by Mary Calmes
"Jory...."
All that came from me was my panting breath, groans of pleasure, and his name spoken over and over again. It was all I could manage, my senses drowned in sizzling heat, his touch, and the primal sound of his voice. I was so happy, my body so ready, having gone so long without him. I had none of my usual stamina to hold my orgasm at bay.
He set a pounding rhythm that pulled a guttural moan from me. Filled and stroked at the same time, I felt the throbbing deep inside me, rising, peaking, my skin burning under his as I begged for what I wanted and needed.
His confession that he wanted to sink inside me, touch my heart, brought blood rushing through my veins, my muscles tightening all at once as the wave burst over me. I felt the jolts of pleasure move through Sam, his body shaking with them until his breath caught and it was my name that was called out. In that brief, white-hot, heart-pounding, flooded-with-euphoria moment... everything seemed perfect.
He lifted off me quickly, careful that I wouldn't be crushed, and I heard his zipper and then the jingle of his belt buckle.
"All done with me, are you?" I said, smiling into my pillow.
"Never done with you," he said hoarsely. "Flip over."
And when I did, he wrapped me in his arms and held me to his heart. I kissed his throat, felt his wildly beating pulse, and lifted my lips to his stubble-covered jaw. He slipped a denim-clad leg between my bare ones and smoothed his hand down my hip before pulling the comforter up over me. I was naked, he was fully dressed, and I knew without asking that he was pleased. His dominance was without question.
"You love this," he chuckled, his voice husky as he stroked my back, letting his hand trail down over my buttocks to the leg draped over his thigh. Hand under my knee, he pulled me closer, wanting just that much more contact, wanting me flush up against him so my groin was against the zipper of his jeans. "You love it when I overpower you."
I would cry if I opened my mouth. There was too much relief, too much happiness, all of it threatening to flow right out of me if I let it. There was a flood of emotion inside all the way back to when he was lying in the hospital bed. I would be strong for Sam, and keep it to myself.
"Let me have it, J. I know you're pissed that I wasn't strong enough not to get hurt. It shook your whole world and made you afraid, 'cause you hate the idea of being vulnerable, of having something taken from you." His voice was caressing, so gentle, as were his lips on my eyelids, my cheeks, on my forehead. "Here you let me back into your life and I almost go and die on you... your heart, that you take such pains to keep safe, I nearly annihilate every chance I get."
I swallowed hard, willing him to stop talking.
"Don't be mad at me anymore. I'm sorry I got hurt. I promise it'll never happen again. Just don't leave me. Don't ever leave me."
I tried to breathe, but it was so hard.
His fingers traced over my jaw and then he lifted my chin and bent forward at the same time. He reclaimed my mouth, kissing me deeply. I kissed back with everything I had to give, and he rolled over on top of me, pinning me under him to the bed.
"Goddamn, Jory... I don't think I've ever wanted you this bad." His voice was low, almost a growl.
"No?" I teased him, biting my lip.
He rose off me fast, rolling off the bed, fumbling with his belt, yanking and pulling at his clothes, shedding everything as fast as he could. I was chuckling as I watched him because he was so intent, and then I saw the scar and caught my breath.
"Oh, no-no." He smiled, climbing back in bed under the comforter, wrapping me up in his arms, crushing me against his chest. "You don't get to use my recent surgery as a reason not to do me."
I was shaking. I had almost lost him.
"I'm not pretty enough for you anymore, huh?" he teased me, his mouth on my collarbone, slowly licking and biting his way up from my shoulder to my jaw. "I'm disfigured."
"Sam," I barely got out. "You could have—"
"You know, instead of thinking about what could have happened, why don't you channel all that fear to passion and blow me—I mean... blow my mind." He chuckled.
I just stared at him.
"What?" He smiled wickedly, his eyes dancing.
He was unbelievable. He actually had his mind on only one thing.
"I don't know why you're looking at me like that." He continued to grin at me. "I'm not any different from every other guy on the planet."
I grunted, and he laughed as I pushed up against him to get him off me. He let me roll him over to his back.
His eyes were heavy-lidded as he stared up at me. "Come here."
I moved over him, lifting up before slowly lowering myself over him, seating myself as deep as I could, burying him inside me.
His breath caught and it was very sexy the way he responded to me, his hands clutching my hips, his body rigid under mine.
"Oh... God," his voice cracked.
"Tell me you missed me," I pressed him before I leaned forward to kiss him.
"You know I... oh... Jory...." He sounded like he was in pain as I eased myself up and down over the long, hard, slick length of him. "Your body is so hot."
I smiled, he moaned. It was exquisite torture and I enjoyed the plight of my willing victim. When he roared my name, fisted his hands in my hair to pull me down for a kiss, I rode the crashing wave with him, his senses momentarily flooded with pleasure that left no room for rational thought.
He thrust up into me, pulling me down at the same time, his fingers digging into my thighs, making sure I couldn't get away.
"Jory!"
I smiled when his body went limp under mine, his groan making me chuckle.
"You're too cute," I sighed.
"Shit," he muttered. "I had things to say."
"Say them," I said, lifting off him, causing him to grimace and grin at the same time.
He patted his chest. "Lie down."
I snuggled down into his shoulder and he wrapped me in his arms, tucking the blanket around me. I never felt as cared for as I did when I was in Sam's arms. "So tell me what—"
"I love you."
"Why?"
"Because you're mine," he said, his thumb sliding over my lips before he tipped up my chin and bent to kiss me.
It was a slow, deep, sensual kiss that I felt slither through my entire body.
"Mine."
I was boneless in his arms, his warm skin and the hand stroking though my hair lulling me quickly into a very relaxed state. I was utterly spent and completely at his mercy.
"You know that, without you, I have no home," he said suddenly, his lips on my forehead, his arms tightening around me, plastering my body to his.
I willed myself not to cry. Sometimes the things he said were just too much. His honesty, the heat and strength of his words were overwhelming. "I really love you."
And there was no doubt that he did.
"Did you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Good." He chuckled, kissing my eyebrows, the bridge of my nose, whatever passed under his lips as I continued to lift my chin. "Now you gotta focus here, because I have a ton of stuff to tell you, and Dane's gonna be here in probably another five minutes or so. I just barely convinced him to let me see you alone, and Agent Calhoun is...."
I shifted against him and he made the contented noise I loved before he continued talking. It was no use explaining to him that my brain had shut off paragraphs ago. I drifted off and didn't worry about bringing it up. I was safe in his arms and that was all that mattered.
* * * *
The way Agent Calhoun kept glancing at me, I felt more like Jason Bourne than Jory Harcourt. He looked almost afraid of me. In some sense it was well-founded. I had broken out of jail, eluded him pretty well, and slipped through his fingers earlier in the day. When I had explained how I had gotten out of the handcuffs, he was especially amazed. Sam was really impressed that an excuse of bondage would prompt people to help me.
"Only you," he said, and his fingers trailed up
the back of my neck into my hair. He couldn't take his hands off me.
"People will do anything for you."
Which wasn't true, but the way he was looking at me I didn't want to argue with him.
"So your hunch was right, Jory," Agent Calhoun said slowly. "It looks like your friend Caleb Reid is actually innocent and his mother is the criminal."
I leaned forward and looked at him, giving him all my attention.
"The knife we recovered at Mr. Reid's residence had his mother's prints on it and nothing else."
I tried not to smile.
"He finally confessed that he'd found out a few months ago what his mother and Mr. Fain were doing, and he was going to the police when Mr. Fain threatened to kill you. To keep you safe, he pretended like he was kidnapped, and when it went too far, he ran and was shot. He wanted to tell you the truth, but he had no idea what to do." He let out a deep sigh.
"He's an idiot, but he's an innocent idiot."
"Isn't he still an accessory?" Dane asked Agent Calhoun.
"Oh, he's going to be charged with obstruction and being an accessory and—"
"But there are extenuating circumstances that will be taken into consideration," Sam assured me, rubbing my back.
"Don't worry, baby, we won't let Caleb go to jail."
I nodded and looked at Agent Calhoun. "Whose apartment was that today?"
"Campbell Haddock."
"Who's that?"
"Apparently he was having an affair with Susan Reid."
"And where is he?"
"He's dead," Agent Calhoun said as his eyes rested on mine.
"How?" Dane took my question.
"There was a freezer out on the patio—did you see it?" he asked me.
I shook my head.
"Well, it was under a vinyl tablecloth and there were lots of potted plants sitting on top of it... I'm glad you didn't see it."
I nodded. "He was in there, huh?"
"Yes."
"How was he killed?"
"He was shot."
"And you think what? Susan Reid killed him?"
"The bullet came from her gun. Same bullet that came out of her son... the gun itself is missing. It's circumstantial, but coupled with everything else... it could mean a lot."
"Why would she kill her lover?"
"I have no idea. Maybe he caught her doing something, maybe he found her gun... we won't know unless she tells us."
"If she tells you."
"Right."
"So she killed those guys."
"She and Greg Fain."
"Why would he help her?"
"That we don't know, but we'll find the connection."
"Okay."
"Jory."
I looked at Dane.
"You should be very proud of yourself. You alone saved Caleb—you alone believed in him. He has you to thank for the rest of his life."
And I was happy for Caleb, so happy, but there was something not right back at that apartment. "What did you think of all the pictures on the wall?" I asked Agent Calhoun.
"Run-of-the-mill crazy, I'm sure they'll be studying Susan Reid for years."
And I was sure they would be, but still, something was wrong.
"God, I can't wait to go home." Dane exhaled deeply, and I realized from looking at him and how tired both he and Sam seemed that I had put them both through hell.
"I'm sorry," I said honestly, my voice wavering.
"How can anyone ever be mad at you when your heart is always in the right place?" he asked gently, smiling at me.
"Like this," Sam snapped, turning an accusing finger on me. "You ever pull any of those bullshit stunts again and you will learn the true meaning of pain."
I smiled at him as Dane chuckled.
"I myself hope you mess up," Agent Calhoun assured me.
There was no love lost there.
Chapter Fourteen
A day can make all the difference in the world. Two weeks can do even more. Amazing that just fourteen days later, I was safe and healed and completely ensconced back in my life. I was at work with Aubrey, Sam was doing the cop thing, and Susan Reid, not Caleb Reid, was sitting in a maximum-security psychiatric hospital for observation. It was all very normal, if you were me.
Dane dismissed Aja's bodyguard, they moved out of the condo and into their stunning three-story house in Highland Park, and he loaned his father the money he needed to get his business back on its feet. It was all he could do in the way of comforting Daniel Reid. He'd had no idea that his wife, Dane's mother, was capable of the atrocities she'd committed in her desire for vengeance. Somewhere along the line her love for her son had turned to hate. She was no longer speaking to anyone, so her true motive—the how and why of the crimes, why she had not just killed me instead of others—was locked in a vault inside of her. There was no telling when and if she would ever explain her murderous actions.
Caleb was out on parole and had to visit a psychiatrist and attend group sessions and perform an ungodly amount of community service, but he was free to live his life. He was going to work with his father and Jeremy, the three of them changing the name of the company from Reid Global to Reid and Sons. They would start over, and with Dane as their safety net and many new prospects, it seemed like they were well on their way to success. All wounds healed, with time.
I saw Caleb before he went home and he hugged me so tight and long that I finally started laughing. He did too, and when we pulled apart he leaned in and kissed me. I was stunned, and he just smiled sheepishly. He didn't want me to get any ideas about him, he just didn't know how else to express the depth of his feelings. I alone had believed in him and trusted him and knew his true heart. He loved me and that was all there was left to say. It started raining as I left the airport, and it felt like a blessing.
I could have lived in Seattle as much I loved rain, but I was in the minority. The constant gray skies, wet clothes, and puddles bummed most people out. The fact that it had been raining straight for a week and a half was taking its toll on the moods of everyone I knew. Half the problem, in my opinion, was cold feet. Your shoes got wet, so then so did your socks or nylons, and walking into work, your feet froze. What everyone needed were galoshes. I had a bright yellow pair just like I did when I was five, so my feet were never wet.
Dane was certain that only gay men could pull that look off but I disagreed. Sam had an olive-green pair that I bought him and no one ever gave him any crap. Dane felt that had more to do with my boyfriend's size and muscles than anything else.
Whatever the reason, I got Sam into the habit of keeping two extra pairs of shoes at work. He told me that all the married guys had galoshes and dry socks. I was very pleased with him. But my goodwill had changed in the face of our constant arguing. It had all started with Aaron Sutter.
Sam wanted to accept Aaron's offer to have dinner with him because he felt that if Aaron saw us together, interacting, he'd get that we were an exclusive item that worked. I didn't want to go to dinner on that premise. I wanted us to go to be friends. Sam said that it would be a one-time-only thing.
We'd eat and say good-bye and that would be it, forever. I found the whole thing immature and childish. He found it cathartic. I wanted no part of lording something over Aaron Sutter. Sam said Aaron and I needed closure; I told him to get over it. So Aaron kept calling Sam and I kept telling Sam no. We were at an impasse.
We were also fighting about my assorted gay friends. Sam liked Evan and Loudon, but that was as far as it went. And I knew why he was comfortable with them. Unless someone told you, figuring out that Loudon was gay was just like guessing about Sam. And because Loudon acted straight, he could deal with Evan being his diva self. So Sam was fine going out with them, being seen with them—the problem arose with my extended circle. My friends who used exaggerated lisps, made statements with their clothes or lack thereof, and who had adorable expressions for everything—including pet names for Sam and me. The girls they would call us, or Jory and h
is girl, or the Diva and her man... all this bugged the hell out of Detective Kage. The fact that my phone rang sometimes in the middle of the night drove him crazy. That I was needed to sit with someone or rescue someone or be there to offer a shoulder to cry on, all of this was beyond Sam's grasp to understand, or he acted like it was. I explained that because he was older than me, our friends were at different places in their lives. Most of his were settled down with kids; most of mine were still partying like rock stars into the wee hours of the morning. When I brought up our age gap, he asked me if I thought it was a problem. I replied honestly that I had never thought so before. He had no comeback and I had nothing else to say. It was something to contemplate, and we did so at opposite ends of the apartment.
It had been easier with all the breaking up and making up that we had done in the past to not consider the bigger picture of living together, and what the happiness and horror of that could be. Faced with the reality of trying to blend two very separate, very different lives, with people that populated both places... it was harder than either of us had ever imagined. The fact that we had moved in together the moment we got back from Dallas had been a spur-of-the-moment decision that I was beginning to regret. We had acted in haste, and it showed.
Sam's friends were doing the best they could with me. It was awkward. They accidentally said things like that's so gay when it was something bad, and then immediately looked at me and winced or flinched or muttered expletives under their breath. They never looked at Sam, only me. Like I was the only homosexual in the room. One evening I overheard two of his friends' wives saying that it was just a phase. Sam had been straight first and eventually he'd find a nice girl and settle down, once he had this "gay thing" out of his system.
Like I was the flu instead of someone he loved. When I told him what had been said, wanting him to address it, he told me not to worry about it, that they would all come around. I wasn't going to hold my breath.
Being both stubborn people by nature, I wasn't going to give up Saturday night dancing with my friends and he wasn't about to give up dinner and beer and pool with his. So we had gone our separate ways, and I felt hollow inside all night long even as I forced myself to enjoy what I was doing. When I broke down and called him to tell him how much I loved and missed him, he acted like he couldn't be bothered. He was having a good time, not giving me a second thought, and there I had been, fretting the entire night. I hung up on him, turned off my phone, and didn't stumble home until after three in the morning. I didn't make it any further than the couch before I passed out.