Spider Game (GhostWalkers 12)

"Hey, Cayenne." Malichai made his way up the aisle to drop into the seat opposite her, next to his brother Mordichai. "Can you tie just anyone up with that silk of yours?"

Her heart jumped. She opened her eyes and regarded his teasing grin. It was open. Friendly. Genuinely interested, but more, something she couldn't quite read at first--a kind of camaraderie--because she'd never had it directed at her before. The others moved closer as well, changing seats until the attention was directly on her. She hated that. She glanced up at Trap for some direction, but he gave her none, staring impassively straight ahead.

What did women do when they found themselves the complete center of attention? These men worked with Trap. They were his friends. She wanted to fit in, to become part of their team. She knew it was important they accept her. Still, her silks were private. A part of her she didn't reveal ever to others if she could help it. She didn't see the silk as a weapon. It was her art. The beautiful part of her existence when she was alone in her cell. Her silk kept her safe.

More, it had been the silk her tormenters had tried to rip from her by force. The pain had been excruciating. Trap's teammates couldn't know that and she didn't want to enlighten them, so she said nothing.

"Leave her alone," Trap said unexpectedly, coming to her rescue.

The relief was tremendous, but when she looked up at his face, his sculpted masculine features were completely devoid of feeling.

"I'm with Malichai," Draden said. "I'd like to see what you can do. You managed to get the drop on Trap once. Have you done it again?"

"Maybe tied him up a time or two?" Malichai suggested, with a teasing leer.

She tried to control the blush moving up her body into her neck. She squirmed, forcing down the memory of her mouth and hands on Trap's body for the first time.

"Could you tie me up?" Malichai persisted. "I think I'd like that."

The men burst out laughing, and several had comments to make ribbing Malichai about needing a dominatrix in his life.

"Do it, Cayenne," Draden urged. "Wrap him up in silk."

She moistened her suddenly dry lips. She had no experience to draw on. They were all joking, teasing Malichai. Really, it was more about him than her, although they were all curious.

"I read spiders have seven different types of silk," Mordichai said. "Use the kind on my brother that will make it difficult for him to get free. Tie him to the chair."

The others burst out laughing at the idea and urged her to do it. Heart hammering, she lifted a hand toward Malichai. Trap's hand hit hers so hard she actually felt the sting and then his fingers were clamped tight around her wrist and he jerked her hand into his lap.

That's mine. It belongs to me, not them. Icicles dripped from his voice. You fucking never give that to another man.

What am I supposed to do? She genuinely didn't know.

You say no.

Sometimes the intensity of Trap's moods wore on Cayenne. She had spent long periods of time alone without the constant bombardment of energy swirling around her before she'd ever met him. Now she felt overwhelmed by every new experience. She felt vulnerable and off balance. She didn't know how to act and couldn't seem to find a way to breathe without taking in Trap's ice.

"I'm tired, Malichai. I'm going to ignore you and go to sleep. I'm ignoring all of you." Mostly she wanted to ignore Trap and his foul mood. She experimented with tugging at her hand to try to gain her freedom, but Trap just tightened his hold on her and sent her a quelling look with his hooded lids at half-mast.

The men dispersed, going back to their seats. Malichai was last. He winked at her and reached out to tug on the long braid before going back to his seat. The team continued to talk to one another, mostly joking, especially Malichai who joked with everyone. She liked him. Liked the way he distracted the others and got them laughing.

You don't have to like him so much.

She glanced up at Trap with a smile on her face, but it faded quickly. He wasn't looking at her, but staring straight ahead, that same glacier in his eyes. The pad of his thumb stroked along the back of her hand, but in his mind, there was a swirling of something unfamiliar, an emotion she couldn't put a name to.

It's called jealousy, Cayenne. When a man's woman looks at another man and fucking likes that man right in front of him, he feels jealousy.

Jealousy? She echoed the word, not believing it.

Don't pretend you don't understand because you're inexperienced. The most inexperienced girl on the planet knows not to crawl around in other men's laps and rub her tits all over that man in front of their husband.

Her breath hissed out between her teeth. Holding on to her temper was becoming a problem. I was not crawling around in anyone's lap. Or rubbing my breasts over him. You know I don't like to wear clothes. She nearly groaned. She shouldn't have said that.

Really? Because from where I was sitting you were. You want someone to fuck you, baby, we can go to the restroom right now. You can strip, not wear a stitch. I'll be fucking happy.

That is so not happening. I don't want you to touch me. In fact, give me back my hand.

You don't think I can tell when a woman is aroused? From the moment you put on that fucking dress you were aroused. It was an accusation, nothing less.

It's silk, she said, unable to believe what she was hearing. When I moved, it moved against my skin . . .

Exactly. Your skin is silk. What do you think happens when you rub yourself all over a man?

He was impossible. Totally. And unfair. You're in a foul mood.

Watching you eating another man with your eyes and catching you thinking about him does that to me.

I was not eating him with my eyes, she denied. I'm trying to be friendly to your friends.

Is that what you call it? You were flirting. You actually were going to tie Malichai up. He yanked her hand against his thigh. Hard. Pressing her palm deep into his heat. What the hell do you call that? Your body is mine. Your fucking silk is mine. Not his. Not any of theirs. Only mine. Only for me. Damn it, Cayenne, get a clue. What did you think he'd be thinking of if you tied him up? I do not want my friends to go to bed at night jacking off thinking about your body and what you might do to them after you tie them up in silk. Or is that what you wanted?

Oh. My. God. You did not just say that to me. That is so disgusting, Trap. Let go of me. I can't believe you'd say that to me. I was trying to fit in with your team. I thought you wanted me to fit in.

I want you to fit in, not give them the impression you're willing to fuck them.

Her breath caught in her throat. Anger ripped through her. Venom rose and she had to fight to keep it from moving all the way into the twin hollow teeth waiting to receive it. She took several deep breaths. One of them had to remain sane. Clearly, Trap wasn't.

Why are you picking a fight? This doesn't even make sense. I'm not in the least bit attracted to Malichai and you know it.

You think he's cute. Hell. You seem to spend a great deal of time thinking about him. I don't like it and you can fucking stop it.

Cayenne stared up into his implacable face, those hard features, the lines etched deep, the jaw set. His grip on her hand never once relaxed and she had no hope of pulling away from him. He didn't look at her, and she hated that as well.

Trap. She sighed, seeking a way to defuse the situation. He always lost his mind when they were out in public. You have to know I think you're gorgeous. The most handsome man I've ever seen. You know the physical reaction I have to you. You know I love you. You have to know that. I tell you and I show you. Every time I touch you, I show you. It doesn't make sense that you're jealous. You know I'm only attracted to you.

How do I know that when you're flirting? Letting another man put his fucking hands on you?

She bit back her first retort, took a calming breath and let it out. He saved me from falling. Would you rather have seen me facedown on the floor?

Better that than his lap.

She wanted

to scream. Really scream in sheer frustration. She knew Trap could be difficult and rude. She knew he could shut down his emotions. This wasn't shutting down. This was feeling. The emotion he was feeling wasn't good. She couldn't believe he was jealous. It just didn't make sense to her. She tried hard to go back over everything that had transpired to check her own behavior.

She'd been nervous. She didn't like to fly. The plane was all over the place, and she would have fallen if Malichai hadn't steadied her. The next jolt he had pulled her into his lap, but . . . Had she clutched at his shoulders for support? She didn't remember.

Damn it. Stop fucking thinking about him. Trap leaned into her, yanking her hand up his thigh, nearly to his groin. So close she could feel the heat pulsating right through his jeans.

She'd been trying to figure out if she'd given him a reason, and he was just making things worse.

You make it easy to think about anyone but you. The moment the retort was out of her mouth, she knew she'd made a terrible mistake.

Trap dragged her hand over the large bulge in his slacks, forcing her palm to curl around all that heat. Then I'll make it easy for you to think about me. You like this, don't you, Cayenne? His hand moved hers up and down, stroking his thick cock through the material of his trousers. You remember how I feel? How I taste? If you can't wait, I can indulge you right now.

Stop it. She tried to tug her hand out from under his. I don't want you.

Really? I can see your nipples hard as twin rocks. You think I put my mouth on you that you aren't going to give me whatever I want?

Furious, she tried to pull away, unsure if her anger was directed entirely at him. She couldn't help the little throb of reaction in her deepest core just touching him. And she could taste him in her mouth.

He tightened his fingers around hers so that she could actually feel his pulse through the material of his slacks. His heartbeat. The jerk of his cock. Her breathing turned ragged. Labored. He was far stronger than he was.

You could build us a cocoon, baby. Nice and thick. Suck my cock right here. I'd like that. Wouldn't you? Then the team could see your handiwork. The silk you want to show them so badly.

If she could have, she would have slapped his face. For one moment, she had actually felt the terrible call between them, that sensual, hot grip of need and hunger that pulsed between them. Now she felt pure fury.

You're being a world-class bastard.

Baby. I am a world-class bastard. That's the man you fucking tied yourself to. His fingers moved over her wedding rings. You knew exactly what I was like going into it and you aren't going to back out now because you get raked over the coals--justifiably--for nearly giving your silk to another man.

Her breath hissed out between her teeth. She wanted to bite him. Hard. Inject enough venom in him to force his mouth closed. The temptation was strong, but he had ensured her venom wouldn't work on him.

First of all, I never once intimated to you that I was going to back out on our marriage. I gave my word and my word is every bit as good as yours. More importantly, you ass, your accusations aren't justified. You know very well I was making an effort with your friends on your behalf.

Because I want you to crawl into their laps. His voice dripped sarcasm.

She was so done with trying to be reasonable. She wanted to scratch his eyes out. He wasn't even looking at her. If we're going to have a fight, you can at least look at me.

We're not going to have a fight. You're going to sit next to me all the way home. When we get to the house you're going to get in my bed. The others will go to their homes and we'll be alone. I'm done with this conversation until then.

Now he didn't want to fight with her. Great. Cayenne was done with it as well. She hated it when he went all arrogant and bossy on her like this. In bed, that was fine, she could be just as arrogant and bossy. That was fun. This was . . . not.

You're being a bastard, Trap. You're angry with Violet, not with me. Don't take it out on me.

Then stop making it easy by thinking of other men. Another man touches you, Cayenne, and I'll fucking kill him.

She remained silent. He sounded like he meant that. Right now, in his present mood, she wasn't certain what to expect. He was just a little scary like this. His hand still pressed hers directly over his heavy erection. How he could have an erection when they were fighting, she didn't know. Clearly she didn't understand men--especially him.

For the rest of the flight neither spoke. He didn't release her hand, not once. Even when she felt him relax a little and tried to tug her hand free, he just tightened his grip again and sent her a cold look. The blue flame was still flaring beneath the glacier. She figured that didn't bode well for when they were alone.

Their vehicle was parked at the airport along with various SUVs the other team members had. Trap kept her locked to him so she didn't get a chance to really say much in the way of thanks or good-bye to the others. Trap actually walked her to the passenger side, unlocked the door, nearly threw her up onto the seat and leaned in to lock her seat belt around her. She stared out the window, hating that when he grazed her breasts with his jaw, her nipples tightened.

She hated that reaction. Hated that all the way home, the tension between them built--and that it was building into something violent and sexual. She tried to breathe, to force her mind to think why Trap acted the way he did, but the tension in the Rover was too intense to think straight.

"Take your shirt off."

His voice was hard. Commanding. It took her breath away.

"What?"

"You fucking heard me, baby. You didn't want clothes on, take them off."

CHAPTER 21

Cayenne drew in her breath. It was no longer dark out, but they were on the narrow track leading to their home. No one ever drove that road but them and the occasional team member visiting them. If she took off the tee--and the material was already dragging across sensitive nipples--she could be seen if they happened upon anyone. It wasn't that she was particularly modest, but she knew Trap was already at a breaking point. She didn't want to experience any more of his silly jealousy.

She knew Trap's foul mood, his dark jealousy and his holding so tight to her had nothing to do with any of the things he thought they did. He was experiencing something else disturbing, something big. Now that she was away from the close proximity of others and she could breathe again, she realized the feeling she got from him was different than the accusations he made. She needed a little time to work out what it was.

"Cayenne, you aren't going to like what happens if I have to tell you twice. Get your fucking shirt off."

She had no idea why she found it hot when he used that particular voice. She moistened her lips, unsnapped her seat belt and pulled the shirt over her head. Her breasts were full and they jolted and swayed with every pothole in the dirt track the tires hit. She felt very exposed. The seat was high and the windows, although tinted, made her feel on display. She brought her hands up to cover herself.

"Don't. I want to see you. Take off your jeans."

"Trap."

"Take them off, baby."

This time his voice gentled, and that was somehow more commanding to her than his edgy voice. She swallowed a protest and dropped her hands to the waistband of her jeans. She knew he was still angry. Still thinking he was riding on the fury of being jealous. She knew better. At the same time, she wanted this from him. This claiming. She wanted to give him whatever it was he needed to feel that she was his. For her, his need always became hers.

"And get rid of the panties. You aren't going to need those either."

She shimmied out of the jeans, pushing them down her hips and then her legs until she could kick them off. She sat stark naked on the seat, aware that Trap had slowed the vehicle. She wanted him to speed up, not slow down.

"Turn on the seat toward me, your back to the door."

She heard the snick of the lock as he ensured the door couldn't accidentally open. She did what he

asked, her breath catching in her lungs.

"Bring both legs up onto the seat, bent, feet close to your bottom, but apart. Spread your legs. Wide. Open yourself to me."

Already her breathing had gone ragged. She could barely pull air into her lungs. He was making her outrageously hot without even touching her. She could feel her body dampening. Growing hot.

He took his gaze from the road and then dropped one hand to his slacks. He opened them easily and drew out the thick length of his heavy erection. One hand circled his shaft with a fist, and began a slide up and down.

"Touch yourself. Your breasts. Just like I taught you. Your nipples, baby. Don't be so gentle. Think about how good it feels when my mouth is on you. When my teeth are on you. You like that little bite of pain. It makes you feel alive, doesn't it?"

She did what he said, using her thumbs, then her fingers and thumbs. Her breath quickened more. Tiny droplets teased the curls on her mound.

"Answer me, Cayenne. You like when I use my teeth, don't you?"

"Yes." She pinched and tugged harder so that her breath exploded out of her lungs.

"Your nipples were so hard rubbing against the silk of your dress, weren't they?"

"Yes." She couldn't breathe. She continued to torture her own nipples, feeling the heat of his gaze as he switched between watching the road and watching her.

The vehicle was in a slow crawl now. The swamp enclosed them in its perfumed beauty even as the sun dazzled them through the windshield. The tires continued to find every pothole and uneven track so that her breasts bounced, pulling against her fingers as she tugged at her nipples.

"That T-shirt rubbed too, didn't it? You're that sensitive, aren't you? The material touching your bare nipples made you hot."

She couldn't deny it, and she could see where he was going with this. "Trap." She stopped what she was doing in an effort to get her brain back so she could defend herself.

"Fucking answer me." He snapped the words at her like the lash of a whip. "And don't you stop."

"Yes," she had to concede, her hands obeying even though her brain hadn't caught up yet.

"Now bring your hand down your body, but don't stop the rough nipple play. Slow with that hand. Feel your skin, all that silk. You like how that feels, don't you? Slow. Stay slow. Keep your eyes on me. See what you're doing to me. You make me so fucking hard I think I'm going to come apart sometimes. Look at my cock. Look what you do."