Little White Lies

by Aimee Laine

  “Yes.”

  Wyatt disappeared into what Charley assumed to be the master bath. As she passed the armoire to the side of the entrance, she stopped and drew in a breath.

  “Wyatt?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh … will you come here for a sec?”

  “Hang on.”

  The splash of a shower’s spray began before he popped his head back out of the door.

  She pointed to the painting. “You kept it?”

  He emerged, hands on the frame of the door. “Yes. No matter where I’ve lived, I’ve brought it with me.”

  “Why?” she asked in a whoosh of breath she hadn’t realized she’d held.

  “Because you created it.”

  “But you didn’t know that … yet.”

  “It didn’t matter. It was the only thing I had from you.” Wyatt took one of her hands.

  Charley shifted to re-cover her breasts.

  “You know I’ve already seen them, right?” He winked at her. “Come in here.”

  She walked into the Taj Mahal of bathrooms. A massive whirlpool tub on a raised platform took center stage, and the spray she’d heard before pointed into it, not in a shower. A wall of windows would welcome the sun if it weren’t dark, and three sinks, with vanity chairs between them, added to the regal effect.

  “This is the ultimate female bathroom, Wyatt,” she said. “Are you really a girl?”

  He smiled as he sat on the edge of the tub, his hand in the midst of the running water. “Hot or warm?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Bubbles or no?”

  “Oh yeah, bubbles,” Charley said.

  Soft towels lay folded on a shelf. Wyatt’s razors and shaving cream hid behind the mirrored medicine cabinet she opened out of pure curiosity. Fresh flowers, presumably placed there by Sheila, sat arranged in a beautiful golden, inlaid vase on the counter.

  “This room is as gorgeous as the rest of the house.”

  “Thank you. I had a designer redo most of it. Are you ready to get in … uh … to fix my face?” He pointed to his nose where the color bloomed into and around his right eye.

  • • •

  The jets roared to life. Water gurgled in bursts of air and spray. A stream of gel frothed into miniature white clouds, spilling rainbows of color and adding a sweetness to the air.

  Wyatt stood, hooked his fingers into the waist of his pants, and began to push them down. “I’ve already seen you naked, so I figure I owe you the same.”

  Charley stifled the moan as she stepped to him, stopped his efforts. “Payback … is not necessary.” The muscles under her palms flexed. She ran them up his chest and across his shoulders, taking in the ripples, softness and hardness that encompassed him.

  Her eyes stayed fixed on his.

  She let her hands follow the line of his arms to his fingertips and back up, covering the length of his torso until she slipped a finger between the warmth of his skin and the waistband. Her hand slid around to the side, drawing his covering down toward the floor.

  Wyatt caught her hair in his fingers as she moved lower until he could no longer hang on.

  She sank to her knees in front of him. He stepped out as she touched each ankle. Fingertips slid up the inside of his leg, around, and over every facet of his body, every inch of which she had wanted to savor for so long—the texture, warmth and tenderness.

  Wyatt’s groan made her smile.

  His hands found her hair again as she rose. He tugged her upward as her tongue followed from his middle to his lips. She pulled back, let her lips dance across his to his cheeks and ears until she lowered again. He guided her mouth down until she released and slid back up, pressing herself against him.

  His hands found the buttons of her jeans, undoing them one by one. As he reached the last, he moved one hand behind her head, pulled her lips to his, and slid his other between skin and cloth.

  Charley moaned in pleasure as his fingers enticed, aroused and offered satisfaction in a manner she’d only ever dreamed.

  Their lips met again with a ferocity Charley had experienced once before—with the same man.

  He pulled back, pushed her jeans toward the floor. She slipped from the folds of cotton as their mouths continued to tease and torment.

  He lifted her to his waist. Drunk with anticipation, she wrapped her legs around him and grinned between the embraces.

  More.

  The water beside them sputtered as bubbles threatened to overflow.

  “Skip the tub?” Wyatt asked in a breathless catch as he nipped along the edge of her lip.

  Charley shook her head, kept her eyes locked on his.

  Wyatt shifted to the lip of the tub, spun so they stepped in, over and within the bubbles, together. Charley rested her knees on either side of his hips, moved lower until, within the water, she and the bubbles encompassed the whole of them.

  Her pleasure built to a scream, but she withheld as Wyatt tormented her with hands, lips and teeth. The passion she always dreamed of rose to the surface.

  Water and bubbles dripped from a hand that found its way to her face again. Wyatt pulled her toward him, their lips touched and retreated, converging as their tongues slid against the other.

  “I’ve always wanted you, Charley.” He mumbled against her.

  “I’m yours, forever.”

  Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into tense muscles as she levered and took all of him inside her body. Under the warmth of their liquid cover, they fit together—two pieces cut from the same picture, rejoined by a puzzle master.

  Charley moved against him.

  His body went rigid as he groaned. “What about—”

  “It’s okay.” She whispered into his ear while she let her body fall against his and away. The water of the tub sloshed against its rim. “I’m not … ah … fertile until I … ah … blend.”

  “I have no idea what that means, but it works for me.” Wyatt’s hands found their home again at Charley’s breasts, which he caressed with soft lips.

  She continued the pace at their hips and elicited moans—sounds she’d wanted to pull from him. She tingled with each new touch, bracing her hands against the tub to give him better access. Vibrations of love and lust mixed within her body as they continued.

  Charley sped up as Wyatt’s breathing accelerated. His eyes met hers as she drew her body up and back down. The power of her movement sent waves of water over the edges of the tub.

  He bit into her flesh as she timed her movements to counter his thrusts from below. With her hands in his hair, she drew in his scent—a combination of bubbles and male—erotic, sensual and sweet all at once.

  Her head fell backward, the tips of her curls reaching into the water. Small echoes of times past ran through her mind as she writhed in pleasure against the strength of their movement. The power grew until it exceeded that of even a transformation—full of love and carnal need.

  Surrounded by bubbles that crept their way up and across his broad shoulders, he wrapped his arms around her. She rocked and ground her hips, straining for a release. With a last thrust, he followed her lead, and together they slid down the rainbow and reached the pot of gold.

  • • •

  They stayed connected until the last of the translucent soap merged with the water and the temperature cooled. Despite the heat they produced, the wet liquid turned tepid far too soon. Charley’s wet hair reached her butt and tickled as it flitted against Wyatt’s skin. He curled a lock around his finger, twisted it into the water as she snuggled against the crook of his arm.

  Wyatt chuckled as he pulled his hand out of the water. “We’re getting pruney.”

  Charley didn’t budge. “I’m not.”

  “Seriously?” He shifted her away from him, got a pout with a full bottom lip in return. “You don’t get all wrinkly?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, damn. That’s probably the freakiest—”

  Charley threw h
er head back and laughed. The water jostled around them, sprayed him with errant splashes.

  “You don’t wig at the purple eyes, but you think the fact I don’t get all ‘pruney’, as you call it, isn’t right.” She nearly tweaked his nose, stopped at the sight of the colors, and laid a soft kiss upon the side instead. “Now that, Mr. Moreland, is a classic.” A huge yawn followed.

  “You gotta have something wrong with you, right?”

  She added a frown to her otherwise perfect face. “Do you need me to not be perfect?”

  “Are you being sarcastic?”

  The slight grin that peeked out and disappeared suggested the latter. “Think we should exit our quickly cooling pond here?”

  “I’m so sorry.” She slipped off him and all but jumped from the tub.

  Wyatt shook his head like a wet dog as he dripped his way out. “What? You didn’t have to rush.”

  She nodded, shook and nodded her head again.

  “Perhaps an explanation would be better than all the head movements?” He circled a finger in her direction.

  “I’m sorry, I just. Oh. Wyatt, see?” She stood without a towel.

  “You’re not temperature sensitive?” He grabbed one of the Egyptian cotton wraps and tossed it to her.

  “I’m not.” She rubbed at her eyes with the butt of her hand.

  He moved to her. “Are you … um … cold blooded?”

  She whipped her head in his direction. “No. I’m not a serpent if that’s where you’re going, but my body temperature changes sometimes or in the heat of the moment I can’t feel … whatever. Heat, though, is just the opposite. Heat wears me out because it’s what allows us to change.”

  “What’s your ‘species’ again?” He rubbed at his legs, finishing out his toweling, and caught Charley’s gaze.

  She smiled as he did.

  “Mimic.” She staggered as she brought her head straight up. “Whoa. Head rush.”

  Wyatt winged her into his arms. He laid his lips against her, and naked, walked them into his room. With Charley still in his grasp, he yanked the comforter away, laid her on the bed, and snuck in behind her where his muscles relaxed against hers. Warm or cool, he didn’t care.

  “I’m fine with mammal or reptile, by the way.” He spoke into her hair. “I’m just glad I have you in my arms again—where I’ve wanted you for sixteen years.”

  Her body tensed before it calmed.

  “Nothing you could ever say or do will change the way I feel.”

  • • •

  Light streamed through stained-glass windows, teasing Charley’s senses awake. She stretched under the warmth of the covers, tucked against Wyatt’s body, and pushed her arms high over her head. The reds and blues, oranges and greens blended with the sunshine to wake her with a beauty that reflected her mood.

  He groaned at her nudged.

  “Wyatt.”

  “Huh?”

  “We should get up. Gotta go back home. Need to think about Friday.” Charley rolled over to face him, nuzzled his nose. The colors, a sickly green and blue, reminded her of the pretty light that shone upon them.

  Ouch.

  He opened his eyes one by one. “Time is it?”

  Charley rose up on her elbow, peered over his shoulder. “Seven ten.”

  “’K.”

  “Um, Wyatt?” she asked while she yanked sheets and blankets to fit the mattress.

  He stood in front of a chest in mid-clothes-selection. “Yeah?” he said without turning.

  “I’m going to need a shirt that doesn’t contain … blood, please.” Charley moved around to the other side, tugged the spread to align it to the bed’s frame.

  Wyatt opened a drawer, pulled out a red shirt and threw it to her. “Red … In case you opt to slug me again, it won’t show as much.” He chuckled and went back to his search.

  Charley grimaced. He’d taken her complete overreaction in stride, but she’d broken one of her cardinal rules: no force when not in a life or death situation. He’d shrugged it off as if it happened every day.

  She pulled the edge of the blanket and smoothed it out but stretched it again.

  “Shower?” He strolled back to the bathroom as well dressed as a new born baby.

  Charley patted the edge once more, looked over the space where she’d lain curled into him and listened to his heartbeat. His breath against her neck had warmed and soothed, his arms had protected and his presence had filled her with a light the stained glass window didn’t come close to in comparison.

  This is what I want. All of it. Charley sighed.

  He started the shower but leaned over the counter when she caught up to him. Charley noted the two heads at opposite sides went along well with the dual sinks.

  Handy.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Wyatt said.

  Charley turned to him and smiled. “You know you said that to me way back when?”

  “Probably. It’s a favorite cliché of mine. Do I need to offer you a quarter?”

  She walked to him where he’d stood, razor in hand, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her cheek against his back, she listened to the thump-thump within. He moved his arm around her after he set the razor down, turned and kissed the top of her head.

  “Your eyes are that funky purple again.” He trailed the kisses down to her lips.

  I’ve missed out on years of this. Her heart throbbed. “Matches your nose. I figure we can stay even for a while.”

  Wyatt’s thumb trailed along her jaw. “You have a question but don’t want to ask it. Why?”

  She laid her forehead against his chest. “I just—”

  “I’m not mad at you, Charley. Quite the opposite, in fact. I feel like we’ve known each other forever, that it’s like time never separated us.” He pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Do you want more than that?”

  She moved her head against him, unsure if he’d pick up that the movement meant to relay a solid ‘yes’.

  He tilted her head up with one finger under her chin. “Do you love me, Charley?”

  She tensed, her gaze on his. “I never stopped loving you, Wyatt.”

  He hiked his butt up onto the counter and pulled her up to him so her knees rested on top of it. Their bodies fit together again with a simplicity and ease.

  Wyatt cupped her cheeks with both hands. “I have loved you since the day I met you. And not some stupid high-school love everyone knows is fleeting. A love so deep-down painful, I never thought I’d find a way to make it go away. Everything I have done for nearly sixteen years has been because of that.”

  Tears threatened to spill as his words hit her in the most tender of spots and filled the void she’d forced upon them both.

  “No, no. Don’t do that. I’m not unhappy, and I can see your perspective … now. I have you, here in my house, in my life, and if I’m lucky enough to keep you for another forty or maybe even fifty years, that’s enough for me.”

  She tried to move from his grasp, to lean against him and soak up his warmth, but he forced her to remain at eye level.

  “I love you, Charley Randall. I love your uniqueness, your quirks, those wicked eyes, that temper and what you do. I don’t want any of that to change. You are who you are, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  She dove into the kiss, putting passion and force behind it—a move to tell him she understood, agreed and believed it, too. “I love you, too, Wyatt, with every cell in my body.”

  I just hope you think the same when you learn you’re the key to keeping me the same.

  21

  Wyatt adjusted his tie by his bedroom mirror, cursing at the over-under-too-tight state he managed to get it in, and yanked it off. “Charley?”

  She walked out of the bathroom, rubbing her hair with the towel as tiny drops of water glistened on her body. The towel moved lower until she rubbed at her calves, moving back up to her thighs and higher, repeating on the other side.

  Wyatt swallowed hard, forgetting th
e tie.

  As she stood again, her smile followed with the maneuvering of the towel behind her, rubbing it against her back with an air to drama and sexual fantasy. He moved to her, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in for a kiss. Her hair fell around him and left watermarks on his crisp button-down, the tie still hanging at his neck.

  “You’re dressing up?” She released their lips.

  “Standard-issue FBI.” He stuck a finger through the loop, prepared to start again.

  Charley bit her lip.

  “What?”

  “How about you go a bit more … casual?”

  He let go, the tie hanging loose around his neck again. “Why?”

  She dropped her head against his chest. “You’re going to think this is stupid.”

  He chuckled. “After everything else you’ve told me? Try me.”

  She tilted back up to him as he scanned the length of her body, and his own responded with heat and desire.

  “So this little plan I’ve come up with—”

  Wyatt resisted the urge to tuck her in a closet for safe keeping. Instead, he withheld the sigh. “I haven’t agreed to it.” He didn’t even know what she’d come up with.

  She ran her hands up his chest, leaving trails of intentional heat along the way. “You will.”

  He hid the smile. “You can give me your idea, and I’ll … consider it.”

  She did not hide the smile. “I want as many ‘me’s’ as possible. If you recall, you mentioned, and I blew it off, that they might know Chase is safe. That could mean they also know Chase’s gift if he left behind his clothes.”

  Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose out of habit, cringing at the pressure it added behind his eyes. “Okay, I think I’m following.”

  Charley giggled. “If they know what Chase can do, we need someone with his skills but with experience.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “Her name is Maggie. She’s a bit … overwhelming … more so when she’s attracted to someone … and she has a thing for guys in suits.”

  Wyatt let his head fall back as he laughed. “Charley Randall … are you jealous? Are you worried I’ll give you up and turn to her when she plies me with her feminine wiles?”

  “Oh, she will. Trust me,” Charley said. “You’re used to Lily—”