“Braedan,” I gasped, clutching the sheets as he entered me again.
The deep and slow pace rebuilt a sensation that was once waning. A hand clasped my jaw pulling me closer to his heat. Open-mouthed sounds made my lips part with my incoherent declarations. Silencing me with his tongue, he expertly penetrated my mouth and tangled it with my tongue. My kisses were feedback, giving him back more than he gave, ending with an delayed lick of the salt from the top of his lip.
The bed creaked and my body rocked against his motions as he drove inside me rigidly. Deep and heavy breaths escaped into my mouth and my respiration bounced against his mouth. My body involuntarily wanted to get away from the debilitating sensations he drew from me. He responded by taking a hold of my wrists in both of his hands and positioning me on my stomach to continue eliciting a bone-tingling friction with his hard and fast pounding.
Flesh slamming against flesh. Wetness meeting more wetness. The motions of our bodies drew out something once dormant deep inside me.
Hitting me fiercely, my second wave nearly knocked me out and left me immobile. A hand slid between the mattress and my form to knead my breasts and pinch my nipples through the chiffon and lace material of my blouse, keeping them erect and swelling with pleasure.
Anything that existed outside of the bedroom washed away. All that surrounded me was the sensation of man who was inside me, touching me, making me feel incredible.
Everything stopped, relenting to a painfully hard peak that stressed my muscles, my voice, and left me feeling drunk.
Despite my blindness, the world around me moved and my ears were filled with a painful ringing.
“Keaton,” he growled, his moves becoming stilted before stopping.
Falling on top of me, he slid over and crashed on the mattress beside me. Unsteady breaths ebbed and flowed against my back.
In the breath-heavy stillness, we collected ourselves and migrated to one another, clinging to each other as though we’d never let go of the moment or remove the stakes we claimed on more than our bodies.
THE EUPHORIA NEVER WENT away. It could’ve been hours, but it felt like merely seconds. The material across my eyes lightened, revealing dawn’s natural light filling the room. I clung to Braedan’s hand, pressed against my sternum, hoping he’d stay with me for a few more minutes until morning broke. I nestled back, comforted by his nude body pressed against mine and the security of his arms around me, keeping me close. His breathing picked up, revealing he’d awakened from his sleep.
He slowly moved me to lie on my back and moved his body partially on top of me. As he slipped the blindfold from my face, his supple lips teased my mouth, my neck, and my ear.
I blinked up at him with a smile. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” he answered giving me another sweet kiss on the curve of my neck. “Despite how much I don’t want to, I have to leave.” His voice rumbled down my throat. The prickly stubble on his jaw tickled my collarbone. Suckling the curve of my neck, he coaxed my foray into disappointment as short-lived and made sure I was lost in him again.
Settling my hand at the back of his head, I rolled my fingers around the longer stands of his hair. My hands acted on their own accord, bringing him closer. I held on to him, caressing his mouth with my lips and tongue to prolong his delay.
“But that isn’t for another thirty minutes.”
“What are we going to do for thirty minutes?”
The taunting and sexy glint took over his steely grey eyes as he regarded me, deeming it impossible to wipe away my grin. Wrapped up in his arms, I was lifted and carried to the bathroom.
The moment he set me down, I folded my arms over my chest, unreceptive toward his act to undress me. The thought of having Braedan bare witness to the extensive damage on my skin left me a little uneasy. I shook my head to stop him.
With his eyes seducing and subduing me, he cradled my chin between his fingers, ensuring I was locked in his gaze. His pull, promising security and understanding, assisted me in finding my confidence, and my hands slowly fell away from my body. Our eye-contact remained uninterrupted as he deftly unbuttoned my blouse and took it further, removing my skirt and my bra.
When the last piece fell to the floor, he dropped his attention to my body. I closed my eyes, unwilling to see his reaction. He grasped my arms, pulling them around his neck and kissed my collarbone with a feather-light touch. Working his lips down, he kissed my sternum, sliding down to kneel in front of me.
He pressed his thumbs against the burn and stab wounds on my stomach and waited.
My head dropped as I cautiously peered down at him.
“I can’t erase your scars, but I can help you give them a new meaning.” Keeping me in his fixed stare, he adoringly kissed my stomach, making it nearly impossible to keep myself from becoming emotional.
“Who are you, Braedan Michaels?” The tears fluttered down my cheeks, despite how adamantly I wished them away.
“I can’t disclose much more about who I am, but I can tell you who I want to be.” His hands snaked around my thighs and lifted me as he stood. I wrapped myself around him. Staring intently into his eyes, I followed every small movement of his bright hues.
I lifted an inquisitive brow, waiting for him to finish his sentiment while he walked toward the shower.
“I want to be yours, Keaton.” Placing my back against the tile and my feet on the ground, he stretched out his hand and turned on the shower. The shocking cold water didn’t endure for very long. Braedan’s body demanded my undivided attention. Preempting a glimpse of what was between his legs, he pressed toward me, erasing the space between us. His hands found the backs of my thighs. His kisses muted me.
Bending forward, he went down on his knees. The hungry look in his eyes thrilled me. I’d never witnessed someone so ravenous for every part of my body that he wore the evidence in his eyes like a proud badge.
I braced myself on either side of the shower wall as he lifted my thighs until I sat over his shoulders with my back against the tile.
My head fell back as I felt his tongue probe a slightly tender place.
“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” Braedan asked once we were redressed and ready to leave the room. As he stood near the foot of the bed, he glanced up from his cell phone with concern. His damp hair dislodged itself from its molded back style and draped the side of his face.
I was so distracted by him it took me a few seconds before I could answer. I pointed to my smile. “I’m…better than all right. Why?”
“Your walk”—his attention drew down to my legs and he looked as though he was ready for round three—“is a little…off.”
At times he was a conundrum. Innocent, but as he proved last night and again this morning, very dirty and worldly when it came to sex and what my body needed. “You’ve never seen women do this after you…?”
He angled a brow, goading me to state what we both knew I wanted to say.
“After you two have had sex?”
“I’ve never woken up next to a woman to know how she felt after the act.” He exhaled audibly and brushed his hands over his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Leaving his hand to linger at the crown, he closed his eyes for an instant. “You probably think I’m a contemptible and promiscuous man who beds women and leaves in the morning before they wake; that’s not the case. The reason is convoluted.”
“I don’t think that at all.” I wracked my brain for an explanation to give him. “You know how when you go to the gym and you’re feeling great, but the next day your muscles feel it? Well…”
The understanding dramatically changed his face, and he suddenly turned apologetic.
“Braedan, its okay. It’s worth the soreness. You’re not exactly…how do I say it? Average sized. I won’t be looking forward to walking anytime soon.” Dropping my hands from fixing my messy and slightly wet bun, I glanced back at the door. “Walk you out?”
“And how are you going to manage that, Keaton?” His grin sudde
nly taunted me. He paced toward me and made me startle a little when he effortlessly lifted me up in his arms.
“Braedan,” I giggled. “I can walk.”
“Are you sure about that?” he mocked me.
Feeling the tinge of exquisite pain between my thighs, I shook my head.
The air breezed around me. His methodic steps moved down the hollow space and carefully descended the stairs. My surroundings barely registered. My gaze was trained to an unrivaled view—Braedan.
He set me down at the front door.
“I want to stay with Sonja for a bit, if she’s here. Call me?”
His arms were around me, pulling me toward his tall frame, giving me one last gentle kiss that we both had a hard time stepping away from.
The scent of breakfast and fresh coffee began to fill my nose. I walked, slightly bow-legged around the house, finding it surprisingly clean and showing no remnants of the previous night. The musky scent of incense and breakfast covered any lingering aroma of sex. Sonja was on the couch with her sleeping fiancée, resting his head on her lap.
She simpered at me and raised her glass of orange juice. “I’m sure you’re starving. I made breakfast for you.”
“Thank you, but I’m sure my mother is worried sick.” I looked at my phone. “She’s called me four times. I just wanted to check in with you.”
“I let her know that you were safe and okay.” She suddenly paused. “Was he everything you imagined? Did he make your birthday incredible?” She observed the way my walk had changed and grinned broadly. “Never mind. Questions answered.”
“I’m—”
“Don’t you dare say sorry. You know I don’t have problems with the guest bedroom being used. I was hoping he’d do exactly what he did.”
I shyly grinned at her, embarrassed and sat carefully down on the chair across from her.
“I think he left something for you. I found it in the kitchen with a card.” She pointed to the black jewelry box with a silver bow on the counter.
I picked it up and slid off the top to be faced with a blush-colored diamond-encrusted cross necklace on a platinum chain. I immediately picked up my phone and sent him a text to thank him. “I keep thinking he can’t be real.” I stared at my phone for a while, but after receiving no immediate response, I put it down on the table. “No one as incredible as he is could be real. Is he an apparition? Do you really see him, too?”
“You deserve it, Keaton.” She looked off into space as if remembering and pointed to the right side of her neck. “It doesn’t detract from the way the man looks—and I can see why you wouldn’t think he’s real but… I hate to ask. What happened to him? I noticed the burn scars. I didn’t want to ask him directly. Since a fire burned down Rebirth, my mind is going wild. Did you know him from there?”
I sat on the edge of the couch and leaned across my lap. “No. Not really. He was there, but I don’t ever remember us interacting. He had to change his identity to hide from Noah. If Noah knew he was alive…”
“I would never, Keaton. You know that. Not that I ever want to come in contact with Noah again…but you know me. It’s probably cathartic to find someone to share those experiences with.”
“No one could understand what we’ve been through. I’m…so thankful that he’s in my life.” I sat back on the couch, recalling what I remembered about Sander—there wasn’t very much beyond his dark hair and tall frame. It was as though he was constantly in my blind spot. I was glad I couldn’t remember. If I had, I wasn’t sure if our unusual relationship would’ve ensued, because I never would’ve allowed myself to open up to him.
I thought I would feel remorse or guilt over acting out of character for one occasion. But the sensation he left me with was one that demanded…more.
I balanced the tray of four coffees as I stepped up the stairs leading to my mother’s office at F.A.C.E. She turned the conference room into campaign central until she could find prime property for her official office. A small part of her might’ve believed there was a chance she wouldn’t win, and purchasing an office would be a reminder of a time she failed. My mother never knew of the word failure. She would never allow herself to associate with it in any way.
As she spoke to Veronica, her campaign manager and Brandy’s mother, she waved her hand over at me. “Where have you been?” She gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“The line was out of control,” I explained in reference to my delay at the coffee shop. I set the tray down on a free corner of the conference table. “It took me two hours to get your coffee.”
“I need your opinion.” She clutched my shoulders and directed me over to the table containing photographs of possible suits for her to wear. “Veronica has said that it would be a good idea for me to visit homeless shelters, but I’m not sure which would best, nor what I should wear. Red…or blue? Black would be too garish.”
“You’re asking me about visiting a homeless shelter?” I questioned.
“Well, you may not be an authority on it, but you associated with a few of the homeless for some time. You help out at the soup kitchen every now and again, don’t you? You know how they think.”
Jeff could no longer be considered one of them. He could’ve been mentally unhinged and unable to thrive in the world, but he had every reason to be that way. Maybe, like me, he was running from something that meant him harm. While for me it was Gregory, for him it might’ve been the mindset of the people around him when he was a part of the world. “They are really just people, Mom.”
“I need more than that, Keaton. I don’t have to tell you how awful the homelessness in D.C. is. It’s one of my talking points, and I’m due on the Carly Ross show tomorrow. I want to have a photo op at a shelter before I go.”
“You know”—Veronica pointed to her smile and then to my face, reminding me to look pleasant—“you should bring Keaton along. It would be a win for the interview.”
I looked at my mother in a panic.
“Keaton and I have spoken about it,” my mother informed her. “We’re not going to force her to endure the media blitz.”
“Everyone, hush!” My mother’s assistant, Pacey, stood on a chair and fanned her hands down as she pointed at the television.
I followed everyone’s line of sight. The person I saw on the screen made me pause. Adam; it was clear he and Nadine hadn’t stopped their need to gather as much attention as they could. Being that they were in town, it seemed logical for them to stop by the Carly Ross Show to continue to rehash their story. The ticker tape: “Shocker about wannabe senator, Sherilynn Mara’s daughter” caught my attention.
“Thank you for joining us today, Adam,” Carly greeted Adam.
“It’s an honor to be here, Mrs. Ross.”
“I’d like to provide some background information for my audience in case they are unaware. You were taken, against your will, to participate in a cult aptly titled Rebirth. You were beaten, at some points starved, and sexually assaulted while there. It has been said that there was a mastermind behind this cult, Shiloh Oliver, who called himself the Revenant. While not much information has been found on him, and the media has been scouring and offering quite a high price for pictures of him, nothing has been found. You and Nadine have also declined to give us a sketch of his face as well.” Carly Rose dramatically held up her hands and quickly dropped them. “The public wants to know why?”
“It might be something that we blocked out, but I know it’s something we can’t do,” Adam commented.
“We’ve heard your story multiple times as you detailed the horrible conditions and what you were forced to endure. The amount of people who have died there total somewhere around one hundred and six. Some were found in the septic system, while other’s remains were found buried in a forest a mere quarter of a mile from the property. Forensic scientists also have reason to believe that some victims were cremated. We know the story. We’ve heard yours and Nadine’s story all over the news over the last year. While you’ve discl
osed quite a bit, you’ve avoided speaking about the one woman who everyone is dying to know about. Did you sit down to interview with us because you want to share what you know about Keaton Mara?”
“I did,” Adam answered with a grin.
“You’ve refused to discuss her in previous interviews. Why the sudden change, Adam?”
“Nadine and I were paid off by her mother to keep Keaton out of our stories, because what we know could negatively affect Keaton, her mother, and the campaign.”
“For the record, you are speaking of Keaton’s mother, Sherilynn Mara?”
“Yes, I am.”
“We all know that you were there when Keaton was kidnapped and kept within the Rebirth Cult. Can you tell me what you knew about her?”
“She was a very volatile and troubled girl,” Adam said, “but what we weren’t supposed to say, is that Keaton was never kidnapped. She was there voluntarily.”
“But this is a cult,” Carly deduced, “who captures people for a specific purpose and their tactics were severe. Could you say that she was maybe coerced into joining?”
“Not at all. She came at the request of Reven, the leader. She knew that Gregory Mitchum was there, and understandably, she wanted to take her revenge. Honestly, if anyone wants to know what Reven looks like, Keaton would be the best person to ask. She spent a lot of time with him—intimately.”
“Are you stating that the cult was some sort of revenge cult?”
“Yes,” Adam replied. “We were all prisoners there. Held there by people who thought we wronged them; Keaton was one of those people.”
“Gregory Mitchum’s remains were found in the wreckage of the cult and evidence suggested that he didn’t perish in the blaze but was, in fact, shot.”
Adam nodded. “Keaton was the last one to see Gregory alive.”
“Are you inferring that Keaton may have had something to do with Gregory Mitchum’s murder and that she was in fact, not a victim, but a possible perpetrator?”
The Rebirth of Sin (Wicked Trinity Book 2) Page 19