Get You Back: Part Three: Redemption

by Juniper Bell

  And she … I knew without even checking that she was turned on. I knew her body so well, I knew those little twitches and jumps of her hips. Just in case, I slid a hand between her legs. Even through the fabric of her pants, I felt her burning heat. I pressed the heel of my hand against her center.

  She moaned, the sound mingling with the constant splash of waves against the lakeshore. I glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.

  "On your knees," I told her, letting the leash off my need. "If you won't leave my car, I'm taking you here. Right here. Right now."

  She flashed me a challenging smile. "All you have to do is say the magic words and I'll leave. But I'm not hearing the words. You aren't after the money, are you? You have money, and it's not even that important to you. Whatever's going on here, it isn't about money."

  "Knees," I choked out. "Elbows and knees. Right here on the seat."

  "I knew it." An erratic flush came and went in her cheeks. "Tell me what's going on, Rye."

  "I can't." The anguish in my voice caught her attention and she snapped her mouth shut. "I can't tell you because I love you. Why can't you leave it at that?"

  "Because I love you," she cried. She came onto her knees facing me, her perfect breasts gleaming in the moonlight. "Why don't I get a say in this, whatever it is? You're keeping things hidden and you're pretending you're with that girl and do you know how that feels for me?"

  "You don't have to worry about her." I cupped her face in my hand. It felt so right nestling into my palm. So exactly perfect. "You're the only one for me. You know that." With my other hand, I yanked her hips against mine, showing her how hard I was for her. "I've never fucked Izzy. Not once. Never will."

  I dug my hand into the flesh of her ass until her eyelids fluttered with desire. I edged my knee between her thighs and rubbed against her slit, up and down, manipulating her body so her clit got maximum friction. She gripped my back, digging her nails in with a guttural groan. "Fuck, Rye. Fuck me. Fuck me however you want."

  I shifted our positions, flipping her onto her back with me braced over her, still holding her ass. I ground her against my cock.

  "This cock is all for you, Lauren. Hard and ready, whenever you want it. Do you want it?"

  "Yes, I want it, Rye." She whimpered. "You know I want it."

  "Then show me. Get on our elbows and knees. I want to take you from behind."

  She rolled over and I reached around to undo her pants. I pulled them down her thighs, more roughly than I meant to. The heat radiating off her pussy nearly burned my hand.

  "God, you're wet." I growled in her ear. I pinched the lips around her clit until her body spasmed. But I knew she couldn't come that way, not unless I gave her contact or more pressure. I wanted her right on the edge.

  I wanted her to pay for coming here. For putting herself at risk. She'd played with fire by showing up at Loon Lake, and now she was going to get burned.

  "Rye." Her sensual groan hit me right in the solar plexus. I massaged her clit with shaking fingers. The slippery sweetness made me nuts. The way she responded to my touch was the best aphrodisiac in the world. The picture she made—ass in the air, head between her forearms, her spine arched, her satiny skin luminous in the moonlight—God, it was too much. I unzipped my trousers with one hand, keeping the other in place, gently teasing her soft cleft.

  A rush of wetness followed the sound of my zipper coming down. She wanted me, bad, which made me want her even more. The flesh of her inner thighs quivered in anticipation. She was trying to bring her legs together, probably to get more friction where she needed it. I pushed them farther apart with my thigh. The expensive fabric of my pants slid across her skin, inspiring another little cry of need.

  I pressed two fingers into her channel, sandwiching her between my trouser-covered thigh and the palm of my hand. I worked her until the muscles of her beautiful ass and thighs shivered with need. When she was nearly mad with lust, I took away my hand.

  "Rye," she cried desperately.

  "Be right back, my love."

  I spread her open, watching her flesh give way to the thick prod of my cock. It was the sexiest goddamn thing I'd ever seen. She pushed back with her ass, wanting more, wanting all of it. Her inner muscles clasped me tight, so tight. I felt little spasms tugging at me and gritted my teeth to keep from coming too soon. When I was all the way inside her, we both let out a simultaneous sigh. As if the separate pieces of our being had finally slid into place.

  I bent over her so I could get a hand back on the center of her pleasure. The second I touched her again, she jerked hard. "Not yet," I growled. If she came too soon, it wouldn't be the all-consuming orgasm I wanted for her. I spread my palm across her wet pussy, trying to soothe her away from the edge.

  "I'm good, I'm good," she murmured. "It feels so good, Rye, I can hardly stand it."

  "It's going to feel even better, just hang on. Listen to my voice, baby doll. That's all you have to do. Close your eyes, feel me, and hear my voice."

  I flexed my hips and rocked into her, setting a slow, deep rhythm. I used the same rhythm on her clit, my palm working the soft, wet flesh, so hot, so slippery, so luscious. At the same time, I poured words into her ear—not the words I was supposed to be saying, the ones that would keep her safe. But words about how beautiful she was, how much I'd missed her, how I felt incomplete without her.

  We were both gasping and shaking when my balls tightened and sensation rushed down my spine. "Now," I urged. I drove deep and fingered the hard, swollen nub of her clit. The eruption of pleasure nearly blinded me.

  "God, Lauren, I fucking love you." I rode it, rode her, until every last convulsion had rippled through both of us, until we were spent and wrung out and blissfully exhausted.

  I became aware of the cool air coming from the lake and the rustle of birch leaves. The world came back, bit by bit, reality reforming itself with all its hard boundaries. All the reasons she shouldn't be here.

  I pulled her back against me, so every inch of her lovely back was pressed against my chest, and held her tight. "Sorry, that wasn't the most romantic way to put it."

  She turned her head and kissed my collarbone. "I thought it was perfect. This was perfect." She sighed. "How is it possible that it feels better every time I'm with you?"

  "Lauren …"

  "Don't say it." She put two fingers over my mouth. "You still want me to leave."

  "Yes. But not because …"

  "Not because you don't want me. I figured that part out." She laughed softly. "You know, when I first saw that photo in the Loon Lake blog, I thought it must be old. That you couldn't possibly have moved on so quickly. Then I noticed your tan, and that little scrape on your face from the rock where we made love. That's how I knew it was a current photo."

  "Sweetheart—"

  She put a finger over my lips. "I get it. You're being coerced somehow. Chris McAllister paid Gunther to kidnap you."

  I nodded.

  "Tell me this. Was it your blood on the floor?"

  "No. I smashed his nose in. Bled like a motherfucker."

  "Good." The savage satisfaction in her voice made me laugh. "What? He deserved it. What a snake, pretending to be my friend. Just a carefree German smoothie maker. What a crock. So he brought you to your uncle?"

  "Yes. But Lauren, I swear on my life, I can't answer any more questions. You need to get out of town. It's going to kill me knowing you're hanging around here. If Uncle Chris knew you were here, you'd be right in the line of fire. Will you just let me handle this situation?"

  She nuzzled her head into my neck and breathed deep. I wondered what my smell meant to her. I knew what hers meant to me. It meant that everything was right in the world and that I was where I was supposed to be.

  "Is he hurting you?" The question was so muffled I could barely make it out.

  I thought of the bruises, the blood, the nightly testing of my electronic boundaries. "There's only one thing that could really hurt me. That w
ould be if he got to you."

  "Oh Rye." She curled against me, a warm and trusting presence next to my heart. "Why do you have to be such a cowboy? Maybe other people can help."

  "No." I rested my chin on her head and feathered the rough pads of my fingertips along her arm. "Other people will just complicate things. Do you promise to stay away?"

  "How can I promise that, Rye?" Her soft, almost anguished cry nearly ripped me apart. "Would you be able to?"

  I had no answer for that. Of course I wouldn't be able to. It would go against every protective principle I had. Groaning, I gathered her close. "How did this get to be such a mess? Will we ever be able to live our lives in peace?"

  With her hair tickling my nose, her warm body safe within my arms, and the scent of our lovemaking all around us, I closed my eyes and pretended, for one sweet moment, that we were free.

  5

  Lauren

  Rye dropped me off at a coffee shop in the little village of Loon Lake. I debated whether or not to tell him that Elijah and Annabelle were there. On the one hand, he might like knowing they were close by. On the other hand, his head might explode, judging by his reaction to my appearance.

  When the Ferrari had disappeared down the highway, I ran to the kitschy little B&B where we'd booked the top floor. The place had taken the loon theme to its absolute limit, with loon-print wallpaper, wood carvings of loons in every corner, even soap shaped like loons.

  "Welcome back to the looney-bin," Annabelle said as she opened the door for me. "How's the outside world?"

  "Much loonier than this place." I collapsed into one of the comfy armchairs tucked under the eaves. This top-floor suite had been the attic. Its ceilings were so low Elijah kept bumping his head on the rafters. I loved how safe and cozy it felt. Elijah, bent over his laptop at the vintage roll-top desk, shot me a distracted smile. "Something is definitely going on, but Rye wouldn't tell me what."

  "You talked to him? Is he okay?" Annabelle locked the door and came bouncing toward me.

  "I'm not sure," I answered slowly. "In all outward respects, he is. But that engagement is a sham. Your uncle is holding some kind of threat over his head, and it has nothing to do with the family trust. That might be part of it, but not the whole story. Can you think of anything else? Any family secrets he might use for blackmail?"

  Elijah and Annabelle glanced at each other. A silent communication passed between them. All families had secrets. And wealthy families seemed to have more than most, possibly because they had more at stake, and more reason to keep those secrets. The McAllisters had always struck me as very open, considering their position in society.

  "Our father wasn't a fan of secrets," Annabelle finally said. "He believed in putting his cards on the table and letting the chips fall wherever."

  "There's one thing," Elijah said hesitantly, his eyes on Annabelle.

  "Yes, but that would be even more embarrassing for Uncle Chris if it got out. It can't be that."

  Elijah nodded. I got the strong sense they didn't want me to pursue it, so I didn't. After all, I had a thousand more secrets than anyone else in this room.

  We sat silent for a moment, pondering the situation. "I could show up at Christopher's door," Elijah suggested. "Pretend I don't know that Rye is there. Maybe I'll pick something up."

  "Or maybe you'll get knocked out by a psychotic German dude," said Annabelle sharply. "No way."

  "Rye tried really hard to convince me to leave," I told them. "I refused to do that, but I did promise to stay out of your uncle's sight. I think we should respect that and keep a low profile. I do have one idea."

  They both perked up.

  "This place has Wi-Fi, right, Elijah?" I gestured at his laptop. "I have a friend who can find out almost anything online. She's a hacker. Maybe she could hack into your uncle's computer and find something."

  Elijah shrugged. "Worth a try, I guess." He made space for me and I punched in Courtney's super-secret Skype address, the one she gave only to her very best and closest friends, and only on a need-to-know basis.

  After a few moments, her face appeared on Elijah's screen. Just the sight of her clear blue eyes and fringe of spiky black hair made me hopeful. Courtney was badass in the best possible way.

  "Vermont?" she asked, peering at us. "You really get around, Lauren."

  I smiled back. "I'm not even going to ask where you are."

  "You can ask, but I probably won't tell you." She gave an impish shrug of her shoulders. "Sometimes I think I only exist online. Who's that with you?"

  "This is Rye's brother, Elijah. Totally trustworthy. And his sister Annabelle is here too."

  Annabelle leaned over my shoulder and gave a little wave at the screen. "You don't look like a hacker."

  "Oh yeah? You know a lot of hackers?"

  "Come to think of it, you're my first. But you're amazingly pretty. Are your eyes really that blue or is it a computer trick?"

  Courtney got a funny expression on her face, something between amusement and incredulity.

  "Leave her be, Annabelle. She doesn't have time for your silliness." Elijah directed a scowl at his little sister.

  "Are you saying you don't think she's pretty?"

  "Of course not … I mean, of course she is … that is … it's obvious … but that's not the point." That dull red flush was creeping up his neck again.

  I glanced from him to the image of Courtney on the laptop screen. She was ruffling her cap of hair and wrinkling her forehead.

  "Anyway …" I figured I'd put them both out of their misery. "We're hoping you can help us out with your ninja computer skills. We need information."

  Just as I said the word "ninja," a white ball of fluff jumped onto Courtney's shoulder. She winced as it dug its claws into her olive-drab jacket.

  "Is that Marshmallow?" Annabelle clapped her hands together. "Your birthday kitten?"

  "No, that's Gonzo. Rye gave him to me in DC." I addressed the screen. "Hey, little guy. Is Auntie Courtney taking good care of you?"

  Courtney raised a lethal eyebrow at me. "Now that I know your location, don't be surprised if he shows up on your doorstep."

  The kitten batted a wayward spike of her hair. She squealed. Elijah leaned closer to the screen and raised one large hand to get Gonzo's attention. He moved his finger back and forth in a quick movement. The kitten forgot about Courtney's hair and focused his rapt attention on Elijah's finger.

  So did Courtney, I noticed. She couldn't take her eyes off Elijah and that quiet, hypnotic motion. He was like some kind of kitten/hacker whisperer.

  Well, okay then …

  I looked up at Annabelle, who was smothering a smile. She bent down and whispered, "Should we tell them to get a room? Like, a virtual one?"

  I laughed. Being around Annabelle and Elijah gave me so much joy. Maybe they weren't technically my family, but they definitely felt that way. The comfort, the familiarity, the teasing. I'd always longed for that, and the only time I'd experienced it was with the McAllisters. Now I was experiencing it again, and I savored every second.

  I cleared my throat. "Okay, back to business. Courtney, Rye is with his uncle, the name is Christopher McAllister, and he has a home here at Loon Lake. Is there any way you could hack into his computer and dig around?"

  "What am I digging for?"

  "He's holding some kind of threat over Rye's head. Rye won't say what it is."

  She nodded, all business now. "I'll see what I can do. That's not a lot to go on."

  "I know. I'm not expecting anything. It just makes me feel better knowing you have my back."

  Gonzo batted her chin and she rolled her eyes. "Oh, I got your back. In case you can't tell."

  "You're the best, Courtney. I really can't imagine a better friend. Except maybe one I can hug in person."

  She blew a kiss at me, then we signed off. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn her gaze lingered on Elijah before the connection severed.

  "Elijah," Annabelle
crowed. "You like her."

  He cast her an annoyed glance and shoved away from the roll-top. "Fuck this." Elijah didn't usually curse. He sounded a lot like Rye in that moment. "I don't like just sitting around here. We need to be doing something more."

  "Like what?"

  "I have a plan."

  The next night, I knocked on the front door of the McAllister estate. From Elijah's surveillance, I knew that Christopher was gone, and the staff had retired for the night. One butler would be manning the front door. Elijah had no idea where Rye was, but since he hadn't seen any trace of him, we were assuming that he was out as well.

  I refused to think about where he might be, with whom, doing what. He'd told me he would never fuck Izzy Van Sant and I believed him. Rye had never given me any reason to doubt him. He always stated his intentions up front.

  The butler, a wiry, dapper man from England, opened the door. From behind my back, I presented him with a large bouquet of flowers, purple hydrangea mixed with stargazer lilies and towering spires of delphiniums. I thrust it at him.

  "Flower delivery for Christopher McAllister."

  "He's not home."

  "My instructions are to deliver it no matter what. There's a note inside. Can you believe it has a royal crest on it? I'm pretty sure he's going to want this bouquet."

  The butler raised his eyebrows and accepted the flowers. Of course he did; we'd made them irresistible. The bouquet was so huge it blocked his vision, which gave me the perfect opportunity to slip my foot in the door. "Would you mind very much if I used the bathroom quickly? I got lost coming out here. I've been driving around for at least an hour."

  Before he could formulate his objection, I was inside. He pointed out the bathroom, unnecessarily, of course. Annabelle remembered the layout of the house quite clearly. While he watched, I slipped into the bathroom. Inside, I unlocked the window, then I poured a full bladder's worth of water into the toilet and flushed.