by J. Kenner
He pulled open a drawer beside the bed and drew out a condom. I watched, awed by how hard and perfect he was, as he took it out of the package and then rolled it on.
"I'm going to fuck you now," he said as he moved to the foot of the bed. "Because I really can't wait."
I nodded, then gasped as he gripped me behind each knee and tugged me toward him so that my ass was right at the edge of the mattress. The move was bold and wild and a little violent--and I moaned in delight, lost in the pleasure of submitting to him.
"Legs up," he said, lifting my legs until my heels were at his shoulders. "Christ, I like that view."
My legs were parted, and I was wide open to him, so aroused that even the brush of air over my sex made me tremble with need. Wet and aroused and very much on display.
I twisted my head to the side as I felt the blush hit my cheeks.
"No," he said. "God, no. You're beautiful. And so wet," he said as he slid his fingers over me, thrusting two inside.
Immediately, my body clenched around him, drawing him in. But that wasn't enough. Wasn't nearly enough. I felt wild and wanton and so very empty. I needed him inside me. Was pretty sure I would shrivel up and die if he didn't fuck me right that very second. "Please," I whispered.
"Please what?"
"I want you," I said. "I want you inside me. Now."
He tugged my legs so that I slid even closer to him, and I gasped with the motion, then cried out in pleasure as I felt the tip of his cock press hard against me. "This?" he asked, slipping inside me. But not enough. Not nearly enough.
"You promised me hard," I said. "Dammit, Tyler, I want you to fuck me."
"Whatever you want," he said, then ripped a scream of pleasure, of pain, of absolute satisfaction out of me when he thrust hard into me, pulling my legs up as he did, so that he sank deep inside, then again and again as our bodies slapped together and I reached to the side to claw at the bedsheets.
"Look at me," he demanded, and I opened my eyes and found his gaze, hot and hard, pulling me. "That's right, baby."
Our eyes stayed locked as he moved rhythmically, and I felt spirals of pleasure twisting through me, rising higher and higher like some magnificent crescendo just waiting for the final triumphant burst.
I released my hold on the sheets, surrendering my body entirely to him. Concentrating on the glorious sensation of him filling me, the rhythmic pounding as he claimed me, the tight grip he kept on the back of my thighs as he drew me closer with each thrust.
I watched his face, wanting to memorize him, to learn everything about him. I moved my hands to my breasts, pinching my own nipples, and feeling a rising storm of satisfaction at his whispered moan of, "oh, Christ, baby, yes."
I saw the pressure building inside him, recognized the rising storm in those amazing blue eyes.
"Come with me," he said, his voice raw.
"I'm not--I can't--" I was close--the friction on my clit from his thrusts making everything inside me coil tight--but it wasn't enough to release.
"Touch yourself," he ordered. And then, more gently, "Do it, Sloane. I want you with me."
I hesitated only a moment, then slid my hand down until my fingers found my clit, then moaned in response to the first tiny stroke. He'd brought me so close. So very close, and now I touched myself--touched him too, when my fingertips brushed his cock. It was intimate, wildly sensual, my fingers right there as he thrust into me. His orgasm growing as my body clenched around him, and my own hand working to bring me over with him.
"Jesus, Sloane. Now," he said, and before I could react, he'd exploded, his body shaking as the climax ripped through him. My own orgasm came fast, and I clung to him, body to body, skin to skin, wanting nothing more in that moment but to lose myself in the scent, the taste, the everything of this man.
Slowly, sweetly, my body calmed, and Tyler pushed me back up the bed, rolling over, drawing me close to him. "You are exceptional," he murmured, as he gently brushed his lips over my shoulder.
"You make me feel exceptional," I said, fighting to keep my eyes open. But my lids were heavy, and his body was warm, and I drifted off to sleep in the arms of this man that I shouldn't want, but so desperately did.
Chapter Twelve
The moon shines down on the low stone wall, making the limestone glow and the bits of quartz shimmer. A ruin now, mostly rubble, but this part of it still stands on the hill looking down at the house.
I kneel behind it, looking over the rocks. Looking across the field.
Looking at the house where he lives. Looking at him moving around inside, so sure that he's safe behind the glass.
"You don't have to go to the academy. You don't have to become a cop."
I turn my head and face the balding man with the gentle blue eyes.
"I do, Daddy," I say. "I have to make it right. I'm the only one who understands why it's so important to make it right."
"You can't," he says. "See?" He reaches for my hands, and I see that they are slick with blood. "How can it ever be right?"
Fear slices through me, and I look to the house again.
He's not walking anymore. He's prone. He's dead.
And the blood flows and flows, filling the field, climbing the hill, reaching for the wall. Reaching for me.
I start to scream and reach for my father, but he isn't there.
Run, I think. Now is the time to run.
I race forward toward the house, screaming for her, searching for her.
She has to be there. Now that he's dead, she should be there.
But she's gone.
And as the force of the dream thrusts me upright and out of sleep, I scream for my mother ... but I can't even remember if she was ever there at all.
My eyes fluttered open, the dream still clinging to me, gray and cloying.
Tyler's arm was still around my waist and he was breathing soft and evenly. I didn't want to disturb him, but I also wanted to move, to shake off the last wisps of the nightmare. Carefully, I slid from his embrace, then scooted to the edge of the bed, taking care not to disturb the mattress too much.
Once up, I padded to the elegant bathroom, trying my best to stay quiet. I didn't know what time it was, but since the drapes were open, I knew that it was still dark out.
When I returned to the bed, I noticed that there was no clock. Automatically, I reached for my phone, but it was still in the living room, safe inside my purse. I almost went to get it, but then I saw Tyler's watch on the bedside table. I sat on the edge of the bed and picked it up, then tilted it to try to see the face in the ambient light from the city.
I frowned, realizing that the second hand wasn't working, and when I held it up to my ear, there was no ticking.
"It doesn't work." Tyler's voice skimmed over me, rough with sleep.
I turned to face him. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay." He sat up, then reached for the watch. "It's been broken for years."
"Oh." Maybe I was tired, but I didn't understand. "Can't it be repaired?"
"It can," he said. "It's not time yet."
He put it carefully back on the table, then laid back down, pulling me with him.
I reached for the sheet, then pulled it up over both of us. "You're being cryptic," I said.
"I suppose I am. It was a gift from a friend. A mentor, really. Hell, he was practically a father to me. He passed away about six months ago."
"I'm sorry," I said, propping myself up on an elbow and facing him. "Will you tell me the rest? Why haven't you had it repaired?"
"Well, that depends. Maybe it's a secret. Are you prepared to tell me yours?"
"My secrets?" I felt the quick stab of fear. What the hell did he know of my secrets?
"Not that," he said gently, and I realized that he'd seen my fear and worried that I was recalling my terror of being bound. "But there are things you're holding back. Admit it. You haven't told me the whole truth, have you?"
A cold chill swept over me. "No," I ad
mitted. "But I don't know all your secrets, either."
His smile was thin, but there was mirth in his eyes. "Sweetheart, you don't know any of my secrets."
"No? Then why don't you tell me."
"I don't think so."
I realized that I'd tensed up, my body ready for battle. I breathed in and out and told myself to relax. "I thought you said you trusted me."
"No. I just said that I wanted to." He reached out and stroked his fingers lightly down my arm. The gesture was sweet and casual, and I doubted he even knew he was doing it. Somehow, that made it all the sweeter.
"The truth is, I haven't felt this way in a very long time," he continued as he tugged me close and curled his body against mine. "Not since I was young and didn't really understand what I had--and what I lost." He spoke softly, the words holding even more intimacy than his touch. "Now, I think I understand, and I recognize it."
"What?"
"That click," he said. "That connection. It's passion, Sloane. And it's promise."
My back was spooned against his chest, and I closed my eyes, then told myself to remember to breathe as he gently stroked my hair. I couldn't deny how good it felt to be in his arms, but I also couldn't forget that he'd spoken of trust.
And I didn't trust him. Hell, I didn't trust anyone. "Don't make this more than it is," I said.
"It already is more."
I rolled over, then opened my mouth to protest.
"Shut up, Sloane. We're not going to come to any sort of agreement with words. But in the silence, in the dark, I think we'll come together just fine."
He kissed me then, and as his warm hands slid over my naked skin, I had to admit he was right--we came together just fine.
Chapter Thirteen
I woke to the gentle caress of the sun streaming through a small gap in the black-out curtains. I blinked, trying to focus as the events of the night came back to me. And not just any night, but one of the most decadent, erotic, amazing nights of my life.
I pushed myself up and propped my back against a wall of pillows. The space beside me was empty, but there was a small envelope perched on the pillow.
At the gym.
Didn't have the heart to wake you.
Coffee and croissants in kitchen.
I want you again. Hard and wild.
Soon.
T
I read the note twice, feeling like a teenager who'd just found a mash letter in her locker. All giddy and sweet and a little unsure of what to do next.
As I'd been swimming up from the depths of sleep, my mind had been filled with images of me spooning against Tyler. Of him waking me with kisses, with his hand stroking down my belly to ease the ache between my thighs.
I was wet from the night and from the erotic dreams that had followed, and I couldn't help but be a little disappointed that Tyler hadn't been in bed to make my fantasies a reality.
He'd done a number on me all right--or maybe I'd done the number on myself.
With a sigh, I sat up, the sheet wrapped tight around me. I leaned over and thrust my fingers into my tangled hair and tried to figure out what the hell I was doing. Because I damn sure wasn't being a cop. Yes, it's true that I'd gotten close to Tyler--mission accomplished there--but if I was in cop mode, shouldn't I have awakened with an agenda, all ready to jump in and move on to phase two?
Instead, I was hot and horny and frustrated the man wasn't around to cuddle. I wasn't entirely sure when I'd let go of the last strands of sanity and reason, but I knew damn well that somewhere along the way I had. Because right now, I wasn't thinking about Amy or the knights' laundry list of sins. I was thinking about last night, and about the man in whose arms I'd spent it.
Tyler Sharp had sparked something deep inside me. Something wonderful, but a little bit scary. Something that made me feel tingly and girly. That made me want to have a pedicure and pay attention to my makeup.
Something I damn well needed to guard against. Nobody is what they seem. Not me. Not Tyler.
I'd do well to remember that.
"Well, fuck."
My words clanged against the silence of the room, their impact like a slap. Time to wrap my fist around those threads and yank my sanity back. I needed to find out if he had any information on Amy. And I needed to watch my step.
I could fuck him, but I couldn't trust him.
With that invigorating but rather depressing pep talk, I slid out of bed and gathered up the clothes that were still lying in a heap near the door. I didn't bother with the shoes, and after a moment's debate I didn't bother with the underwear, either. I might be wary, but I wasn't stupid, and if Tyler wanted a repeat of last night's extracurricular activities, I was more than happy to oblige.
Barefoot, I padded out of the master suite and headed toward the kitchen. Tyler was as good as his word, and I poured myself a gallon-sized cup of coffee and drank it while I leaned against the counter and scoped out the kitchen. Not typical of hotels, not by a long shot. It was huge, fully stocked, and had both an island and a small workstation with a laptop and a careless wash of papers.
That was, I thought, a good place to start.
Since I didn't know how long Tyler would be gone, I moved quickly to the workstation and pulled open the drawer. Pens, pencils, sticky notes, and at least a dozen take-out menus. All of which was entirely unhelpful.
I eyed the laptop, which was open, its screen nothing but black. If there was something relevant in this suite, there was a good chance it was on that laptop. And it would be so easy to just take a peek ...
I hesitated only a moment, then tapped the space bar. The screen blinked, then came to life, revealing an image of Lake Michigan over which an electronic notepad appeared, with six things itemized on a list:
Evan party
Jahn Foundation--board meeting, when?
Postpone Nevada, 2 weeks
Michelle--soon
Re: A--discuss options w/ C & E
Call Q re SW
The notes were primarily nonsensical, but in light of the reference to the party, I assumed it was some sort of to-do list. The kind of random list that people keep before transferring notes to a calendar or project list.
Nothing nefarious caught my eye, but I'd be lying if I didn't feel a little ping in my gut upon seeing the woman's name. Especially in such close proximity to the word "soon." I frowned. I'm not the jealous type, especially not with regard to a man I barely knew and shouldn't want. But there was no denying the evidence of my own reaction.
Apparently the man had bewitched me, because right at the moment, I was desperately hoping that Michelle was his dog.
I cocked my head, uncertain if I'd heard the front door open. My finger hesitated over the trackpad. I wanted to click on the list and see if it linked to more detailed information. If Kevin was right, who knew what kind of racketeering related details I might find on Tyler's laptop. I might not be interested in being Kevin's personal research bitch, but I did want to satisfy my own curiosity.
But if Tyler had returned ...
I waited, heard nothing else, and navigated the cursor to the list. After all, I might not get this opportunity again.
I clicked.
Nothing.
Nothing that is except the password box. I exhaled, mildly irritated but not terribly surprised. I considered trying knights--or even Michelle because I was still feeling jealous and petty. But I was confident that Tyler wouldn't be that obvious. For that matter, it was possible he had some sort of keystroke monitor and would know I'd been snooping.
I considered the computer a bit longer. The notes might mean nothing now, but maybe they would make sense later. I weighed my options, hurried into the living room to find my purse, then returned with my smart phone and snapped a picture of the screen.
It wasn't much, but at least I'd done something.
With no other plan of attack for the kitchen, I decided to see what else might be in the penthouse. I already knew there was no workstation in the b
edroom, but I sincerely doubted that a man like Tyler would be willing to live without a desk, even for only a few months.
With luck, I'd find either a dedicated office or a bedroom that Tyler had set up as one. With even more luck, I'd find something interesting.
I poured a second cup of coffee and took it with me as I set out to find and search his office. I had personal knowledge that Tyler was not only well-muscled, but had serious endurance. So I assumed he spent a significant amount of time at the gym. What I didn't know was where the gym was located or how long he'd been gone. If he used the fitness center at The Drake, his travel time would be minimal.
No matter what, time was of the essence, and me and my coffee hurried down the corridor that lead off the south side of the living area.
The hallway angled sharply, and I'd just made the turn when I stopped dead. Tyler. His voice. I couldn't make out the words, but I was damn sure that was his voice.
Shit. Holy fucking shit.
He was here. In the penthouse. And he must have been here the whole damn time.
I said a silent thank-you to St. Christopher--the patron saint of cops--who'd apparently been watching out for me, preventing Tyler from popping into the kitchen to freshen his coffee while I poked around on his laptop. With any luck, good old Christopher would stay on the job.
The voice was coming from behind the first door on the left. Probably a gym--it occurred to me belatedly that a penthouse this large would have a private gym--and I eased that way. I couldn't snoop while he was on the premises, so I might as well tell him I was awake.
But as I lifted my hand to knock on the door, I realized two things. First, the door was cracked just slightly. Second, Tyler wasn't alone.
The woman in me felt a twinge of guilt, but the cop didn't even hesitate. I edged quietly up against the door, tilted my head, and listened.
"Franklin showed up late for the party," said a deep voice that I recognized as belonging to Cole August. "Said to tell you that Lizzy's a gem. Guess her first couple of days went well."
"Glad to hear it," Tyler said "She works hard, and she's sharp. I figure he's lucky to have her. At least that's good news. Bentley's turning out to be a liability."
"My neck's clear on this one," a third man said, and I assumed it was Evan Black. "But if you want my advice, you don't want to waste any time getting a protection plan in place."