by Katt, Sydney
* * *
Allison brushed her teeth quickly while she tried to figure out what she thought she was doing. She loved Adam. She hated Markenson.
At least, she thought she loved Adam. They'd just been two people talking in a coffee shop at first, two people who seemed to have a knack for always running into each other. Then he'd slowly opened up about having a brother in prison for a crime he didn't commit. The more he told her about the circumstances of Eli's arrest for passing counterfeit money, the more she wanted to help him in any way she could until she finally asked her father to look into it.
Never once did it occur to her that his brother was in the same prison that was on her sales route, that their meetings had been anything other than coincidental in nature. Not even after the escape had she figured out that she'd been his target, his dupe, until the police suggested it when questioning her.
It had all seemed so simple, so innocent at the time. After her father's death, she'd even run into Adam in the prison infirmary, claiming he was there to find out about the state of his brother's health, but that the prison doctor wouldn't give up any details. Could she find a reason to get him to walk out in the hallway with her once he got off the phone so that Adam would have a minute alone to look at the file himself?
Getting the man she'd been occasionally dating into the hall didn't seem like such a big deal and certainly wasn't difficult. She hadn't dreamed it would give Adam the opportunity to somehow steal one of his keys and replace it with a fake.
How stupid she must've seemed to Brad that night she'd confessed over a home-cooked dinner how much she missed Adam even though he'd so thoroughly used her.
If the police hadn't started taking a closer look at her over the stolen morphine, she might've been content to wash her hands of Adam Barrows for good. But they had and she didn't know anyone else who knew how to go on the run. Once she was with him and his brother, Adam spoke with so much passion about the frame job that was done to make it look as though Eli had killed the man who gave him the counterfeit bills that she could almost justify the way he'd used her. And then when he kissed her...it wasn't fair how easily she forgave him.
But she definitely hated Brad Markenson. Probably.
The desire she felt pulsing through her veins was insane.
When was the first time she'd felt the shift in her feelings toward him? Was it when she'd nearly succeeded in strangling him during her escape from the motel room he'd held and tortured her in for two days? Was it the moment he'd freed her from that van?
No. It was when he'd almost killed her.
Sure, there had been terror over the realization that the man she believed to be her friend had a gun aimed at her nose, that everything had been a lie. Of course she'd felt dread at the questions he'd screamed at her while bound to the chair in that hideous motel room with what looked like tiny Christmas elves smiling at them from the wallpaper. But no question about it, that was the day.
As though it were yesterday, Allison could see him calmly stand after her insistence that she knew nothing, had nothing. Even with the gun in his hand, Brad was so casual in the way he'd undone that button at his neck to loosen his tie that she'd almost thought he might actually be on the way into the bathroom to take a shower. She'd even momentarily forgotten her predicament while checking out his ass.
Black slacks really hadn't done it justice.
She shuddered at the memory of what came next. Every time he dunked her into that bathtub, she hated him. And every time he pulled her out and looked at her with such loving concern...Allison didn't know what that made her feel. She didn't understand why she almost began to crave the feeling of his fingers against her cheek while still fighting for breath. Shrinking away from his touch had been the only thing that made sense to her then. After all, weren't you supposed to jerk away from the man who was trying to kill you?
But even in those terrifying moments when she thought that each dunk in the water would be her last, there had been something so familiar about him that she was almost comforted. Her taste in men had always been shit. In a way, what he did to her that day hadn't been so much worse than the things previous lovers had done.
Especially at the height of her drug use.
Having completed her task of obtaining minty-fresh breath, Allison shut off the water. No more trips down memory lane. It was time to deal with the present. It was time to deal with the man who was separated from her by only a towel and a stained shower curtain.
She hated herself for wanting him – even as she tousled her damp hair. She hated herself for the way she'd let her eyes wander over those snug jeans when she followed him to the car – even as she silently let her towel drop to the floor. She hated herself for the way her body had melted when he kissed her – even as she pulled back the curtain and slipped behind him into the shower.
She hated herself for all of it, what she'd done and what she was about to do.
But she didn't hate herself enough to stop.
CHAPTER 5
ALLISON SLID HER hands over his shoulders a split second before he reacted to her presence in the shower. "What the fuck?"
"I knew you'd get the idea." Her lips trailed across the back of his neck. "Is it just me or does it seem hot in here? Or choose your own pick-up line. I don't mind."
Brad spun around and shoved her away from him. "I don't know what game you think you're playing, but I'm not in the mood for it."
"Oh?" She let her gaze slip south. There it was. That should do the trick quite nicely. Her hand followed her eyes to grip him. "I'd say you are most certainly in the mood for this, Brad." She stepped closer, joining him under the hot spray and moved her lips to his ear. "Who's playing games now?"
He forcibly pried her fingers from around him. "I control my body, Allison. Not the other way around."
"That really explains a lot." She hovered her lips over his, waiting for him to take the bait, knowing instinctively that he'd want to maintain some level of control before he lost control. "You're a man. Take what you want. I won't stop you. I might bite a little though."
Brad brushed his lips over hers and then pushed her back to the cool tile at the far end of the small shower, restraining her at the shoulders. "No one ever said a thing about me wanting you."
"I never realized you were such a talker." She tried to reach out for him with her hands, but he kept her firmly pinned in place. As a last resort, she found her balance on one leg and moved the other slowly up the inside of his thigh.
He made a feral sound deep in his throat at the contact, but maintained his hold on her, his eyes still locked intently on hers. "What's the angle? Seduce me and then skip out on me while I'm asleep? It's not—"
"You've got this all wrong."
A condescending smile lit his mouth, but didn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, really? Well, by all means, please educate me on why else you hopped into the shower and started groping me."
"Seduction takes effort. I don't have the patience for that."
"Still not answering my question, Waverly."
"Well, pay attention, Markenson, because I'll only say it once." He rolled his eyes and said nothing so she continued. "I'm really just looking to get fucked. I don't care who."
She really meant that too. With all the stress of the day and the unexpected attraction to Brad, even some of the more lascivious suggestions infirm inmates had made to her during her sales calls at the prison were starting to seem appealing.
She licked her lips wickedly. "It's nothing personal. I just need you to help me take the edge off a little."
* * *
Was this chick for real? "Okay. So you get fucked and then you flit out of here?" He shook his head. "I finish my assignments."
"I'm not going anywhere. You're my ticket into Costa Rica." Her voice took on a husky quality. "So consider it a bonus for a job to be well done."
Interesting. So he was just a quick lay and a ticket to Costa Rica to her? Though he knew he shouldn't,
it would be amusing to test her, to see how far she was willing to take her charade before she realized she didn't have it in her – if indeed that's what this was.
Brad released her and slid a hand between them to grope her breast. "Just so we're clear..." He paused long enough to nip at her neck. "You understand your ticket to Costa Rica was never contingent on this?"
"Oh...uh...yes..." she moaned. Allison wrapped her arms around his waist in an attempt draw him nearer – probably to speed things along – but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them up over her head, securing them in one hand.
"My shower, my rules."
If she was about to protest, it was lost when he crushed his mouth over hers. She struggled against his grip for a moment, as though she wanted him to stop, as though her bluff had just been called, but her wrists seemed to go slack in his hand the moment she felt his tongue slide along the inside of her lower lip. Her sharp gasp of pleasure reached him as her tongue slipped passed his lips to swirl around his own. Any doubts he had about her willingness to move forward fell from his mind when her right leg came up around his waist, begging him to give her what she seemed to so desperately want.
But he wasn't about to lose his control over the situation or just blindly move forward until he was one hundred percent certain this wasn't some sort of a game. He was better trained than that.
Allison tried to break away from the kiss to no avail. It wasn't as though she was exactly in the best position to get her way as it was. Rather than continue to fight a losing battle, she seemed to change tactics, returning his kiss with a ferocity he would never have expected from her, her hips grinding against his, an insistent moan escaping from the depths of her throat.
Until her moans almost seemed to form words...
Finally, mercifully, Brad tore his lips away from hers to move to the hollow of her throat. "Say something, princess?"
She could hardly speak when she first opened her mouth. Her breath was already coming in pants, pants that sharpened markedly when he snaked his free hand between them to roughly knead her breast again, flicking a practiced thumb over her taut nipple until he got the response he sought.
"Markenson..."
He made his tone one of boredom, despite the fact he was now aching to feel her. "Yeah."
"Now..." She gulped. "Please. Now."
Still testing her, Brad entered her in one hard thrust, eliciting a scream of pleasure mixed with pain from her. That one movement was enough to flood his body with guilt. He'd just taken things too far. Never once in his life had he been that forceful with any woman. He grew still, painfully so, the apology ready at his lips.
But Allison, being an ever-unraveling mystery, surprised him with her words. "Don't stop now." She writhed against him, letting her nails bite into his flesh. "Oh...don't stop."
And there it was. Even as his willpower snapped like a brittle twig, understanding blossomed in his mind. Though he was nearly lost to the sensations building and intensifying with each thrust, Brad recognized precisely what she was doing.
The knowledge that she wasn't simply playing some game on him was bittersweet.
The things addicts did to assuage their cravings always were.
Brad understood the things addicts did all too well. As far back as he could remember he'd watched his mother do the exact same thing. Right up until the day he'd turned eighteen and gotten the hell out of that house, he'd watched her ease her pain over being a widow too soon with pills and drinks and needles and men. Lots of men. Fuck, her bedroom window was busier than any major thoroughfare in the part of D.C. in which they'd lived.
So after watching all that, after hating his mother for her many weaknesses, Brad never imagined he would end up enabling an addict. Thankfully, Allison's mouth demanded his full attention. He gave it willingly, ready to be away from his own dark thoughts.
Once she began to shake around him, he felt a sudden need for revenge well up within him. Perhaps there was a part of him still angry about the way she'd gotten the drop on him and escaped back when he still had a government job he semi-believed was for the greater good. Perhaps it was because he now understood why she was using him. Perhaps he was just pissed that she bit him in woods. Regardless, he bit down on her lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough to reward him with a small yelp – just before he was rewarded with the tightening of her arms around his neck and the delicious contraction of all those tiny muscles around him.
A few thrusts later, he allowed himself to follow her over the edge of oblivion.
* * *
Allison opened her eyes slowly, the amazing high she was experiencing gradually ebbing away. Intense hatred burned its way through her veins with every one of the rapid thumps of her heart inside her chest. Oddly enough, it was not hatred for the man who was sandwiching her against the wall while fighting for breath.
It was hatred for herself.
She loved Adam; she hated Markenson. What the hell had she just done? What was she letting herself become? Why was she already craving him again? It was simply too soon. Nothing about this situation was right.
Why couldn't it have been some government hitman coming for her instead of Brad Markenson? Death would have been welcome compared to the turmoil gnawing inside. Would this torment never end?
Purposefully, Allison slipped her legs down from his waist until her feet made contact with the slick ceramic surface. This mistake could never come to an end if she didn't get away from him. Soon.
Brad, oblivious as most men were after sex, pressed a kiss on her shoulder. And then her neck. And then that spot just below her ear that would have her melting again.
This had to stop.
In a voice that was little more than a scared whisper, "I...I hate you."
Brad pulled back and met her with his patent smirk of condescension. "I hate you more, princess."
He moved to kiss her and she shoved against his chest with enough force to allow her the space she needed to flee the shower. Grabbing her towel from the floor, she wrapped it around herself and turned back to him with a fresh hatred clouding her hazel eyes. "No. Stay away from me. I hate you."
* * *
Brad watched as Allison tore out of the room without another word to him. He made no effort to stop her, to go after her. What was the point? She was right to hate him.
Truth be told, he hated himself right now.
Right at the beginning he'd known what this was about. When it came right down to it, he was always in control of the situation; he could have stopped it before it even started. And he hadn't. Instead, he'd fucked her without a single thought for what the next few weeks would be like now that she'd chased her high and he'd been her dealer.
Brad made certain to stay in the shower long enough to give her time to get dressed or get in bed or whatever the hell she needed to do. When he was reasonably certain his time in the shower was bordering on bizarre, he shut off the water and dried off, slipping on clean boxers and a white t-shirt. Then suddenly there was nothing left to do but join Allison in the other room.
He shut off the lights before leaving the confines of the bathroom, allowing his eyes to first adjust to the darkness. When it came right down to it, he didn't want to see Allison any more than she must want to see him. If she was crying...
He didn't want to see any tears. It would remind him too much of the last time he'd seen his sister, right after he'd packed his bags and told her that she'd get the hell out of that house too if she knew what was good for her. Except she was younger, so running away from home to join the military wasn't an option for her.
A soft voice hit him with gale force winds when he reached to take a pillow off the bed.
"I'm in love with Adam."
His fingers tightened on the pillow. "I'm aware."
Now it was all out in the open. He'd just had sex with the woman in love with the man paying him to deliver her to Costa Rica. Were there any shortages of new lows to which he could sink?<
br />
Apparently not.
Wordlessly, Allison wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tugged him into bed with her. She, still as nude as she'd been in the shower, peeled off his shirt and climbed astride him. He caught her hair in his hands, gathering it away from her face in an attempt to catch her eyes in what little moonlight peeked through the ratty curtains. "Allison..."
It was her turn to force his hands up over his head. "No talking. My bed...my rules."
For the second time in a relatively short span, Brad knew he could have stopped their downward spiral into hell. He should have been the strong one – especially given that Allison was no more in control of her actions than the rain was in control of the raging floodwaters it created. But Brad was in total control of his actions that night.
So help him, he simply didn't care how much she would hate him or herself in the morning. Not once her mouth stole the breath from his lungs with the hungry kiss of a starving woman.
* * *
Some time later, Allison fluidly slid off him and retreated to the far side of the bed – well, as far as one could get in a queen-sized bed. Brad reached a lazy hand after her, lightly dancing his fingers down her spine. It didn't seem to surprise or faze him in the slightest when she swatted his hand away from her. Instead, he sighed slightly, rolled away from her and went to sleep.
Only once she was completely sure his breathing had become that of a deep sleep did Allison let the tears of shame and sorrow flow freely. How could she have let herself make the same mistake so soon after the first indiscretion? How could she have been the one to not only make the mistake, but to also initiate it?
If Adam ever found out about this...
She shuddered and let the fresh wave of self-pity wash over her. Whether he was a mild-mannered engineer as he'd claimed to be or some kind of ruthless criminal mastermind, this wasn't the sort of thing he was likely to take well. Adam could never find out about this. That simply was not an option.