"Hey. You okay?"
Lizzy's voice. She was standing beside the last cabin, Franny sitting next to her. "Trying to figure out which is our cabin," he managed to say. They hadn't taken off. Lizzy had been walking her dog.
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. If she suspected he'd doubted her, she didn't let on. "What's the number?" she asked as she walked toward him. Droplets of the misty rain clung to her hair, making it glitter like diamonds. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and she'd shoved her hands into the survival jacket..He didn't know how she did it, but even exhausted, wet and muddy, Lizzy was sexy as hell.
Franny stayed next to her, but the dog's tail wagged as she watched Mac. He swore the dog was laughing at him for doubting Lizzy.
He fumbled with the key and said, "Seven."
Lizzy scanned the cabins and smiled. "The one in front of the car."
It only took a minute to unload their belongings, since Lizzy had only the backpack, plus the food and bowls they'd purchased at the pet store. He had nothing but the clothes on his back.
They walked in the door, their arms full, and found two double beds covered in white chenille bedspreads. The oak furniture was old but well-maintained. Framed photographs hung on the walls – a waterfall in a forest, a mountain lake, a glacier. Two chairs and a table sat in one corner of the room. There was no television or telephone.
"Bare bones," Lizzy said, surveying the room. "Nicer than it looks from outside, though."
"Yeah." Mac stuck his head into the bathroom. There was a bathtub with a shower, a sink and toilet. The tub was sparkling clean and the white towels were a step above the threadbare ones he'd expected. Tiny bars of soap and a bottle of shampoo stood on the sink.
"Bathroom's not bad, either," he called.
He needed a shower. The salt from the spray on Puget Sound made his face itch, and he was ripe enough to offend even himself.
"I need some clean clothes," he said to Lizzy. "How about you?"
She flushed. "I have some in my backpack."
He eyed the bag she'd held so tightly. "Your go bag?"
Surprise flickered in her eyes. "How did you know?"
He wanted to touch her. Badly. Instead, he said, "You got away from the FBI without leaving a trace. You stayed hidden for three months. Of course you had a bag ready. You'd want to be able to take off on a moment's notice."
She set the backpack on one of the chairs. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Although I hoped I wouldn't have to. I didn't have another plan."
"Someday, you'll have to tell me how you managed to evade the FBI. Right now, we both need food, a shower and sleep."
She frowned. "You're not curious about the details?"
"Curious as hell. But the story will keep." He liked that she was off-balance. He handed her the sheet of paper from the motel owner. "A list of food options. Any preferences?"
She studied the list, then her eyes lit up. "Pizza. I haven't had pizza in over three months."
He wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless. But he'd settle for keeping that smile in her eyes by getting her a pizza. "Great. We'll go buy me some clothes and order one to bring back here." He hesitated. "Unless you'd rather stay here with Franny."
"I'll go with you. Franny will be fine by herself."
She slung her backpack over one shoulder, then turned to the dog. "Watch, Franny."
The dog lay on the floor and watched them leave.
***
Lizzy glanced at Mac out of the corner of her eye as she finished her last slice of pizza. The box on the table in the tiny cabin held nothing but crumbs and grease stains. The thin-crust pepperoni and mushroom pie wouldn't win any prizes in Chicago, but the cheesy, tomato-y goodness had made her moan when she took her first bite.
She hadn't done it on purpose – three months of pizza deprivation had been responsible. But Mac had frozen when he'd heard her. His cheeks had flushed, and his eyes dilated.
She'd held his gaze as she licked a piece of mushroom off her lips. Mac shifted in his seat, and an answering arousal had stirred in her.
She shouldn't want him. He'd lied to her. Betrayed her. But she wanted to lean closer and lick the tiny drop of tomato sauce at the corner of his mouth. She wanted to kiss him and taste the bite of the pepperoni and the earthiness of the mushrooms on his lips.
She wanted her hands on him.
And his hands on her.
Mac shifted again, then stood abruptly to gather the empty pizza box. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the bulge at his zipper. He stilled, slashes of red across his cheeks, his eyes heavy-lidded.
Neither of them moved, and she was pretty sure Mac held his breath, as well. Tension stretched between them like a too-taut rubber band. In another moment it would snap, and they'd end up tangled together on the bed behind them.
Mac turned abruptly. "I'll get rid of this," he muttered, heading for the door.
It closed behind him with a thud. Franny looked up from her spot on the floor, and Lizzy reached down to pet her. "Yeah, we'll go out in a minute. When Mac comes back."
If she stayed in the room with Mac, she was afraid she'd end up naked.
He'd lied to her, she reminded herself. She wanted to pound on him. Shake him.
Jump him.
She grabbed the leash and snapped it onto Franny's collar with shaking hands. When she heard the tiny tap at the door, she checked the peephole, then opened it. "I need to take Franny out," she said, her voice husky and low-pitched.
His gaze lingered on her mouth. "I'll take a shower." He grabbed the key and pressed it into her hand. "Be careful. Stay behind the cabin."
He squeezed past her and closed the door. Lizzy stood staring at it for a long moment. He didn't insist on coming with her. He was going to take a shower while she was out here with Franny.
He'd given her the car keys when he checked into the motel.
He trusted her.
She steered Franny around the corner of the cabin, then turned her loose into the underbrush and trees behind it.
Water dripped off the spruce branches above her and trickled down her neck, making her shiver. She'd been shivering a lot lately. And not all of it was due to the cold.
She wished Mac had insisted on coming with her. Wished he had taken her or Franny into the motel office earlier.
It was a lot harder to stay angry at him when he was trying to prove that he trusted her. That he didn't think she'd had anything to do with the FBI agent's death.
As she leaned against the back of the cabin and listened to Franny rustle around in the bushes, she realized how dark it was. An occasional set of headlights from the nearby road sliced through the blackness, and the light in the cabin bathroom cast a weak yellow glow on the ground. Otherwise, the darkness was impenetrable.
She could take off. Mac wouldn't be able to find her.
She sighed and whistled for Franny. She didn't want to take off. She wanted to stay with Mac and go back to Chicago. She wanted to identify the killer so she could have her life back.
She refused to think about what part Mac might play in that life. She'd take it a day at a time.
When she returned to the cabin, the drumming of water on the floor of the bathtub rumbled through the room. She poured a bowl of food for the dog, then flopped on the bed to wait for her turn in the shower.
She didn't have to wait, a tiny voice reminded her. She could join Mac. They'd have to stand really close in the small space. They'd be forced to wash each other. She'd pay particular attention to Mac's cock. She'd put Mac's hands just where she wanted them.
Her hand feathered over the seam of her jeans, and she pressed once, then again. She was pathetic. Yearning after a man who'd betrayed her. But the picture of Mac in that shower was driving her mad. She remembered her fantasy of the two of them in the shower. This might be her last chance to live it.
The water was still running. She tugged her sweater over her head, unclasped her bra, then peeled off
her jeans and panties. She was insane. But in spite of everything, she wanted him.
In a few days, after Mac had identified the killer, they'd go their separate ways. She'd have plenty of time to remember how Mac had lied to her. Until then, the only memories she wanted were the ones of Mac's body sliding on top of hers. Or beneath hers.
She'd live her fantasy of the two of them in the shower now, because she had no idea what the future held. Naked, she yanked open the bathroom door. "Everything okay?" Mac called.
"Everything's great," she said, pulling the shower curtain open.
Mac's dark hair was plastered to his head, and foamy soap covered his chest. Rivulets of water ran down his chest, detoured around his thick, erect cock and rolled down his thighs. As she watched, his cock grew longer, swelled, thickened.
"Lizzy." His voice was hoarse. Full of yearning. Then he reached out, grasped her hand tightly and helped her into the bathtub.
"Were you thinking about me in here?" she murmured, running her fingers along his length. "I was thinking about you."
"Is that right?" He slid his fingers into her, and the fierce wave of pleasure made her stumble against him. "So you came in here so we could think together?"
"Something...something like that," she panted, holding onto him while he teased her clit, moved two fingers inside her. She'd been the aggressor. She'd planned on touching him and teasing him until he was begging. But he'd turned the tables. In a moment, she'd be the one pleading.
He bent his head and took one of her nipples in his mouth, circling it with his tongue and gently sucking. Her hips flexed into him. "Mac," she gasped. "In me. Now. I can't wait."
He lifted her in a smooth motion and slid inside her. She moaned and wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into his ass. He pressed her against the wall, thrust into her three more times, and her climax crashed over her.
She heard someone keening. Her. Mac gripped her more tightly and thrust twice more, then he groaned as he came inside her. The water beat down on them as they stood together, panting. His heart raced beneath her ear, and his muscles trembled under her hands. Finally the water began to cool, and Mac let her slide down his body.
"Got to get out of here before it gets cold," he muttered. Keeping one hand on her, he fumbled with the faucet. When the water stopped, the sudden silence was startling.
"I...I didn't actually shower," she managed to say.
"Later." He dried her with one of the small towels, then opened the door. Clouds of steam billowed out. Without letting go of her hand, he led her to one of the beds and threw back the bedspread and sheet. "I think we can keep ourselves occupied until the water heats up again."
Chapter 16
Mac glanced at Lizzy in the seat beside him. She leaned against the wall of the plane, staring out the window. She should be sleeping – they'd been awake most of the night, making love. They'd gotten to the airport early, then had to wait for a flight until almost six PM. They'd both tried to nap, but she hadn't slept any more than he had. Too much noise and too many people. So why wasn't she asleep?
Was she regretting her impulsive move last night that had landed them in that bed? Or was she reliving it, hoping it happened again soon?
Was she still angry at him? She hadn't seemed angry last night. She'd been as insatiable as he'd been.
Maybe she wasn't thinking about him at all. Maybe she was thinking about her dog.
At the airport, she'd kissed Franny's head and locked her in a white plastic crate. There had been tears in Lizzy's eyes as she'd watched a baggage handler load the crate on a dolly and wheel her dog away.
Maybe, now that the haze of lust had cleared from both their brains, she was thinking about all the ways he'd betrayed her. Having sex with her without telling her who he was. Prodding her for the story about her father, then using it against her.
He'd been doing his job, but that meant nothing to Lizzy.
She'd looked devastated when he caught up with her on the pier at Skipjack. Heartbroken. He didn't think he'd ever forget the expression of betrayal on her face. The pain in her eyes.
That's what he got for getting involved with a witness.
They hadn't gotten involved. They'd had sex. That was all.
He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the seat. He'd told her the truth. It was the best sex he'd ever had.
He had fallen for her.
Hell, he'd fallen for her the minute she'd walked into the office all those months ago. Getting to know her had only sharpened his lust.
A tiny nudge would turn lust into something else.
He couldn't let that happen until this case was over. Until the killer was in custody, it was his job to protect Lizzy. To have her identify the man she'd seen in the parking garage.
There was nothing in his job description about taking Lizzy to bed and staying there for days.
He turned his head to study her and found that she'd closed her eyes, her head pressed against the wall of the plane. He reached under the seat for the blanket, folded it into a small square, and propped her head up. If she slept like that all the way to Chicago, she'd wake up with a sore neck.
Then he stared at the seat in front of him and thought about the case. He'd been so focused on getting Lizzy back to Chicago, on having her identify Kelly's killer, that he'd ignored the bigger picture.
Before she'd handcuffed him to the pier, she'd dropped the bomb about the killer being an FBI agent. At the time, he'd been so shocked, and so pissed off at Lizzy for cuffing him and running off, that he hadn't thought about the implications.
She'd seen one guy. But maybe that guy hadn't been acting alone. Maybe other agents were involved.
This was no longer only the murder of an FBI agent. Now it was an internal affairs situation, as well.
When she'd blurted out the truth back on that island, he hadn't wanted to believe her. Hadn't wanted to think one of his fellow agents was the killer.
But she had to be right. Only someone from his office would know where he was. So the person she'd seen getting off the ferry was another FBI agent. Someone he knew.
Someone Kelly had known.
Everything about this case had gotten more complicated. More difficult. Now he understood those holes in Kelly's files – names of informants missing, dates of meetings missing, no details of his actions from certain days. Information that should have been there. He'd run into roadblocks at every turn.
There was no one in his office he could trust. He shouldn't have called in his location, but he'd had no idea fellow-agents were involved. Now that phone call had put a target on Lizzy's back.
His, too.
He'd figure out a way to keep her safe while he looked for the answers. A way that would allow Lizzy to identify the killer without exposing her to danger.
He turned to watch her sleep. The blanket had slipped, and her neck was bent again. He raised the armrest between their seats and pulled her against his side. Her soft breaths warmed his skin through the material of his shirt, and her hair tickled his nose.
He tucked it behind her ear, and its citrusy scent drifted over him. He cupped her neck, letting his hand linger on her satin-soft skin. Her pulse beat steadily beneath his fingers, and it comforted him. For now, Lizzy was safe.
He'd make sure she stayed that way.
***
The plane touched down in Chicago after midnight. While Lizzy was still asleep on his shoulder, he sent a text to his brothers Connor and Brendan asking them to meet him at their mom's house. Then, as the plane taxied toward their gate, he brushed his lips over Lizzy's head.
"Time to wake up, sweetheart. We're here."
Her eyelids fluttered open, her eyes still hazy with sleep. They darkened when she saw his face so close to hers, and she leaned toward him, her gaze on his lips. As if it was the most natural thing in the world to kiss him when she woke up.
He bent to meet her kiss, and he saw the moment she wakened fully.
She
jerked away from him, frowning at the blanket he'd put under her head on his shoulder. "What...what are you doing?"
"Waking you up," he said, smiling in spite of himself. "What were you doing?"
"Nothing! You just...I was asleep."
"Looked like you were gonna kiss me," he whispered in her ear.
She swallowed and moved farther away. "You startled me. I was still mostly asleep."
"That the only time you're going to kiss me? When you wake up and forget where you are?"
She rolled her shoulders and looked away from him. "Last night was...it was amazing. But it can't happen again."
"Why not?"
"You have a job to do. I don't want to be collateral damage."
Is that what she thought? That she was only collateral damage? That he'd walk away after this case was over?
"You're wrong," he murmured into her ear.
"Don't think so. I have to protect myself. If I let myself fall...get attached to you, what happens when this job is over for you?"
"You don't think I was as much into it last night as you were?"
"We were alone in a motel. Both of us were scared. Nervous. We distracted each other. That was it."
"You think that's all it was? A distraction?" He leaned closer to inhale her scent, the one that triggered every hormone in his body. "When you walked into the office three months ago, it felt as if someone hit me in the head with a two by four. I've been thinking about you ever since. Wanting you ever since. And now that I've actually met you, now that I've touched you, kissed you, I can barely think of anything besides you. My job is a very distant second to what I feel for you."
She swallowed once, then again. Glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then quickly looked away. But he'd seen the vulnerability in her eyes. The doubt. The almost painful hope. "Those are just words, Mac."
"I know they are." His voice was far calmer than he felt. "All I want is a chance to prove it to you."
"I thought you wanted to catch the guy who killed your friend."
"I do. That has to be my priority, because you won't be safe until he's behind bars. But after he's caught? Then my focus is on you."
Find Me (The Donovan Family Book 3) Page 15