Page 42

Stella

Siren Song Maine

B y the fourth day, Stella couldn’t take it.

Ren had softened considerably; he wasn’t the polite, considerate man he had been with Sofria Kirk, but Stella didn’t want that.

Now, his kindness came with an edge that had her constantly squirming.

Ren had awoken something inside her, and try as she might, she couldn’t batter her libido back into a coma.

Everything he did surprised and excited her.

He hadn’t earned the nickname Renaissance Man for nothing.

Ren could rewire a circuit board, chop firewood, explain the fall of the Roman Empire, and…

He could cook.

That’s what had done it. Stella came downstairs this morning to find Leo Jameson standing shirtless at the stove in low-hanging gray sweatpants, flipping pancakes. She would have scalded her ass on the skillet if Ren would have given her the focus and expertise he was affording those flapjacks.

They spent the day at the dining room table reviewing Stella’s information on the spy stealing the drone project research.

She had recalibrated computer surveillance to flag duplicate print jobs.

Once Stella filtered out the junk, she discovered three suspicious print jobs, all in Washington.

The more Stella uncovered, the more her unease grew.

After that, Stella and Ren pored over Doctor Abernathy’s research, which Milton shared regularly with Ren.

They both felt that Milton Abernathy must have had a breakthrough with Project Bloodhound and was close to creating a drone prototype that could capture airborne DNA and identify targets from a distance.

Hours of sitting beside Ren had been torture.

Knowing this man who pulled her into his orbit like a tractor beam hated her was misery.

Except, she couldn’t help but notice Ren’s attraction—sometimes obvious, sometimes a subtle lean in her direction.

One time, he was resting his arm on the back of her chair and inadvertently ran his thumb back and forth between her shoulder blades.

When Ren realized what he was doing, he snatched his hand back.

Now, he was sitting at a safe distance, reviewing his notes on a meeting with the Project Bloodhound head physicist. Stella wore a flowy skirt she had found in a box of clothes on a shelf in the closet.

She didn’t miss the way his attention was split between the laptop and her bare legs.

Every time she crossed them or shifted, she pulled Ren’s gaze.

Stella Keen may not be a computer genius or a reader of classic novels, but she knew people. Ren Jameson wanted her. He may not like her, but she was so far gone over him, she didn’t care. He may have wanted the timid, delicate Sofria Kirk, but he was getting the brash, contentious Stella Keen.

With her resolve firmly in place, Stella stood and walked around the dining table into the living room.

With her back to Ren, she said, “I have a proposition for you. What would you say to adding some benefits to this friendship? No strings, just sex.” She stripped off her clothes and turned naked to face him, backlit by the fading sunlight streaming through the French doors.

But when Ren lifted his head, the look on his face wasn’t arousal.

It was panic.

“What the fuck are you doing? Anyone could see you!” Ren exploded from his seat and raced to the windows behind her, yanking closed the curtains.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing. People.” Then, he seemed to get his story straight. “There are people after you.”

“That’s not what you meant.”

“That’s exactly what I meant, Stella.”

“Whatever.”

“Fuck.” Ren reached behind him, grabbed the back of his T-shirt, and pulled it off. Then he shoved it over Stella’s head. The hem fell to mid-thigh. Suddenly, she had gone from naked seductress to petulant child.

“Go to bed,” he barked.

“Fine, asshole. I’ll take care of business on my own.

Again.” With that parting shot, Stella raced up the stairs and flopped onto the bed.

Over the years, she had used a lot of adjectives to describe Ren: sexy, nerdy, handsome, intelligent, capable, considerate.

But there was one aspect she hadn’t noticed before tonight: fucked up.

She kept the T-shirt on—a black Princeton tee that had been laundered so many times that it was gray—and crawled under the covers.

Stella wasn’t sure how long she had stewed in her anger and frustration, but she was still wide awake when the bedroom door flew open, and Ren stood shirtless on the threshold.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

S tella shot up in bed as Ren stalked to the bay window and yanked the curtains closed. Then he stood over her at the side of the bed.

“Take off the shirt.”

She wordlessly complied.

Ren pulled back the covers, and Stella shivered beneath the intensity of his gaze, “Lie back,” he commanded.

She did.

Ren ran his hand down his face and blew out a frustrated breath. “I can’t stop thinking about that night in England.”

“I can’t either,” Stella whispered.

“You’re a liar and a fake,” he murmured.

“Yes.”

“You spied on me, invaded my privacy.”

“Yes.”

“Yet somehow, when I tally all the things I hate about you, this giant wrecking ball knocks everything aside, and I’m left with this, this uncontrollable need.”

He moved a step closer, his powerful thighs touching the mattress and his thick erection tearing at the seams of his sweatpants.

“Did you mean what you said? You still want this?” he asked.

“God, yes.”

“Then show me.”

The last thing Stella wanted was to reveal her inexperience.

With a stuttered breath, she gathered her confidence, bent her knees, and spread her legs.

It wasn’t as hard as she imagined. Stella had always been confident about her body, and, well, this was Ren.

Even with all the bullshit, she trusted him.

His hungry growl at her compliance fueled her, and Stella ran a hand across her breasts.

Ren dropped his sweatpants and fisted his erection as he watched her. God, he was the sexiest man she had ever known—a sex god disguised as a professor. When her impatience bubbled up, Stella inched her knees farther apart.

“Don’t rush me, Stella. I intend to take my time with you.”

She gasped when he stalked to the foot of the bed and crept up her body like a snake.

He started at her feet, pushing his thumb into her arches and sending a zing of arousal straight to her core.

Ren nipped at her calves and licked the back of her knees.

She was lost in some erotic haze when a stab of pain pulled her head up.

Ren was between her legs, his broad shoulders forcing her knees apart.

And he bit her thigh. It was almost embarrassing how much that sudden sting had aroused her.

Ren eased the pain, sucking her soft flesh and licking the mark.

Stella’s face must have revealed her pleasure because Ren looked up from his handiwork and gave her a devilish wink.

Then he moved to where she ached for him.

He feasted on her body like it was his last meal.

Stella wished the feeling would last forever, but he hadn’t been between her legs a minute when her orgasm hit her like a train.

She was awash in pure bliss.

Before she could question the behavior of her body, Ren soothed her with a quiet, “That’s my girl.

” Then he went right back to work. Except it didn’t feel like work.

His groans and murmured words of approval and praise made her feel like a queen.

When she was once again on the brink, Ren pulled back and peppered kisses down her thighs.

“This time together,” he said.

Ren reached for the condom she hadn’t noticed him set on the nightstand and rolled it onto his length.

The amber flecks in his hazel eyes glowed as he settled his hips between her legs.

Then he thrust. He wasn’t gentle, and Stella wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

She was still tight, and his intrusion ached, but the pain quickly gave way to a sensation Stella couldn’t quite find the words to describe.

It was more than fullness, more than satisfaction.

It was as if everything inside her had been a misaligned, chaotic mess, and suddenly it all clicked into place.

Ren drove into her again, and this time, it was utter pleasure. “Yes,” she hissed.

“Jesus,” Ren cursed. “I could live inside this body.”

Stella hadn’t ever stopped to wonder if she liked dirty talk.

She certainly never imagined the man currently fucking her like he’d die if he didn’t, talking dirty.

Holy shit . The stream of filth flowing from his mouth with every thrust turned her body to molten lava.

Words Leo Jameson would never utter in public tripped off his devil’s tongue.

It would have been hot from any man, but from Ren, the hyper-intellectual, analytical scholar?

Knowing his words were meant for her and only her?

“Oh, shit, Stella.”

Her orgasm triggered his, and together they spiraled into the abyss.

When the euphoria ebbed, Ren withdrew and rolled to his back beside her. Stella’s body moved of its own volition, tucking into the space where Ren lay with his hands behind his head. No sooner had she breathed a contented sigh than Ren was on his feet, stepping into his sweatpants.

“In the morning, I want to review those duplicate print jobs and see who was in the buildings when the documents were printed. Maybe we’ll get lucky. I’ll set up an encrypted call with Twitch. The quicker we find this guy, the sooner we can eliminate the threat.

The lover had evaporated, and the operator returned. Stella did her best to mask her disappointment and gave Ren a curt nod.

Then he was gone.

REN

R en held his composure until he hit the bottom stair. His erection had already rebooted and was begging him to return to Stella and lose himself in her body. Ren reminded himself this was not the same woman he had lusted after for years. Stella Keen was a completely different person.

She was better .

He silenced the thought, refusing to acknowledge that whatever intangible quality had been missing in Sofira Kirk was there in spades with Stella.

She was real, quick-witted, confident. And while Sofria Kirk was—or appeared to be—book smart, Stella Keen had a natural intelligence.

The spark in those silver eyes, her facile thoughts, her instinct about people—those were qualities that couldn’t be taught.

As much as he struggled with reconciling his feelings about Stella, another thought was pushing its way to the forefront.

Stella Keen was inexperienced sexually.

The first time they had been together was a frenzy of lust and hate.

Ren hadn’t bothered to analyze Stella’s expertise.

During this encounter, Ren paid attention.

Her hesitation, her submissiveness, and most of all, her expression—the hint of surprise mixed with pleasure—all signaled more loudly than words that Stella was far from the Mata Hari he imagined.

That thought sent his mind careening in another direction.

The vision of Stella giving herself to a Russian oligarch or a Chinese spy to acquire information for Hyperion made his blood boil.

Now that he had possessed Stella, now that he knew her body, he wanted to kill any man who looked at her.

He pictured her body, the sheen of sweat across her flat belly, the look of wonder on her face, the shell of her ear, the swell of her breasts.

This feeling of ownership—and of being owned—was new and, Ren admitted, not entirely unpleasant.

He nearly laughed. He was about as evolved as a man could be, yet one hour in Stella’s bed, suddenly, his knuckles were dragging on the ground.

He was on the verge of charging back upstairs when his phone chimed. Relieved and frustrated, Ren decrypted the message from Twitch.

A minute later, he was racing back to Stella for an entirely different reason.