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  “Symone,” he said louder.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Just the sound of Garrett’s voice made Symone feel warm all over. The way her name rolled off his tongue. Like it was said as an endearment. She brought her head up to peer at him. Blinking, she said, “Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.” She went to lift a leg off of him, and his hold tightened. She started. “Garrett, are we floating?”

  “It appears that way.”

  “Okay. So how do we get down?”

  “You tell me. You’re the one who turned me into the man of steel. I have no idea how to control this power.”

  She scowled. “No, Peter Reeser turned you into the man of steel. Sleeping with me gave you the ability to fly. You should be happy, Icarus, instead of complaining about how you can’t control it.” She peeked over his shoulder at the bed below. “Do you know how you’re doing this? Does anything feel different in your body? Anything tense? What were you just thinking about?”

  “No idea. I started thinking about you, and how for weeks I watched you all alone, never interacting with anyone unless you were volunteering. How you seemed to have no boyfriend, no friends. And after the way I watched you help people, how incongruous it was from what I was told about you. I knew from the moment you saved that girl I wasn’t turning you in.” He tapped his temple. “Maybe not in here, but I knew it.”

  “Just how long were you watching me?” She shifted with the discomfort of the close scrutiny; she didn’t need him feeling sorry for her.

  He chuckled. “And that cat—you kept trying to shoo him away, but then you started bringing him food. Here’s a hint, sweetheart, if you feed it, it will come back to you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That stupid cat. He was hungry. I couldn’t take him home, but he looked like he could use a meal or two.” She shrugged. “It’s not like he’s mine or something.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have named him.”

  She cocked and eyebrow at him. “You’ve been listening to me too?”

  “I’ve never been very far from you. At first I wanted to gather intel, then…” His voice trailed off.

  “Then what?”

  He expelled a breath. “Then I got curious about you. I wanted to know how you got to be a supposed terrorist. I couldn’t find your house, of course. Seriously, I don’t know how you shook me all those times. I could have sworn I was close more than once.”

  She giggled. “You were probably closer than you thought. Morgan’s gifts are spooky. Not to mention I have six different paths to my house, just to make sure I won’t accidentally be followed. I never take the same path home, and Morgan spends significant time on all those paths when she comes once a month. There are times when her skills begin to fade, and you’ve probably been pretty close to finding me.”

  “Ah, now I get it. She’s the reason Reaper, hasn’t been able to find you, even with his ability to locate people. I guess now I know he was working around Morgan’s gifts. He’s never been able to find the Lair. He doesn’t even know the general location. He had us out looking for you guys individually. You, Alex, and Morgan particularly.”

  “Good luck finding Morgan.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. The way she can vanish like that.”

  “Not really vanishing, more like playing with your blind spots. She just puts everything we’re trying to hide in the blind spot. When she comes, she’ll stay for a day, and that’s good enough to hide my place from anyone looking for me for weeks.”

  “The only reason I found you is because of your photo in the newspaper.”

  She frowned. “Ah, my fatal mistake. I was barely even in the damn photo.”

  His slight smile transformed his face into something gentle. “I’d been given your general location down to the county. But if I hadn’t seen it, I’d still be running around Mylands and surrounding areas, searching for the proverbial needle.”

  Symone knew it was wrong. She knew the ramifications of her actions. Maybe Cassie was right, and she was too impetuous. She needed some tempering or she’d be dead in less than a year.

  Garrett’s blue eyes pierced her soul, seeing into the deep dark places she kept hidden from everyone. “It must be so lonely hiding all the time.”

  She struggled in his hold. What she wanted was a kiss. She wanted to hide in the heat of his touch. She didn’t need the psychoanalysis to go with it. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  A slow smile crept across his handsome, harsh features. “I know you want me.”

  She narrowed her eyes, embarrassment washing through her. “Let go of me. I will hurt you.”

  He sighed, but didn’t release his grip. “I wasn’t teasing you. Just stating a fact. And I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I’ve wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you. To hold you. It’s kind of been a problem as I was supposed to bring you in. Until you touched me, I was sure my ability to sense your emotions was making me vulnerable to you. But I don’t think so. I think it’s you.”

  Symone ducked her head. She didn’t want to see the sincerity in his eyes. She tried to dilute the strong emotions swirling around inside her. “You know, stalking is illegal.”

  He smirked. “Smartass.” His eyes dipped to stare at her lips. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?” Her pulse kicked up as she smelled the desire on him. He wanted her too.

  “One kiss, and if you don’t feel anything besides the physical connection, I’ll let it go. I won’t bring it up again.” His voice dropped low. “I just want to know that I kissed you once because you wanted me to.”

  Symone’s body shook. Why did he have to say it like that? Why did he have to make her feel wanted, no, needed. “You already kissed me at my apartment. And in the alley.”

  His lips thinned. “Yes, but before, back at your apartment and in the cabin, you just responded. You said it yourself—heightened levels of attraction. Add to it all the adrenaline, and you have a recipe for let’s get it on. But now it’s just you, and just me, and we’re floating, and if you kiss me and you don’t feel it...”

  He had a point there. Her responses to him were so strong she didn’t think. But now he was asking her to make a definitive choice. It boiled down to determining what she wanted. Her voice was soft and foreign sounding when she spoke. “Yes. You have a deal.”

  Immediately, he pulled her into his body and slid a leg between them. “Put your arms around my neck.”

  She complied. She could feel the heat of him.

  Garrett dipped his head, and her body crackled to life in slow-motion detail. Every thud of her heart sounded like a mega drone. Her blood rushed like whitewater, and her core heated to molten lava. She knew what to expect. The harsh branding. The demanding assault on her lips and body as their bodies ignited.

  But she was wrong.

  Boy was she ever wrong. Despite the rigid length of him insistently nudging her thigh, he kept the kiss gentle. When his lips met hers, they glided over hers like silk. But just because he was gentle with this kiss didn’t make it any less drugging than the last time their lips met. Butterflies danced in her belly. God, he was barely even doing anything, and her whole body wanted to melt into his.

  They gently floated down to the bed and she relaxed when the bed gave under their weight.

  He sipped her lips like he was tasting fine wine. Gentle grazes. No gulping down her flavor, just savoring. With his hand, he tucked her hair behind her ear then cupped her cheek, lightly caressing her cheekbones. A hairsbreadth from kissing her again, his jerked when he made contact. “Ahh.”

  She blushed and tried to move away. “I’m sorry, I—”

  He held her in place, his strong fingers suspending her with very little pressure at the nape of her neck. “Symone, it feels good.” He sighed when her brows furrowed. “Every time I touch you, it’s like when you’re dancing with someone you’re totally into. When you know that the dance is just laying the ground work for what yo
u’ll be doing later. That electric charge that goes through your body and settles in your—”

  His body jerked beneath her.

  “Blood.” He finished with a cough.

  She stared at him. “It doesn’t hurt at all?”

  “I think the energy you emit has a lot to do with what you’re feeling. If you’re scared or worried or pissed, then your touch is pretty much deadly. If like now,”—he nipped her lip again, and her hips gave an involuntary kick—“You’re aroused, it’s like molten lust injected into my bloodstream.”

  “Maybe it’s just you it’s different with.”

  He caressed her again, inhaling deeply. This time his hips rotated in a small circle, and she moaned, unaware that the sound would carry like it did.

  “Maybe. But every time you touch me and you’re so scared about hurting me or getting some residual power or emotion you don’t want, you have no option but to put out a defensive power. When you relax with me, your touch is bliss.”

  Was he right? Had she spent the past three years all alone because she was too terrified to trust in herself? If that was true, then maybe she didn’t need to be alone any more. She nuzzled into his neck. What if, just this once you trusted in yourself?

  Feeling courageous, her body gliding over his, she pulled herself up so they met gaze-to-gaze and lip-to-lip. In that instant, she made a conscious decision she couldn’t turn back from and lowered her lips to his.

  Fire spread from her lips to her toes as Garrett’s arms locked around her. His lips molded to hers, and his tongue didn’t wait for a formal invitation. Heat licked at her nerve endings as he kissed her, and she gave her body over to ever sensation.

  One arm wrapped around her waist and the other buried in the hair at the nape of her neck, Garrett locked them together, but he didn’t flip them over and take ultimate control. She dug her hands into his hair and tugged lightly. Against her lips he muttered, “Fuck, Symone, you are so hot.”

  Even though his hips rose insistently against her, he still made no move to take control. Then she understood. This time was about her. What she wanted. It was up to her to take what she needed from him.

  Tugging again on his hair, she glowed with satisfaction as he growled deep in his throat. Sliding a hand down from his face, she explored his shoulder, feeling the knotted muscled beneath. He was built to fight and it showed. She lowered her exploitative hand to his pectoral and traced her thumb over his nipple. He hissed in response. With a grunt his hands abruptly shifted from her waist to her ass, palming her cheeks in his large, callused hands. All the while his lips devoured hers.

  Feeling daring, she traced her thumb over his nipple again, this time teasing it with her nail in a light flick.

  He threw his head back, gripping her ass so tight, she thought he’s rip her camos. “Jesus, Symone! You’re killing me.”

  The surge of feminine power purred her on. “Is it the kind of death you always hoped for?”

  “Better.” He puffed out three breaths. “I’m not sure which is hotter, what you’re doing, or how amped you’re getting from it. I’m picking up in the surge of power and God, it’s hot.”

  On the final pass of her thumb, she pinched the budded tip, and he all but howled. Encouraged to keep on this path, she smoothed her hands over his chest, moving to his hardened abs, tracing each ridge of muscle with the pads of her fingers. She explored and memorized every inch of him.

  He continued to brand her as his with searing kisses as he suckled her tongue and sipped at her lips. All the while never letting go of her ass.

  When she traced a path to his hip bone, they both froze as if captured in a still photograph. Then in slow-motion, his hips rose incrementally as if guiding her to his desired destination. She slid a hand between them, wrapping her fingers around the length of him through his jeans.

  He tensed and she smiled, pulling back to examine his expression. His teeth bit into his bottom lip and he’d thrown his head back. She pumped him once, and his body jerked. She pumped him twice, and he fisted a hand in her hair and dragged her head back.

  “Careful, beautiful, you keep playing like that, and I’m likely to lose control.”

  “That’s what I want, Garrett. If I’m losing control, I want the same thing from you.” She pumped the length of him again, and he cursed.

  In a flurry of movement, he flipped her onto her back in a move so fluid, she’d barely noticed the movement. His hands flew to her waist and yanked her tank top over her breasts. Too impatient to even drag it over her head, he dove for her breasts and with tongue and teeth and lips, brought both her nipples to stiff beaks under her lace bra.

  “God your breasts are a thing of beauty,” he mumbled as teased the tip of one with his teeth.

  Symone gasped for breath as she held him to her breast and with her free hand pulled her tank top the rest of the way over her head.

  Garrett didn’t even lift his head as he made quick work of her camos, unsnapping them and shoving them down with first his hands, then his feet. His movements were just as jerky and frenzied as he removed his jeans.

  In a move that had Symone moaning, he roughly wedged a knee between her thighs, prying them apart. Only then did he pause to meet her gaze. She met his adoring stare and smiled while she brought her hips up to his. Her slippery core moved against the rigid length of him, and he whispered her name.

  Gilding his cock to her entrance with one hand, he palmed her face with his other. “You are far better than any fantasy I’ve had about you.”

  As he glided in, her body made way for him, accommodating every inch of him. When he slid in to the hilt, he lowered his forehead to hers, kissing her softly.

  They moved against each other in time as sweat beaded on flesh and he entered and retreated from her moist core and back.

  When they started to float again, she held her breath, and he held her tight to him, never breaking their rhythm.

  The tension coiled at the base of her spine, and she surrendered to the sensation, letting the tingling bliss roll up each vertebra then spread from the center of her body. When her orgasm hit, she moaned. “Garrett.”

  Garrett held her tight as she shook. When she finally settled, he drifted them back to the bed and drove into her, never relenting as the tension coiled in her again. Her body moved against his in time, until she shattered against him, quaking. He roared and he shook as he drove into her one final time.

  As she drifted off to sleep, he whispered an oath to her. “I think I will love you forever, Symone Jackson.

  For the first time in a long time she slept.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Symone woke to a blinking light in the darkness. Someone had tripped the alarm she’d set before trying to heal Garrett. Trackers. Shit. “Garrett, wake up. We have company.”

  He sprang out of bed like a soldier, gun at the ready. “How many?” he asked as he shoved his legs into his discarded jeans.

  Symone checked the monitor, using the mouse pad to jump from screen to screen. “Two cars, six men. They’re just walking into the lobby.”

  “Egress?” The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed as he dragged on his shirt.

  “There are three potential exits.” She snatched her underwear from the floor and searched for her bra under the bed. Where the hell had he thrown the thing? “Obviously the lobby’s out.

  They’ll use two men on the side stair exits and one to man the elevator.”

  Tucking the gun in his waistband, Garrett shoved his feet into his boots. “You have to let me know what the plan is, Symone.”

  She typed furiously at the laptop. “I’m working on it. Every exit I see has Trackers crawling all over it.”

  “I don’t know how long I can stay standing.”

  She blushed. “You’re the one who over-exerted yourself.”

  He grinned. “And I’d be willing to exhaust myself again if we had time, but my point is, how are we going to get out?”

  “You mean, we
can’t fly? Seriously, that power needs to become useful right the hell now.” She sighed and shook her head. “Never mind, I have a way out.” She grabbed the laptop bag and shoved the power cord in it, even as she slipped on her combat boots. She’d carry the laptop. They would need to know where the Trackers were. Before she closed the lid, the image on the screen of the lobby camera made her stomach lurch.

  “Garrett.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Michael is one of the Trackers. I—I’m—”

  He paused and grabbed the laptop from her. “What the—”

  “Garrett, we don’t have time.” Grabbing his arm, she tugged him from the room. He followed her woodenly.

  His voice was distant. “Why would he—”

  “No time for that. Move your ass.” Running down the hallway to the bungalow’s exit, she checked the monitor before yanking the fire alarm. “We’ve got company on floors six and nine. We need to get across the foot bridge, then we have a couple more options for escape.”

  His eyes were blank, but he didn’t fight her and kept up with her pace. They both sprinted in semi-crouched positions across the foot bridge to the main building. They slipped inside the rear entrance and took the stairs two at a time. She braced herself as they paused at the door to the seventh floor. “Floor is clear. The service elevator isn’t tied into the fire alarm. It’s down the hall to the right.”

  Garrett didn’t speak, just nodded.

  The crowd of hotel guests made it harder to get to the elevator. As they rounded the corner, they pulled up short.

  Garrett stepped in front of her. “Michael. What are you doing?”

  Michael smirked. “Big brother.”

  “What are you doing here? You don’t have to do this.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re alive after I shot you. I didn’t want to do that, but you left me no choice by protecting the little terrorist.”

  Symone tried to see around Garrett, but every time she moved, he stepped in front of her. “She’s not a terrorist. Reaper lied to all of us. You’ve bought into a lie. Those subjects we’ve tracked down—those are people who’ve done nothing wrong. Peter Reeser kidnapped Symone as a child when she was no older than you are now. He tortured her.” He darted a look to her, then continued, “Did you stop to think why her and her friends have powers? Peter was running experiments on them long before I joined the program. He started on his own sister.”