Like his hand wanted to mold to it, clench it, separate the full globes as he watched his erection slide into the moist, silky heat below.
He was a walking hard-on, and after four weeks of it, it was starting to piss him off. He jacked off to the thought of her, the image of her face and her naked body straddling him. The days he spent with her only fueled that desire until it was starting to pinch at his balls in hunger.
He wanted the little plain Jane. He wanted to throw her to the bed and rut in her until the need was obliterated and his mind was free of her.
“You were the mechanical specialist before you became part of Mr. Wyatt’s team?” She turned her head, gazing at him through sharp, brown eyes. “You were the one who set the specifications of the dirt bikes we shipped here?”
The “we” in question meaning Vanderale Industries, Sanctuary’s more than generous benefactor.
He nodded shortly.
“Your lab files didn’t hint at mechanical knowledge. Your specialty there was recon and weapons with a significant talent in assassination and torture.”
He lifted a brow. “You make it sound like college.”
She stared back at him silently, her expression unchanging.
“The ability wasn’t listed because there was no chance to develop the talent.” He finally shrugged. “When I came here, there were some old cycles in one of the sheds. I spent my time fixing them.”
Jonas had said to cooperate with her. Fine, he’d cooperate. And he had to admit he liked that little flare of interest in her eyes whenever he gave her what she wanted. He’d like to give her a whole lot more than what she was asking for.
“So you found the talent while you were recuperating?” She straightened and turned toward him, her hands sliding into the pockets of her slim skirt as she leaned a hip against the table.
Recuperating. Now there was a word for it.
He nodded. It was hard to talk to her when all he wanted to do was growl with lust. He could feel the urge rising in his throat and fought it back. Damn, he must have been too long without a woman. Maybe he should find one. Fast. Or he was going to end up in bed with a potential disaster. Vanderale’s emissary was no one to screw around with. Literally.
“You requested six more of the cycles, with advanced electronics, weapons and power. Did you come up with the specifications?” she asked.
He nodded again. Those cycles would be a terror in the mountains the government had ceded to the Breeds.
The cycles were stripped down to only necessary weight to allow for the small, mounted gun barrels and ammunition. GPS and advanced satellite links were contained in bulletproof shields on the bikes, and the engines themselves were modified for a vast increase in power.
“And what would be the consequences if the cycles weren’t approved?”
That question threw him. They needed those cycles.
“More Breeds will die,” he answered her. “Keeping up with the tricks the Supremacists use to get into the protected area is paramount. Those cycles will aid the teams that have to patrol the perimeters, which have grown in the past few years.”
“The advancements you’re asking for raise the price of the machines by several tens of thousands of dollars per cycle,” she pointed out. “Not to mention ammunition and satellite time they’ll be using. At this rate, Vanderale will need to place a satellite in orbit for Sanctuary alone. Do you know the cost of that?”
“Vanderale profits as well,” he reminded her. “How many of our people do you already have working security for the new facilities you’ve placed in the Middle East?”
“People we pay an excellent wage,” she argued. “There’s no exchange of favors, Mercury.”
Bullshit. He stared back at her mockingly. “Tell that to your executive we rescued from Iran last month, Ms. Rodriquez. The Breed community did for free what no other team could have done for any price. How much was his life worth to you?”
Her lips twitched at the point.
“You’re right.” She shrugged. “Mr. Vasquez is very important to Vanderale. He’s doing fine, by the way. Considered it a hell of an adventure.”
She shifted again, crossing one ankle over the other as she leaned against the desk, and he swore he heard the sound of silken flesh rubbing together. And that couldn’t be happening, because unlike other Breeds’, his hearing just wasn’t that advanced.
God, he wanted to lift her to that damned table and bury his head between her thighs. He wondered if she would taste as sweet as he imagined she did. If she would be as wet and hot as he was hard.
Would she scream for him? He wanted her screaming, begging, her head tilted back and that bun at the nape of her neck released.
“Sanctuary needs those cycles,” he said instead. “With one of those per team going out, we’ll have an advantage over the Supremacists attempting to slip in and assassinate or kidnap the members of the Feline Ruling Cabinet and their families.”
In the past months, two more attempts had been made upon the main house.
She turned back to the files spread over the table before choosing one and turning back to her desk.
Mercury watched as she took her seat and opened the file. Her head bent, displaying the soft skin of her neck, the pulse beating heavily just below the flesh. He ground the back of his teeth together at the need to scrape his teeth over it. To feel the delicate skin, to taste it, maybe bite it a little bit.
Fuck. At the thought, his cock jerked, his balls tightened with a shard of pleasure so sharp it was nearly painful. Mercury hastily ran his tongue over his teeth, checking for a swelling of the small glands beneath it, for any unusual taste in his mouth. Anything that would indicate mating heat. Not that he expected it, but he had to be sure.
There was no swelling, no spilling of the mating hormone that would signal she was his.
What would he have done, he wondered, if it had been there? If he had learned that he hadn’t lost the one person in the world meant to be his after all? That the dreams that flitted through his mind as he slept could become reality?
He clenched his jaw at the overpowering thought of mating her. Of having the choice taken away from him, of marking her, this one woman, as his own. The sexuality the mating heat produced was intense, fiery. The sexual need overwhelming.
Unfortunately it was something Mercury knew he would never know. He had lost his mate, years ago, in a life he fought daily to forget.
He hadn’t marked the small Lioness his heart and body had claimed. He had never taken her, never kissed her, but he remembered the overriding hunger to do just that. The sensitivity in his tongue, the primal awareness of her and her scent, her lust every chance he had to see her. His rage and grief when she had been killed on a mission had nearly resulted in his own death.
She had been his mate. And Lion Breeds only mate once, just like their cousin the lion. But he could still fuck. And he was damned determined to fuck his little plain Jane into screaming orgasm.
“Vanderale contributed more than twenty million dollars to Sanctuary last year alone,” she murmured as she went over another file. “Mr. Wyatt has quite an impressive list of wants in the file he sent us for financial aid next year.”
Mercury said nothing. He wasn’t part of the Ruling Cabinet, and at the moment, Jonas’s wants were the last thing on his mind. He was too busy staring at the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her bulky blouse, wondering at the color of her nipples, and if the soft curves beneath the blouse were as generous as he was guessing they were.
The sound of her throat clearing pulled his gaze up. Mercury stared back at her, maintaining an even expression despite the fact he had been caught leering at her breasts.
Besides, he liked that little hint of a blush on her cheeks, the way her eyes chastised him behind the small lenses of her glasses.