Ruthless Game g-9 Page 30

  “I want to take a shower.” Rose shuddered as she rubbed her arms up and down. “I’m itching all over.”

  “I can put a chair in the shower,” Jaimie offered. “You shouldn’t try to stand by yourself, Rose.”

  “I’ll go in with her,” Kane said.

  Fear exploded through Rose’s body. For a moment she could barely breathe. “No!” Rose caught Kane’s wrist and held on hard. “You stay with Sebastian.” She would never forget those minutes, fighting off the kidnappers, knowing she wasn’t going to stop them from taking her son. She’d failed to protect him. All of her training, all of her resolve, none of it mattered. She touched her neck again. “I’m sorry, Kane. I’m so sorry.”

  She’d been so certain she could do it all herself. She hadn’t trusted anyone else, other than Kane, not really. She knew Whitney better than any of them; she’d known he’d make a try for Sebastian. Sebastian was everything he’d worked for—all the years of experimenting came down to a child. She knew if Whitney saw him or even got hold of a sample of his blood, he would know he’d been successful.

  She covered her face with her hands, her lungs burning. She’d almost lost their child. She couldn’t ever face Kane again. Everything was coming flooding back. Sebastian’s eyes widening as he lay on the floor playing with her. He’d known that she couldn’t protect him. She would never forget that moment when both of them had known she wasn’t going to be able to stop the men from taking him. A sob escaped, and she clamped down hard on it. She wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t make Kane think she wanted sympathy.

  “Rose.” Kane’s gentle voice was her undoing.

  He should be railing at her. Yelling. Telling her what a screwup she was. She hadn’t protected her own child from the worst monster alive. She shook her head, unable to look at him. She might never be able to look at him again. She’d failed in the most important mission of her life.

  “Rose, look at me.”

  She shook her head again, even more adamant this time. Whitney’s taunting voice flooded her mind. Women aren’t of any use; they just don’t have the strength or intelligence men do. Their weakness compromises missions and jeopardizes teams. Men are wounded—killed—because of the weaknesses displayed by women. Even when using their psychic talents they have seizures and can’t function properly.

  Baby, do you really believe that nonsense? Any psychic, male or female, without an anchor close by will experience all of those things and more. Some have had strokes. Some meltdowns. It makes no difference whether you’re male or female.

  Kane pushed Whitney’s voice out of her mind, filling her with warmth. His tone caressed her, gave her the courage to look up at him. His green eyes had gone nearly emerald, a heated promise that made her breath catch in her throat—made her want to believe the impossible. The moment their eyes met, hers filled with tears of guilt, and she looked away again.

  “I’ve put some clothes out for you, Rose,” Jaimie said. “I’m going back downstairs to contact Flame and have her start spreading the word that Eric has compromised all of us so the other teams can take precautions as well. He was inside the compound up in Montana as well as being in Wyoming with a couple of the GhostWalkers there. No one will bother you here for a while, so go ahead and use the shower, and if you want to eat, there’s plenty of food.”

  Rose shifted her gaze to Jaimie, alarmed. Had Mack sent for her telepathically because Brian had taken a turn for the worse? She studied her face. No. She was being polite, giving her time to be alone with Kane. She silently shook her head in protest, but Jaimie just patted her shoulder and walked away, leaving her to face her son’s father alone.

  She swallowed hard. Guilt and shame were ugly things. She hadn’t even had time to be terrified. She pressed her lips together and shook her head, knowing Kane was willing her to meet his incredible green gaze again. “I can’t, Kane,” she whispered once she’d heard the door close behind Jaimie. “I don’t think I can ever look at you again.”

  “Because Whitney fed you bullshit to justify his experiment?”

  The small edge to his voice made her glance up at his face. The lines were carved deep, making him look tougher than ever. His jaw was set in a stubborn line she’d come to know. He didn’t understand. Her shame wasn’t about Whitney—maybe he added to the voices in her own head telling her what a screwup she was—but her shame was all about the way she’d acted toward his family members. As if they weren’t trustworthy enough to be alone with her child. In her mind she had been the only one who could adequately protect Sebastian. Okay, there was Kane. She had trusted him—maybe.

  Her face flamed. Not completely, not with Sebastian. She was so determined Whitney wouldn’t get his hands on their son, and she didn’t think Kane adequately understood the danger Whitney presented. She’d been so foolish. Without his family, without the very men she’d snubbed, her son would be in Dr. Whitney’s laboratory.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again, shaking her head. How could there be forgiveness? Kane had brought her into his home and offered her a life with him. She wanted him—but she hadn’t really wanted the rest of them. She didn’t know how to act with them, what to think or do. She felt such an outsider, and yet they had risked their lives for her son.

  “Tell me what happened. All of it. What each person had to do to get Sebastian ...”

  “And you,” Kane said quietly.

  She shivered continually, unable to stop her body’s reaction from the aftermath of the drug, or perhaps the time spent in the cold seawater. She could smell fish on her hair and skin. Dragging the blanket closer, she nodded. “And to get me back. Tell me.”

  She listened in silence to the quiet sound of his voice as he detailed the rescue and what each team member had contributed.

  “If Javier hadn’t spotted the SUV, they might have gotten away with it.”

  “It may have taken longer, but we would have found you and Sebastian, Rose,” Kane said. “We had the microchip in Sebastian, and Whitney isn’t the only one who can track with a satellite.”

  She felt a wave of raw fear. “My tattoo. Javier and Jaimie got rid of it.”

  “They deactivated it. There’s a difference.”

  Now her teeth were chattering, but she didn’t care. She was horrified. “If they know a way to activate it, so will Whitney.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll put Jaimie and Javier up against anyone Whitney has in electronics. Jaimie’s figuring out how they managed the lock on the door, but my guess is, the doc had something to do with it.”

  She felt color flooding her face. Once again she’d not trusted the members of his team.

  Our team, he corrected. “Our family. We’re a unit, Rose. You. Me. Sebastian. And our family. We have to think that way, believe that way. It has to be absolute. No individual is going to be able to fight Whitney. As a team, a family, we’re stronger than he can possibly imagine.”

  He was right. When she’d been in the compounds, if Whitney separated all of the girls, it was much more difficult to fight him, but together, they had too much strength and too many psychic talents for him to control.

  “I grew up with every single man and woman in this team other than Paul. You’ve met Paul. He’s no plant. His talent is incredible, and we all watch over him, especially Javier.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She knew Paul was no threat. He was too honest—he felt too good—not that he wouldn’t fight if he was forced to do so. But Javier ... He scared her, and yet it had been Javier who had ultimately been Sebastian’s guardian. She’d seen the look on his face when he dropped in to see the boy. He always referred to himself as Uncle Javier, and she had secretly cringed.

  Rose shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t trust them. I didn’t want to like them or give them a chance.”

  “Rose.” His voice was a velvet caress, stroking over her skin. “What did you expect? You’ve never been around a man who wasn’t keeping you prisoner or torturing y
ou. Did you think it would be easy? All of us knew we’d have to earn your respect and trust. It’s never automatic, not when our lives depend on one another.”

  “But you trusted them. I should have ...”

  He drew her up, blanket and all, pulling her shivering body against his, and she let him, wanted to melt into him, to draw from all that male heat and strength. She let herself be fragile and vulnerable, she already was—to him. She let herself open to him. He was so deep inside her that she’d never get him out, nor did she want to.

  “Why should you trust anyone you don’t know? Especially with our child? Every member of my family would be shocked and horrified if you’d easily accepted them. They want you, just as I do, to be leery of strangers.” He massaged her shoulders, and then slid his hands down her back, pulling her closer. “Look at Eric. He’s been our chosen doctor for all the teams, and yet not one of us realized he was an enemy.”

  She leaned into him, wanting shelter in his arms, in the strength of his body. He was like an enormous oak tree, solid and unyielding, a sentinel she could always count on. “You were uneasy around him,” Rose said. “That’s one of the reasons I had trouble with him. I didn’t like that he was so interested in DNA. He was always so obsessive about taking Sebastian’s blood, even after I explained my worries. But had you trusted him implicitly, I might have acted differently.”

  When he framed her face with his large hands and her eyes met his, her heart nearly exploded with love for him. There was no censure there, only respect and admiration. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t deserve you to feel like that about me, Kane. Not now. I can’t forgive myself for nearly losing Sebastian. If I’d been better with everyone . . .”

  He stopped her with his mouth, that sinful, tempting mouth that she often fantasized about. The moment his lips, so cool and firm, settled over hers, her heart shifted, and her stomach did a long, slow somersault. Her heart stuttered. His body heat warmed her. The steely strength of his arms caging her made her feel safe—as if she had truly found a home. The taste of him drove her wild.

  Her eyes burned and her throat clogged with tears, even as her body went into familiar meltdown. She nearly dropped the blanket as she kissed him back, sliding her arms around his neck, clinging tightly to him. She gave herself to him, to the white-hot heat rushing through her veins in a fever of need, allowing the sensation to drive away guilt and fear and replace it with—him—with Kane.

  She fed on him, on the rising tide of feeling, so she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to relive those terrible moments when she knew she’d failed to protect their child, and Whitney had succeeded in taking him. It took a few moments before her head cleared enough to realize he was swaying a little. Abruptly she pulled away from him to look up at his face. So strong—even powerful. She could see what had always attracted her to him, that intense integrity, the loyalty and honor that was stamped so plainly into that strong man’s face. He was no boy; maybe he’d never been one. He was like her little Sebastian, thrown into a world of violence, scrounging on the streets to survive. Right now, he looked a little gray.

  “Kane. Sit.”

  He gave her a crooked smile that nearly took her heart right from her body. “You’re so cute when you give me orders.”

  She frowned at him. “No one’s ever called me cute before.” She tugged at his hand. “I’m feeling better. A shower will put me right, but you’re exhausted.”

  Of course he was. He hadn’t been able to stand up properly only a week earlier. He couldn’t do a full workout, yet he’d run through the streets, dove into the ocean, and fought the enemy underwater in cold water while the waves pounded him—to save her.

  Rose put one hand on his chest and pushed hard. Kane felt the steady pressure and was surprised, as always, that such a small frame could be so strong. Still, she wouldn’t have rocked him, even though he was exhausted, but she looked so beautiful and so determined he couldn’t stop himself from giving in to her. That look of sheer grit replaced the guilt in her eyes, and he’d take that any day over her feeling guilty over something she had no control over.

  “Stay right there and rest. When I get out of the shower I’ll make tea.”

  His heart tripped, and without thinking his hand snaked out to snag her wrist as she turned away from him. He tugged. The blanket slipped before she could stop it, and she nearly lost her balance. He caught her around the waist with both hands and lifted her onto his lap, facing him, so that she settled over his hips, straddling him. He could feel her heat burning through the material of his jeans, pressed tight right over his eager cock.

  She wiggled, and his entire body seemed to burst into flames. He ran his hands possessively down her back. No matter how many times he held her, she seemed so fragile to him, such a miracle. Her skin, even now, smelling of the sea, was soft over all those exquisitely firm muscles.

  “Let me take a shower, Kane,” she whispered, nuzzling into his neck, her arms creeping around his neck, her body settling into his.

  The blood pounded through his veins, thundered through his heart, and roared in his ears, all in reaction to the realization that there was no resistance in Rose. The moment he touched her, her body fit into his, made for him. She gave herself to him wholly, surrendering everything to him. His heart contracted. He’d never thought to have a woman for his own and certainly not a woman like Rose who wanted him with the same encompassing fever that he had for her.

  “I’m salty and fishy.”

  He laughed. This could have been the worst day of his life, but here he was, his son sleeping peacefully in the other room, his woman naked and compliant in his arms. He bit that sweet spot between her neck and shoulder and felt her shudder in need.

  “I don’t give a damn how you smell, baby,” he assured her. “I just need to get these jeans open. Shift just a little.” He dropped his hands to the buttons, lifting his hips just enough to slip the offensive material down his hips.

  The relief was tremendous. The moment he sprang free, his eager cock encountered her scorching, damp heat. “You’re heaven for me, Rose. My sanctuary.”

  Hands on her waist, he lifted her, positioning her body over him, until just the broad, flared head was pushing inside the heat of her body. The fact that she was already damp, already just as eager for him, was amazing to him. Very slowly he lowered her body over his. Heat gripped him, surrounding him, all that pulsing energy. He drove through the soft, hot folds, sweet fire engulfing him. She threw back her head, arching her back, her throat working convulsively as her breasts pushed against his chest. Her nipples felt like two pinpoints of flames, sending a streak of fire straight to his groin.

  He loved the look on her face as she slowly impaled herself on his cock. There were so many ways he was eager to explore taking her, but he wanted this—that sexy, needy look that no woman could ever fake, her eyes half closed, her lips parted, the rush of air and the flush of color. He especially loved the way her chocolate eyes melted into a glittering glaze.

  His cock embedded deep, all the way to the hilt. He inhaled, feeling the air rush from her lungs into his as he inhaled. He couldn’t close his eyes to savor the sensations pouring over him, not and watch her face too, and he craved the sight of her, so sexy, so feminine, enjoying his body with the same desperate hunger he had for her. He needed the sight of her, alive and well. She had somehow become his world in a very short space of time, the need for her—not just her body but Rose herself—had become paramount to his happiness.

  He mapped her feminine shape with his hands, worshipping her, stroking his fingers over her rib cage, upward to cup her breasts while she rode him with a leisurely rhythm designed to drive him slowly out of his mind. He loved this woman in a way he never thought possible. She’d stolen her way inside him that first time he’d shared her bed. The courage in her had been beyond comprehension to him. He had fallen hard, and he had known then that no other woman would get to him in the same way she did. His re
spect and admiration for her had only grown from that first meeting. He’d handed his heart into her keeping when he hadn’t even fully known what he was doing, and now he was more than happy that he’d done so.

  He let her set the pace. Let her use him to drive away the terror of their near loss. He wanted to drive away every demon, every fear—for her. To put the shine back in her eyes, to give her back her faith in herself. She was killing him with the slow spirals she liked to use, a dance of fire, with her silky cap of hair spilling around her face and those dark eyes showing him how lost in pleasure she was.

  He could watch the emotions chase across her face forever. His hands slid over her body, memorizing every inch until they settled on her hips. He flexed his fingers, enjoying the tight, hot friction gripping him, the buildup of need until it surged through him, until he couldn’t take the slow, lazy pace another second.

  “Hold on, baby,” he whispered softly.

  She reached out and touched his face, looking at him with her almond eyes. “You’re mine,” she whispered.

  That one sultry look, the brush of her fingers against his face, and the possession in her voice was his undoing. “Son of a bitch, Rose, you kill me sometimes,” he bit out between clenched teeth. It was either swear or cry when she turned him inside out like she did.

  He gripped her hips hard and began to thrust into her, driving deeper and deeper, filling her, stretching her, taking her up hard and fast. He felt the silken walls surrounding him clasp and spasm, convulse and contract as powerful waves took her like a tsunami. Her orgasm tore through her, pulsing around his cock with white-hot heat, until he couldn’t hold back and he went over the edge with her.

  She collapsed against him, gasping for air. Kane caught the back of her head in his palm and urged her to bury her face against his neck as they both struggled to regain control of their breathing.