by Joyce Lamb
His need exhilarated her. She did that to him. She did. “I’m one ahead of you anyway.”
“Are we keeping score again?”
“We can if you want.”
He eased back, then forward, and the wave of pleasure stunned her, made all the more intense by the emotion that rode its crest.
“Just so you know,” she said, her breath hitching as he plunged again, faster, harder, riding her in exactly the right spot, “I’m winning.”
He laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Another thrust and he tensed, groaning deep in his throat.
The sound and vibration pushed her higher. She was … so … close …
He flexed his hips, ground against her, and the orgasm slammed into her like an explosion had gone off inside her. She dug her nails into his back as she shuddered and arched under him on a ragged moan, vaguely aware that he was moving more slowly now, stroking in and out of her, expertly drawing out the waves of intense pleasure.
When she began to come down, she realized he’d stopped moving, as though waiting for her to regroup, or regrouping himself. He kissed her, slowly and deeply, one hand caressing her breast, rolling and lightly pinching her nipple in time with the hitches in her breathing.
He nuzzled her ear, his breath warm and moist and uneven.
“Are you with me?” he rasped.
She shivered at the intensity of having him still inside her, so hard and so hot, after such a powerful climax. Oh, yeah, she was with him. She was so with him.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”
“Open your eyes.”
She did and met the heat of his gaze.
“Stay with me,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”
He began to thrust again, more powerfully now, holding her gaze, looking into her, seeing her.
The ache built again, throbbing impossibly higher, hotter.
He began to move faster and faster, and his eyes slipped closed an instant before he bowed his head back and came, his body quaking against hers. Then he found her gaze again and reconnected, his eyes impossibly bright in the darkness.
As though her body had been waiting for that reconnection, she began to climax again, more intensely than before, the force of the pleasure made all the more powerful by Cole’s eyes fixed on hers.
* * *
“Have you ever had an out-of-body experience?”
Cole chuckled softly, his breath sawing in and out as he pressed a kiss to the side of her damp neck. “You want me to talk now?”
He was sprawled on top of her, and she loved his weight and the sensation of him still inside her. Every so often, his body shuddered, as if shocks of pleasure continued to zip through him. It thrilled her to know that being with her did that to him.
“I’m just saying that I think I left my body there for a minute,” she said.
“A whole minute?”
“Maybe two.”
“I don’t think I’ve returned to my body yet,” he murmured.
“I bet you feel better now, though, don’t you?”
His lips curved against her throat, the tip of his tongue caressed and retreated. “That’s what this was all about? Making me feel better?”
“Well, you were obviously having some discomfort.”
“That’s so sweet of you to look out for me like that.”
“I figured it was the least I could do, seeing as how you’ve been looking out for me all along.”
He raised his head and, bracing on his elbows, looked down at her. “You know it’s more than that, right?” His eyes, so blue, were dark now, intense, his forehead lined.
She closed her eyes, let the wave of emotion pick her up and carry her out to sea, away from the island she had become marooned on so long ago. She let herself float with him, basking in the warmth of his sun. Even if it was for just a little while.
“Hello?”
She opened her eyes, beamed up at him. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His lips curved, and he studied her as the seconds ticked by. “You know this isn’t just a one-time thing, right? We’re in it for the long haul.”
She shifted slightly, so that he settled more firmly against her. His breath caught, and she sighed, wishing they could stay like this forever. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“I’m inside you, aren’t I?”
“Ohhh, aren’t you the cocky one.”
He laughed softly then kissed her for a long time, his tongue stroking hers as he cupped a breast and used his thumb to tease her nipple to a hard, aching peak.
The way he savored her sent her pulse tripping all over again. And, oh God, he was such an outrageously fabulous kisser. Simple kissing had never felt so … erotic. If he kissed her long enough, just like this, she would be coming again in no time.
He drew back with his lips just an inch from hers. “Surprise.”
She gazed up at him, confused. “What?”
And then she felt him lengthening and hardening inside her. And, okay, that was the most erotic thing ever. “Oh.”
“Think I’m ready to make you scream again.”
“I didn’t scream.” She gasped on the first, short thrust of his hips.
“Uh, yes, you did. My ears are still ringing.” His breath shuddered out as he moved slowly, gently. “Jesus, Bailey, you’re so hot and tight. I’m never going to get enough of you.”
She arched her head back into the pillow, already right there with him. Unbelievable, she thought. Simply unbelievable that he could do this to her. Make her moan and thrash and want and need. Make her forget that this couldn’t last—
“Oh, God, Bailey,” he gasped, his rhythm picking up. “I can’t go slow this time. I can’t. It’s too much.”
She grasped his butt and met him thrust for thrust, recklessly racing with him to the edge of the precipice without any grace or finesse. They hung there on the edge for only a moment before they fell together.
Chapter 41
James paced next to his car.
The night air was cool, the breeze carrying a hint of salt from the waves slapping at the shore less than a block away. Insects buzzed in the trees, and thick clouds tumbled across the inky sky like gray cotton balls. He could smell yet another storm coming.
Clenching his hand, James focused on the answering sting of the cuts he’d gotten when the broken plastic of his cell phone had sliced through skin. He flexed again, imagining how it would feel to drive his fist into Payne Kincaid’s face.
Bastard.
He turned to glare at the gate that separated him from the son of a bitch who’d ruined his life. Or at least helped. He wasn’t so foolish to think that Kincaid was entirely to blame. James knew he was responsible for his own mistakes. Still, if Kincaid had not offered him a job so many years ago, maybe none of this would have happened.
Now, that same man was trying to force him to run out on the only family he had left.
Pacing away from the gate, he dragged his hands through his hair.
Four hours ago, he’d made it as far as Tampa, where he’d pulled into the parking lot of a Publix supermarket, shut off the car and weighed his options for what felt like the millionth time in a week.
He was running.
Doing what Kincaid wanted.
He’d pointed his car north.
But he couldn’t keep going.
He remembered the last pizza he’d shared with Austin—four days ago—how his son had watched him pick up a messy piece and fold it over before taking a big bite. Austin’s little fingers had fumbled, trying to fold his own piece, which was bigger than both of his hands put together. Amused, James had helped him. Afterward, Austin had declared that pizza tasted better when you ate that way.
James had laughed with his son at the same time that the world had seemed like it was ending. Being with Austin made everything seem not that bad. Seeing that kid smile, his eyes sparkle … no high had ever been so satisfying. How was he supposed to live wit
hout that? How was he supposed to break that child’s heart by running away?
So he’d turned around, and now he stood, glaring at Kincaid’s iron gate and trying to decide what the hell to do.
Turn state’s evidence was the only option where James would get what he wanted: his family safe and away from a deadly dangerous man. But it would take a miracle for James to survive the host of assassins Kincaid would send after him. Could he trust the feds to keep Bailey and Austin safe?
“Thought you were supposed to be to Jacksonville by now.”
James whirled.
Dixon Ramsey stood behind him, one hand in his pocket and a cigarette in the other, as if he’d ambled up after a long stroll.
James squared his shoulders. “I made a U-turn.”
“Bad idea.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit what you think.”
Ramsey nodded, an odd smile turning up one corner of his mouth. He took a drag on the cigarette, blew out a long stream of smoke. “You need a plan, James.”
“I’m working on one.”
“As far as plans go, loitering outside the big bad wolf’s gate and glaring lacks, I don’t know, conviction.”
“What are you doing out here? Besides harassing me.”
“I’m following directions. Like I have been all night.”
James laughed under his breath. “So it’s your job to make sure I get out of town and stay out.”
“I enjoyed the pit stop at the Publix in Tampa. They have good doughnuts there. Burned my tongue on the coffee, though.”
“What if I refuse to go? Are your orders to kill me?”
“That, interestingly enough, has never been suggested.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“The big guy thinks you’re a pathetic piece of shit, but believe it or not, he doesn’t want you dead. You’re like the fucked-up son he never had. More important, he cares about your sister and what it would do to her to put her through another funeral. Personally, I think he should just have you killed and get it over with. I’ve considered taking care of it for him and then saying, ‘Oops, I misunderstood what you wanted, Mr. Kincaid.’ “
“So why aren’t you killing me then?”
Smiling, Ramsey flicked away the cigarette. “Because I think we can make us a deal, Jamie.”
“What kind of deal?”
He grinned, his perfect teeth a slash of white in his face. “You’re going to love this deal.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s going to get you what you want and Payne Kincaid off your back once and for all.”
Chapter 42
Cole rolled over, anticipating sliding his hands over warm flesh that would come alive under his touch yet again. Three times already he’d awakened and turned to Bailey, eager to sink into her yet again, each time finding her needy and willing, each release more intense than the one before it.
But he was alone in the bed, and as he ran his palm over the sheets to check for Bailey’s warmth, he found them cool.
Sitting up, he switched on the lamp by the bed and squinted at his watch. It was barely after four in the morning. He’d slept three hours.
He got out of bed, pulled on his briefs and jeans, stopped in the bathroom to splash water on his face and rinse out his mouth, then went in search of Bailey.
She wasn’t in the house, and he began to panic. He pictured her slipping out in the middle of the night to go after Payne Kincaid, determined to make him pay for his betrayal. He was on his way back to the bedroom to retrieve his shirt and cell phone when he passed the kitchen and glanced toward the sliding glass doors. Could she be on the deck?
He found the door unlatched and eased it open. The sound of the gulf waves, along with the salty, slightly humid air, flowed over him. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the water rushed ashore and retreated more vigorously than usual. The moon shone through a break in the clouds, and he spotted the pair of men ambling along the shoreline, the backs of their jackets emblazoned with “FBI.”
Bailey was curled in a wooden Adirondack chair, snuggled under a blanket, her eyes closed.
His breath caught as he looked at her. He felt as if he’d spent the past week waking from a long coma. A four-year coma, he thought. He’d come out of it briefly a year ago when he had foolishly believed that drug-addicted prostitute Sally McCoy was turning her life around for her child. But when that disillusionment had arrived, he’d returned to the coma, deeper than ever. And now here he was, awake and itching to live, to move forward. Because of a woman he’d wanted to loathe on sight.
Moving quietly to the chair next to Bailey’s, he settled down. He would have preferred the warm bed inside but didn’t want to leave her outside alone. Plus, it gave him an opportunity to appreciate the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her lashes lay against her skin. She looked unusually pale, and he wondered whether that was a trick of the moonlight. Sitting forward, he stroked the back of his hand against her smooth cheek to check for a fever and was relieved that her skin felt cool.
She opened her eyes, and an instant, sleepy smile curved her lips. “Hey.”
He smiled back, his heart doing a somersault. “How’re you doing?”
“Fine.”
“How long have you been out here?”
She snuggled her chin into the blanket. “Half an hour or so.”
He settled back in the chair and breathed in the fresh air. “It’s really nice.”
“Yeah.”
He sensed something off but didn’t want to push. He already knew she wouldn’t respond well to that approach. So he just sat with her, listening to the waves and watching the occasional flash streaking behind the clouds.
“I had a bad dream.”
A chill went through him, and he remembered the way she’d thrashed when she’d fallen asleep at James’ while he and Austin had cleaned up. “I don’t like it when she dreams.” That’s what Austin had said, as though bad dreams were not uncommon for her.
Cole felt sad that being with him hadn’t kept her nightmares at bay. “What was it about?”
“The day my father died.”
His stomach tensed as he waited for her to go on. The approaching storm lit up the sky, and several beats later, thunder rumbled.
“It was raining.” She paused and swallowed. “He and James were fighting. They shouldn’t have been while James was driving, but Dad just kept pushing. First, he was suspicious of how James could afford such a nice car when all he did was drive delivery trucks for our Uncle Payne. Then he asked Jamie if he was on something. I’ve always been angry at him about that. It seemed like such an unfair shot. Maybe if he hadn’t goaded James at that moment …”
She trailed off, but her point was obvious. Maybe her father would still be alive.
Cole didn’t say anything, sensing she wasn’t done. But he did reach out to clasp her hand. He stroked the pad of his thumb over her palm once before her fingers gripped his.
Lightning flashed, closer now, and thunder boomed. “I counted five,” she said.
“Five?”
“Seconds. That means the storm is five miles away, right?”
“Oh, right.”
She laid her head against the back of the chair. “He ran a red light.” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her over the waves. “He tried to stop, but the street was slick, and the car spun off the road and hit a tree.” She paused. “I still don’t know why I wasn’t hurt. I was sitting on the same side as Dad. But he took the brunt of the impact.”
Cole’s heart tumbled into a different kind of somersault that involved a sharp coiling in his gut. “You were in the car?” Horror made his voice guttural.
She kept her gaze on the water. “When they started to fight, I suggested we go for ice cream. That’s how much of a help I was.”
“Jesus, Bailey.”
“After the firefighters cut us out of the car, the paramedics didn’t think Dad would make it to the ER. They couldn’
t use one of those Medivac helicopters because of the rain and wind. By some miracle, he hung on, and the ER doctors worked on him for a long time.” Her breath hitched, and she stopped for a moment, her fingers tightening on his. “They wouldn’t let me touch him. I wanted so badly to touch him, to let him know I was there. But I would have been in the way. I think they forgot about me, because no one tried to usher me out while they worked on him … they should have.” A soft, sad laugh escaped her. “It’s funny. I get lightheaded at the sight of just a little blood. But that day I never passed out. I really, really wanted to.”
Cole stayed silent, not certain he could have spoken around the lump in his throat if he’d tried. He was only vaguely aware that the wind had picked up, rustling nearby trees.
“James didn’t fight the involuntary manslaughter charges. I think he wanted to be punished.” She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “And I never encouraged him to fight. I wanted him to be punished, too.”
“Bailey—”
She looked at him, and a flash of lightning caught not the glitter of anger in her eyes. “I turned to Payne Kincaid for solace. How’s that for irony?”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I would have if my brother had told the truth.” She pulled her hand away from him. “You heard what Agent Sark said. James could have walked away from four years in prison. All he had to do was tell the truth about Payne.”
Cole ached to pull her into the shelter of his arms. “He must have had a good reason not to.”
“What reason could be more important than being there for your own child?”
“James knew you would take care of Austin.”
“Payne took care of him, too. How did he stand it, knowing that son of a bitch was able to see Austin whenever he wanted to when James couldn’t? Do you know how often I cried on that man’s shoulder? I don’t know if I would have made it through all of that without him. I even borrowed money from him, because I wasn’t financially prepared to take care of a child. And it was his fault. All of it.”
“You know that’s not entirely true. James made choices.”