He rocked himself upward and into me, the sensation making me grind my hips downward onto him, my need to feel him overriding everything else.
Ethan and I moved together like a fluid samba, and we fell into a rhythm like a dance. He controlled the agonizing tempo, and I followed his lead, letting him take me to the peak and back down again. With several twists of his tightened hips, I knew that this would be our finishing act. My body started convulsing, shaking out of control, and I dug my nails into his sculpted shoulders, feeling hot tears fill my eyes and pour over as they reached the brim.
I had never wanted anything as much as I wanted Ethan. And I knew that I never would again.
He breathed life into my body.
“There you go. That’s a good fucking girl…” He smiled wickedly. “Now, you can come, Kat.”
The words alone were enough to undo me, but I clamped my lips, giving it all over to him. My body was not my own, and I didn’t know that it ever was. In the arms of Ethan Riske, I was merely his instrument… and he played me oh so well—strumming, blowing me… playing me like a harp, begging to be plucked.
I was his—would be his… as long as I lived.
One final swirl from gyrating hips, and my orgasm hit hard, shooting up from my throbbing center and out to my tingling extremities.
Ethan’s warning prepared me for what my body was poised to feel… but it didn’t prepare me for what happened to my mind. Thoughts I didn’t know existed hit the surface of my lips, and I clasped a hand there to close them in. He climaxed seconds later.
I collapsed on top of him finally, matching his heavy pants with my own, sidling into his warm and solid body. I felt like I could stay there forever.
Until the spark of flames outside my window caught my attention, and I raised my head to peer out, only to find that the fires from my nightmares had found me in the dark. They were back to finish what they had frighteningly started.
I jumped up.
Ethan leaped up at my side, and as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he rushed for my robe, discarded against my vanity mirror’s seat. Throwing it over my shoulders, he slid into his own boxer briefs before grabbing me in his arms. Half-carrying me out of the room, Ethan’s face was a stone mask as he escorted me out of the bedroom.
It was amazing that both of us knew what was happening without a single word.
I caught a peek outside my bedroom window just as we left… just as the flames flew sky-high, beckoning me from my outside balcony.
Toying with me. A taunt, if I ever saw one.
The flames covered the length of the glass now, angrily dancing outside of the room, their red and orange arms waving a deadly path that began to blacken the wood at the sides of my open window.
My voice was hoarse as Ethan escorted me out, still scratchy from tonight’s amazing escapades. All the fun was a distant memory. What fun could be had when someone wanted to kill you and the person you loved most?
When they wanted to see your love and lives go up in flames? I looked at Ethan as we exited the condo and saw fear for the first time. Someone wasn’t just fucking with us… This was a score to be settled.
I hadn’t seen it the first few times—hadn’t wanted to. And when we called 9-1-1 to report the suddenly raging fire, I thought of nothing else but Ethan—what would have happened to me tonight if he hadn’t been there.
On the corner, outside my building, I finally buried myself in his arms and breathed in the scent of his body. I forgot my betrayal, of the Charlie meeting—of morning.
It was enough to have the love I wanted in my arms… and suddenly the secrets I was keeping from him seemed so small…
Up in the Air
Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it.
- Steve Jobs
RISKE
“We need to find the fucker. Now.”
I entered my office, throwing the newspaper aside. It screamed with a headline on the second page of the fire that had enfolded Kat’s apartment building last night, and just reading about the event made my blood boil all over again.
I called Chris and Griff late last night and told them the story, but reliving what happened to Kat and I was too much for me to take, and I was determined to find out who was playing games with us—plotting their revenge.
I was going to figure out who it was, one way or another, and I was doing it, with or without the Tampa police’s help. Obstruction of justice, be damned.
I stormed into Griff’s office, shutting the door.
“Nice to see you too, Foxx,” Griff griped from behind his desk. “But as you see I’m in the middle of something.” He grinned. “I’ve always loved redheads.” He looked down at his cell phone’s screen. “Shame I can’t do anything about it. She’s texting me.”
“Yeah, well, un-text her ass. I don’t trust her. Not after what she did to Kat,” I grumbled. “We have bigger fish to fry… like who the fuck is trying to smoke and fillet Kat and I for the fortieth time. In case you didn’t get it the first time, another fire started where I was last night, Griff. A huge one. Now unless I’m shitting lit matches all over the place, someone is making me the next item on the menu for their local barbecue… and I don’t fucking appreciate it.”
He put his phone face down on the desk. “I thought the cops were on it.”
“The cops don’t know a fucking thing,” I spat. “One investigator had the nerve to suggest that maybe it was all a coincidence—like I was drudging up theories. One fire is a coincidence. Three is a motherfucking plot, and I’m not going to wait around while Tampa PD figures it out on their own. I need all of our files…”
Griff’s eyebrows shot high. “Think it’s a business competitor?”
“Not ruling it out.”
“Is it possible that your father found out?” my best friend asked, staring at me as he stood. “‘Cause if he did… do you think it’s possible that he’s trying to put a stop to Tripping Out!?”
I shook my head. “No… This now seems personal. Whoever’s doing this probably doesn’t give a rat’s ass that Victor Foxx’s son is trying to break out of the family publishing business to start his own magazine. At least, not enough to murder me…”
Griff squinted at me, shrugging a shoulder.
“You sure about that? Greg Sears sure has a lot to fucking lose now that we’re dismantling the business, not to mention your father. And then there are the crazy fans, ones looking to get close to a Foxx or the disgruntled clients we’ve had in the past few weeks that have flown the coup once they figured out our plans… flocked to other presses.”
I tossed my tie. “Let them flock elsewhere.”
“Hell, I have. But kicking our best and brightest out of the door has probably kicked up a little suspicion, don’t you think? Your father would fucking kill you if he found out… that you were trying to collapse his beloved business from the inside out? Man, I know mine would…”
I snapped. “Hey! That’s his fault. Not mine. Never should have made me CEO of a company I can’t fucking stand.”
Griff looked grim. “Yeah, well, I’m getting the fucking feeling that we never should have picked a vendetta against Victor Foxx. I’m telling you, Foxxy. Someone knows what we’re doing, what we’ve done. Maybe the talent we’ve been trying to steal talked. Maybe someone revealed something they weren’t supposed to…” He glanced harder, his stare narrowing even more. “Have you told Kat? About anything? Laney, most of all?”
I didn’t look at him. “No, not yet…”
Griff snorted. “Looks like you’re going to have to. Too many enemies coming out of the woodwork now, kid. Gotta fess up. She’ll understand… She has to.”
“Yeah,” I looked out the floor to ceiling window behind Griff’s back. My Kat was out there somewhere; I hadn’t convinced her to come back with me. I should have thrown her over my shoulder when I had the fucking chance but I hadn’t wanted to push her. I didn’t trust her security,
and the more I thought about the people around her I didn’t like (like Laney, for instance), the more I wanted to kick my own ass for letting her go, for the idea that was in the back of my mind that said I should let her go—permanently.
What mattered more—love… or loyalty? I’d paid the price to the latter, and it was a cost that was more than I could fucking bear. I looked at Griff.
“She might understand… but how can I tell her not to trust her own best friend?”
I glanced out of the window again, feeling a familiar shiver, nine years old, shake down my spine.
***
I stepped out of the building, shades on—gloves off. A hot September summer sun beat down my back, and with Griff at my side, I stalked my way over the heated pavement and towards the parking deck.
Ferrari doors open, I hopped inside the two-seater with Griff sliding in the passenger seat, and I typed the address into the GPS. I couldn’t believe where I was going.
I couldn’t help the feeling that I was falling into the past, but I pushed the sentiment aside. Hanging a right on the street, I headed into town, pressing the Ferrari faster past the speed limit.
I had to get to her… before he did. My father… or whoever was fucking with us. Sliding like a bead on a string, I slithered past the congestion and through Tampa traffic, my fingers tightening on the wheel, my will breaking with each mile.
Finally, we pulled into the hotel parking lot and I parked, barely throwing the gear before jumping out, my tie suddenly feeling too tight. Each step felt heavy and even when I made it inside the building and to the elevator, the weight on my shoulders didn’t go away.
Griff glanced at me, a curious look on his furrowed face, but said nothing. I exited the lift on floor twenty-two, tearing a path down the hall. One hand on the crumpled address in my pocket, I beat the other on the door, tempted to break it the fuck down.
I was getting ready to call out when I realized that the entrance was open. I pushed inside, with Griff at my side, my stare scouring the empty space. Silence greeted us on the other side, and our footsteps echoed loudly across the carpeted floor.
I listened closer, slowing my stroll as I sauntered into the bedroom. Nothing. Nothing… but the soft sound of shuffling in the closet. I stopped breathing. Stretching my hands towards the double doors inside the bedroom, I inched near, bringing my nose to the edge of the clothes closet.
Without warning, I ripped it open, grabbing towards the squeal that sounded in the open air. I snatched back a collar from inside, and there, dangling from my hoisted fingers, was Mr. Nervous himself, my assistant, David.
I dragged him into the bedroom, dropping him with a thud near the mattress’s four-post frame. He cried out, cowering as I towered over him, inching my face close to his.
Griff entered the room, speaking over my shoulder.
“Well, well, well… look what the hell we have here.”
The smaller man shook. “Don’t hurt me… please.”
I could hear the grin in Griff’s voice. “Hurt you? No… No way. Beat you to a bloody fucking pulp? Well… that’s a different story.”
David sniveled, drawing a sneer to my face. “Stop. Don’t. I promise…” He sniffed. “I promise I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
His nervousness was back, worse than it’d ever been. I looked closely at my assistant. He’d only worked for me for nine short months, and in that time, I’d been stupid enough not to recognize his unease for what it truly was—not to notice that the hobbit-sized subordinate was not gay…
He was a spy. Hence, the constant shaking in his boots.
It was my turn to talk. I straightened, standing taller. “You can start by saying what the fuck you’re doing here out by the airport on your lunch break… in the Hilton hotel… in Christy Nicolson’s room.”
David’s face scrunched. “Christy… Nicolson…?”
“Yes, Christy Nicolson, The blonde you let into my office not much more than a week ago? That one who’s room you’re currently in?” David gasped softly, seemingly grasping for answers. I was losing patience. “Forget it. Just start instead with where Christy is.”
My assistant shrunk under his collared shirt. Slight in height, slender in build, the tongue-twisted admin looked more turtle than man, and I would have pitied him… if I didn’t want to pummel him to that pulp that Griff mentioned earlier. I reached for him again.
“Wait, wait! I’ll tell you what happened. Christy… she’s… well, she’s…” He swallowed. “Gone.”
“The fuck do you mean ‘gone’?” Griff growled.
“I mean ‘gone’…” David repeated.
I started to draw back a fist. “What did you fucking do, you little…?”
“No,” David interrupted quickly. “I paid her to leave—to check out as quickly as she could. That’s what… That’s what I was told to do.”
I lowered my fist. Because, fuck, it was all coming together. Only one person knew what Christy knew, what the former blonde bombshell could tell. Only one person would know enough to get rid of her, and the thought made me reach new levels of rage, my fingers itching to hit something—anything. I tried to keep that something from being David’s face.
I pulled him close.
“You were told to get rid of Christy, huh?” I bared my teeth. “By who…?”
Enough Said
Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little.
- Edmund Burke
RISKE
Security waved me right through when they recognized my face. If they were at all surprised, they didn’t show it. The only person who did was the secretary who caught my flying employee badge on my way in.
I pushed the elevator button for the top floor, standing proudly amidst the sea of suits in the confined glass cage. Surprisingly, I was enjoying the ride all the way up. Before I could hit the top floor, I pressed another button. I exited the elevator on the earlier floor, motioning for the additional guard to let me through the glass partitions. When I was through, I gave him a small “Thanks” and headed past his confused face, making a straight beeline to the corner office.
The office of Gregory Sears was highly decorated; his ornate walls were as pretentious as his attitude. Framed degrees flanked the white walls, and several pictures of Greg among famed politicos and publishing celebrities hung at eye-level around the entire perimeter of the room.
I was surprised his office door was even open. I could hear his obnoxious laugh from the front door. By the time he looked up, it was too late. I was practically on top of him. I smiled.
WHAM! I hit him. Hard. I relished in the crack of my knuckles against his face, and the next thing I knew I was standing over him, watching him hold his bleeding nose with both hands.
A flashback of the time I punched a tyrant of a teacher in high school fought its way to the frontal lobe of my brain. Only this time, I was the heavy, the one in control. And the physical odds were evened out. No longer a student-to-teacher situation or boy-to-adult… but man-to-man.
“Get your pansy ass up, so I can knock you the hell down again.” I took a step backwards, motioning to his ruffled form on the floor.
Greg groaned in response. The prick was probably more upset that his suit was getting wrinkled than his nose was getting broken, and he held his head back, attempting to smirk in my face.
I didn’t have time for his bullshit. Now that my itch had found its scratch, I settled in, shutting the door behind me.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way…” My glare tightened. “Where is she?”
“She?”
“Yes… She.” I stood rigid. “I didn’t fucking stutter.”
Greg sniffed, blindly grabbing for a tissue from his desk. He sat down in his leather seat, nearly falling to the floor again. I made no move to help. His words were slurred by the blood, when they finally fumbled out of his loosened teeth.
“Let’s see… Kat is…”
>
“No,” I cut in. “Not Kat. Don’t play any games with me, Sears, or I’ll put another hole in your skull… You know which ‘she’ I’m talking about.”
Suddenly, the door swung open. As if she had been listening on the other side, Laney ambled in, her stride long and graceful in a pair of heels too high to be professional. She peeked at me behind orange-red bangs, her smirk wide and pronounced.
“Nice to see you again, Foxx.”
My answer for her was a little shorter. “Fuck you.”
She laughed, a musical sound that turned my stomach. “Why all the hostility? We go way too far back for you to be so angry.”
“I’ve been nothing but angry since the moment I met you. It was you we found in the barn the night of the cow-tipping… bent over… getting fucked doggy-style by the deputy. You. Not Christy…” I pointed a finger. “And I knew it. Unfortunately, I’d seen Christy’s bare ass in her little cut-off shorts too much to mistake it for anyone else’s.” I threw daggers with my eyes. “And you knew it would come out—that I would confirm the truth with Christy. And that’s why you ruined us. That’s why you ruined Kat and me. You’re a crazy bitch.”
Stepping towards the desk, she fingered the edge. She looked up at me, ignoring Greg completely. “Maybe just a little…” She brought two fingers close in the air, and I stifled the urge to snap them in half.
“You’ve always been jealous of Kat… Never wanted anything good for her.” I stepped closer. “Tell me something: Did you decide to completely turn insane before or after you started sleeping with Deputy Moines, turning him against Kat?”
Laney put a finger against her chin, tapping. “Probably before…” She giggled. “The deputy was just the beginning, though. I never thought I’d get here. Never thought she’d actually bring me along. I mean…” Her eyes widened. “She made me part owner of her company.” She smiled crookedly. “And then I put those parts in Greg’s hands…” She glanced at the bleeding man. “Which I can already see are full right now.”
Riske and Revenge: A Second Chance, Enemies Romance (Revenge series Book 1) Page 18