Spider Game
Page 12
“Maybe,” he agreed. “Maybe it is a bad idea. But let’s do it anyway.”
Cayenne pressed her lips together, but she allowed him to hold out a chair for her, hesitating only a moment before she slipped into it, mostly, he was sure, because he made certain her back was to the wall. He toed his chair closer to hers on the pretense of not wanting to be overheard. He knew he could keep their conversation private, but he wanted his thigh pressed tight against hers.
He needed to touch her. That need was on a primal level and impossible to ignore whether it bothered him or not – and it bothered him. He never allowed himself to need anything or anyone. Up close, her fragrance teased his senses, inflamed them until every nerve ending in his body came alive.
She picked up her beer and took a small sip. Not enjoying it. She didn’t like the taste. Her expression didn’t change, but he knew. He saw her. Or maybe he was locked somewhere inside her mind, because when they spoke telepathically, a part of him had remained in her. More than likely, when he’d rescued her from her locked cell, he’d been nearly as vulnerable as she was. Going through walls, changing molecular structure left him weak and shaky. He’d already done it several times, rescuing Wyatt’s little girls before he’d gotten to Cayenne.
He removed the beer from her hand. “What would you prefer to drink?”
Her eyelashes fluttered. “Trap,” she protested, glancing around the room at the others drinking the brew. She reached for the beer.
He held the bottle out of reach, an easy feat since he had long arms. “What do you prefer to drink?”
She pressed her lips together and gave in. “Water.”
“The entire point of freedom is to do whatever the hell you want. You don’t like beer, Cayenne, then you don’t drink it.”
“I’m fitting in,” she hissed.
She didn’t sound nearly as annoyed as she wanted. He was looking into her eyes and there was just the smallest hint of fear, as if he could take her hard-won confidence and destroy it. And she did appear confident, breezing into the room and flirting outrageously, aware the men were leering at her. Because her poise was an act. The knowledge clicked into place.
“When did they start caging you?” he asked gently, needing to know more. He was fumbling around in the dark when it came to him. If he was going to convince her she belonged to him and needed to trust him, he had to know as much about her as possible. “You’ve had combat training. You’re fast and smart. You know what you’re doing. When did they decide you were too flawed to live?” He couldn’t keep the edge from his voice or the opaque shimmer from the air.
Long dark lashes drifted down, veiling the expression in her eyes for a brief moment. Hiding from him. Sexy, but still hiding from him. She swallowed, and he watched the motion at her throat. Even that was sexy. His cock jerked hard, straining against his jeans. He nearly dropped his hand into his lap to try to give himself a little relief. Up so close and after kissing her, with the taste of her still in his mouth and her elusive scent in his lungs, blood pounded through his veins, rushing to collect in his groin.
He had a powerful sex drive and was not in the least modest, but he had to go slow with Cayenne. Careful. She was skittish. He had no idea what she did or didn’t know. She appeared confident. She was beautiful and sexy, but up close, he got the feeling that she wasn’t nearly as experienced or self-assured as she portrayed.
Her tongue touched her lips, drawing attention to that perfect bow. She had red lips naturally, no makeup at all. With every breath she drew, her breasts rose and fell. He remained silent, willing her to tell him. He didn’t push, giving her the time needed to make up her mind. Her gaze searched his for a long moment while he heard the clock tick and his heart beat. He was an observant man. The minutest detail didn’t escape him, and he noted the fingers twisting in her lap beneath the table where she thought he couldn’t see. There was a slight trembling to her lips and shadows in the green of her eyes. She didn’t know it, but when she was afraid, her eyes changed. The brilliant green became multifaceted. Just like now.
Cayenne took a deep breath and pushed back the dark mass of hair spilling around her face. Instantly Trap reached over and tucked strands behind her ear. His touch was light, but she felt it all the way to her toes. He was so large. A giant of a man and far too gorgeous to resist.
She loved everything about him. His rugged face, all man, the darker shadow along his jaw, blond like that thick mess of longish hair. His eyes, so blue they took her breath. The confidence. The aura of danger surrounding him as if he could explode into violence in a heartbeat. Yet under all that, he had something much deeper she couldn’t resist. That man who had done her that first kindness.
She had been so terrified, and she hadn’t been nice. At all. That hadn’t mattered to him. She’d threatened to kill him and still, he’d given her freedom. When she was close to him like this she felt vulnerable and exposed. Raw. If she gave him what he wanted, she would be completely stripped bare.
He remained silent, and she knew she would give him exactly what he wanted. That compulsion was there. So strong. There was no resisting no matter how terrified she was. She took a breath, again dropped her hands into her lap where he couldn’t see them and closed her fists until her knuckles were white.
“I was a test-tube baby. I think they were terrified of me almost from the moment I was born. I’ve never really been out of a cell. Most of my schooling was done with me in a cell and teachers outside a thick sheet of glass. Or computer screens, simulators and books. When they did remove me from my cell, they darted me first to transport me. My combat experience was usually in the form of fighting for my life.”
She did her best to sound matter-of-fact, not at all like telling him about how much her life hurt. It did hurt, and that was unexpected. She hated telling him the truth because she didn’t want him looking at her as if she was less than human. He never had, yet knowing her handlers were terrified of her had to make him think exactly what she did – if they were monsters, what was she? She might be beautiful on the outside, and she was very practical about her looks, she could see that she had an impact on people, even when she was in her cell, but inside she was murderous, and she didn’t trust herself.
When she was frightened – and Trap scared the crap out of her – she was at her most lethal. She shouldn’t be anywhere near him, but she couldn’t stop herself. He knew it. She saw the knowledge in his eyes. and that scared her even more. He had power over her. She didn’t like that at all. Still, even knowing it, she had gone to the Fontenot home and stayed in his bedroom while he slept. She moved through the building he’d renovated and familiarized herself with it, knowing she was going to stay in the same place because she had to be close to him.
Cayenne pressed her lips together, but she allowed him to hold out a chair for her, hesitating only a moment before she slipped into it, mostly, he was sure, because he made certain her back was to the wall. He toed his chair closer to hers on the pretense of not wanting to be overheard. He knew he could keep their conversation private, but he wanted his thigh pressed tight against hers.
He needed to touch her. That need was on a primal level and impossible to ignore whether it bothered him or not – and it bothered him. He never allowed himself to need anything or anyone. Up close, her fragrance teased his senses, inflamed them until every nerve ending in his body came alive.
She picked up her beer and took a small sip. Not enjoying it. She didn’t like the taste. Her expression didn’t change, but he knew. He saw her. Or maybe he was locked somewhere inside her mind, because when they spoke telepathically, a part of him had remained in her. More than likely, when he’d rescued her from her locked cell, he’d been nearly as vulnerable as she was. Going through walls, changing molecular structure left him weak and shaky. He’d already done it several times, rescuing Wyatt’s little girls before he’d gotten to Cayenne.
He removed the beer from her hand. “What would you prefer to drink?”
Her eyelashes fluttered. “Trap,” she protested, glancing around the room at the others drinking the brew. She reached for the beer.
He held the bottle out of reach, an easy feat since he had long arms. “What do you prefer to drink?”
She pressed her lips together and gave in. “Water.”
“The entire point of freedom is to do whatever the hell you want. You don’t like beer, Cayenne, then you don’t drink it.”
“I’m fitting in,” she hissed.
She didn’t sound nearly as annoyed as she wanted. He was looking into her eyes and there was just the smallest hint of fear, as if he could take her hard-won confidence and destroy it. And she did appear confident, breezing into the room and flirting outrageously, aware the men were leering at her. Because her poise was an act. The knowledge clicked into place.
“When did they start caging you?” he asked gently, needing to know more. He was fumbling around in the dark when it came to him. If he was going to convince her she belonged to him and needed to trust him, he had to know as much about her as possible. “You’ve had combat training. You’re fast and smart. You know what you’re doing. When did they decide you were too flawed to live?” He couldn’t keep the edge from his voice or the opaque shimmer from the air.
Long dark lashes drifted down, veiling the expression in her eyes for a brief moment. Hiding from him. Sexy, but still hiding from him. She swallowed, and he watched the motion at her throat. Even that was sexy. His cock jerked hard, straining against his jeans. He nearly dropped his hand into his lap to try to give himself a little relief. Up so close and after kissing her, with the taste of her still in his mouth and her elusive scent in his lungs, blood pounded through his veins, rushing to collect in his groin.
He had a powerful sex drive and was not in the least modest, but he had to go slow with Cayenne. Careful. She was skittish. He had no idea what she did or didn’t know. She appeared confident. She was beautiful and sexy, but up close, he got the feeling that she wasn’t nearly as experienced or self-assured as she portrayed.
Her tongue touched her lips, drawing attention to that perfect bow. She had red lips naturally, no makeup at all. With every breath she drew, her breasts rose and fell. He remained silent, willing her to tell him. He didn’t push, giving her the time needed to make up her mind. Her gaze searched his for a long moment while he heard the clock tick and his heart beat. He was an observant man. The minutest detail didn’t escape him, and he noted the fingers twisting in her lap beneath the table where she thought he couldn’t see. There was a slight trembling to her lips and shadows in the green of her eyes. She didn’t know it, but when she was afraid, her eyes changed. The brilliant green became multifaceted. Just like now.
Cayenne took a deep breath and pushed back the dark mass of hair spilling around her face. Instantly Trap reached over and tucked strands behind her ear. His touch was light, but she felt it all the way to her toes. He was so large. A giant of a man and far too gorgeous to resist.
She loved everything about him. His rugged face, all man, the darker shadow along his jaw, blond like that thick mess of longish hair. His eyes, so blue they took her breath. The confidence. The aura of danger surrounding him as if he could explode into violence in a heartbeat. Yet under all that, he had something much deeper she couldn’t resist. That man who had done her that first kindness.
She had been so terrified, and she hadn’t been nice. At all. That hadn’t mattered to him. She’d threatened to kill him and still, he’d given her freedom. When she was close to him like this she felt vulnerable and exposed. Raw. If she gave him what he wanted, she would be completely stripped bare.
He remained silent, and she knew she would give him exactly what he wanted. That compulsion was there. So strong. There was no resisting no matter how terrified she was. She took a breath, again dropped her hands into her lap where he couldn’t see them and closed her fists until her knuckles were white.
“I was a test-tube baby. I think they were terrified of me almost from the moment I was born. I’ve never really been out of a cell. Most of my schooling was done with me in a cell and teachers outside a thick sheet of glass. Or computer screens, simulators and books. When they did remove me from my cell, they darted me first to transport me. My combat experience was usually in the form of fighting for my life.”
She did her best to sound matter-of-fact, not at all like telling him about how much her life hurt. It did hurt, and that was unexpected. She hated telling him the truth because she didn’t want him looking at her as if she was less than human. He never had, yet knowing her handlers were terrified of her had to make him think exactly what she did – if they were monsters, what was she? She might be beautiful on the outside, and she was very practical about her looks, she could see that she had an impact on people, even when she was in her cell, but inside she was murderous, and she didn’t trust herself.
When she was frightened – and Trap scared the crap out of her – she was at her most lethal. She shouldn’t be anywhere near him, but she couldn’t stop herself. He knew it. She saw the knowledge in his eyes. and that scared her even more. He had power over her. She didn’t like that at all. Still, even knowing it, she had gone to the Fontenot home and stayed in his bedroom while he slept. She moved through the building he’d renovated and familiarized herself with it, knowing she was going to stay in the same place because she had to be close to him.
