little ragged but she sat up and began grating the last potato.

  He couldn't stop looking at her. She looked beautiful with that dazed, shocked look on her face, as if just that little encounter had been a gift from him. He'd made her body sing when he'd put his mark on her breast. She had quite a few of his marks, strawberries covering the soft curves. He wanted them on other, more secret places. He'd taken advantage the night before and put a couple on her inner thigh. He could see them, the little brands that said she was his.

  "I didn't realize men weren't all that far from the cave days. Around you, baby, I feel pretty primitive."

  She flashed him a smile as she set aside the grater. "I don't mind you being primitive. I kind of like it."

  She touched her breast, running her fingertip over the wet lace. The sight set him on fire all over again. It was an innocent gesture. She didn't know how to be a siren, but she was one naturally. He suppressed a groan and forced his mind back to the task at hand. To give himself something to do besides jump her, he took the finished bowl of potatoes, drained the water and replaced it with more cold water.

  "Nonny is a great cook. I mean really, really good. Her food isn't the kind you find in a fancy restaurant, but it's the best I've ever had. I think she pours love into everything she cooks."

  "The bread and soup, or whatever it was, was very good. I ate all of it. In small doses because when I'm not used to something, it can make me sick."

  "Nonny would teach you cooking in a heartbeat, Cayenne. Pepper is learning, from what Wyatt tells me, so you could get in on those lessons and have some girl time."