Dark Lover. Brenda Joyce

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СКАЧАТЬ waited, his mouth curling slightly with triumph.

      She kissed him.

      She opened her mouth, claiming his. The moment their lips fused, her heart slammed and seemed to lodge in her throat. Hemmer and his entourage turned the corner. She kept one part of her mind on them, but the rest of her mind was on Maclean—and he had her body’s full attention.

      He tasted so damn good. He felt even better, stiff and hard against her. The desire was so fierce, so consuming, so feral, that she was shocked. And then she couldn’t stand it. Eyes closed, she forgot about Hemmer and she forced his mouth open. He laughed. Sam shoved her tongue deep.

      Her body threatened to explode.

      And he grabbed her by the hips, turned her around, pinned her to the wall and took over the kiss. He ground against her, pressing one huge thigh between her legs until she rode him.

      She seized his broad shoulders, kissing him wildly back. It was too good to stop now.

      “I beg your pardon,” Rupert Hemmer said.

      As their tongues entwined, as he pushed her even farther up his thigh and into the wall, she knew they had to stop. But no man had ever pinned her down this way, or been as dominant. She kissed him back, tasting blood. He made a triumphant sound, then tore free of her.

      Her back still against the wall, Sam opened her eyes as he let her slide down his leg. She looked into his fierce eyes.

      Maclean stepped away from her. “I always get what I want,” he murmured.

      He was laughing at her. Shock began—what the hell had just happened?

      Maclean was facing Rupert, loosening his tie as he did so. Two men and a woman stood behind him, curious.

      Sam breathed hard and straightened, stepping away from the wall.

      “My home is just that—my home. My guests are restricted to the reception rooms.” Hemmer’s displeasure was obvious.

      Sam stepped forward. Hemmer instantly gave her a quick look of male appraisal. He wasn’t immune to her or what she’d been doing. She’d use that. “We’re sorry, Mr. Hemmer. We didn’t realize the rest of the apartment was off-limits.”

      Hemmer smiled back, but tightly. He looked at the short hem of her dress again. “Security will escort you back to the party, Ms. Rose.”

      Another wealthy, oversexed jerk, Sam thought.

      As he spoke, two huge guards in black appeared around the corner. Sam nodded, telling him how sorry she was again, aware of Ian standing beside her. As she followed them back to the main reception, Ian behind her, she began to think rationally again.

      She’d been out of control. The kiss had been meant to be a ploy. Her attraction to him was dangerous. No good could come of her being out of control.

      She had to find a way to take charge.

      Sam walked to the closest waiter, removed a flute of champagne and drank it. Then she took another one.

      Maclean reached over her shoulder for his own glass. Then he looked at her and lifted his flute in a triumphant toast.

      “You haven’t won yet.”

      “If ye let me have my way with ye, ye’ll be the victor, Sam.”

      “As I said, you guys all think you’re the best in the sack.”

      “As I said, I am the best.”

      She drank the second flute and returned it to the tray. “You’re going to steal the page.”

      He grinned. “Care to stop me?”

      “I can’t wait.” And Sam grinned back.

       CHAPTER THREE

      “WHAT ARE YOU going to do with this?” Kit asked, keeping her voice low.

      It was late. The party was breaking up. Sam had watched Maclean for the past few hours as he drank and eyed several pretty women, keeping mostly to himself. He was clearly a loner, no surprise there. Nick had ordered her to keep him in her sights—and because she knew he was going to steal the page sooner, not later, she intended to do just that. She had just followed him down to the building’s lobby.

      Sam took her messenger bag, loaded with her favorite toys, from Kit. “Thanks.”

      “I don’t like this,” Kit said, glancing past her at Maclean.

      He had a woman on each arm—both tall, young and beautiful—and clearly, he meant to take them home for a very private house party.

      Sam didn’t care who he slept with. All she cared about was stopping his offense with her defense. She intended to be on him like glue. He was not going to get into that vault without her.

      Sam and Kit still stood beneath the building’s canopy. He glanced over his shoulder at her, clearly offering an invitation. Sam shook her head, smiling coolly. He seemed to sigh and then stepped into the street to hail a cab.

      “Are you upset? What happened tonight?”

      “Nothing happened. He’s just a jerk, but he’s about to take a big fall. I’ll see you tomorrow. If I’m late, it’s because I’m on Maclean. No pun intended.”

      “I think he’s dangerous, even if his power is white.”

      Sam actually laughed. “No kidding. What are you going to do?”

      “There are a few guests left. I’m going back upstairs. Maybe Hemmer will notice me and show me the vault. I’ll try to chat with him.”

      “Hey, Kit? Work it and he’ll notice you.” It never ceased to amaze her how modest Kit was. Sam suspected she was celibate, but they never discussed it. She nodded now as Kit slipped back into the lobby. Then she glanced at Central Park West.

      Tons of cabs were heading uptown and every one was full. Nothing was heading downtown. Considering how late it was, that was odd—most should be empty.

      As the two girls with Maclean whispered and giggled, both high and drunk, Sam felt a chill slither down her spine. She tensed, instantly searching the area for a sign of impending violence. Maclean must have felt it, too, because he had dropped his arm and was looking past the traffic.

      And Sam saw the couple on the park side of the street, running, five cloaked figures in pursuit.

      Burnings were creeping up on the proportion of murders committed both in the city and globally. A recent study released by Interpol showed that almost 20% of all the murders committed last year had been burnings. Burning the Innocent alive had become a huge “gang” sport. The perpetrators weren’t entirely human—they were possessed by evil, and commonly referred to as subs. The press had dubbed the crimes witch burnings, because the subs wore cloaks and the burnings were so medieval in nature.

      Five СКАЧАТЬ