HeatedMatch Page 5

  Adam shrugged. “He hates reporters. He never expected the Program to be outed and thrust into the spotlight.”

  A few more minutes passed and no Shep. Finally, Adam rose to investigate. He turned the doorknob, but the door remained shut. “Shep,” he called. No response.

  She leaned over to grab the bottle of water off the table and gulped down some welcome liquid.

  A few more minutes passed while she shifted on the cushion, straining to relieve a pressure that was building inside. She’d never felt anything similar, the closest she could compare the sensation to was nearing orgasm, but that seemed highly unlikely since she’d only managed that feat on her own, never with a man. Something about Adam had her aching.

  Finally, Adam threw his significant muscle at opening the door, but it didn’t budge. “Shep,” he bellowed. “Why is the door locked?” He rammed his upper body a second time, then a third before Shep answered from behind the locked door.

  “Sit down, Blacker, before you break an arm.”

  Adam froze and returned to his perch on the couch, but not before Loren noticed he sported a huge bulge at his crotch. Clearly she wasn’t the only one affected by the other.

  “I locked you two in so I had an extra minute to get the results.”

  “What results?” Adam asked.

  “Ms. Stanton’s DNA scan from the front entrance swab.”

  She frowned, trying to make sense of Shep’s words. Adam didn’t look confused. He looked extremely pissed.

  “It’s as I suspected from your reaction to her at Christenson’s party…”

  “Don’t say it,” Adam said. He hung his head in his hands as though blocking sound could prevent whatever Shep was going to say next.

  “She’s your match. Nine-point-seven on Rovinsky’s scale of ten.”

  Even through the door, Shep’s delight over the situation penetrated.

  “I didn’t agree, Shep. Let me the hell out of here.”

  “After twenty-four hours. That’s policy.”

  She shrank back against the couch as Adam flew to his feet and flung a chair at the door. The chair didn’t stand a chance and clattered to the carpet with a muffled bang, but the door remained shut.

  “Deal with it, Adam,” Shep said. “Our tests have been wrong before. If you keep your hands to yourself, you’ll be free to go. I’ll be back later to check on you. Meanwhile, try to keep it relatively clean for the cameras. Our scientists don’t want nightmares.”

  Cameras? Loren’s gaze flew around the room, and sure enough, an almost hidden camera pointed at a perfect angle to the couch. She ran to the wall directly under the camera and sank to the floor, shaking. “Do you want to tell me what’s happening here?”

  Adam ignored her question and stood an inch away from the door, hands clenched in fists at his sides. His eyes narrowed to slits when he saw the water bottle in her hand. “Tell me you didn’t drink that.”

  “I-I was thirsty. Was it not meant for me?”

  He turned away, muttering curses.

  “Adam!”

  Slowly he turned back to face her and her stomach clenched with a thrill of fear and desire. Last night’s civilized dancer in a tuxedo was completely gone. In his place stood a snarling, angry, completely aroused soldier.

  She used the balls of her feet to scoot farther against the wall and measured the distance between her current location and the bathroom door. Her calculations proved unnecessary.

  With an untranslatable growl, Adam flung himself into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

  She waited a minute then tapped on the door. “Um, Adam? Are you okay?”

  “The damn door doesn’t lock. Back. Away.”

  Alrighty then. With him behind a closed door, the aching in her lower belly subsided a degree. “Adam, will you tell me what’s going on?” She bit her lip and fondled a stiff nipple through her blouse before registering where her hands were. Adam needed to answer her questions, like right now, because she had no idea why she was locked in this small conference room with an angry, sexy man. “Adam, please.”

  “You work for a newspaper. Don’t you read it?”

  “Well, sure, but that doesn’t explain why we’re locked in here together.”

  “Think, Loren. What did the articles say about how the Program gains new members?”

  She racked her brain trying to remember. “Um, through birthing a new generation, right? But…”

  The door opened a crack and she could see his anguished expression peeking through.

  “Use your brain. Do I have to explain the birds and the bees? You’re no virgin, are you?”

  “I know how babies are made, Adam,” she said. “But the article said you only breed with women who are your perfect genetic match…oh…” Shep’s words came back in a flash. “They think I’m your genetic match?”

  He gave a curt nod and started to close the door again. She shoved her foot in to stop him. “How did they figure that out so quickly?”

  “The cheek swab at the entry. I’m such an idiot. I should’ve guessed last night.”

  She pushed the door open to see him better and sat back on her heels on the threshold between rooms. “How could you have guessed? It’s not like I had my DNA code printed on my dress. How does it work, exactly?” Loren asked.

  “Not sure of all the scientific details, but I guess the best way to describe it is like a numbers game. The doctors know there are certain genetic combinations that will produce certain qualities. The Program has a list of their top desired traits.”

  “And how do they usually find a matching female? I assume most are not so accommodating as to show up at the front door like I did.”

  Adam turned at the sharp bite in her voice. “You’d be surprised,” he muttered.

  “Do they kidnap women off the streets and check their blood?” she asked. “Or wait, let me guess, the Red Cross is actually a sham organization front for you to use as a recruiting pool.”

  He shifted at her guess, telling her she was somewhat accurate.

  “Oh my God. I’m right. I see you avoiding my gaze.”

  “The Red Cross is an excellent organization doing important work,” he said. “But, on occasion, we will pull samples from them or other research sites to scan for appropriate genetic matches.”

  “And then what? You kidnap them? Oh wait, you do that for fun, like you did me.” She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him, daring him to answer.

  “No. We invite potential candidates in for a job interview. Doctor, administrative assistant, teacher for the day care, accountant, you name it.”

  “And do you lock them all in a room with their potential match?”

  He flung her an exasperated look. “I don’t know all the details. It’s not my department. I do know you should not have drunk the water. I can’t believe you drank the fucking water. You’re feeling the effects right now, aren’t you? Worse than last night.”

  “What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t I drink the water? And what should I be feeling?” she asked nervously, but she had a very good inkling as to what he referred.

  “The ache. You were a homing beacon for me last night. I could barely let you go.”

  “I managed to leave,” she said.

  He cocked his head at her. “Yeah, you did. How?”

  He looked genuinely curious, but she couldn’t help noticing his hand was directly over the formidable bulge in his pants, massaging roughly. “You frightened me. I’d never felt that way with a man before, even…even in bed with my last boyfriend.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat her confession had formed.

  “What about your current boyfriend? Does he heat you up?”

  “Current boyfriend? I’m not— Oh. I, um, lied. I’m not dating anyone.”

  A flicker of a smile passed his lips so quickly she wasn’t sure it had really happened.

  “What about now? Are you feeling it now?” he asked.

  She felt a blush
creep from the top of her breasts up to the roots of her hair, and she couldn’t look him in the eye as she nodded. “My nipples are starting to hurt. Did drinking the water do that?”

  He didn’t seem embarrassed at all as he accepted her confession matter-of-factly. “It’s one of the symptoms on the Rovinsky scale. The water is laced with a drug that makes you more receptive to your match. It’s going to make you crazed for the next twenty-four hours, and I’m going to respond. If I weren’t your match, you wouldn’t feel as aroused. It’s how they test the science behind the blood work.”

  “What?” Twenty-four hours of feeling like this, and she was starting to worry this was just the beginning. Her arousal was increasing every second.

  “Rovinsky, our founder, came up with a list of what happens when two genetic matches meet. I don’t have it memorized, but I remember painful nipples for the female is on there.”

  “What else?”

  “A matched couple will be able to find each other, even in a crowded space, up to several thousand feet.”

  “What you’re saying is you could drop us at either end of Disney and we’d find each other, even without cell phones?”

  He nodded. “Right at the Haunted Mansion, but don’t say ‘us’. We,” he waggled a finger in the space between them, “are not a match. I can’t be matched.”

  “Why not?”

  “My reasons are my own. I won’t let Shep manipulate me like this.”

  She was shocked at the hurt his rejection caused, like a bowling ball hurled at her heart. She shouldn’t be sad. She didn’t want to be a breeding partner either. She had a life to get back to.

  “What are the other symptoms?” Maybe if he listed more of them, they would discover they were not a perfect match after all.

  He ticked them off on his fingers. “I’ve already said homing beacon for both partners and painful nipples for the female. Your body is getting ready for pregnancy.”

  She glanced down, stunned. She could almost feel her womb rippling to life. “What else?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Male arousal.” He looked almost shamefaced as he gestured to the erection fighting free of his pants.

  She stared a shade longer than was acceptable, nearly having to sit on her hands to stop from stroking the alluring bulge.

  “Don’t do that,” he said in a strained voice.

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t look at me like you want a piece. I’m holding on to my control by a thread. If you make a move, I’ll take you.”

  A whimper escaped from deep inside her at the thought of Adam Blacker taking her here on the floor.

  He scowled. “Fuck.” The bathroom door slammed shut and soon she heard the rushing of running water.

  She watched the closed door for a moment, feeling strangely bereft without Adam’s presence. She didn’t know anything about him, she reminded herself before she caught a raging case of Stockholm syndrome, and she wasn’t quite ready to become a mother. At the thought of motherhood, her own mother’s advice whispered into her brain reminding her that a man who set off her buttons and made her body go zing was more than worth the effort. Adam was the first man ever to make her zing this powerfully.

  Her breasts and her vagina ached, her panties were soaked through and her pants were starting to chafe a bit. Perhaps she could relieve the need by herself. After several meh relationships, she was pretty good at self-pleasure. It was the damn water. That was the only reason she’d ever consider touching herself intimately in front of cameras. Her arousal was zooming out of control, taking her body and mind for a wild ride. If she couldn’t release some of the pressure she’d explode, she knew it.

  Turning her back to the bathroom door, she reached under her shirt to unhook her bra and massaged her free breasts. Much better. She threw a quick glance at the security camera and tried to hide under its direct stare. Though they’d probably seen worse. She swiped a tentative finger over the cotton covering her swollen vaginal lips, but no relief. Instead the pressure built, mocking her with the tantalizing glimpse of release that would never be hers without Adam. She tried again, this time slipping her fingers under the waistband into slick and slippery territory. She climbed higher and higher into breath-stealing pleasure, but any release remained a distant tease. She needed a man, one man in particular.

  Loren’s head fell back against the door as she cursed a blue streak with words she didn’t even know were in her vocabulary. Damn Commander Shepard and these little games. She was an adult, a professional journalist. How could her traitorous body respond like this to one sexy male? The only reason that made rational sense was that she was a near-perfect match with über-arousing Adam.

  Sex with him would be amazing, mind-blowing. She knew it, wanted it, and feared it. What would it be like to release this pressure with him buried deep inside her, sliding in and out? Could she ever get her fill? Her body screamed no. It wanted to be under Adam’s weight, accepting him over and over.

  Screw it. She wanted him, wanted to know what an orgasm with a warm-blooded male was like. It didn’t mean she had to sign up for the carpool line. Sex could simply be sex with no strings. She stood and turned the knob to the bathroom. An icy blast greeted her from the shower stall where Adam stood naked under a harsh spray. He fisted his swollen cock and, from the look of it, had been at it a while.

  “Don’t glare at me.” She stood, tearing off her clothes with no shame.

  “I’ve come twice,” he said with narrowed eyes, never slowing his wrist movement. “But then I think of you on the other side of the door and get hard all over again.” He squeezed his swollen shaft angrily, daring her to fix it.

  Her desire flared to an inferno despite the frigid temperature of the water. She leaned under the spray and reached to turn off the water. Water sluiced down his chiseled chest and beaded in his dark curls.

  “Hand me a towel,” he said.

  She shook her head and started to shimmy out of her last remaining article of clothing, her panties.

  He threw a wild look around the room and realized he was trapped in the tiny shower stall with no way out except to brush by her. She had him now. She crooked her finger, every inch the temptress she’d always wanted to be, but never achieved. Until now.

  Adam fell out of the shower onto his knees and pulled her by her hips until his lips kissed the neat puff of hair shielding her clitoris. She came as soon as his tongue rubbed the swollen mound, but her climax didn’t provide the desired relief.

  “More,” she said, and lowered until she straddled his thighs.

  “You’re on the Pill? Tell me you’re on the Pill,” Adam said, almost like a prayer. “I’m clean, I swear.”

  “I’m on birth control and disease free.”

  “Thank God.” With a nudge he slid his cock into her dripping passage with no preamble and no barrier. She was literally made for him. The expression fit like a glove was a mockery compared to the sensation of at last being united with her missing piece. Separate they existed. Joined together, their bodies blossomed into one magical being.

  She angled her hips and slid up and down, his shaft pressing her clit against his muscular abdomen. Her fingernails anchored into his shoulder blades, giving her the leverage she needed to ride him harder and faster toward a screaming wave of release. Neither made a sound, save some harsh panting and gasping as they exploded in and around each other.

  Her second orgasm sent pulsating waves of pleasure to her clitoris, and allowed her to breathe freely for the first time since she’d met Adam last night. His breath slowed and his near-painful grip on her waist slackened to something resembling a caress.

  “Better?” she asked, leaning her sweat-dampened forehead onto his shower-cooled shoulder. The muscle under his taut skin intrigued her, so she tested it with a lick then a small bite.

  “We have to stop.”

  “Stop what? This?” She nibbled the skin where his neck met his shoulder and rubbed her nipples against his pect
oral muscles.

  “Yes. If I can’t stay out of you, we’ll prove Shep right.”

  She pulled back to look him the eye. “You really mean it,” she said quietly.

  He nodded.

  She stood using the sink as an aid to heft her boneless, satiated body to standing. A quick glance in the mirror showed pink cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. She leaned on her hands to examine her glowing face closer.

  “Shit.”

  Adam’s curse had her looking down over her right hip to see him still kneeling, his face level with her butt.

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  “Stay like that. Don’t move.”

  His order made no sense until he leapt to his feet in an agile move and pinned her hips to the sink. His formerly softening cock was now harder than before and pressed in the cleft of her ass.

  “I have to take you again,” he said in her ear. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said, ending in a gasp as he kicked her feet apart and slid into her creamy pussy from behind. His hoarse, guttural tone clicked a switch in her brain that sent sex signals instantly to every part of her body. Her nipples tightened and a warm rush of liquid spilled from her womb down her inner thighs. The blood left her fingertips as she squeezed the back lip of the sink, holding on for dear life as Adam took her hard from behind. “I need you again too.”

  “It’s good. It’s never been this good.” He spoke to her through their reflection in the mirror.

  She wished for another mirror behind them to show his tight buttocks flexing as he pushed into her repeatedly. She leaned farther over the sink, pushing back to meet his strokes. Her pussy tightened around him, starting to ripple with another orgasm. He was a match to her kindling, the only match that had ever worked on her.

  His hands came around to her front, kneading and toying with her swollen breasts. It was her tipping point.

  “Are you close?” he asked.

  She nodded, unable to speak, only feel.

  “Don’t come yet. Hold it.” His strokes increased, forcing her to squeeze her eyes closed and hold her breath against orgasm. Every inch of her screamed with unfulfilled need.