Apparently, people paid a lot for those abilities. Her stomach hurt at the thought she'd really been so wrong about him.
She shivered and took a step away from him.
He frowned but said nothing.
She pointed at another door at the end of the hallway. “So where does that lead?”
“That leads to the basement, where your lab is located.” My lab. Right. “I'm not actually a doctor,” she emphasized. “I'm very good at what I do, but I heal using alternative means.” He glanced down at her hands, then lifted a heated stare to her eyes. “Laying of hands?”
She imagined the feel of his thick shaft between her palms as if she'd held him just yesterday. And like that, she wanted him all over again. Not smart, Sheridan, not at all.
He closed the distance between them, and she backed up until she hit the wall.
“Such big blue eyes,” he murmured. Then he frowned and stepped back. He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded to the right. “Let's go up.” Shaky, she followed him, and this time he made no attempt to walk next to her. Instead, he seemed content to put some space between them. What the hell had that been about? They reached the second floor, an expansive marble-tiled corridor with doors and hallways that branched off to the back of the house.
“My team lives down here.” He pointed to the wing where several doors remained open. “We're a family unit. We trust one another, and we respect each other's privacy,” he said quietly, but she understood.
“I have no intention of going where I'm not wanted.” He didn't say anything for a moment, yet she had the notion he wanted to.
“Come on.”
They continued down the main hallway and stopped at the veranda lit by a crystal chandelier that overlooked the foyer downstairs. Across from the veranda was another long hall filled with doors.
“This wing is for guests, and where you'll be staying. You're the only guest we have right now, so it's pretty empty.” They turned and walked down the hall. She followed him into a large suite done in a soft rose. The room had a large window that looked out over a courtyard and garden and a door that connected to another room.
Following her gaze, Jules added, “That door leads to your own bathroom.
That's why you have this room, in case you were wondering. Some of the other rooms share a bath.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
To one side of the massive room, a small living area decorated in floral fabrics looked inviting and boasted a loveseat, accompanying chairs, and a coffee table. To the left of the sitting area, a small mahogany desk lay empty. Across the room, a king-size canopy bed took up a lot of space.
When she glanced back at Jules, she saw him eye her, then the bed.
“Kind of big for you, hmm?”
She wanted to answer but had no idea what she might have said.
He shocked her by grabbing hold of her shoulders and drawing her close. “You smell like her, look like her, and feel like her,” he murmured. He ran his hands down her arms to her waist and squeezed. “God, do you feel like her.”
“Like who?” she managed, even as her body turned to liquid heat.
“Like the woman he thinks is mine.”
“What?”
“Shit, if you're working for Montaña, I'm going to seriously regret this.” He made no sense, but then she didn't much care. Because he did what she feared more than anything else.
He kissed her.
Chapter Six
Jules was so hard, he ached. She was real, and she was here. Sheridan. My mate, his beast added with satisfaction. Hell, the woman could have shown up saying her name was Jane Smith, but Jules would have known her. He'd know the taste and feel of her anywhere.
She gasped as he took her mouth, and he loved the floral scent that filled his head. He gave her a thorough kiss, then looked at her again.
“You can try to mask your desire, but you can't hide this heat. Touch me,” he muttered, not rational at all. He couldn't think past the need to fuck her, to reinstate his claim. His beast purred in his breast, and she moaned.
“What d-desire?” she stuttered, clearly aroused, her eyes so wide, he noticed the slim rings of navy around the soft sky blue of her irises. “Stop, what—” He kissed her again, licking past her lips to the smooth heat of her mouth.
He'd bet his next paycheck she was hot and wet and ready for him. He could smell the sweet cream between her legs, and it was killing him.
The stubborn woman allowed him a small taste before she ripped her mouth away, breathing hard.
Not sure what she hoped to accomplish, Jules didn't plan to let her go before he knew the truth. He shoved his hand down her front, past the soft plane of her belly, to the vee between her legs.
Her denial turned into a moan. “God, what are you doing to me?” she rasped while unconsciously arching into his touch.
He slid his hand beneath her panties and shoved a finger inside her, wanting nothing more than to rip their clothes away and fuck her where she stood. She was so damned wet. Instead, he withdrew his finger and brought it slowly to his mouth.
“Wh-what are you—”
Her glazed eyes blinked, and her nostrils flared with heat—with arousal—as he sucked her juices from his finger.
Sheridan. No doubt about it now. He knew that scent, and his beast knew that taste better than he knew his own name. She'd come to find him, finally. But why had she waited so long? Hell, why help him in the first place? It hadn't escaped his suspicion that Montaña might have staged his whole rescue for some perverted purpose. To get closer to the rest of the team, perhaps. But Sheridan seemed so innocent underneath the sexy veneer.
Jules wished he could trust his instincts, but his beast was so drugged on the woman's taste he wanted nothing more than to roll over and show her his belly.
Talk about taming the beast.
His reaction to her made everything suspect. She was sexy as hell, beautiful, kind—from what he remembered—and apparently she healed with a touch. Too damned good to be true. But she’s ours, his beast whined when Jules took a shaky step back. Not sure what to believe, he forced himself to rein in his desire before he forgot everything and fucked her until he sated this unreasonable lust.
The woman was dangerous, a piece of the puzzle from his time spent with Montaña—the enemy. He couldn't trust her or himself when around her.
She drew in a deep breath and shuddered.
He silently cursed. She smelled so damned good.
“Wh-why did you do that?”
“Why are you so wet?”
The bright flush on her face only made her look that much more attractive.
“I'm not.” She paused before continuing so bald-faced a lie. “I don't know. It's probably you,” she said in a nasty voice that delighted him. She'd seemed so shy before. “I'm no doubt allergic to being pawed.” He grinned, feeling happy for no reason at all. His beast wanted to sniff her, to mark her. “Why are you here, Sheridan?”
“I…I wanted to see you again. To see if you were all right.” She glanced away, and the guilt on her face stole some of his joy.
“Really?”
“Um, well, yes. When you left, you weren't well.”
“I don't remember much.” He watched for her reaction. The pain on her face wasn't feigned.
“I know. You were so brave.” Her eyes looked glassy. Shit, she wasn't going to cry, was she? Sudden discomfort disturbed him. He hated female tears, and hers were making him feel terrible. His beast roared at the thought of wounding his mate.