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Ellora's Cavemen: Tales from the Temple Volume I

Featuring "At His Mercy"

"Control isn't something you give me. It's something I take."

—Jake McIntyre

Faith Hartley learned to master her psychic abilities at a young age. But when she meets hardened skeptic Jake McIntyre, Faith can't control herself. She sees everything Jake's thinking...feels everything he's feeling.

And the fantasies in Jake's mind are so hot, she can't resist the urge to play along...never dreaming that she's playing right into the hands of a wickedly dominant man.

Available in Print and E-book editions.

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Excerpt...

© 2004 by Doreen DeSalvo.

"There's just one problem," Jake said. "I don't believe that psychic abilities exist."

An all-too familiar attitude. She'd learned not to fight it. "If you're determined not to believe something exists, there's no way I can change your mind. You'll dismiss any evidence I give you."

His lips curved in a mocking little half smile. What a lush mouth. Too bad he used it for sneering. "If you can tell me something about myself that no one—and I mean no one—could know, I'll believe you. Something specific."

And he could easily dismiss that, too. Call it coincidence, or say it was too vague to be specific. She'd heard it all before. "You expect me to prove that I'm psychic?"

He nodded. "Why not? Let's do it now." He put his fork down and looked at her steadily. "Tell me what I'm thinking."

Faith opened her mouth to say she wasn't prepared, that she'd have to meditate for at least an hour, that he had to be willing to be read. Before she got a word out, another image burst into her vision. His hands tugging her bra down even further, the straps imprisoning her arms...his strong arm around her, bending her backwards...his mouth suckling on her breast, the hardened nipple straining against the roof of his mouth. She felt it all, the way he must be feeling it. Felt his hunger. His need.

God, he was getting to her. Knowing how much he wanted to suck and tease her breasts, how much he wanted to press his stiff cock against her stomach, made heat course through her body and settle right between her thighs. Her hips wriggled on the chair, pressing deep against the upholstery, trying to assuage the ache.

The image faded as she focused on the solid seat of the chair.

He looked condescending. "Not up to the challenge? Is psychic ability something I have to accept on faith?"

As if faith and science were incompatible. Typical skeptic. "Your ego won't permit you to have a little faith?"

"A little faith?" He smiled...a heated, sexy smile this time. Much better than the sneer. "I'd like to have a lot of you, Faith."

Her cheeks burned. And she saw that image again—herself in his arms, her shirt and bra pulled down, her breasts cupped in his hands. He liked seeing her arms trapped in the tangle of shirtsleeves and bra straps. He liked having her almost helpless. She could feel it.

"You're thinking about sex," she said, before she had a chance to stop herself. And you like to dominate a woman in bed. Just a little.

He raised an eyebrow. "That could be a lucky guess. I'm a man, after all. A man sitting across from a beautiful woman. And besides, I just told you I'd like to have a lot of you."

She wouldn't argue. Not yet. She let him think he'd won his point, let him eat more of his dessert. It tasted as good as it looked. She felt everything he felt, every sensation, in a way she'd never experienced before. And she had no desire to stop the connection between them. She'd never felt anything like it. So intimate. So exciting.

"It's white," she said at last.

"What?"

"My bra. It's white, not beige."

He coughed, nearly choking, and covered his mouth with his napkin. When his gaze finally met hers, he looked astonished. "How did you do that?"

She shrugged, determined to play it cool. "It's what we psychics do."

He masked his shock with cynicism. Oh, he was easy to read. And he didn't even know it.

"Let's try again," he said.

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