Forever and a Day (9 page)

This development would make the shifter conversation much easier, but there was no reason to have it just yet. Tamara must be on sensory overload after everything she’d been through in just a few short hours. No point in making things any worse, or more difficult, for her. He wondered what she was. Wolves, bears, and mountain cats were most common, but he’d known coyote, bird, and even deer and elk shifters.

Deep in his computer bag, his cell phone jangled. Lars dove for it, but by the time he located it, it had quit ringing. He brought up his call log, but it simply said
private
, just like the last call to his phone. He punched one of the speed dial numbers, the one that would connect him to Garen.

“I just tried to reach you,” Garen said.

“What? No hello, how are you, old friend?”

Garen snorted laughter. “My, you’re sounding chipper, particularly since I just heard there was an attempt on your life, or the girl’s anyway. It came in on my satellite feed.”

“Our uninvited visitor, a woman by the way, was an amateur. The problem went away.”

“A woman, eh?” Garen sounded interested.

“
Ja
. A Russian national from what I could tell, but her English was excellent.”

“Hmph. How’s everything else?”

“Better than good, my friend. Tamara was shot, but she is closeted in the bedroom healing herself.”

“Aha! Not that we have a corner on the magic market, but I was probably right about her being one of us. It makes things much easier. Did you talk with her about working for The Company?”

Lars blew out a breath. “I broached the topic, but she has lived through a great deal in a short time. Things like this, well, they—”

“I’ll have Miranda work on her when the two of you get here. It isn’t as if we’d be sending her out on the front lines anytime soon.”

An almost savage protectiveness surged, surprising Lars with its ferocity. “She has worked as a journalist. Surely we could use a decent PR person.”

Garen laughed so hard, Lars held the phone away from his ear. Irritation tensed his jaw. A straight-shooter, Garen could be incredibly insensitive. When he could talk again, Garen said, “What we do doesn’t generally require public relations. Aren’t we usually flying beneath the radar?”

Lars chuckled, and his annoyance crumbled like over-baked bread. “It is only that I wish her to feel comfortable, safe.”

“This is sounding serious, old friend. Is she that good in the sack?”

“I have not yet found out, but I am working on it.”

“Maybe I should hang up. You can mosey on in there, shift, make a grab for her hot animal form—”

“No. Once we have coupled in both forms, we will be linked forever. You made that mistake with Miranda—before you discussed the ramifications. I wish to be more aboveboard.”

“Aw, come on. I was more sloppy than shady.”

“Whatever. I am fond of the fair
fraulein
. If we do make love, it will first be in our human forms. She does not know what I am, and I did not question her when she went into the bedroom alone.”

“Playing it close to the cuff, eh?”

“Christ, Garen! In less than twenty-four hours, she has killed for the first time, been shot at, taken a bullet through her shoulder, and understands she is running for her life.”

“You’re probably right to ease into things.” The teasing tone had left Garen’s voice. “You always did have excellent instincts. See you soon.”

“
Ja
. Looking forward to it.” Lars disconnected. Though his gaze settled on two nameless teams bouncing a basketball around a court, his mind was elsewhere. All he could see was Tamara, with her sea-blue eyes, shiny black hair, and pert smile. His cock jumped to attention. Lars rearranged himself and let his fingers linger over his engorged shaft. He was imagining how her breasts would feel in his hands when the door to the bedroom creaked open. Lars grabbed an occasional pillow and dragged it into his lap to cover his obvious erection. Embarrassment swamped him, but he tried for a nonchalant expression as Tamara, radiant and breath-stealing, stepped out of the bedroom.

Senses still heightened from spending time in her cat form, Tamara scented Lars’ arousal as soon as she cracked the bedroom door. It arrowed right into her crotch, which flooded with desire. Her face heated and she knew she was blushing furiously. He gazed at her, gray eyes smoky with something she didn’t have a name for, looking like a human version of a big cat on the prowl.

“I heard the phone.” Tamara ignored her suddenly heavy, aching breasts and the second heart beating between her legs.

“It was nothing.” He shifted position on the sofa and she noticed the pillow dead center in his lap. Had she interrupted him masturbating?

Her face got even hotter at the thought of his well-formed fingers stroking his shaft. Somehow she just knew his cock would be as amazing as the rest of him. She wanted to walk to the sofa, wrap her arms around him, and taste his lips again, but he wasn’t exactly asking her to join him.

“Are you well,
fraulein
? Do you need me to find a physician after all?”

“Sure and I am mostly better. I worried the phone call might mean we had to leave, so I hurried things up a bit.” She pressed her thighs together, not remembering if she’d ever been anywhere near this hot before.

“It was just Garen. His intel connections are excellent. He knew about the woman who tried to kill you and wished to assure himself we were all right.”

“If that was all… I-I’ll be bathing.” She tried to take a deep breath; it wasn’t easy. At least in the bathroom, she’d escape the embarrassment of having walked in on him—and she could take care of her own needs. All she could think about was fucking Lars, feeling his hands moving over her body and his cock buried inside her. Before she tossed caution to the winds and threw her overheated body into his arms, she hustled into the bathroom. The second she shut the door, she crammed a hand between her legs and pushed her swollen labia against her fingers. Her other hand settled on a pebbled nipple. A muted yelp escaped and she bit her lower lip to stifle further sounds.

A tap vibrated against the bathroom door. She froze. Had she flipped the lock? Tamara straightened. Another tap. “Yes?” Her voice rang hollowly. She dragged her hands away from her breast and pussy and stood straight.

“Open the door.” Lars’ voice was harsh, raspy with the same need raging in her nether regions.

Tamara snaked a hand out and turned the knob. He surged into the small space, crushed her against him, and slashed his mouth down on hers. She opened herself to him, desperate for the feel of him, the taste of him. His scent eddied about them; she inhaled hungrily, and the musk of his heat stoked her own inner fire. He sank his tongue inside her mouth. She sparred with it, nibbling, licking, sucking, biting. He ran his hands down her back and cupped the curves of her ass, drawing her against him. His cock pressed against her belly; he groaned and thrust against her.

She ground her hips against his pelvis and then moved to capture one of his legs between her thighs. The heat of his body pressing on her clit was almost more than she could stand. She reached between them and undid his belt and the fastenings on his trousers. Frantic to feel him, she pressed a hand inside his pants and curved her fingers around his cock. It was long, hard, thick, and quivering with need.

Her mind was a muddle. Shoes. His shoes would be a problem. She broke away from their kiss and slithered down his body until she knelt before him. Still gripping his shaft in one hand, she licked and kissed her way up and down it. He buried his hands in her hair and showed her the rhythm he needed. She milked him with hands, mouth, teeth, tongue. The hotter he got, the more she wanted to please him. All thoughts of removing his shoes, which was why she’d kneeled in the first place, fled.

He tried to pull away, but she held fast. His cock bucked in her hand. He made an incredible sound, half purr, half growl, low in the back of his throat, just before semen jetted into her mouth. Tamara clung to him, made his pleasure last as long as it could.

He stroked her hair gently, murmuring in German. Even though his cock was still rigid, he pulled it out of her mouth, kneeled beside her, and closed his mouth over hers. He dragged a couple of thick towels off a nearby rack, placed them on the floor and drew her down onto them. Next he tugged her sweater out of the way and settled a hand over one of her breasts. At first he just held its weight in his hand, and then he teased her nipple, twirling his fingers around it until it ached with desire. He trailed kisses down her neck, moved to her exposed breast, licked and suckled it thoroughly before exchanging it for the other one.

 He fumbled with the button and zipper of her jeans. She pushed them down her hips. He moved lower, breath hot when his mouth moved across her stomach. She thrust her hips upward again and again, wanting to come, needing to come, wanting Lars to be the instrument that gave her body release.

He swirled his fingers around her clit and then moved his hand so he could sink two fingers inside her pussy. Heat seared her. His mouth. He licked, sucked, kissed her sensitive nub, while knowing fingers plumbed her vault. Tamara writhed beneath him. A climax spooled deep in her belly. He must have sensed it from the tension in her clit and against his fingers because he moved harder, faster.

She came, squirming and shrieking as spasms shot through her, but he didn’t stop. A second orgasm crowded on the heels of the first, leaving her stunned, breathless.

Somehow, she found herself in his arms and held on like a drowning woman might to a spar. They lay like that for long moments as the world came back into focus. She remembered herself and struggled to sit. He let go and looked at her; something flickered in the backs of his eyes. Was it sadness? Regret?

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Sure and you’re quite the attractive man. Everything has been so intense, I lost control of my judgment.”

“Sex and death are linked,
fraulein
. Never forget that.” His deep voice grated, full of strong emotion. “When one is close, the other is never far away. It is not accidental orgasm is called
la petite mort
. The little death. We never come so close to death as we do during sex.”

“I hadn’t heard that before.” Why wasn’t he saying he liked her, wanted to get to know her better?
Och, and I forgot, he probably has a wife.
She got unsteadily to her feet and tugged her snug pants over her hips. “I’m sorry. I’ll be keeping myself under better control.”

He looked away. “As you wish,
fraulein
.” He stood, gathered his trousers, zipped them, and bowed stiffly. “Thank you for a charming interlude.” He turned and left, pulling the bathroom door shut behind him.

What the hell just happened?
She flipped the taps and started the tub filling. Tamara sat on the toilet and took off her lace-up boots. Next, she stripped off her clothes and got into the tub with a small bar of soap, a washcloth, and a miniature plastic bottle of shampoo. It was fortunate she had something to do that kept her rooted in the bathroom. She wanted to rush into the living room, strip him naked, and crawl all over his body. What they’d shared had been a teaser, an appetizer. She wanted more of him, much more.

“Back off,” she murmured as she soaped, rinsed, shampooed. “If he were free, he’d have said as much.” She snorted. He’d have said
something
. He certainly wouldn’t have come up with that hokey lecture about sex and death. Never mind the philosophical yammering about orgasm. When she replayed their post-sex interaction, her inescapable conclusion was he’d seemed wretchedly uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable. Aye, that’s the key. He wants me just as much as I want him. We caught each other at a weak moment. Now guilt’s pricking him, on account of his wife or girlfriend, and he doesn’t know quite which way to turn.

Tamara levered herself from the water using the sides of the tub, stepped out, and dried off. She wished she’d had the presence of mind to drag her suitcase into the bathroom. Now she’d have to put the same clothes she’d spent the last eight or nine hours wearing back on.

That’s the least of my problems.
She opened the tub’s drain, dressed, and hunted down a hairdryer. Tamara was stalling, but she wasn’t anxious to leave the bathroom and face Lars. What on earth would they say to one another? Should she reassure him she wasn’t a threat to his marriage?

I was going to do that earlier, and I never did.
She placed her hand on the doorknob and sought the same resolve that had strengthened her spine when things got dicey with Jaret. When she had her emotions well enough in hand to keep tears at bay, she took a deep breath. She’d always wanted a man just like Lars, but he was taken. Even if he wasn’t, there was still the problem of her shifter blood. She’d just have to buck up and play the ball where it lay.

•●•

Lars stumbled from the bathroom. He hadn’t meant to accost her, but he’d sensed her arousal when she stepped from the bedroom. His cock was already so hard it ached. Seeing her, knowing she struggled with wanting him, undid him. Once she’d opened the door—at his request—he’d been hit full on by the heady scent of her desire and the game had been up. Nothing shy of a tsunami crashing through the suite could have kept them out of one another’s arms.

Ja, and look what it has bought me? We grappled like animals on the bathroom floor. I did not even have the presence of mind to pick her up, carry her to the bed, make love to her like the princess she is.

Fury swept through him and he pounded his fist into the nearest object. A lamp crashed to the floor. He froze, expecting the bathroom door to burst open, but then he realized she probably couldn’t hear anything over the sound of running water. Blowing out a frustrated breath, he kneeled, picked up the broken pieces, and carried them to the kitchen wastebasket.

Because he felt too hyped up to sit, he ran cold water at the kitchen sink and sluiced it over his face. The sweet taste of her pussy lingered on his tongue. His cock twitched, wanting more—much more.