How Beauty Loved the Beast

chapter Eight



The Underlight had morphed into a zoo during the two days since Jolie had come home with the announcement of Dr. Echelson’s attack. Nothing like a little paranoia to change the atmosphere of a place. Then, of course, some people refused to acknowledge there was a threat.

Hauk wasn’t sure which side was worse, the fear-mongers trying to ban people going topside or the ostriches insisting people getting shot up with a secret formula by their magic-wielding enemy was nothing to worry about.

Thankful to be out for a bit, Hauk adjusted his hoodie and resettled his pack over his shoulder as he stepped into the elevator at Jolie’s condo. His bag contained a change of clothes and all the other sundries he’d need for the night. He was happy to be out of the Underlight, thrilled to be here and nervous as hell.

As he rode up the high-speed elevator, he listened to a silence so profound he could swear he heard his heartbeat. For two days now he’d been good around her—no talk of the future, no repeat of the dreaded L-word—and Jolie had been happy. His feelings were a bit more mixed. Each touch came easier than the last, a little more natural, a little less considered. The way he wanted to be.

Each touch also made him fall a little harder for the woman, a feat he hadn’t known was possible.

The car dinged, and the doors opened into Jolie’s palace in the sky. The woman he desired above all else owned a whole effing floor near the top of the city’s ritziest condo. Everything inside was first-class, from the slim furniture in muted colors to the deco artwork to the pool table with tasseled pockets and real felt. What he remembered most though, from his last and only other visit here, were the glass walls that overlooked Austin from fifty-five stories up, putting her view more than ten stories above the city’s next tallest building.

Last time he’d been here was during the day. Now the city lights glowed below them, blurring the streets and making the goings on below feel distant and small.

It was a startling contrast to the one room he lived in. He loved his home, but given the choice he’d have a hard time relinquishing this space and that view. As long as he was a fugitive though, he’d always live underground. It bothered him that if he and Jolie got serious, the way he’d like, she’d have to leave this to be with him. He’d take the sky away from her.

In some ways it was good she couldn’t love him.

Before the doors finished sliding open, Jolie was there to pull him into her home and into a kiss that wiped his worries away. “Glad you could make it,” she whispered.

“Where else would I be?”

Her smile broke like the sunrise across the Afghan desert, beautiful and dangerous. A kitchen alarm sounded behind her. “Potatoes are ready. Come on.”

The skirt of her purple dress fluttered with every graceful step. White stockings ended in thin heels that might put her over six feet tall.

In her show, her stockings were always attached with garters. He wondered if that’s what was under her skirt right now. And if so, if they were white like her hose or purple like her dress or some other color entirely.

He followed her into the kitchen.

Was she wearing lace? Or something sheer? Another G-string?

She removed potatoes from the oven with a fuzzy green mitt, lit the burners on the stovetop and set a grill pan on to heat. That done, she pivoted to him with a come-hither smile. “I can feel your eyes on me.”

He obeyed the smile and took a step toward her.

She played with her silver necklace, running a knuckle along the base of her throat. “I like that feeling.”

Another step, and he caught her in his arms. “You’re awfully fun to watch.” He couldn’t help himself; he put a hand on her thigh. When she didn’t protest, he smoothed it up her leg, dragging her skirt up a bit at a time.

“Whatcha doing?” she purred.

He grinned. “I want to see if you’re wearing garters.”

She laughed low then surprised him by smacking his hand hard enough to sting. “Naughty boy.”

He let go of her skirt.

She shook a playful finger at him, and he wanted to bite it. “After dinner you can find out whatever you want.” Nose in the air in mock hauteur, she spun back to the stove. “But you have to wait until then.”

The knitting biddies may call them la belle et le bête, but tonight she made him feel like the big bad wolf—absolutely ravenous.

Butter sizzled in the pan, and she put two beef filets in.

“Can I do something to help?” Something to do with his hands other than grab her?

“You can pour us margaritas. I made some.” She motioned her chin toward a full pitcher.

“Some?” He poured two glasses, and it barely made a dent. “Is a platoon arriving, or are you trying to get me drunk?”

She wrinkled her nose with a flirtatious grin. “I wouldn’t put it past me. Getting you drunk, not inviting a platoon. Even I have my adventuresome limits. But you might want to watch yourself. I might try to take advantage of you.”

He curled around her from behind and handed her a glass. “Please do.” And he meant it. Get him drunk, get him so blazingly horny he couldn’t think straight, she could do whatever she wanted to get him out of his head and into bed with her.

Although blazingly horny was at the moment doing just fine all on its own. She relaxed back against him, and he rested his chin against her soft hair. “This,” he said, “is exactly what I needed today.”

“Me too.” She reached back and squeezed his hip. “Hey, I have a present for you. Or a choice or something.” She walked away from the stove and tugged him with her. Out of a drawer she pulled two things and then sat up on the counter and demurely crossed her ankles. “You don’t need to decide right now, or even tonight unless you want to, but I figured we’d go ahead and deal with it before it’s critical.” She held up her hands. In one was an unopened box of condoms, in the other a printout.

Confused, he took the printout and read it over. “A blood test?”

“I’m on the shots for birth control, so that shouldn’t be a problem, and I just had that done.” She tapped the paper, dated from a couple days ago. “I always use condoms. Always. Like, I think there were a couple of times in college when an ex and I were drunk, but that’s it. I should be clean.” She unhooked her ankles to catch a heel around his right thigh, the one that wasn’t metal. “If you’re interested in going without.”

His body tightened. Making love to Jolie without that barrier seemed like the way it should be between them. He was surprised she made it an option, though. Like her, he’d been scrupulous about protection back when it had been an issue for him. Then again, she knew he hadn’t come vaguely close to sex in five years, so there was no reason for her to worry. Still, he had to ask, “Not that I’m complaining, but why break your rule with me?”

“First off, I trust you to tell me if there’s something I should know.” She paused expectantly.

“Yeah. I’m clean,” he assured her. “Second off?”

Her eyes peered up at him from under those long auburn lashes in a rare shy expression. “I kinda like the idea of there being nothing between us.”

He tossed the box of condoms out of the kitchen and kissed her. She threw her arms around his neck, the untouchable vixen gone for the moment. He scooped her up off the counter and held her, her shy declaration meaning more to him than he could say.

After a moment she pulled back. “We should probably check on the steaks.”

She liked hers very rare. He wanted her to have things just the way she wanted. He could kiss her forever, but grilling meat waited for no man. He carried her back to the stove. She laughed as he shifted her onto his hip so he could turn the thick steaks with her silver tongs.

Soft kisses pressed against his neck and jaw.

“You keep that up, and I’m not going to make it to dinner. I’m just warning you,” he told her.

After one more kiss she slid down his body in a most unhelpful move. “Salad’s in the fridge. I’ll go get it.”

A quick sashay, and she opened the door. The light hit her smiling face.

He wanted every day of his life to be just like this. She bent over to get the salad bowl.

Exactly like this.

* * *

Hauk’s pretty blue eyes glinted merrily across the table from Jolie. She warmed at the sight and at the free sound of his laughter. Tonight was perfect.

He downed the last swallow of his drink, and she tossed her napkin on the table. Dinner was over; they had waited long enough. Time to begin operation drive Hauk crazy with lust until he wasn’t self-conscious anymore.

Sounded like a solid and awfully fun plan to her.

“More margarita?” Before he could answer she reached for the pitcher.

“Sure.”

She stalked around the table to him. The poor man made a desperate and mostly successful effort to keep his eyes on her face. “You’re cute.” She picked up his glass then returned it with another generous serving.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Um, how?”

“Trying to keep your eyes on my face.” She swiveled his chair away from the table and toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. With her phone she turned up the stereo. “Makes me wonder what I’d have to do...” she closed her eyes, letting the music soak through her for a moment, “...to make the rest of me irresistible.”

If music was oxygen, then dancing was how Jolie breathed. Without conscious effort, her body slid into the rhythm of the sultry bass. It was painful not to move when a beat pulsed. She danced with a burlesque troupe because she could. Because it was fun and freeing and she liked showing off. And maybe just a little because of how badly it would horrify her mother. Each piece of clothing she stripped off her body was getting away with the crime of leaving her old life behind.

She danced entirely for herself. Not for the audience and definitely not for men, or at least she never had before. But Hauk focused on her with undisguised awe, and she wanted to dance for him, to move to the rhythm of his breath, to read her next step from the desire in his eyes.

She swayed in closer, and his attention didn’t stay on her face. He assessed her greedily. Turning, she gave him a good view of the whole package, bent forward and snapped back up. He groaned. His hands curled around her hips, tugging her closer.

Then they released. “Sorry.”

Smiling over her shoulder, she saw his hands squeeze into fists. “It’s all right, baby, there are no rules here. It’s look and please touch.”

The pressure on her hips returned immediately, lighter this time. The sweet contrast between his eagerness and reticence turned her on more than she’d imagined. She wanted to break down that hesitance. Make him wild for her.

She undulated as his hands brushed down her thighs then propped a spiked heel up on his lap. “Take this off for me?”

His fingers trembled as he slipped off her shoe and dropped it behind the chair. She sat sideways in his lap and kicked her other shoe away. His arms cradled around her.

“Still want to check if I’m wearing garters?”

Starting at her ankle, he skimmed his hand up her leg. Each inch higher, the pressure increased. His breath shallowed, sending shivers up her back. As he leaned in, his smell of smoke and lemon and leather knotted her insides. His mouth caught hers hungrily, his tongue still cold and tasting of lime from the drinks they’d shared.

Her garter snapped against her thigh. “I want to see these. Take your dress off for me.” His voice was thick and dark like melting chocolate. Her plan was working.

“Bossy, bossy.” She rubbed noses with him.

“Please?”

She twirled off his lap. “I thought we’d try it burlesque style.” The dress was a wrap she wore for this very purpose. One tie, and it was loose. She peeled the fabric away from her chest. His eyes darkened as he leaned toward her. She turned her back to him.

“Aw, baby.”

She let the dress drop off one shoulder and glanced over to see his expression. She might name that one “barely contained tiger.” She slid the dress back up.

“Please.” The teasing please from earlier was a full-fledged beg.

She dropped both shoulders off.

“Yeah, that’s what I want. I want to see you.” The ache in his voice was exactly what she wanted to hear.

With deliberate slowness, she lowered the dress down her back.

He groaned. The heat emanating from him practically steamed the air. “I want you naked.”

She released the dress to pool on the floor and pivoted back to him. “I’m going to remind you later that you said that.” Later, when she tried to get his clothes off. “So you want the stockings off?”

“Off.”

“Unclip the garters,” she ordered as she bent over again and ran her fingers up her thigh.

“Yes, ma’am.” His fingers shook as he made quick work of them. Hands gripping her thigh, he seared her with his gaze. She held it, dropping all pretenses to let him see her own desire. His breath rattled out of him.

Propping a foot back up on his leg, she eased the first stocking down. He watched each inch of her leg as it was exposed then stroked his hands up her naked skin. While he was thus distracted, she undid the first button of his shirt. He had an undershirt beneath, but it was a start.

His hands stilled. She moved to the second button. He let her undo it and move down to the third. She dropped to her knees between his legs and tugged his shirt tails out. “I’m going to make you scream my name,” she promised.

His hands gripped her shoulders as she kept going with the buttons. Each little crack in his cloth armor felt like a breakthrough.

“I’m going to make you so damn happy, Hauk.”

She finished the last button, and his shirt front fell open.

“You already make me happy,” he said. His voice was so sincere it tugged at something deep inside her.

Her breath caught. She pulled them both to standing, made quick work of her last stocking and threw it around his neck. With her nylon rope, she pulled him to the window.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“I know you like the view.” It was a staggering drop down fifty-five floors, and the one time Hauk had been over, he’d loved leaning on the floor-to-ceiling glass to take in the vertigo-inducing drop.

He’d love it even more now.

She dropped the stocking, slid her arms around his neck and let him press her against the window. Her heart beat wildly at the clear glass separating her from a fall, and instinctively she clung to him tighter. He kissed her ravenously. She pressed closer, reveling in the hardness of his body, from his broad shoulders to the erection straining against her.

Time to do something about that. She slid down him, keeping eye contact as her nails scratched down his chest. When she hit her knees, his eyes darkened. As she unhooked his belt, a tremble ran through him. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he shut it purposefully.

Still censoring himself? She’d fix that. She kissed him through the hem of his shirt as she undid the button and then the zipper of his pants. Staring brazenly up at him, she hooked her thumbs in his fly, just millimeters from his eager cock. “You’re gonna need to push these down for me. I’d say I’m happy right where I am, as you once told me, but honestly I’d be a lot happier with your dick in my mouth.”

He shoved his pants over his hips so fast they might’ve been on fire. But at the last moment, he caught a belt loop on the left side, keeping them from falling.

She narrowed her eyes at his crooked finger. Oh, she’d make him forget to hold on, all right.

* * *

Jolie kissed the head of his cock, and it was all Hauk could do to stay standing. She took him in her mouth, and it was all he could do to stay breathing. The cinnamon and vanilla of her perfume surrounded him, and the sight of her on her knees was more heart-stopping than a free-fall into the Austin skyline beside them.

She was the most exquisite sensory overload in every way.

He hooked his finger tighter into the belt loop to keep from accidentally letting go. His metal leg had moving parts, and he was terrified he’d shift his weight and catch her hair. She’d scorched her hair for him two weeks ago and had been so sad; he’d be damned if he let his mechanical leg yank more out in the middle of this.

Her fingers caressed him. He moaned. This was not going to take long. He’d return the favor then lay her down on the wood floor and make love to her.

But for now, her tongue was mind-blowing perfection as she touched him intimately. Everything melted into the background but the feel of the woman he loved pleasuring his body. With his free hand he touched her face. His fingers shook as he curled them into her hair and tried not to press her into him.

She hummed happily at his touch, and the burlesque temptress gave way to the joyful woman he’d fallen hard for. He could feel his orgasm building and didn’t fight it. He’d been so long without. His fingers squeezed her as he gasped out, “Jolie, I’m going to come.”

She growled and took him deeper, but he hadn’t expected her to turn away. The pleasure built until his body couldn’t contain it.

Don’t say I love you. Don’t say I love you.

The world shattered into bliss.

His knees buckled. Don’t fall on her. He reached for the glass. Don’t drop your pants. He grabbed the belt loop back.

Don’t say I love you.

He gasped for breath as his body shook from the release. The world’s most perfect woman sat back on her heels looking up at him expectantly.

His mind reeled for something to say, something other than the “Gods, Jolie, I love you so f*cking much,” that ran through his brain like a chant. Something not inane like “wow,” or a*shole-ish like “great job.”

He had nothing. He jerked his pants up and fastened them so he could put both his hands back on her. Tell her with a touch. Was that a pout on her amazing mouth? He’d fix the pout. He hauled her up to standing and crushed her against the wall in a kiss.

* * *

The best blow job she’d ever given and not only did he hang on to his pants, but he shoved them back on immediately after. And he didn’t say he loved her again. Not that she deserved that last one, though she was again disappointed by its absence.

He’d said it last time she’d gotten him off. What did a girl have to do to make the man let go?

And then he was kissing her again, and it was hard to care about anything else because she was turned on as hell and Hauk was the best kisser on the planet.

He lifted her up until she was his height, and she wrapped her legs around him, squeezing his torso. Too much clothing. He was still wearing too much.

His mouth pulled away from hers so he could glance around the room.

“What?” she asked.

Mischievous eyes met hers again. “I was going to take you to the couch, but...” His powerful arms lifted her higher. She released her legs to let him do whatever he was doing. “Can you reach that?”

She looked behind her to the crossbar above her head holding the window in place. Reaching back, she grabbed on.

“Perfect.” A moment later he had her thighs over his shoulders and his hands under her ass. His warm breath teased her right where she wanted his mouth.

“Oh. Oh, yes.” She leaned back in anticipation. A deep laugh, and his tongue caressed her. “Oh, God, yes.”

She’d had wicked dreams about Wesley Haukon and his tongue for the past two and a half months. The real thing was so much better. He devoured her, wringing moans from deep inside her as his tongue plunged and teased.

Her hands slipped across the cold glass as her back arched over nothing. But his hands held her safely; the rhythm of his mouth kept her anchored. The city spread out beneath her with its manic glow, enticing her with the vertigo-inducing drop.

It wasn’t enough. She leaned up so she could see Hauk instead.

Too often she’d pushed for the sensation, the bigger thrill, the higher fall. But with Wesley Haukon, the man was the thrill. She didn’t need any adrenaline but his presence to feel like flying. And God, with his mouth driving her higher with each perfect thrust of his tongue...

His eyes caught her stare, held it as his thumb pressed inside her. His tongue flicked across her *. The spark that shot through her nearly jolted her from his hands, but he held her steady as the pressure increased, his tongue insistent and sure.

Her senses narrowed down to the feel of Hauk and the physical joy of what he could do. The feeling inside her tensed then burst into rapture, exploding like fireworks into the skyline.

* * *

Jolie went limp in his arms, and he lowered her to her feet, still carrying her precious weight for fear she’d drop. The taste of her was like morphine after five years of agony, and he had to have more. “Want you.”

“Yes. Yes.”

Exactly what he needed to hear. He’d never yearned for anyone or anything so much. He turned her to the windows. Her skin was smooth and hot as he clung to her, losing his senses to the rapture she inspired.

She stroked a hand down his face, humming in that happy way she had.

He buried his face in the raw silk of her hair, unable to get close enough to her. Her scent enveloped him. He reached between them to free himself from his leathers.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice sex-drugged. “Hauk...”

She pushed back against him, fitting her body tighter into his. The firm roundness of her bare ass against his erection nearly undid him. Gripping her hips, he ground his temple against her scalp and gasped in air. He had to get himself under control enough to be gentle. Not to slam into her like an animal.

“Hauk. What are you doing?”

“Need you,” he grunted in answer. She was his. At least for a while. Gods, he needed this. Needed her.

“Hauk, wait.” Her elbows knocked back into him, not painful but insistent. “Stop.”

Stop? The word barely registered through the fog of longing. Why? He squeezed his eyes shut.

She’d said they could do this. She’d said she wanted to. Gods, don’t stop him now.

She twisted against him. Jolie had changed her mind. Didn’t matter why.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him to complete this, to make them one. But he forced himself to freeze. Her waist was firm in his grasp. He held on like an anchor, trying to find himself again in the swirling current of desire and pain.

“What are you doing? Turn me around.”

Grabbing for the shredded ends of his restraint, he pushed away.

As he stumbled toward the couch, he did his pants back up with clumsy fingers. His insides were numb. Numb and out of control at the exact same time. He’d done something horribly wrong—he must have or she wouldn’t reject him, right?—but he didn’t understand. Growling, he jabbed an accusing finger at her. “You said it was okay. You said you wanted me.”

“It is. I do.” She took a step toward him.

So confused. He threw a hand up to ward her off. “Don’t come near me.” Thankfully she stopped, because he was afraid he was losing his shit. “You said we didn’t need a condom. With the paper and the—the box of condoms. You said it was my choice.”

Her eyes flashed angrily. “I said we didn’t have to use a condom because I wanted there to be nothing between us. You still have all your clothes on!”

He glanced down at his outfit, barely aware of it.

She gesticulated wildly. “I want you to look me in the eye. I want you naked. Both of us naked. We can do that right now. Or later tonight. Or whenever you want. But not like...like that.” She pointed at the window. “Not the first time.”

She pursued him again. He hopped up and moved to put the couch between them.

F*ck him, she was right. His stomach dropped, heavy with the weight of his mistake. What was he doing? Treating her like a back-alley whore, that’s what he was doing. He squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to hold back the pressure crashing in from every direction.

He opened his eyes. She was in front of him again. He still wanted to grab her, throw her on the couch and rut her like an animal, and she was so much better than that.

He had to get out of here.

He headed for the elevator.

“What are you doing?” she called after him.

“You’re right.” Steady voice. Don’t let her see that you’ve lost your f*cking mind.

“Okay. I’m right. So why are you calling for the elevator?”

He glared back at her over his shoulder. Stupid f*cking elevator was fast, but it could still take a minute to get to him. Too damn long. He had to get out.