by Cynthia Eden
“No.”
“They said you were the kind of man I should want. The kind I needed. The kind who wouldn’t let me down.” Sadness pulled at her.
“But I did.”
She stared at his hands. “How long are you going to let guilt eat you alive?”
“Considering that you just found out—”
“I’m talking about your brother. How long are you going to blame yourself for the things that he did?”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Don’t you blame me?”
Ana considered that, long and hard. “No, I don’t.”
Surprise had his eyes flaring. “Ana—”
“I’m mad as hell that you weren’t honest with me from the beginning. Would I have gotten involved with you? Probably not so fast, but the connection is there between us—we both know it. I look at you, Cash, and I ache. It’s something basic, elemental.” Lust. An attraction that went beyond reason but . . . “I read your files, you know.”
“What files?”
“The files that LOST emailed me tonight. I got Gabe to dig up every bit of intel he could find on you—and trust me, Gabe has plenty of strings that he can pull. So for the last hour, while I waited for you to return, I tried to learn every secret you had. Not just your FBI cases. Your military career. Even what you were like as a kid.”
“Ana . . .”
“For the record, though, you’re a damn good agent. Fair and tough. You don’t back off from cases, and you don’t give up on your victims.”
“Neither do you.”
She gave him a faint smile. “Perhaps we’re more alike than I realized.”
“Ana . . .”
She put her hand on his chest, right over his heart. His skin was warm, his muscles strong beneath her fingers. “When the case is over, I could run again. I could go back to Atlanta. You could go back to the Bureau. We could both go back to our lives. That would probably be easier for us both.” Easier than dealing with the train wrecks of their past.
“Easier,” he repeated. His hands were still at his sides. He wasn’t touching her. He—
“I don’t want easy. I don’t know if I think easy things are worth having. I’d rather fight for what I have. Fight as hard as I can.” She rose onto her toes and brought her mouth close to his. “So this is me, Cash. This is me, fighting for what I want. Fighting for us. I want a chance to be with you.” To not always hide in the dark. “Maybe we’ll crash and burn. Implode. But maybe . . .”
“Maybe we won’t,” Cash said.
She shook her head. “Maybe we won’t.” Her stomach was in knots. She hadn’t been this afraid in—
No. Ana shut down the thought. This wasn’t the time for fear. For this moment, she was going to hope. “I want you to kiss me, Cash.”
Immediately, his head lowered. His lips pressed to hers. Soft. Gentle. So very careful.
“I want you to touch me, Cash.”
A shudder ran the length of his body. His hands lifted and curled around her hips. Again, he was so very gentle. Careful. Not holding her too tightly. Not using his strength.
“Kiss me harder,” she whispered against his mouth.
And he did. He gave her the passion that she needed. That desperate, wild rush. Her hand still pressed to his chest. Her tongue licked over his bottom lip and Ana loved the rough, ragged groan that he gave to her.
“I want you,” Ana murmured the words as her lips pulled from his. “I want you to make love to me, Cash.”
“Ana, be sure.”
She’d never been more sure of anything.
“Shut out the lights,” Ana told him. She backed away. Turned and headed for the bed.
“One day,” he said from behind her, his voice rough with desire and a need that barely seemed to be in check. “One day, you’ll want the light with me.”
Ana laughed and looked back at him. “Oh, Cash, I already do. I’m just not brave enough for that yet.”
He didn’t cry out when she removed the bullet from him. His hands grabbed tightly to the table before him. He was curled over that table as she worked. She had tweezers in her hand and every poke had him swearing.
She’d had to cut him with a knife, to make the wound big enough for her to get inside. Now she was pulling out the bullet.
Get it the fuck out.
“There.” She dropped the bullet on the table beside him and started trying to disinfect his wound. He didn’t know what the hell she was pouring onto him, but it hurt like a bitch and he held even tighter to that table as spittle burst from his mouth. The pain reminded him—
You don’t cry, you hear me? You never cry. You take what I give you. You be a man.
“I think you need stitches. Can you stay still while I stitch you up?”
He’d gone still already. “Yes.”
She moved behind him, her steps fast. “You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”
He almost laughed at the question. She should know better. After all, he’d survived pain so much worse than this. They both had.
She came back to the table. He knew she’d heated her needle. They’d learned to tend wounds long ago.
Learned to tend them. Learned to give them.
“I think we should leave,” she said. The needle sank into his skin and his eyes closed. “They’re going to find your bike. They’ll find your blood.”
He wasn’t so sure of that. “If we leave . . . if we run . . . no one will understand our work.”
The needle pulled at his skin. Or maybe that was the thread she was using.
“I don’t understand it,” she whispered.
His eyes opened. No, she didn’t understand. That was the problem. She should have—but . . .
She’s not like Ana.
“And why are you risking everything for Ana Young? She’s not our target.”
No, she wasn’t. She was so much more.
“You could have been killed because of her.” Now anger roughened her voice. “I don’t like that.”
He wanted to say that it hadn’t been Ana’s fault, but that would be a lie. Ana had called out. Ana had sent the other cops after him.
Because Ana had tried to do the right thing.
Wrong, Ana. Wrong.
“I don’t like her,” she continued grimly.
Her words made alarm bells ring in his mind. He turned his head, looking back at her. She’d stopped stitching him up. Her fingers were covered with his blood. Her shirt stained by it. Her beautiful eyes were glassy and her face—still so lovely.
He knew he had to handle her carefully. He always did. “I have something for you.”
Her brows lifted.
“Brought it here . . . earlier for you.” He rose, wincing a bit. He was dizzy—probably from the blood loss. The dizziness and the nausea would fade, soon enough. And he could deal with the pain. “Look in my bag.”
She turned away, but not before he saw the smile on her face. She’d always liked presents.
That’s how she came into my life in the beginning. Going after a present . . .
I have something for you . . .
Words that had sent them both to hell. The guilt he carried would never end. He’d been the one to go to her. She hadn’t suspected that he was a threat. She’d smiled and she’d come with him and, before their hell had been over, the girl she’d been had died.
And someone else had come to take her place. Someone who liked pain and blood far too much.
She opened his bag and gave a quick cry. Her fingers curled around the doll as she lifted it up.
“Another one for your collection,” he told her, giving her a quick smile.
She’d always loved the dolls even though . . .
She’d gone through a darker period, when she’d cut out the eyes of her dolls. It had worried him, and he’d known he had to steer her in the right direction. He had, of course. As long as they were together, she was strong. She was fine.
“Thank you.” A smile made her lovel
y face absolutely gorgeous.
He grinned back at her and strode to the sink. He washed his hands, watching the blood slide down the sink. “I’m the one who should thank you. You saved my ass tonight.”
“Because you let Ana Young hurt you . . .”
He tensed, then forced himself to relax. The red water swirled down the drain.
“She shouldn’t have hurt you.”
“She didn’t—” he began, but broke off. He sucked in a deep breath. He knew how to handle her. Always. Voice softer, he said, “Ana is like us. She’s a survivor. She understands.”
“No, I don’t think she understands anything.”
He turned off the sink and spun back to face her.
And that was when he realized she’d jammed the tweezers into the doll’s eye. She was twisting those tweezers in deep, harder and harder. “She doesn’t understand anything at all,” she murmured.
Cash turned off all the lights. Part of him was afraid that he was dreaming. That in a moment, he was going to wake in a hot sweat, and Ana wouldn’t be there.
He’d be alone, and she’d be gone.
He leaned over the bed and his fingers slid over her skin. “Just making sure,” he rasped.
“Sure of what?” Her voice was a husky temptation in the dark. She’d stripped—he’d heard the rustle of her clothes—and as his fingers rose to her shoulder, he just touched more soft skin.
“Sure that you weren’t going to vanish.”
“I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
That was good. His fingers slid over her collarbone. Lightly, carefully.
Ana laughed. “I’m not going to break apart, you know. I promise, I’m quite strong.”
He knew that with utter certainty.
But he also knew just how precious she was. He didn’t want to rush her or scare her. He just wanted her. “Tell me how to not fuck this up.”
She laughed again and his heart felt a little lighter. “You generally know how to do this part well.”
In the dark, he smiled. “Good to know.”
“But if you really want to know what I want . . .” Her hand rose and curled around his wrist. “I’ll show you.” She pulled him onto the bed with her, and Ana moved fast—straddling his hips so that her legs were on either side of his jean-clad thighs. Her hands were on his chest, her bare sex right over his cock. Just his jeans separated him from that hot paradise, and he wanted those damn jeans gone.
She bent and her mouth pressed to his nipple. Cash hissed out a hard breath and when he felt the edge of her teeth on him, a ragged groan broke from him. He grabbed the sheets, fisting them in his hands as his body tensed. He knew what she was going to do even as her hands began to slide down his chest. Oh, fuck, yes, he knew.
He just wasn’t sure his control was going to last. “Ana . . .” Cash tried to warn her.
But her hands were fumbling with his fly, opening the jeans and pulling down his zipper. He wasn’t an underwear kind of guy, so his eager cock jumped toward her. Did she realize he’d been hard the minute he saw her standing in his doorway, with the light falling behind her? Her eyes had been so dark. Her lips so red.
She’d been so beautiful.
He’d tried to send her away. Tried to stand firm, but he suspected that when it came to Ana, he’d always be weak.
Her fingers closed around his cock as she kissed her way down his stomach. “You’re so strong,” she whispered, her breath blowing over him. “Just so you know, that’s really hot.”
A choked laugh came from him.
Then her fist pumped his cock, from base to tip, and he sure as hell stopped laughing. “Ana.”
“It’s about trust,” she said, her voice pure temptation in the dark. “I want to know that you trust me completely.”
He did. No hesitation.
“I want to know that you’d let me do anything with you that I wanted.”
Baby, have at me. Did she think he’d argue? What man in his right mind would argue with her?
“And maybe . . . one day . . . I’ll let you have anything you want.”
His eyes widened. He wished he could see her.
Because that’s the thing I want. To have Ana, to see her completely in the light. He wanted Ana to stop hiding. To know just how perfect she was to him.
Her hand pumped him again, base to tip, and then he felt her breath stirring over the head of his cock. “Ana . . .” Baby, I am so close to the edge.
Her lips closed around him. She licked him, she kissed him, she sucked him, she nearly drove him right out of his freaking mind. He felt the sheets start to tear beneath his grip, but he couldn’t let go. Lust and need built ever higher in him, clawing his insides as he fought to hold back. He wasn’t going to come, not until he was inside of Ana and she was climaxing all around him. Because when it came to Ana, he’d always have one rule.
Ladies fucking first.
“I like the way you taste.”
His eyes squeezed shut. “Trust me, baby, I love the way you taste.”
“Do you? Then give me your hand.”
His hand flew toward her. She pushed it down, between her thighs, and she was wet for him. Wet and ready and so perfect. He thrust his fingers into her, wanting to push her toward the edge of desire, that rough precipice that he was already on.
Ana gave a low moan—beautiful music.
His fingers slid out of her, gliding over her clit, then he brought his hand to his mouth.
Tasted her. Just a taste. Not enough.
He needed a whole lot more.
But she was licking him again. Taking him in deeper, driving him nearly mad. He’d never wanted any woman the way he wanted her. Never would again. Only Ana.
She was seared into his soul. So deep inside, he’d never be free of her. Did she realize it?
Did she think it was just sex? Or did she know . . . with her, it was so much more.
His hands slid down and locked around her shoulders. “Ana . . . enough.” Because he was too close to coming. He pulled her up and then she was taking over—sliding back into position with her legs straddling his hips. His cock shoved toward her sex, only this time, nothing was between them.
Nothing at all. Flesh to flesh.
Fuck. “Protection. I need—” He needed to thrust deep and hard into her, to explode when he was buried inside of her, but he’d made a vow to always protect Ana. He locked his hands on her hips and rolled them, putting her beneath him on the bed. Then he yanked out his wallet and the condom there. Good thing he’d had a backup. He ripped open the packet with his teeth and rolled on the condom. Get more condoms, ASAP.
Then he was pushing her legs apart. Catching her hands in his and pinning them to the bed. He thrust into her, long, hard, sinking as deep as he could go.
She arched against him, and he was lost. Control shot to hell and he didn’t care. Faster, harder, deeper, he thrust into her. The bed pounded into the wall—and he didn’t care.
Nothing mattered to him right then but Ana. Having her. Giving her as much pleasure as she could stand.
Again and again.
Her legs wrapped around his hips. Her body heaved up to meet him, perfectly matching his wild thrusts. Over and over. His hands slid from hers so that he could clasp her hips. He lifted her up even more, sinking deeper, claiming her fully—
She cried out his name and he felt her sex spasm around him.
He’d been waiting for her. Only then did he erupt, pumping into her on a release that never seemed to end. Pleasure flooded through him and he held her too tightly.
Slowly he became aware of his pounding heartbeat. Of the ragged rasp of his breath, of Ana’s. He leaned down and kissed her once more. Soft. Light. Then he eased from her body. When she gave a little gasp, he realized that she was still riding aftershocks of release.
So sexy.
He went into the bathroom, ditched the condom, then came back with a warm cloth that he pressed between her legs. Ana didn’t speak. He�
��d left the light on in the bathroom, and a faint glow spilled out—but only as far as the foot of the bed.
Cash headed back to the bathroom. He left the cloth, then paced toward the bed. “I don’t want you to leave,” Cash said. Simple. True. “I don’t want you going back to your room. I want you to stay here, with me.” That night would be the start. They could take things one day at a time. One night at a time.
And see where they wound up.
Ana’s hand lifted and her fingers curled around his. “I’ll stay.”
Relief swept through him. He climbed into the bed and she slid toward him. His arms wrapped around her and he held her close. She seemed to fit, perfectly, as no one else had before.
“You should know,” Ana murmured. “I have nightmares. So if I wake up screaming . . .”
His chest burned. “Then I’ll just kiss you and tell you that no one will hurt you. That you’re safe.”
She snuggled closer against him. “That will be nice. No one’s ever done that before.”
That burn grew worse. He kissed her temple. “I’m here now.” And I’ll tell you every night. And maybe, maybe one day, the nightmares will stop.
The knife sliced into her skin. It cut deep, and the pain was white-hot. Ana locked her teeth together and stared straight ahead . . . straight into her brother’s horrified eyes. He was tied in the chair across from her, yanking and twisting as he tried to break free.
But he couldn’t escape. Neither could she.
But she could stay silent.
Asher . . . her twin wasn’t silent. He was screaming. “Let my sister go! Stop it! Stop, please! Don’t hurt her!”
Asher didn’t get it. The man with the knife enjoyed hurting her.
Another slice. Even deeper this time. Ana licked her lip and tasted blood. The first slice had been to her face. Only her attacker had stopped after that.
“Let’s save her pretty face for later.”
And the knife had gone into her body, again and again. She tried to keep her eyes open. Tried to keep looking at Asher. When the end came, she wanted his face to be the last thing that she saw. She wanted Asher to know that she hadn’t been afraid. That she was strong.