“You feel it, too, don’t you?” I whisper, bending so our mouths are lined up, but we aren’t kissing. Not yet. “In your soul. Fuck what everyone else in the town wants to say, or what Klepsky said downstairs. None of them matter. You know I’m telling the truth.”
Tears well up in her eyes, and she blinks quickly, pushing them over the edges.
Instead of granting me reprieve or assuring me that she no longer thinks I’m crazy, she slides her hands up my chest, locks them behind my neck, and yanks me down to her.
When our lips collide, it feels like an explosion; passion and heat drive us together, the sloppy sounds of our mouths tangling and our harsh breaths filling the room.
My arms snake around her waist, hands roving beneath her ass and hauling her into my arms. The latex sticks to my skin as I press her into the door, and she shifts her hips, clawing at me, trying to bring me closer.
Slipping my tongue into her mouth, I tease and caress, plundering the way I’m about to do over every other inch of her body.
Her fingers grasp at the ends of my hair, pulling tight, and I yank back on a groan, the bite of pain sending a jolt of white-hot electricity up my spine.
“Fuck,” I say, my voice laden with lust. “Again.”
She pulls harder, grinding her hips against my dick, and part of me wants to strip her bare right here and fuck her against the door. Let everyone outside listen to me claim her.
But I have something else in mind, so instead, I twist toward the bed, continuing the sensual assault on her mouth before dropping her onto the mattress.
Landing with a grunt, she pushes the hair from her face and leans back on her elbows, blinking up at me, seduction darkening her features.
“If we do this, again, there’s no going back.” I raise an eyebrow, my heart clamoring against my chest. “If you’re mine, I’m not going to be able to sit around and let someone disrespect you.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t—”
“I don’t care if you think you need it. You’ve got my protection, regardless.”
Besides, I think I might need it more.
After a beat of silence, her chin falls, the smallest nod. Her acceptance.
“Take off your costume,” I tell her, sweeping my gaze down over the skintight suit. My hand goes to my cock, cupping myself as she reaches up behind her head, obeying me silently.
I lose track of my breathing, watching her sit up and gently peel the material away, inch by agonizing inch. With each new stretch of skin she reveals, my heart beats a little faster, my mind spinning like it’s caught in a maelstrom.
“Lay down with your head on the pillows, and your hands above your head.”
Scrambling clumsily into position, her stomach tenses under my perusal, lashes falling heavily onto her cheeks as she watches me, watching her. Slowly, I pull the handcuffs from my back pocket, stalking toward the bed like a predator zeroing in on its prey.
“Oh, fuck.”
Her words are a barely audible whisper, but she may as well have said them with her lips wrapped around my cock. It jerks behind my jeans, and I feel moisture pool at the tip, soaking a spot into my boxers.
She licks her lips when I kneel next to her, cupping her knee with one hand. Sliding my fingers up, I trace a path over her soft skin, mesmerized by the goose bumps that pop up, revealing her secrets to me.
My thumb ghosts over one pebbled nipple, and she sucks in a sharp breath, back arching at the contact and relaxing when I continue my ascent.
The metal cuffs are heavy in my fingers when I snap one open, securing it around Morgan’s wrist, dragging the chain through the headboard. I latch the other side around her other wrist, tugging to make sure she’s comfortable, but can’t break loose.
I pull back, running my hand down over her chest, kneading her breast. “You look so perfect like this. Handcuffed to my bed, completely at my fucking mercy. Where should I begin?”
Her hips shift when my fingers dip between her legs, chasing friction. I swirl around her clit, delving into her folds and back up, spreading her arousal around the throbbing nerves.
“Use your words, sweetheart.”
Teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she jerks when I push a finger inside, curling upward. “Please, Linc.”
I raise an eyebrow, shrugging as I drop down, throwing her legs over my shoulders. “If you insist.”
Using my fingers to spread her wide open, I dive into her pussy like a man devouring his last meal on death row. She tastes sweet, her flesh like tangy silk on my tongue, and I moan into her, quickly losing myself as she trembles around me.
Her thighs press against my ears, squeezing, and I use my nose to rub her clit as my tongue spears inside of her, fucking her tight little hole until she’s squirming, moaning, begging me not to stop.
“Oh… oh, my god,” she chants, the metal clanking against the headboard as she tries to gain some sort of purchase with her fingers.
“Goddamn,” I say, adding a second finger; her walls convulse, pulling me in, and I feel my own arousal coiling tight inside me, raring for an explosion. “You’re so sweet. So fucking sinful.”
I glance up, my cock weeping as I watch her come undone, grasping futilely at the chain keeping her in place.
A rush of wetness floods my mouth as I close down around her pussy, licking and sucking and drinking until she’s a quaking mass of flesh on the verge of tears.
Before she’s even finished spasming, I pull away and shuck off my clothes, tossing them onto the floor and climbing back on top of her, desperate to share the next release.
My cock bobs free, and I grab the base, pumping once, twice, three times as I stare down at Morgan’s sweat-slicked body. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, and then I’m pushing her legs as wide as they’ll go, knees touching the mattress, her glistening, angry cunt on display for me.
“I should take a picture of you, just like this,” I say, taking my crown and rubbing it against her clit; she whines, pinching her eyes closed, ultrasensitive now that she’s just come.
“Yes, do it. I want to see,” she cries out.
I tsk, bringing my tip to her entrance, pushing in just slightly. Enough so she feels the loss when I pull back out, repeating the process. “You’re a fucking dirty girl, aren’t you, sweetheart? I bet you’d love if I filmed this. Let you watch how you get off on my tongue. On my cock.”
Her eyes are ravenous as she nods, and my heart swells up inside my chest, deliciously gone for this woman.
“Too bad my phone’s on the floor; that’ll have to wait. I need to fuck you,” I say, dropping her calves over my forearms and lining up with her; one sharp punch of my hips forward, and I’m buried inside her wet heat, so close to coming already that I can feel my resolve unraveling.
She tenses, her walls immediately clamping down around me, making me dizzy. I watch the muscles in her stomach contract as she fights off her orgasm, sure I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
I flex my fingers around her thighs, shifting so when I push back in, I’m hitting an even deeper angle. My balls slap against the crack of her ass, and I begin moving in tandem, not caring when the headboard begins smacking the wall in time with my thrusts.
“Christ, you’re tight. Squeezing me so good.” I pick up the pace. “Tell me you believe me.”
She gasps, eyes flying open. “Now?”
“Right here, right now.” Sweat beads along my hairline, her pussy clinging to me like I’m its last hope. My orgasm scratches at the base of my spine, making my hands go numb, but I don’t stop or slow down. “When I come inside you in a second, I want to know there are no games between us. No secrets or lies or half-truths. Nothing crazy. Just you and me, baby.”
“I don’t—” She cuts off abruptly when I shift, pushing her legs off my arms and using a hand to pin her hips to the mattress.
The new angle nearly sends me over the edge, and she tightens impossibly around me, a flush creeping up her neck as a
moan erupts from her throat.“Jesus Christ, okay. I-I believe you. Fuck, yes, please make me come, Linc. Please.”
“Look at me, Morgan,” I say, relief flooding through me at her admission.
She meets my gaze, and I fuck her hard, until my balls seize up and the air in my lungs escapes, bottoming out at the same second she collapses beneath the weight of resistance.
Her pussy pulses around my dick, wetness spilling and dripping onto the mattress, and I feel my cum release deep inside of her, painting her inner walls like a French masterpiece.
My body gives way, and I roll off of her, heaving a sigh when we disconnect.
Elation notches down my sternum when I turn to undo the handcuffs and see my seed leaking from her; when she’s free, she reaches down, dragging her fingers through the mess, and brings them up to her lips, licking the digits clean.
I groan, swooping in to kiss my taste off of her. “You’re unbelievable,” I say, trying to calm my racing heart.
She grins lazily, although I see the hint of unease straining the movement.
Almost like sex isn’t a miracle cure, and we didn’t actually make any progress just now.
We lie like that in silence for a while before the music downstairs quiets down as guests begin to leave. I hand her a pair of football sweats from high school that I dig out of the closet, and we get dressed quickly, heading down to see if my mother needs help cleaning up the aftermath.
Instead, we find a crowd of people huddled at the door, whispering as they stare outside. Morgan and I look at each other, and then we’re pushing through, shoving our way to the front.
Daisy and my mother stand just on the porch, surrounded by a throng of people, as if guests started to leave and then decided against it.
They’re all staring across the yard.
“Ma?” I say, dragging a hand through my hair and hoping the scent of sex isn’t too poignant, “What’s going—”
But nobody needs to say anything, because as soon as I turn my head, I see it.
The little Honda parked in the driveway, nestled between a dozen other cars.
Impossible to single out, unless you know what you’re looking for.
And on the hood, another body. This time, the stomach’s been flayed wide open, innards strewn all about.
I recognize the perfectly coiffed gray hair before I even see her face.
Sandra Wilkinson.
Dread bubbles in my gut, gurgling in my chest as I note the writing on the windshield.
Signasti fatum tuum.
Chapter 42
Halloween was three days ago, but other than Paul Jensen being proven innocent—since he was locked up in our custody during the time of the last murder—we aren’t much closer than we were.
Alex and I have been sitting in the living room of Lincoln’s cabin all morning, pouring over evidence and trying to piece together enough information to make some headway; to find something to tie to Klepsky. Law & Order SVU drones in the background, and the smell of oily Chinese takeout is thick in the air.
I sigh, setting down my chopsticks as I glance at the TV in the corner. “God, I wish solving cases was as cut and dry as these shows make it out to be.”
Alex chuckles. “If only, huh?”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I realize it’s almost noon which means Sunday service will be ending. “Wanna head to the church and catch the preacher?”
Alex nods, a grin breaking across his face. “Do we get to play good cop, bad cop?”
I smile back. “You suck at being the bad cop.”
He scoffs. “I do not.”
“Facts are facts.” I shrug.
He throws a wadded-up napkin at me and chuckles, standing up with his carry-out container and walking to the kitchen. I lean back against the bottom of the couch, my ass parked on the floor instead of the furniture.
It’s nice here. And in the short amount of time that Alex and I have taken up residence, it’s become cozy enough to feel like home, which should be a red flag for me in itself.
I’m already getting too attached to this place.
Although, it’s lonelier than usual with Lincoln gone out on his trawl. He tried to skip, he’s been worried about the killer targeting me—and so has Alex—but duty calls, and at the end of the day, I’m a temporary fixture in his life, here for a single purpose, and he has a business to run.
Besides, I’ve been using him as a distraction from the chaos in my brain, allowing him to drown me in orgasms so I can pretend like I’m not questioning every second of my life.
“You okay?” Alex asks, plopping back down next to me and nudging my arm with his.
Sighing, I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just… I can’t wait for this case to be over.”
He huffs. “You and me both.”
The papers on the table crinkle as his fingers grip them, and he looks down before shaking his head and glancing over at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I smile through the ache that’s spreading through the center of my chest. “Which part?”
He shrugs. “Any of it.”
“Not really,” I mutter, picking up my water bottle and taking a sip.
“Are you in love with him?” he asks.
My stomach somersaults, and I choke, the water scorching down my throat and surging back up with my cough. “Who, Lincoln?” I finally rasp out.
He tilts his head. “Come on, carina. Don’t do that. Not with me.”
Guilt slams through my middle. “I’m not in love with him,” I start.
His shoulders visibly deflate, relief coasting over his features.
“But I could be,” I continue.
My heart throbs against my ribs, but I soak in the pain, knowing I deserve to feel it—knowing that what I’m saying has to be hurting him worse. But I care too much about Alex to lie to his face. And after everything is said and done, he’s still my best friend.
I look toward the ceiling for a second before setting down my bottle of water. “Have you ever just met someone and felt like you’ve always known them?” I splay my hand across my chest. “I don’t know… maybe in a past life or something?”
He narrows his eyes. “That stuff isn’t real, Morgan.”
“A few weeks ago, I would have agreed with you. But it’s like…” I shake my head. “The air thins, and your heart speeds, and everything goes topsy-turvy. And even if you try to fight it, your reactions don’t lie.”
Alex purses his lips. He doesn’t believe me.
“I’ve never had someone tie my stomach in knots just from a single glance before.” I lift my shoulders, exhaling heavily. “I guess I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Like love at first sight?” he questions.
“No. It’s more like—” My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I try to put into words the way Lincoln makes me feel. “I don’t think I know Lincoln well enough to be in love with him. But my soul aches for his, Alex. Whether I want it to or not.”
His jaw clenches, his voice cracking. “And you’ve never felt that way with me?”
Guilt hammers into my body, cracking my bones, making my mind scream at me to just lie to him. Cushion the break and preserve the space we’ve been lingering in for too long. But that’s not fair to either of us.
I shake my head, a burn building behind my eyes, my vision blurring. “Not like this.”
His nostrils flare, and he nods his head. “I get it. It’s fine.”
“It isn’t,” I say. “I hate that I know how you feel... even though you’ve never said it.” I place my palm on top of his, my heart clenching tight when he pulls his hand away.
“I hate that I can’t feel it back,” I whisper.
“Yeah, well.” He sniffs, standing up and brushing down the front of his shirt. “So do I.”
We make it to the church just before the end of service, and as we walk into the chapel, people are already heading into the reception hall. Preache
r Cartwright stands at the front of the room, receiving the members as they shake his hand and congratulate him on what I’m sure was another “perfect service.”
As we make our way over, we pass Mrs. Porter who’s talking to Isa, and bouncing her grandson on her hip. She breaks away from her conversation and waves, a beaming smile on her face that sends warmth spreading through me.
Preacher Cartwright’s eyes go wide as he takes in Alex and me approaching, but he continues to nod his head at whatever the lady who’s holding his hand says.
We wait patiently until the rest of the line clears, moving his way until we’re standing directly in front of him.
“Detectives, you missed the service,” he says as he smiles at another person walking by.
“Shame,” Alex replies. “We always seem to show up right after the fun stuff. Church services, murder.”
“Alex,” I hiss.
He shrugs. “I’m just saying.”
“Preacher Cartwright, do you have some time?” I ask. “We just have a couple questions.”
He sighs, wiping the front of his hands off on the front of his black button-down. “Sundays are not really the best time.”
“Neither was any other day this week.” I smile. “It will only be a few minutes.”
His dark brown eyes lock onto mine, and the strangest sense of déjà vu washes over me. I brush it off as Alex places his hand on the small of my back and we follow Preacher Cartwright.
A few people stop their conversations and stare as we head toward his office, but I straighten my spine, refusing to let them get to me. I’m here for a job, and that’s that.
The second we walk into his office, my cheeks flush, heat racing through my veins as I remember what happened the last time I was here. I sit down in one of the chairs opposite his desk, my gaze not wanting to stay on the oak for too long, worried that my guilt will bleed through the wood and show my sins to the world. Although sinning never did feel quite so good.
“So,” Preacher Cartwright starts, steepling his hands in front of his face. “What can I help you two with?”
My mouth opens to ask a question, but suddenly I can’t do anything, my insides freezing as I’m thrown into a different time and place, my mind whirling in a tailspin until I’m dropped into a memory.
Be Still My Heart: A Romantic Suspense Page 27