Crash Into Me

by K. M. Scott

  My heart slammed against my chest at Derek's implication. The police had repeatedly told my sister and me that all the leads had gone cold, but it sounded like he was saying someone knew who'd murdered my father. "Do you know anything about that?"

  "Ma'am, it's time we got going."

  I turned to see Jared ready to do his best escort impression. "I'll be ready in a minute. I'm talking right now."

  My shadow looked around and then back at me. "Ma'am, I think he left."

  Jared was right. Derek was nowhere in sight. I took off to find him, but it was like he'd vanished. I searched all four floors, but I never found him. As Jared escorted me back to the hotel, the man's claim echoed in my head.

  Someone knew who had murdered my father.

  I left Jared behind in the lobby and raced up to the room to get my head together. I needed a cool drink and some time to think about what Derek had said. The idea that the people responsible for my father's death still roamed free while he lay cold in the ground tore at me. I'd never believed what the police told us, but without any proof, all I had was my gut feeling that what they knew about the case was only the tip of the iceberg.

  Throwing my purse on one of the chairs in the suite's living room, I stripped nude and ran myself a bath in the soaker tub. I poured myself a glass of red wine and slid into the water, wanting so desperately to calm the craziness that was racing around my brain. The wine quickly dulled my senses, as alcohol always did, and I closed my eyes to silence my thoughts.

  At last, my brain calmed and all that was left was the feeling of loss that I'd had since the moment I learned that my father had died of a gunshot wound in an abandoned warehouse in Newark. My father and mother for so many years was gone, taken from me in a moment of hate or passion. I didn't know which. As I sat in the warm water there in the hotel suite I shared with Tristan, all I really knew was that my father was murdered and gone forever.

  I'd cried so many tears since that night that I hadn't thought there weren't any left in me. My emotions had traveled from sadness to rage to nothingness. I'd felt so much that where it concerned my father's death, my heart was numb. But Derek's words had pricked at that numbness like a needle in a dead limb and I'd felt it.

  "How were the museums?"

  I opened my eyes and saw Tristan standing in the bathroom doorway. He smiled, but his expression did a poor job of hiding the fact that whatever the problem was that he had been dealing with all day was still plaguing his thoughts.

  "I missed having you there. It was nice, but it would have been better with you by my side."

  His smile widened into a warm grin, and he walked over to crouch next to the tub. "I know. I'm sorry. The Louvre, right?"

  Chuckling at his recollection of my words from that morning, I flicked a few drops of water at him. "You better believe it. I'm holding you to that, you know."

  "I'm counting on it."

  He leaned forward and kissed me gently on the forehead, making me feel loved and cared for. Closing my eyes, I sighed. "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  I looked up into his curious eyes. "For making me feel so loved."

  Pushing my hair behind my ear, he whispered, "Always."

  His touch was so comforting, and I leaned into his palm to rest my head. "Do you ever find yourself thinking back to before your parents and brother were taken from you? I can't get my father off my mind tonight."

  Tristan said nothing for a long time. I worried that I'd said something wrong by asking about his family, but finally he quietly said, "Sometimes it's all I can think of. There are things that happened when they were alive that still haunt me today."

  Something in his voice told me he understood what I was feeling. The loss. The regret that not having the chance to say goodbye brought with it.

  He kissed my head and leaned his against mine. "Did something happen today?"

  I wanted to tell him about Derek, but what did I have to go on? The word of some guy from Minnesota who'd made some vague claim? I didn't want to ruin our vacation, and I could tell him everything when I found out some actual facts.

  "No. I just had a lot of time alone today and visiting art galleries reminds me of when I was a little girl and my father would take me to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It was there that I first fell in love with art."

  None of that was a lie. I just hadn't told Tristan about Derek.

  "He sounds like a great father, Nina. You were lucky."

  Things were getting too serious, so I slid up against the back of the tub and took a drink of wine. Forcing a smile, I said, "I was. So what's on the schedule for tonight? A little dinner in and some TV with the ball and chain?"

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I had something a little different in mind, but if you'd rather watch TV..."

  "No, no. I can watch TV any night. It's not every night I'm in Venice. What do you have in mind?"

  His face turned sheepish. "I know it's pretty clichéd, but I thought we'd take a gondola ride."

  I couldn't help but smile. He really was so cute when he was romantic. "That's so cool! Give me a few minutes and I'll get ready. A gondola ride! I get to cross off another thing on my list of things to do before I die."

  Nearly leaping out of the tub, I raced to get ready, eager to experience what I'd only seen in movies and paintings. It may have been clichéd, but I didn't care. There was no way I was visiting Venice and not taking a gondola ride, and that I'd be taking it with the man I loved was better than anything.

  "Isn't this romantic?" I cooed as the gondolier guided the boat past those great Gothic buildings that lined the Grand Canal, the ones I'd looked out at from our balcony the night before.

  Tristan slipped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. "It's actually really nice. I'd heard horrible things about the canal water, but this isn't bad."

  I rolled my eyes at his understatement. "Nice? Isn't bad? You really know how to seduce a girl."

  Nuzzling my neck, he whispered, "You want seduction? I'll give you seduction."

  I turned my head to catch his mouth in a kiss. He tasted like scotch, and I liked my lips as I pulled away. "Promises, promises."

  Our gondolier eased his craft around another stopped gondola as Tristan whispered, "Did you know that all gondoliers must wear black pants and a striped shirt?"

  I looked our guide up and down and saw he was wearing that exact uniform. "I'm impressed."

  "Good. But I feel compelled to tell you that the concierge at the hotel gave me that tidbit of information," he admitted in a low, husky voice that hit me deep inside, oddly enough considering what he was saying.

  I ran my hand up his thigh and licked my lips. "I love honestly in a man. Now I'm even more impressed."

  As the gondola drifted to a stop, Tristan winked at me. "Time for that seduction."

  We walked into the Piazza San Marco as the first drops of rain began to fall. Tourists and locals headed for cover in the restaurants and hotels nearby, leaving just a few of us alone in the enormous square. Puddles quickly formed on the stone patio, forcing us to zigzag toward the Moorish style arches that lined the piazza as the skies opened up above us.

  Thunder boomed overhead, chasing nearly everyone from the square. Soaked to the bone, we ran for shelter behind the colonnade. My hair was drenched and plastered to my head, and I slicked it off my face just so I could see. I looked up at Tristan, who was scrubbing his face dry with his hands. He looked as incredible as always. Dipping my head, I wiped under my eyes to get rid of any smeared mascara and mumbled, "I must look like a nightmare."

  He lifted my chin to force me to look at him and shook his head. "You look beautiful. Come here."

  Pulling me close, he kissed me deeply, sending a rush of arousal through my body. His hands fisted my hair as he slid his tongue over mine seductively. His hips pushed forward, brushing his hardening cock between my legs and making me tilt my hips to eagerly meet his thrusts.

  "You wanted seduct
ion, didn't you, Nina?" he asked in that deep voice that made me want him more than anything at that moment.

  "Yes," I answered breathlessly as he gently pinned me against a column.

  "Yes," he repeated as he slid his hand under my dress all the way up to my panties. "Yes." He moaned softly in my ear, "Right here, Nina. Right here."

  Were there people nearby? I didn't know and I didn't care. I wanted him inside me now. His mouth plundered mine and mine plundered his in return as I fumbled with his belt, finally pulling it loose. My hand reached into his pants and tugged on his boxer briefs, yanking them down below his balls so his stiff cock sprang out at attention while the other hand yanked his shirt out of the way, sending buttons flying in all directions. I slid my hand over his smooth cock and drew a sharp breath in as he tore my panties from my body.

  He was like a man possessed, his hands grasping at my face and neck as he kissed me. Lifting me onto him, he slid his cock inside me and wrapped my hands around his neck. Those dark eyes stared into mine, wild and full of desire, and he began pumping into my body raggedly. His grunts filled my ears as with each thrust he pushed me back against the marble column, but I was oblivious to pain or anything other than Tristan.

  He was everywhere around me—his mouth, his hands, his cock becoming essential to the happiness every part of my body cried out for. I clawed at his scalp, looking for some leverage as he fucked me wildly there behind a column for anyone to see. My legs ached from their hold around his waist, and with each plunge of his cock inside my wet pussy, I pushed my heels against his back, praying this time he'd finally bury himself deep inside me.

  "Faster, Tristan. I'm almost there," I cried as the first twinge of my orgasm began. "Harder."

  My pleas were met with exactly what I wanted—he pounded into me like a madman, his hands gripping my ass tightly and roughly pulling me into him. His moans and grunts surrounded me, edging me closer to coming as his cock moved like a piston in and out of me.

  I cried out, "Yes!" and squeezed his neck as I began to come. Every part of me felt release as my orgasm shuddered through me, and I pushed down to take every inch of his thick cock as my legs quivered against him. He buried his face in my neck and grunted one last time as I felt him explode into me, bathing my insides with his own release.

  His legs shook as he moaned my name over and over until there was nothing left for either of us to take from the other's body. I was his completely, and he was mine. Tristan lifted his head and pressed it against mine, his forehead drenched with perspiration.

  "God, I love you," he groaned. "I can't fucking live without you, Nina. Promise me no matter what you won't make me. I can't do it."

  I caressed his face and kissed his lips as the last word left his mouth. There was nothing in the world that could tear me from him. He was everything to me, as essential as the air I breathed or the food I ate.

  "Never. I'm yours like you're mine. Forever."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Venice had been the turning point I'd hoped and prayed for with Tristan. With every word and every action, he proved he was as devoted to me as I was to him. We'd even made it through a whole night without any phone calls souring his mood. When we fell asleep in each other's arms that night, I was happier than I ever thought a person could be.

  My happiness was shattered within minutes of waking up the next morning, however.

  Once again, I woke up and Tristan was nowhere to be found. I'd half expected to find a note sitting on his pillow, but reaching out to run my hands over the fine Egyptian cotton pillowcase, there was nothing.

  I didn't have to wait long to find out what had taken him from our bed so early. His footsteps pounding against the floor in the next room told me something was wrong, and I slipped into the white dress shirt he'd left slung over a chair the night before and made my way out to see him.

  He stood near the glass doors to the balcony with his arms folded across his chest. His profile showed a grimace as I walked toward him. I gently touched his sleeve, saddened when I saw his expression as he turned toward me.

  "Hey, what's wrong?"

  Tristan leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. "Work. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to cut our trip short. I wish I didn't have to get back, but you know how it is."

  I couldn't hide my disappointment and turned away to look out through the doors at the Grand Canal. "Oh. Okay."

  "I'm sorry, Nina. I promise to make it up to you."

  Nodding, I looked up at him and forced a smile onto my face. "I know. Such is the life of a bigwig."

  My joke made him laugh, and at least for a moment he appeared happy, even if there was a hint of sadness in his words. "Bigwig, huh? Well, this bigwig would take a smaller wig and being able to stay here with you."

  I stood on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. Those deep brown eyes stared down into mine, almost as if he were begging forgiveness.

  "You do know women often don't like men with smaller...wigs," I teased with a giggle.

  His smile in return was genuine and warmed my heart. "Well, thank God I've been blessed in the wig department."

  Sliding my hand down his torso, I ran my palm over the front of his pants before I turned to head into the bath. "Blessed indeed."

  I didn't get far before he pulled me back against him and said in a deep voice, "I won't be able to get any work done if you keep making me think about last night."

  His reference to what we'd done behind that pillar in the Piazza San Marco made an ache form between my legs. Finally, I'd seen the man behind the expensive suits and hardly any words—that passionate heart that no one but me saw. I would have given anything for the world to go away and have him all to myself for the rest of time.

  Blushing at the memory of the rawest, most erotic moment of my life, I covered his hands with mine and leaned my head back against his shoulder. "You're going to make me so completely crazy about you that I become your love slave, Tristan Stone."

  He nuzzled my neck, sending chills down my spine. In a husky voice, he whispered, "You've figured out my diabolical plan."

  Turning in his arms, I smiled up at him. "I knew you had an ulterior motive."

  "I have to get some work done before we leave, Nina. We need to be ready in little more than an hour."

  Even the mere mention of work changed his mood from playful to serious, almost worried. His beautiful face became marred by a deep frown. I wanted to ask what the problem was, but I let it be. For all I knew, it could be the flight we had to take. So I toddled off to take a nice hot bath before having to spend eight hours on a plane, satisfied that even with the abbreviated holiday, it still had been the most incredible few days of my life.

  Tristan vanished almost the minute we arrived home, so I headed straight to my room, ready to throw myself into my next assignment with the Miami Richmont hotel. I opened the door to the room that had become my home and instantly knew something had changed. Nothing I'd left on the desk while we were in Venice was there, including my laptop. Frantic, I ran down the hall yelling Tristan's name. Didn't he have security that handled things like this?

  Rogers heard my screams and in his usual fashion seemed to appear out of nowhere as I reached the kitchen. Fully convinced my belongings had been stolen, I blurted out, "We've been robbed! My laptop and a bunch of other stuff is gone, Rogers! Did you see anyone?"

  "Miss, we haven't been robbed. I think you'll find all your personal belongings have been moved to the master's room, as per his orders. If you'd like, I can escort you there where your things are safe and sound."

  I stood stunned at the butler's words. Unsure of what to say, I mumbled a quick thank you and quickly made my way to Tristan's side of the house to find everything as Rogers had claimed. My laptop sat in the exact same position on his desk as it had in my room. Every stitch of clothing I owned, even down to my underwear, had been moved and placed in the enormous walk-in closet just beside his clothes. My hand instinctively reache
d out to touch his suits and dress shirts hanging perfectly on their hangers, loving the feel of their crisp softness against my fingertips as I ran my hand all the way toward the furthest point of the closet. I checked the bathroom and there were brand new, unopened bottles of everything I used—shampoo, conditioner, facial scrub, moisturizer, and even a tube of my favorite toothpaste.

  Tristan had arranged for all of this, but when?

  I walked out of the bathroom impressed with his attention to every detail, even the tiniest one. Other women may have loved his money or stunning looks, but for me, his way of noticing what other men didn't was one of the best parts of him.

  Grabbing my laptop, I plopped myself down on the bed and opened it to begin searching for information on the Miami hotel. There on the keyboard was an envelope. I opened it and found another of Tristan's letters I'd grown to love.

  Dear Nina,

  It's only right that the woman I love be in her rightful place next to me. When I get home I'll be eager to see your ideas for Miami. I'll be spending my day fixing problems, but you can be sure that our time in Venice is on my mind.

  Love always,

  Tristan

  I beamed as I reread his letter, loving the sweetness of him writing one at all. I stared at the note, running my finger over the handwritten words. God, I loved him! Folding the heavy stationary back into the envelope, I pressed it to my heart before I slipped the letter into my purse to join the others.

  As much as I wanted to lounge around and think about Tristan, I had work to do. Just because he was as crazy about me as I was about him didn't mean I wanted to slack off at my job. In fact, it made me want to be even better at it. Doing a great job would help him in some small way, and that made me feel like I deserved that rightful place next to him.

  Before I began searching for the perfect artwork for the Miami Presidential suite, my email lured me in like a siren's song. Jordan had sent me a message just a few hours earlier. Clicking on it, I read her email to find that I had some kind of letter waiting for me. She didn't say much about it, other than that it looked official, which piqued my curiosity, but that would have to wait. She and Justin seemed to be fine and moving toward bigger and better things, and our neighbor Mrs. Phillips on the first floor was just as crazy as she'd always been, but now that madness included a long-lost grandson who Jordan hated because he was one of those people who kept eye contact for too long.