by RC Boldt
“I understand, sir.”
The Vice President clears his throat. “How is the investigation going? Are things still on track?”
There’s a trace of something I can’t quite pinpoint in his voice that has me on edge. Suspicion inches its way in, and I regard his features closely. “Well, you are aware that the pretrial has been delayed?”
“Ah, yes.” His expression turns to one of remorse. “Always a frustration when that happens.”
His eyes dart past me once again and he nods before meeting my gaze directly. Giving my shoulder a firm pat, he says, “Thanks again, son. You do your country a great favor with all your hard work. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Of course, sir.”
With a final brief, polite smile, he leaves me to greet others vying for his attention. I stand, surveying the crowd within the grand church, light streaming through beautiful stained-glass windows. For some reason, this place doesn’t hold the barest trace of a spiritual feel. Instead, surrounded by politicians galore, a dirtiness lingers in the air.
With one final glance around, I turn and weave my way through the crowd toward the main church doors.
It’s only after I get home and immediately change out of my suit that the sensation of filth clinging to me subsides.
Chapter 59
Landon
The Last Full Week Of November
“I can’t get enough of you.” I rake my teeth over her skin, tracing my fingers along the crease of her pussy.
Who the fuck knows if my words are even coherent because I’m oblivious to anything but the woman who’s letting me have my way with her.
My fingertips glide through her slick outer lips, so goddamn wet. “Fuck. Tell me this pussy only gets this wet for me.”
She arches on my lap, pressing into my touch, and I sink a finger in deep. Scorching hot and wet, she clenches around it but doesn’t answer.
I lean back, withdrawing my finger because her lack of response incites an onslaught of uncertainty that pisses me off. Her blond hair is slightly mussed, her eyes hooded, our clothes at our feet. The only thing she’s wearing are her heels, per my request. We didn’t even make it a minute inside her apartment before we went at each other.
It’s been like this for us. We maintain professionalism while we’re working, but once we head back to her apartment, it’s like we turn feral.
But I can’t help the past edging its way into my mind. If she’s doing this with other guys… I don’t know what the hell I’ll do. All I know is, I’m not made that way.
Never was and never will be.
“Kennedy,” I grit out the word from between clenched teeth.
The haze of lust ebbs from her eyes, and she straightens, wariness seeping into her features. “What?”
I mash my lips together, trying to choose my words carefully. “We never talked about whether we were…doing this strictly with each other.”
Shit. I sound like a fucking chump. Averting my eyes, I drag a hand over my head, gripping the suddenly tense muscles in the back of my neck. Possessiveness has infected me on every level.
When she places her hands on either side of my face and steers me to meet her gaze, her expression is one I haven’t witnessed before. It gives me a little hope that maybe she feels an ounce of what I feel for her.
That I won’t just be a blip in her memory once she leaves.
“Landon Lattimer.” The edges of her pink lips curve up in the faintest semblance of a smile, her tone gentle. “You’re with me every night during the week. When would I have time for someone else?”
I also leave every night and don’t see her on the weekends. It isn’t because I don’t want to. I just know better than to press for more. At least for now.
A light dust of her lips against my forehead precedes her words. “I don’t want anyone else.”
Our eyes lock, and once again, out of habit, I search her features for truthfulness. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says softly.
I lean in and graze my lips along the outer edge of her mouth. Because I’m a rebel that way. I need to kiss her somehow. “I’m about to reward you for that answer.” My lips skate along the other edge of those pink lips.
“Are you, now?” She peers at me, eyes shining with amusement.
Cinching my arms around her, I rise off the edge of the bed and set her on her feet. Turning her around, I walk her forward, my eyes drawn to the sight of her naked body in the dresser mirror. Her eyes are wary, expression guarded, but I lift my chin, gesturing for her to focus on our reflection.
“Look at you.” I rake my hands down her bare sides, landing at her hips. “Can you blame me for wanting you all to myself?” With my foot, I nudge her legs apart, and move closer.
Her nipples tighten into sharp points. Mouth barely touching the shell of her ear, I whisper, “Look at these pretty tits.” Reaching around, I cup the weight of her breasts and rasp my thumbs over her nipples. Her lips part as her body arches instinctively into my touch. “You like when I do that?”
“You know I do.”
I nudge her with my cock, moisture leaking from the tip and wetting the crease of her ass. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me. I battle a fucking hard-on twenty-four-seven because of you, Doc.”
Dropping kisses along the side of her slim neck, I rake my teeth over it until goose bumps rise on her skin. “You look at me, and I get hard. You reach around me for something and brush these perfect tits against my arm, and I’m hard.”
I tweak her nipples, and she gasps. “You gonna put me out of my misery?” Moving a hand to my cock, I grip it tight and guide it between the junction of her thighs. “’Cause if you are, you can start by putting your hands on that dresser and spreading these legs wider.”
With panting breaths that make her breasts rise and fall, she leans forward and plants her hands flat on the polished wood. The position has her ass arching against me, and I drag the head of my cock through her wet folds.
I nudge the tip against her pussy lips. “For every right answer, I’ll give you more.” She swallows hard, watching me in the mirror. “Whose cock fits inside you just right?”
“Yours.”
I don’t move, every muscle in my body protesting, my dick fucking screaming at me to bury it inside her. Eyes locked with hers in the mirror, I dip my head to rake my teeth along the side of her neck. “Say it. Say my name. Tell me whose cock fits inside you just right.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Landon’s.”
I press in a fraction, and we both moan at the slight stretch. My cock is greeted by nothing but the wettest, tightest heaven. Christ, she feels good.
Gliding my middle finger over her clit, I slide it lower to collect some of her juices. I hold her gaze as I bring it to my lips and suck her flavor off my finger. Her breasts rise and fall in harsh pants, eyes tracking my movements and growing hazier while she watches.
Dropping my hand again, I slowly circle her clit. “Tell me who fucks this pussy better than anyone else.”
Her voice is a breathless moan. “You, Landon.”
I sink in deeper, barely maintaining a shred of control. “That’s right. And who’s going to wreck this pussy so good nobody else will fucking come close to satisfying you?”
She tilts her head back against my shoulder, still watching me. Eyes hungry, she presses against me, body silently begging for more of my cock. “Landon.”
“That’s right.” I drive in one deep thrust, burying myself balls deep inside her. With her hair loose, nipples tight, and body arched like this, she’s a seductress. One who’s got me wrapped around her tiny finger.
Hips punching forward, driving in and out, I press my mouth against her neck. My words come out in a grunt, barely decipherable, and that’s probably for the best. “How the hell am I going to do without this?” How the hell am I going to do without you?
Longing burns a path through me like an uncontrollable wildfire. I
t fucking figures. I finally find a woman who ticks off every box for me, and she’s only just passing through. And I’d regret it till the day I die if I tried to cage her and keep her here. I know she has hang-ups—we all do—but to me, she’s fucking perfect.
With my hands molding her curves and my cock buried inside her, I’m committing to memory what it’s like to have the whole damn world in my arms.
Of all the tattoos I have, the mark she’s already left on me is permanent, etched deeper than the ink on my skin.
I may be only a blip on her radar, but when she leaves, she’ll take my fucking heart and soul with her.
Chapter 60
Landon
“So, where the hell do we stand? Are we actually getting anywhere?” His tone is demanding and pissy as hell.
No change there.
“I already told you.” I grind my palms against my eyes. I’m battling exhaustion and weariness. The former is Kennedy’s fault, and the latter is his.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out which one I don’t mind. I’d take exhaustion from getting ruined in the best way by Kennedy’s pussy any day over being repeatedly interrogated.
“Yes, you already told me the pretrial has been delayed. Did they give a valid reason?”
“Evidently, there was a scheduling issue with the court. Someone new accidentally double-booked.”
“And you believe that.” He doesn’t pose this as a question but as a disappointing remark.
I grind my teeth. “I never said that.”
His tone turns to ice, and as much as he pisses me off, I know it’s because he wants to get to the bottom of things as much as I do. “Listen to me, Agent Lattimer. A diplomat’s kid went missing without a trace. Poof! Gone.
“Politicians are dropping like flies, and we’re supposed to believe they’ve all been dealing with motherfucking depression? The suicidal kind? Or heart failure? I might not be a Rhodes scholar, but I sure as hell know neither of those is contagious like Ebola.”
I stare up at the dark ceiling and heave out a breath. Thank you, Captain Obvious. “I know that, but I’m not any closer to figuring it out either.” It’s a fucked-up situation, no matter how you look at it.
“Because you’re too busy playing hide the fucking salami with your forensic doc!” he thunders. “And don’t get me started on how fucking stupid that decision is. You don’t even know this woman.”
My entire body goes rigid with fury, and my words are spoken from between clenched teeth. “Last time I checked, you weren’t my father.” I pause before adding, “And I know her well enough.”
“Do you, now?” The way he poses that question sends a prickle of ominous premonition at the back of my neck.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, Agent Lattimer”—he speaks slowly, like I’m oblivious as fuck—“you need to make sure you’re still thinking with your big head—not your smaller one.”
My fingers curl into fists. Goddamn, he pisses me off like no other.
“Don’t let yourself get fucked over in more ways than one,” he warns.
It’s a little too late for that because I’m pretty sure I’ve been fucked over from the moment this all started.
Chapter 61
Kennedy
Thanksgiving Day
I don’t normally eat my feelings—actually, scratch that. I never eat my feelings. Ever. Because it’s a sign of weakness, and I fucking hate that shit.
But after today, I could easily see myself gorging on a tub of ice cream. If there was ever a day to remind me how goddamn corrupt this fucking place is, it was today. Because the pretrial proceedings have been delayed.
Fucking. Delayed.
As if that wasn’t enough of a fuck-you, I’ve come down with a bad case of feelings, too. It’s enough to have me gagging because they’re over a man.
Not just any man, of course, so I suppose it could be worse. But it’s still unacceptable. I don’t have time for this. It’s not part of the plan.
So, here I am. With my small shopping cart filled with a container of organic fresh spinach, five Granny Smith apples, some boneless, skinless chicken breast, and a small container of blue cheese crumbles, I have lunch and dinner covered. Hovering in front of the freezer section, I rest my fingers on the handle of the door of one of the ice cream selections, but I haven’t pulled it open yet.
My vision grows hazy at the edges as a memory floats to the surface, and it’s one I haven’t thought about in ages. Grandma Mabelle used to keep my favorite flavor of ice cream—Baskin-Robbins mint chocolate chip—in her freezer for whenever I’d come over for a visit.
We would sit together at the table that had been a wedding gift, the wood worn and marked from years of use, and play Crazy Eights long after we’d finished our ice cream.
I haven’t touched ice cream, let alone anything mint chocolate chip flavored, since her passing.
The memory unleashes soul-crushing sadness to embed itself in every fiber of my being. I suppose I never permitted myself to grieve her properly. Because of that, it acts like battering waves along the shoreline during an unexpected storm, launching a violent attack without much warning.
I suck in a shaky breath, willing the memory and pain to subside when the hairs along the back of my neck and arms tingle with awareness. Someone’s watching me.
Without turning, I search for any clue in the reflection of the glass doors before me and receive quite a shock. Instead of spotting someone nefarious behind me, it’s a certain tall, irresistibly handsome man.
He doesn’t realize I’ve noticed him since he’s regarding me with a look that is…indescribably terrifying.
Landon Lattimer is looking at me like I’m his whole world.
Please keep walking. It isn’t that I don’t want to see or talk to him. It’s quite the opposite, much to my own disgust. I shouldn’t yearn for more time with him when it only further complicates things. But today is Thanksgiving. It’s a day people spend with their families. Loved ones. People who are permanent fixtures in their lives—those who are willing and able to stick around.
That’s not me.
Please keep walking. I repeat this again, willing him to continue on his way and disregard me. I’m giving him an out, silently pleading for him to take it.
Returning my focus to the ice cream, I ponder whether or not it’s considered masochistic to choose the carton of Baskin-Robbins mint chocolate chip. So intent on my inner turmoil, I jolt when Landon’s voice sounds from behind me.
“Mint chocolate chip’s the only way to go.”
Chapter 62
Landon
I’m picking up a last-minute item for today’s feast and wishing like hell I had asked Kennedy to come with me. Goddammit, I should have, even though I’d bet everything I own that she would’ve declined.
Still, it eats at me that she’ll be alone tonight while I’ll be surrounded by a crazy but awesome crew of people.
Grabbing the tub of whipped topping Mom requested, I head down the length of the aisle leading into the frozen section.
That’s when I see her.
Studying the selection of ice cream with that cute little crease of concentration between her brows, Kennedy looks like she can’t decide which flavor to choose. We didn’t work today, so I get to see her dressed casually in a pair of skinny blue jeans so faded they’re a cross between light blue and white, and a black cowl-neck sweater beneath a thick black winter coat.
Her hair is in long, loose waves, and her hands are covered by her usual black gloves. With her face scrubbed free of makeup, she’s just…fucking breathtaking.
I scrub a hand over my face and inwardly sigh. I’ve got it so goddamn bad it’s embarrassing.
Once I finally tear my eyes off her, I take stock of her cart, my attention snagging on it. What’s in it isn’t much and certainly not exciting by Thanksgiving standards.
Without thinking, I advance toward her, stopping onl
y a mere two feet away. “Mint chocolate chip’s the only way to go.”
She turns around without a hint of surprise, and I realize she’s sharp enough to have spotted me in the reflection of the freezer doors. Christ. She probably saw me gawking at her, too.
“Agent Lattimer.” Her formal greeting fucking grates on me, but I get it. We agreed to keep it behind closed doors. Still, when her gaze skims over me, dammit, I swear I catch a hint of interest in it. “Which are you in search of this evening?” She flicks her eyes between the ice cream freezer at her side and the vegetables and frozen pizzas in the cases across the aisle.
“Neither. Just had to grab some whipped topping for my mom.”
“Ahh.” She pauses, her eyes darting around as if I’m making her nervous. “Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.” Her lips curve into what I’m supposed to think is a smile, but now I know it’s not even real.
Those rare smiles are like spotting a rainbow after it’s been storming for what seems like forever. Beautiful. Rare. Makes you wish you saw it more often.
“Have a wonderful night, Agent Lattimer.” Again, she puts on that not-really-a-smile and turns back to the freezer full of ice cream.
It’s a polite dismissal. We both know it. But something has me stuck as though my shoes are submerged in sticky tar.
Adopting a casual tone, I ask, “Are you headed anywhere special to celebrate Thanksgiving?”
She lets out a sigh like I’m a toddler who’s asked why repeatedly. Without turning to face me, she says in a slightly resigned, exasperated tone, “I thought better of you.”
I frown, her words catching me off guard. “Excuse me?”
Another sigh. “You have the mind of a steel trap, so I know you recall me telling you I have no one to spend the holidays with.”