PLAY OF PASSION

“Dead Psy might be connected to Pure Psy. Looks like they’re collateral damage in a political showdown.”


The Psy were the enemy, but today, she felt pity for those who had no choice but to remain in the PsyNet. “God, imagine having sociopathic bastards like that as your leadership.”

“I’d rather not talk about the Council right now.”

“Oh? What would you like to discuss?” She raised an arm out of the tub and began to run the loofah down it, wanting to torture him in revenge for her keening sexual frustration.

Closing the distance between them, he perched on the edge of the tub, dipping his fingers into the foam, his eyes on her face. “Indigo.”

She looked up, raised an eyebrow.

And held his gaze as he shifted his hold so that one of his hands was on either side of the tub, enclosing her in a prison of steely male muscle. “I,” he said quietly, “am a dominant male. You need to learn to deal with that.”

His tone made her claws prick the insides of her skin, but she kept her own tone neutral. “I’m more than used to dealing with dominant males.”

“Bull. Shit.” Quiet. Intense. “You’ve had lovers, but never one whom you’ve let in enough that you actually had to deal with the implications.”

“What makes you think you’re about to break the pattern?”

Water sloshed over the edge and onto the tile floor as Drew got into the tub, jeans and all, and knelt to straddle her. In spite of her shock, she was ready for him when he cupped her face in his hands and swept his tongue into her mouth. She tasted an earthy masculine sensuality, a hint of beer—smooth and dark—and something that licked at her senses like fire. Drew. His tongue stroked and licked, while his hands kept her in place for his delectation, his teeth biting on her lower lip, teasing her upper one.

Heat uncurled in her abdomen, though she recognized exactly what he was doing. It was another display of possession. Her wolf bared its fangs at the idea, giving her enough strength of will to break the kiss, push at his shoulders with her claws. He refused to move, but he put his hands on the edge of the bath behind her.

She was sucking in a breath to speak when he simply bent his head and kissed her again. All hot and warm and sexy and demanding. Sex, she thought, wasn’t going to solve anything … but then he slid one hand down to squeeze her breast and a surge of blinding passion eclipsed every other thought. Biting down on his lower lip, she tugged up his head with a hand fisted in his hair. “Take off the T-shirt.”

To her surprise, he didn’t argue, reaching down and pulling the half-sodden material over his head. It landed soundlessly on the fluffy bath mat as he threw it over the side. She was stroking her hands up his chest, delighting in the heated silk of his body, when he kissed her again—and this time, there was no buildup. No, he just continued on from where he’d left off, fondling her breast with a proprietary touch that made her want to moan and to bite him at the same time.

His free hand, he stroked down to press against her abdomen.

As she went to reach for his erection, he angled that hand down, spearing his fingers through her curls to—

She screamed into his mouth as he thrust two fingers inside her. “Damn it, Drew,” she gasped, “that is not foreplay.”

He bit at her neck, smoothing his other hand down her ribs, then back up to squeeze and caress her breasts, rubbing his thumb over one tightly furled nipple. “Yes, it is.” Another kiss, another tangling of lips and teeth and tongue. “I can feel you all silky and luscious”—two fast thrusts that threw her shockingly close to orgasm—“and ready, so hot and ready.”

Groaning, she reached down to struggle with his soaked jeans. The stupid button refused to come undone—and he refused to help, intent on driving her to madness—so she flicked out her claws and shredded the denim. Her hand met more sodden fabric, hiding the hot, throbbing ridge of his impressive arousal. “You decide to wear underwear today of all days,” she muttered when he gave her a second to breathe.

Drew, she’d learned, liked to kiss. And she was becoming addicted to his brand of it.

“Touch me, Indy.” A husky request against her mouth.

Oh, God, that voice.

She shivered in pure sensory pleasure. “I’m trying.”

Squeezing and petting him through the fabric, she was gratified to feel his fingers lose their rhythm inside her body.