by Eve Langlais
She gasped. “You do know it’s cold, right?”
“Refreshing, you mean.”
“No, it’s cold,” she grumbled. Tepid, actually.
“Sorry. The heater is broken. At least, the view is still good.”
Once she got past the initial shock, it was pleasant after the muggy heat. Settling onto the molded seat built into the tub, she was treated to a waning moon glittering off the ocean waves, the wispy drift of clouds across shifting the light of it. Soft music played; nothing with words, string instruments with a bit of percussion and piano.
It was soothing. She leaned back with a happy sigh.
“How’s your head doing?” he asked.
“How did you know it hurt?” she asked suspiciously. Was he spying on her?
“You kept rubbing your temples in the car.”
“Oh.” She relaxed. “It’s better now.” She glanced at him. “Thanks for taking me out of there.”
“You saved me having to play nice.” He grimaced.
“I thought you knew and liked those people.”
“I know some of them,” he emphasized. “And even if I knew them all, that’s too many at once.”
“You don’t like crowds?”
“They’re not my favorite. I avoid them whenever possible.”
“It didn’t bother me,” she remarked.
“You have an interesting ability to blend in anywhere you need to.”
“Maybe I am a spy,” she said with a laugh.
“Could be. Although, you mustn’t be a very good one.”
“What makes you say that?” she huffed, a tad insulted. If he only knew what she’d done in that alley.
“The red hair.”
“Are you about to stereotype me?”
“Well, you are quick-tempered.”
“Want to see if I can be evil, too?” she grumbled, wondering if he’d fight if she held his head underwater.
“Don’t get pissy.”
“You’re the one who said my red hair makes it unlikely I’m a spy.”
His reasoning proved basic. “Red hair like yours would never blend into the background.”
“What if my job is to act as bait? Luring people out of hiding.”
“To do what? Rob them?”
She thought of the stash of money in her drawer. “Could be I’m a master at espionage.”
At that, he snorted. “I still recall you stuck like a fly on the fence.”
She splashed him. “Don’t remind me.”
“You do realize we’re debating the unlikely possibility of you being a spy?”
“Hey, a girl needs to work,” she joked.
“I know a way to settle this. Let’s find out if you can shoot a gun. Because all good spies know how to handle a weapon.” He made the water wobble as he stood on the seat and reached for his clothes. The weapon that appeared in his hand widened her eyes.
“You brought a gun to a bachelor party?”
“I bring guns wherever I go, Ariel.” He flexed his arms and winked.
She pursed her lips. “You are not funny.” But he was cute.
“The truth is, yes, I have a gun. A man in my position never goes out unarmed.”
“Is the world that dangerous?”
“I made myself a promise a long time ago to never be a victim.”
“By being the perpetrator?” She eyed the weapon.
“Never said I used it. It’s more of a backup, a safety net in case I get into a bad situation. Here. See how it feels.” The weapon came at her, and she shied away.
“Is it loaded?”
“Kind of useless if it isn’t.”
“And you’re just going to hand it to me?” she said flatly.
“Why not? The safety is on. When you’re ready to fire, we’ll flip it off.”
“It’s too dark.”
A press of a button fixed that problem. A soft glow illuminated the tub. The clear water showed everything, including his erection.
“Oh.” She couldn’t look away.
“Is this your way of saying you want to play with a different gun?”
“What? No!” She licked her lips before facing him. “Sorry. That was rude of me. Too much wine.”
Hardly, given she’d only had two glasses, and a while ago at that, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Here.” He pressed her hands around the grip. “Aim it and fire.”
“Aim it where?”
“At the moon.”
She lifted it, the weight not familiar, and yet she knew how to hold it. Understood the catch on it would release the safety, that she had to keep her arms taut and loose at the same time for the recoil. The pain from the time she’d smashed her nose had taught her a lesson. For a moment, the phantom memory hit her, sharp with pain but no context, no reasoning behind why she’d been firing a gun in the first place.
It faded, and she was left with only the heavy weight of the present and the weapon in her hands. Holding it felt more than passingly familiar to her. It felt right.
And to think he’d handed it to her. What would he think if he knew what’d happened in the alley? Hell, she didn’t know what to think. He thought the body that afternoon was an accident. Was it? What if she was a stone-cold killer?
She dropped the gun into the water and watched it sink.
“What did you do that for?” he exclaimed.
“I don’t think I like guns.”
“Well, I happen to like that one.”
“Dry it out, toss it in some rice. I’m sure it will be fine.” If taken apart, cleaned and oiled properly.
He eyed her. “If you didn’t like it, you could have just handed it back.”
“Could have, but didn’t. Sorry.” Not really. Something about her familiarity with the weapon spooked her.
“Ready to go inside?” he asked.
“Not really, but you can go.” She tilted her head to the sky.
“I’m not leaving you out here alone.”
“You can’t be glued to me forever.”
“Nobody wants forever,” he said with a grimace.
“No kidding. And yet, look at that couple tonight, wanting to make a go of it. Just the two of them against the world. Don’t they know you can only count on yourself?” She didn’t know where the bitter words came from.
Yet his reply commiserated. “The only person you can trust is the one you see in the mirror.”
Maybe for him, that was true. But in Ariel’s case?
“What if you don’t recognize them?” And worse, the face looking back scared you?
Chapter Eighteen
Ariel no sooner spoke, than she tried to stand. Attempted to leave. Embarrassed at the truth she’d allowed to slip. A fear he remembered from a time long ago when his life went to shit, and he’d looked at the face in the mirror and didn’t know who it was.
In his case, it was drugs and bad choices that had made him lose sight of himself. It didn’t help that he was alone when he really needed was someone to say that he mattered. There was something about despair that made it impossible to see past that moment. To believe there could be something better ahead. It made him speak softly to the woman now struggling to find herself.
“You might not recognize the face right now, but it’s still you.”
“But who is me? And why does the answer to that scare me?”
“Why would it scare you?”
“Because.” She wouldn’t look at him as she tried to wade past.
Like fuck. Hugo grabbed for her wrist and held it as he tugged her through the water until she stood between his knees.
She wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“Are you really going to act shy now?” he goaded.
Her flashing eyes lifted. “I’m not here to amuse you or satisfy your urge for sarcastic rejoinders.”
“Good. Because, otherwise, Gerome might be worried you’re coming after his job. The man prides himself on dry comebacks.”
“I f
ind him rather witty. Wittier than you.”
“But is he as handsome?” Hugo drawled, drawing her closer, noticing how she didn’t move away. There was something between them. Something they both kept trying to deny.
“You’re a player.”
“For all you know, you are, too.”
She arched a brow. Rather than be insulted, she sassed right back. “Wouldn’t that make me a slut?”
“Slut is a patriarchal term used to remove a woman’s power over her own sexuality.”
She blinked at him. “Don’t tell me you actually believe that?”
“I think it would be hypocritical of me to condemn a woman for having many partners when that happens to be my preference.”
“You’ll never settle down?”
“There was a time I might have.”
“What happened?”
“She betrayed me. Lied about why she was really in my life. Lied so well, I asked her to marry me.”
“Oh.”
“I came home early from a business trip and didn’t tell her because I wanted it to be a surprise. Only, as it turned out, I was the one surprised when I caught her in bed with her lover.”
“Oh, Hugo.”
It wasn’t enough to display his shame; he exposed his bitterness, too. “It’s why I know you can’t trust anyone but yourself.”
“Because those that are supposed to love you most, hurt you the most, too,” she said softly.
“What did you remember?”
Her lips flattened into a line. “Something I wish I hadn’t.”
“Tell me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to. I can’t. It’s gone.”
“Bullshit. Stop playing me. I know you remember more than you’re letting on.”
“So what if I do? None of what I recall makes sense, and it’s like holding onto running water, it slips through the cracks of my mind, leaving me more confused than before.”
“Maybe speaking it aloud will clarify it.”
“How can I clarify the sight of a child, a boy that I think is my son, being flung into a wall?”
“Why is he being tossed? Who’s doing the tossing?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. That’s what’s so frustrating. I know it’s important. But that’s all I ever see. That and a man’s face. So angry. Hateful.”
“And?” Hugo prodded, sensing there was more.
“Blood. On my hands. On the floor.” Her voice lowered. “I don’t think the body in the pool is the first time I’ve killed.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe they deserved it?”
“Does anyone ever deserve to die?”
He could say quite heartily, “Yes. Some people aren’t worth the air they breathe.”
“Am I one of those people?” She stared at him.
The right answer wasn’t the truthful one. “I don’t know. A part of me wants to believe and trust you.”
“But?”
He shrugged. “I can’t.” There was something just a bit off about Ariel.
When she went to jerk away, he cajoled, “Come on now, Ariel. Don’t be mad. We’re just talking.”
“No, you’re insulting me. Again.”
“I have trust issues.” He shrugged and offered her a sheepish smile.
“I’m not lying.”
“How can I tell for sure, though?”
Her lips quirked. “What if we played a lie detection game.”
“I’m surprised you want to mix electronics and water so soon.”
Wrong thing to say. Her face paled, and she recoiled.
He hastened to fix the error. “I’m sorry, that was tasteless of me.”
Rather than flee, she remained standing by his knees. “Hard to believe that was just this afternoon.”
“Given Pierrot never returned, I’d say we’re probably in the clear.”
“Until the next attack.”
She drooped, and he couldn’t help but reach for her, drawing her into his lap.
“What are you doing?”
“Can’t a man give a sad woman a hug?”
“Your erection is poking me in the bottom.”
He grinned. “You’re an attractive woman, even when sad.”
“And you’re handsome, even when I want to throttle you.” She turned serious. “You do realize I can’t give you anything beyond sex.”
“Not asking for anything else.”
“I shouldn’t even be contemplating it.” Her gaze went to his mouth.
How did she drive him crazy with just a look?
“So, we agree to no strings. No regrets. And discretion,” he added, more for her benefit.
“What if I’m really bad at it and can’t remember how?”
His lips quirked. “Then you can sing that Madonna song.”
The jest had her laughing. “Oh, I doubt I’m a virgin.” She giggled. “What if I don’t know how to please you?”
“Don’t you get it? You already please me. Hell, all you have to do is say ‘hello,’ and I get hard.”
The right reply, apparently, because her lips were suddenly on his. A hot clash of flesh and breath as his arms closed around her, reveling in the feel of her so close. She didn’t move out of his grip but rather straddled him instead, the core of her sitting on his thighs, her hands cupping his cheeks, her kiss passionate and skilled.
And to think she’d been afraid. She kissed him as if he were a precious treat. She sucked on his tongue in a way that made his cock jealous. She squirmed in his lap and almost made a grown man embarrass himself.
Almost. She wasn’t the only one with talent. He broke the embrace to nip his way along her jaw to her ear. Teasing the lobe and shell of it as she squirmed and panted for him.
But he wasn’t done. He cupped her breasts with his hands, weighing their natural heaviness, squeezing them and watching through half-slit eyes as she sighed and leaned her head back. Letting herself bask in the pleasure.
There was more to come. He bent her even farther and leaned forward so that he might brush his mouth across the tip of one breast, then the other, the slight stubble on his jaw creating friction against her delicate skin.
Ariel shivered. “Again.”
He rubbed across the other erect tip and then followed with his lips. She moaned and ground herself against his lap.
He opened his mouth and flicked her nipple with the tip of his tongue.
She gasped.
He did it again. Teasing her before he truly licked the areola. He teased those hardened berries until she panted. “I think you made me come a little.”
“Don’t come too much yet, we’re not done,” he growled, suctioning his mouth around her breast, tugging it hard, and grazing it with his teeth.
She uttered a deep groan that shot pleasure right to his dick.
She grabbed his hair and dug her fingers in, riding his thighs as he kept teasing her tips.
He thought about seeing if he could make her come just by sucking and biting her breasts, but he had to see. Had to know.
He lifted her until she sat on the edge of the hot tub, that ridiculous scrap of material hiding her pubes.
Tearing them free showed him nothing.
As in not a single hair. Bare. The waxed kind that didn’t leave even stubble.
“Disappointed?” she said huskily.
“The mystery of your true hair color remains.” He placed a kiss on the nude skin.
“How about a consolation prize?”
When she parted her thighs, he saw heaven.
He lost all finesse as he fell on her, his tongue reaching out to lap at her sweet core. He groaned at the taste of her. And when the vibration of that sound brought a sharp cry from her lips, he made another noise and dug his fingers in to hold her in place.
He wasn’t about to miss this feast.
His tongue didn’t just part her lips, it stroked against her swollen clit. He alternated—a flick of her button, then diving in with
his tongue until she thrashed in his grip.
“Yes. Yes,” she chanted, just the one word, over and over.
He was more than happy to oblige…with one caveat. He wasn’t letting her come on his tongue. He sat on the ledge beside her, the shaped concrete biting into his ass, but better his skin than hers as he drew her onto his lap. She straddled him without words, her hand guiding the head of him into her.
The heat and way she gripped him had him fighting to not simply plunge inside.
She squirmed against him, driving him deep. “Don’t get shy now, sugar,” she murmured against his mouth.
He needed no more motivation. Hands gripping her ass, he pumped, thrust in and out, feeling how she tightened around him, loving how she embraced him in her arms. And cried his name as she came.
Came hard on him, just as he came hard in her.
Without a condom, which did a lot to ensure that he didn’t linger inside her body. In a moment, he had them both back in the tub, rinsing away his loss of control, and then compounding it by feathering her lips and face with soft kisses.
They didn’t say much. Words might have ruined the mood. May have brought the regret a little too soon. There was time enough in the morning, in the light of day, to wonder about what they’d done.
He held Ariel’s hand as he walked her back to her room. He waited to see if she’d invite him in.
Instead, she gave him a shy smile. “Thanks. See you in the morning.”
That was all she had to say?
She closed the patio door, and the curtain swished shut.
He stared at it a moment.
No strings. He’d said it himself. So, why did he expect—no, make that want—more?
He didn’t. Blame the stupid, romantic night.
Returning to his office where he kept the best scotch, he’d barely taken a sip when he realized he wasn’t alone.
Chapter Nineteen
Ariel floated to bed. Her body felt good. Her mind, not as anxious. Sex had helped her find a mellow place that had her hitting the pillow with a soft sigh.
It evaporated the moment someone barged into her room.
Instinct meant that she screamed and threw a pillow, which resulted in an incredulous female voice saying, “That was seriously the worst toss I’ve ever seen you do.”
She blinked and regarded the intruder. The woman seemed familiar, and not just because she’d seen her earlier that night.