Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

“If you were an aphid, I’d already have you squashed under my boot.”

“Your aphid speed only works against them.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew this. “I don’t need it.”

“Sure you don’t.”

My arms came up, spreading like a flower. I closed the flower with downward hands, knocking his out and away.

Past his guard, I struck with my elbow. Our arms smacked. His hand trapped mine. His other pulled down on my neck. Between his weight and his strength, he had me on the floor in a heartbeat, pushing an oomph past my lips.

Sweat dampened my skin. My fist hovered next to his groin, seized between his thighs. He squeezed my neck and applied pressure to the lock on my arm, coaxing my free hand to smack the tile.

The burn from the hyperextension dimmed in my arm when his mouth fell over mine. My lip caught between his teeth and he bit down. I held still, absorbing the pain, the taste, the feel of him, wanting more, and communicating it with my eyes.

He read me and angled his mouth, taking over. I gripped the hard ridges of his ass and held on.

My name escaped the corner of his lips and his tongue thrust harder. Buttons plinked the tile as his shirt ripped from our tangle of body heat, my palms skimming through a coat of perspiration.

Time passed without us. Eventually, I murmured into the kiss, “Feels like we’re keeping this contained.” The aphids were a silent presence in my head.

His eyes darted to the chamber door and he continued kissing through his response. “Uh huh.”

Wedged in the V of his squat, I swiped my swollen lips and narrowed my eyes. “Is defense all you got?”

Was that a smile? I couldn’t be sure because I was spinning, and my back hit his chest. The inside of his elbow connected with my jugular, pinching it.

I pulled my feet beneath me and dug my chin under the lock. His arm tightened and cut off my airless grunt. My hands slipped over the velvet skin of his arm. The pressure in my head mushroomed and my vision dotted. My stroking fingers became an urgent tap.

His arm lock melted into a meandering hand and hovered over my breast. Powerful thighs locked me in place. Lips flitted to my nape. Each lick swept chills down my spine.

When he tweaked my nipple between two knuckles, I sucked in a breath and arched into his hand. My knees weakened under my half-crouch.

The room spun again, and his mouth latched onto my breast. Hot puffs wet the fabric of my shredded chemise. The graze of his teeth channeled shivers bone-deep. My hands sailed through his thick cropped hair.

Then I was back on my feet, wobbling. His eyes flicked to the door and settled on my face, consuming me with their alluring depths.

He traced my jaw with a thumb. “I’ve trained with master fighters most of my life. Yet, here you are humbling me.”

My brows knitted together. “If you’re humbly kicking my ass, what’s that make me?”

“Fearless.” His palm cupped my nape. “You possess a passion, a beauty, unequaled.” Each word was heavy, carried with emotion.

“It’s called stubbornness. And you’re blind.”

He swayed closer. “You are diligent, the way of the wise. And my eyes don’t deceive me. Neither does my heart.”

The certainty in his tone flooded my chest and sent my thoughts hurdling into the future. Once I put a few thousand miles between myself and Malta, would I seek the Shard? Or prowl the planet slaying aphids? I didn’t dream of doing those things without Roark and Jesse at my side. As my fingers swept around Michio’s waist, I knew my future included him as well.

But first, I had to deal with the Drone. Given the chance, I would take a potato peeler to his body, dehydrate the peelings under the hot Malta sun, and fold the paper skin into ornamental bugs.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Epidermal origami.”

Michio’s grin floated to mine.

But the game was still on. I pulled in his hips and drove my shoulder into his gut. My foot slid back, shifting weight to take him down. He made an elegant adjustment of his pelvis and rolled. His fist clipped my chin, the angle perfect. My balance wavered.

He yanked me against him, lips at my ear. “You also fight dirty.”

“I do a lot of things dirty.” I raised my knee to his groin. A pang ricocheted through my leg as he caught it, paralyzed it and bent it backwards.

I tapped in surrender, agog over the true surrender that would follow.

The couch caught my fall and he pitted me into the cushions. Sea and sandalwood soaked into my taste buds as his lips fed on mine. Then they left my mouth to chase curves around my jaw, down my neck, over one breast, the dip of my waist, and tarried on the ripped hem at my thigh.