Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

speech. Her own rule, the one she should have been remembering, and

the one she forgot every time Wes was within a mile of her. “You don’t

need to say anything. I agree with you.”

Wes’s eyebrows shot up. The corner of her mouth lifted. “Do you?

I didn’t realize you were psychic as well as superhuman.”

“Another big bad federal agent skill,” Evyn said as nonchalantly

as she could manage. “Always a bad idea to complicate a working

relationship. No need to go there.”

“You’re right, we do agree.” Wes’s tone was soft and serious, but

her eyes were partly amused. “Although I was going to say that what

happened out there this afternoon was an accident. No one could have

predicted it. No matter who set up the exercise, no one was at fault for

that cable snapping and me going overboard.”

A hot surge of embarrassment flooded Evyn’s belly. Hell, she

couldn’t have been more wrong about what Wes had intended to say,

and now she’d tipped her hand and probably made a fool of herself. “I

won’t argue. Obviously I can’t win.”

“It’s not about winning.” Wes stroked the backs of her fingers over

Evyn’s cheek, just beneath the bruise. “How about just believing it?”

Wes’s mouth was so close, all Evyn could do was watch her lips

move and struggle to make sense of what she was saying. Her mind

heard the words but her body translated them into something else.

Want, desire, an unfamiliar need. “Wes. I’m a little off balance here.”

“I know.” Wes’s voice was barely above a whisper. “So am I.”

Evyn went completely still.

“You saved my life today and I’m grateful. I know you were doing

your job, and I would’ve done the same.” Wes watched the muscles

along Evyn’s jaw tighten. Evyn didn’t like being thanked for doing what

came naturally—and for what she saw as her responsibility. Wes got

that—she felt the same. But she was grateful—not for being saved from

drowning, but for a warm sure hand in the cold dark night, anchoring

her when she’d thought she might lose her way. For the silent assurance

that she would conquer her demons and come out the other side of the

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tunnel whole. Evyn had faith in her—and had offered her a shoulder

when she’d needed to lean without once making her feel weak. She

was much more than grateful—she was soothed in a place she’d never

known she was hurt. “And just so you know, this isn’t about that.”

“What?” Evyn’s eyes were huge blue lakes filled with questions.

Wes had only one answer. She leaned forward and kissed her.

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chapter twenty-One

Evyn didn’t know what to do with her hands. Wes had just

kissed her, and now Wes was inches away, covered in nothing

but a towel. She could easily pluck the cotton aside and pull Wes’s hot

naked body in tight against her. With a little subtle dip and turn, she’d

have Wes against the door and she’d be back in control again. She’d

made that move a time or two—Seduction 101.

She didn’t do anything, not even breathe. She just stood there

with their lips softly touching, her head whirling, her heart threatening

to explode inside her rib cage. Whatever this was, she didn’t want to

change a thing. She’d been kissed before, but this wasn’t like any kiss

she’d ever experienced. She knew about kisses—she was usually the

one doing the kissing. Sometimes kisses were an exploration, feelers

sent out to judge the wind direction, the water temperature, the chances

for more than just a kiss. Sometimes they were a warm-up for the real

contest—a stretch of muscles, a quick glance around the field, a mental

review of the game plan. A kiss was never just a kiss but always a

step toward something more. A brief stop on the way to the ultimate

goal. Everything in her life was a goal to be achieved, a game to be

won—even sex. Always, she needed to be the best. She took the lead

whenever she could; she was a front-runner. The fastest way to come

out on top was to always be on top—metaphorically or otherwise.

Tonight, she was totally without game. She couldn’t see the

playing field through a fog of desire more heady than any she’d ever

experienced. She’d given up the lead without even knowing she had

entered the race. Wes was in total control, something she’d never

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allowed since she was old enough to get around on her own two feet. In

her home, in her world, competition was king. Everything from dinner-

table conversation to backyard catch was a challenge. She’d been team

captain on just about every sport she’d ever played, was at the top of

every class, and only took orders on the job because she knew it was the

quickest way to achieve a position to give the orders herself. Whatever

game she played, she played to win. And here she was, following,

without a plan, with no freaking idea what she was doing.

Wes’s mouth moved away and she wanted to whimper. Hell, she

did whimper.

“Now would be a good time to breathe,” Wes murmured, her lips

skimming Evyn’s as she spoke.

“I don’t think I need to,” Evyn whispered. “I think your kiss might

be all that’s required.”

Wes laughed and kissed her again. A little bit firmer this time.

More certain. Wes’s confidence grew and Evyn lost her grip. Still

their bodies remained separated. The few inches of air between them

vibrated through Evyn’s clothes and into the heart of her. Wes’s lips

were smooth and hot, lush and full. Evyn eased the tip of her tongue

forward, seeking just a tiny taste. When she did, Wes moaned deep in

her throat and Evyn’s muscles turned to jelly. She sagged against the

wall, a groan unlike any she’d ever made escaping her throat. Then

Wes’s hands were on her shoulders, pinning her in place.

“Is this all right?” Wes asked, her mouth on Evyn’s throat.

“Oh yeah,” Evyn said. “Really, really all right.” She grasped

Wes’s waist, holding her lightly, careful not to disrupt the cotton-towel

barrier between them. Wes would take it off if she wanted, and if she

didn’t… I’ll probably die . Beneath her fingers, Wes’s body was firm and

strong, like her. Evyn ached to touch more. “But what exactly is this

we’re doing?”

“Had to do it,” Wes muttered, kissing her way down Evyn’s throat.

She’d reached for Evyn thinking she knew what she would find—

strength and understanding. She’d been right, but there was so much

more. So much more than she’d ever dreamed. Evyn tasted like winter—

sharp and tangy—and underneath the wild rush, a sweetness like the

promise of spring. Evyn’s pulse raced beneath Wes’s mouth, vibrating

with power, drawing her deeper into the mystery that was Evyn. She’d

never in her life taken a step she hadn’t planned, and rarely, even in the

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midst of an emergency, made a decision when she hadn’t anticipated

the outcome. Now she was flying blind. Evyn felt too good, sounded

too beautiful to turn from while she analyzed, deduced, outlined, and

planned. “Don’t know what’s happening, but I can’t stop.”

Evyn tilted her head back against the wall, giving herself to Wes’s

mouth. “Then don’t. Please, don’t.”

“There’s something you should know,” Wes murmured, pushing

the jacket down Evyn’s arms. She got distracted by the warm, soft skin

at the base of Evyn’s throat and left the jacket tethering Evyn’s wrists

behind her. “I love the way you taste.”

“Your mouth is so hot.” Evyn rolled her head restlessly from side

to side. “You make me burn.”

Wes pulled at the jacket, got it off somehow, and pushed Evyn’s

T-shirt up her torso—searching for flesh. She slid her palm over Evyn’s

belly and gasped at the quick contraction of muscles beneath her

fingers. She loved feeling Evyn’s body respond to her touch. She traced

the edge of Evyn’s abdominals with her fingertips, over and over. Evyn

bowed under her hand. So beautiful. “You might have to help me out.”

“Doing fine so far,” Evyn said thickly.

“I’m getting into unknown territory here.” Wes lowered to her

knees and kissed the strip of skin above Evyn’s jeans. Hot, silky skin.

She sucked lightly and eased both hands higher, grazing the undersides

of Evyn’s breasts. She’d touched thousands of bodies, but never like

this. Never like this.

“God, Wes,” Evyn gasped. “You make me feel so good.”

“I want to touch you everywhere.”

“Yes, yes.”

Wes looked up. Evyn was watching her, her lids hooded, her eyes

hazy. Her lips were slightly parted, a little swollen. Her breasts rose and

fell rapidly. She had done this to her—she had stirred Evyn’s body with

her touch. A wave of awe and power rushed through her and her head

went light. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

Evyn smiled crookedly. “Neither have I.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Evyn’s hands came into her hair. “Just keep doing it.”

Wes rose and pulled the towel from her body. She dropped it on

the floor and pressed full-length against Evyn. She kissed her again,

deeper, seeking the heat she knew would warm her beyond the icy

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reach of the water and the terror of the dark and the years of solitude.

She pulled back. “You make me warm.”

Evyn laughed. “I want to make you hot.”

“That too.”

“I’d have a better chance if we were in bed.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

The blood rushed from Evyn’s head and her stomach tightened.

“Okay. Well. That’s really scary, because you’re really, really good.

If it’s all right with you, I’d like you to just keep doing exactly what

you’re doing.”

“So would I.”

Evyn took Wes’s hand and tugged her toward the bed. “I want to

touch you all over too. With my hands. With my mouth. Can I?”

“Yes. Please. Anything.”

Evyn finally let herself look at Wes. At all of her. She’d been wrong,

in her fantasy. Wes was far more beautiful than she’d imagined—her

skin a tawny gold, her nipples small tan disks, every muscle sensuous

and smooth. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Can we take your clothes off?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that.” Evyn met Wes’s eyes. Now was the time

for her to take back control, to lead as she always had. To pleasure from

a safe distance. “Why don’t you undress me.” She held her breath and

willed her legs to keep her upright.

“This isn’t me,” Wes murmured, opening the top button of Evyn’s

jeans. Her fingers trembled. Her hands never shook, not even when she

was sliding an intravenous needle into the only remaining vein on some

trauma victim, knowing if she missed, she’d lose him.