Found Underneath: Finding Me Duet #2

by K. L. Kreig

  “I know you said what you feel for me is new and I know you don’t do relationships—”

  He grunts and puts his lips back to mine, shutting me up. This time the kiss brims with passion. He owns it, controlling me. He grows hard beneath me, kissing me senseless, and when he tells me, “It’s madness how much I love you, Willow Blackwell,” quietly against my wet mouth I can’t hold back my sob. “Utter fucking madness.”

  “You love me?” I mumble, frantically trying to hold my shit together.

  “You know I do.” He looks up at me from under heavy lids. Those blue eyes of his soften and clear. They bounce all over my face, landing on my watery eyes, my swollen lips, the cheeks that I’m sure are stained pink. “I have never felt anything like this before. I didn’t know it was possible.”

  “Me either,” I confess thickly.

  A corner of his mouth ticks up and he sobers. “Yeah?”

  I nod, feeling choked up all of a sudden. I heard the real question behind his charming insecurity. I need to tell him about Reid. That we were engaged, practically married. How I left him. I need to tell him a lot of things, actually, but not now. Reid doesn’t belong in this moment with us.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened today?” I ask, following the line of his thick eyebrow with my thumb. The ease on his face is instantly replaced with sharp edges and a flinty stare.

  “No,” he snaps.

  I’m taken aback, the bark of his denial smarting like a slap. “Why not? Something upset you.”

  “Willow, I just…” He sighs not once, but twice. He’s choosing his words carefully, I can tell. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. Please.”

  “You can trust me, you know.” I sound surly. I am.

  “I know.” A soft smile curves that insanely sexy mouth. I start to melt against him again. Damn him. How can he do that to me? “You have no idea how much trust I’ve placed in you, Goldilocks.”

  “Really?” My sarcasm snaps him like a wet towel.

  “Please, Willow. Please, just let it go. For now,” he adds quickly.

  I don’t want to let it go. I want to push him. Drag the truth out about what had him in a state I’ve never seen him in before. He was practically despondent when I walked into the room not twenty minutes ago. But he seems borderline desperate for me to let this go and I don’t want to get into a fight. For now, I will let it go. Reluctantly.

  “Okay.” I wind my hands around his neck, lacing my fingers. “But we’re not done talking about this.”

  He nods curtly, visibly relaxing. A few beats pass and the mood in the room shifts once again when he finally realizes what I’m wearing.

  “Holy fucking shit,” he breathes. Both hands on my hips now, he pushes me back slightly to get his fill.

  His gaze stretches over me, slowly. Purposefully. Starting from my neck, it caresses every exposed inch of my collarbone, kissing the swell of my breasts. His eyes flare, banked fire roaring back to life when he notices for the first time that I’m wearing the gift he left.

  “God, you’re sexy,” he tells me, sounding dumbfounded.

  Bringing his index finger to my shoulder, he traces the thin strap down to the cups that hold me high, running it over the edge of the material from one breast to the next. He dips inside. A low rumble leaves the back of his throat when he finds my nipple hard as a jewel. I feel his eyes tracking even lower and he lets loose a long string of creative profanities when he sees I’m sans panties.

  “Stand up,” he demands. It’s needy and feral and leaves no room for my usual play at defiance.

  I flex my thighs and slide off of him. Curling my toes into the carpet, I rise on unsteady legs and present myself. My chest heaves. My heart pounds against my breastbone. The insides of my thighs are slicked with visible want.

  “Turn around.”

  I can barely move with the way he’s consuming me, but I manage to spin in a full circle without falling.

  “You are divine grace, Willow,” he says when I’m facing him again. His fingers wrap around my slim hips, short nails biting into me. It stings. It burns. It feels fucking amazing. “A goddess I am not worthy of.”

  He scoots forward until he’s balanced on the edge of the chair. Legs spread on either side of mine, he tugs me until my knees graze the leather. His gaze walks back up me. I let him drink me in, feast on my mutual need.

  “Please touch me,” I urge.

  I’m washed in warm breaths only a half second before his hot mouth presses to my lower belly, right above my pubic bone, and he whispers while looking into my eyes, “I love you, Willow. I am madly, deeply, irreversibly in love with you.”

  Oh God. I break out in chills.

  “Do you know how many women I’ve said that to?”

  My legs give a little. Setting my hands on his shoulders to hold myself steady, I lick my dry lips and shake my head. In my heart, I know, though. I know.

  His mouth starts moving, placing tiny kisses along an imaginary panty line. His hands start wandering over my ass. A finger runs down my crack. It dips inside me, easily finding its way; then it’s wandering back up the way it came. He rims me. Watches my reaction. I can’t keep my head up any longer and it falls back on my shoulders, feeling so damn heavy.

  Then my feet are parted from the floor. I’m in his arms. A shock of cold hits my butt as he sets me on the edge of the baby grand—its top is closed and flat. He spreads my knees and lays me back. He draws a finger through me, front to back, right before his mouth closes on me.

  My spine arches.

  My pussy burns.

  My hands grip the short strands of his hair and pull as he licks me, moaning this unholy moan, unlike anything I’ve heard from him before.

  “None,” he growls before thrusting his tongue into my channel. I’m dripping. On fire. My legs wrap around his neck. He grabs under my thighs and tilts my pelvis up, driving in farther.

  He’s relentless. Manic. Starved. I’m dying. Holy shit, I can’t think.

  I’m teetering, my whole body clenching in anticipation when the bastard stops, leaving me to balance on orgasm’s sweet edge.

  “No,” I whine, strung tight enough for it to physically hurt. I would rub my legs together to set myself free, but they’re locked open in his impassive grip.

  “Look at me.” Not a request.

  I manage to pry open my lids, but they only go halfway up. I’m panting. My fists clench by my sides as he stands over me, looking all exotic and wild and feverish. “Outside of family, not one woman, Goldilocks. You’re it. You’ll only ever be it.”

  “Shaw.” I sigh, an amazing fullness pulsing in the center of my chest. That pain of denied release ebbs and I reach for him, but he grabs my hand and presses the palm flat to my stomach. He slides it down until the pads of my fingers touch my clit, which is hard and pulsing in mutiny.

  “Touch yourself while I finger you. I want to get you off together.”

  Good lord, this filthy man.

  One side of his mouth tilts up like he heard what I’m thinking. With that wicked smile still in place, he slides two fingers through my slit and into me, palm up. He curls them precisely, tuning in to that secret spot only he seems able to find.

  I gasp, “Oh fuck.” My chin lifts and my eyes find the ceiling when he caresses it just so. My hips move, seeking more. With each plunge inside I lift to meet him, needing more.

  “You’re not doing your part.” I hear the smirk in his tone, and he slows his rhythm considerably until I’m forced back upright. I realize my fingers remain exactly where he set them, but they’re not moving. “Watch us. Watch how good we are together, Willow.”

  I want to disobey. I want him to stare into the soul I just sliced open for him and challenge him the way I always do, but it’s such a dirty directive, I have to comply.

  My legs are open, heels resting on the closed fall. I’m at the edge of the lid, spread so wide my thigh muscles scream a little. I push myself up all the way
until I’m sitting, spine straight. An arm is anchored behind, holding me up.

  Circling around the most sensitive part of me, I watch us. I start slowly at first but pick up pace almost immediately. My arousal is abundant and runs down into his palm. It may be about the most erotic thing I’ve ever watched: his glistening fingers disappearing between my tight walls again and again.

  “Christ, look at you.”

  “I’m looking,” I whisper. My bare folds are puffy and pink, the inner lips two shades darker. The veins in his wrist bulge and I grind on his hand while I work my clit faster and faster. It’s hedonistic and…

  “So wet. So greedy. I have never seen anything sexier than this, Willow. Fucking ever.”

  Neither have I.

  With the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, he holds my outer lips open making every wicked move more visible. “This pussy is mine. This orgasm is mine. You are mine.”

  Shit, I’m shaking. Heat builds, the intensity of it multiplying so fast it’s making me dizzy. My fingers fly. So do his.

  “Oh yeah, that’s it, beautiful,” Shaw coaxes. “You’re there.”

  Then and only then do I tear my eyes away from the sight we make. Shaw does, too. Our gazes click. Our souls align. And only seconds later I’m gone. My eyes slam closed. Electric currents fire through me, one after the other. My body shudders and shakes with the force of them. I open my mouth to wail, but it’s merely a strung-together mess of soft yeses that comes out instead. I clasp Shaw’s wrist and keep him steady inside me so I can savor every second of my orgasm until it’s gone.

  I collapse forward, panting into his chest. Drained and happy, I silently weep.

  Shaw Mercer loves me. Me. I can honestly say I have never trusted someone with my heart more than I trust the man currently wrapping his arms around me, now whispering in my ear how I’m his forever. And maybe that should worry me, yet it doesn’t.

  I think he’d do anything for me.

  Absolutely anything but break it.

  Chapter 15

  What the fuck are you doing, Merc?

  I laid Willow on the bed like something fragile, something rare to behold. I peeled that silky sexy-as-fuck sliver of fabric from her body as if she were ripe fruit I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into. I shed my clothes and came over her as if the thought of diving inside her warmth was singular and fundamental to being able to take my next breath.

  She loves me.

  I’d hoped it. Like a pussy, I’d prayed for it, even. But to actually hear it? That truth rumbled so goddamn deep inside me I felt the Earth split in two. Instead of apathy when other women have said it, I felt pure, undiluted elation. Like I was wide-awake, born again.

  And I love her so goddamn much I am beyond reproach right now. If I wasn’t, I would let her go. I would hurt her now to save her later. I would do what needs to be done behind the scenes to protect her, to secure her financial future and leave her the hell alone.

  I should have done it earlier. I beat her back to the room and I heard her come in. I watched as she strode to the bedroom oblivious to my presence in the dark. I listened to her shower. I waited for her, the lies all prepared. Thank you for your help, but I no longer need your services. Sitting in the dark, I practiced them over and over until I thought I could say them without choking. I even briefly thought of inviting Noah back to our suite and into our bed, fucking bastard that I am.

  But then she was there, her aura wholly surrounding me. She brought this unfettered peace and tranquility with her into the room without even trying. And it broke me. My misery leaked out. The lies evaporated. I don’t even remember what I said when she dropped at my feet, looked up at me with those brilliant eyes of hers, and told me she loved me.

  When she knowingly stopped me from telling her I was in love with her the other night, I was angry. Mostly I was hurt. But after today, I thought maybe it was fate. Maybe she was never meant to know how deep my feelings run or how I can’t even stomach the thought of touching another woman again who isn’t her. When she told me I was in, though, that was it. Game over. The idiotic thought I’d had of pushing her away vanished. She was officially mine.

  But the fact still remains that professing our love only adds layers of complexity to this already convoluted mess and for once, I don’t know what to do about it. I had hoped today would clear Annabelle, but…fuck. Fuck.

  It didn’t.

  If Lia Melborne is to be believed, Annabelle was there. They were all there. Hell, they’re all as guilty as Annabelle in my opinion, yet no one came forward or did a goddamn thing. But it was my baby sister who…

  Shit. I run a hand through my hair, letting my mind drift to earlier when I slid into Willow without a single barrier between us—no latex or false pretense or those fucking blockades she throws.

  “Where are you?” Willow asks quietly, sliding her tiny hands over my cheeks.

  The tender move snaps me back to her and I realize I’m hovering over her, lost inside this hell I’ve found myself submerged in. How will I live my life without her in it?

  Unfathomable.

  She’s waiting for me with such yearning on her absurdly beautiful face, my cock rages. “I’m home,” I spill truthfully, laying my cheek to hers. I gather her close, shove my face in her neck, and inhale her.

  “Shaw,” she breathes. “I love you.”

  Christ. Why do they call it falling in love when it feels like you’ve jumped out of a plane headfirst without a parachute? “Not possibly more than I love you, Willow.” Not possible.

  I needed her with a desperation that bordered on wild. So I shoved away the sickening news, lined up my length, and sank deep, slowly making love to her until we were sweaty and our lips hurt from kissing. I treated each second with her as if it were my last. I feared it might be.

  We ordered in, ate naked in bed, talked and kissed and touched. We made love countless times. I did anything she asked. Every kinky thing she wanted. Sweet-talked her into a few of my own. It was the most glorious night I’ve spent with anyone.

  The pads of my fingers trace up and down her arm lightly so as not to wake her. She’s been asleep for hours, yet I’m lying here unable to close my eyes, wishing we could freeze ourselves into this place and time while the world goes on without us.

  Sun spills around the curtains, its rays usually welcome. I love the sunrise. The dawning of a new day, new possibilities. But today I curse Mother Nature herself as unearthly panic thickens and multiplies. Tomorrow is almost here and with it brings a million questions I’m not ready to answer.

  What the fuck am I going to do?

  How am I going to get us all out of this mess unscathed?

  Is that even a possibility?

  Honestly, the answer is no. Every one of us loses here.

  “Fuck, Annabelle. What have you done?” I mutter into the soundless room.

  A knot forms in my throat. I can’t go there yet. Not yet. Instead, I focus on Willow. I listen to her light breaths, drowning in the perfect sound of her serenity. I let the warmth of her body snuggled against mine burrow into me so far, I’ll feel her for a lifetime. I memorize the feel of her fingers twitching against my chest and the unique scent of her I take in with each deep inhalation.

  For the first time in my life, I feel heavy and vulnerable. The infamous Shaw Mercer is not invincible or impenetrable after all. The proof is sprawled on me, her hot pussy pressed tight to my leg, her knee tucked a little too close to my well-used cock. I actually tear up at the thought of not having this. Of not keeping her or waking up feeling as if I’ve finally found my place in life.

  Pressing my lips to the crown of sex-and-sleep-mussed hair I leave them there. Wrapping my other arm around her, too, I find my eyelids too weighted to stay open.

  Just a moment, I think. I’ll rest them for only a moment because I can’t waste a single second I have left with her in the haze of sleep.

  I wake to pounding.

  I pry open my eyes to f
ind it fully light in the bedroom of our hotel. A glance at the digital clock on the stand to my right tells me it’s after nine. Shit. I did more than close my eyes. I dropped into oblivion.

  Thud thud thud.

  The dull noise comes from the door to our suite and irritation sets in. I was positive I put out the Do Not Disturb sign last night to avoid this exact thing.

  Carefully, I extricate myself from Willow, who is still sound asleep, and grab my dress pants from the floor beside the bed. I shove one leg in first, then the other. I do up the zipper but leave the button undone. The knocking resumes but I pause, gazing at the love of my life. So sweet and innocent when she has that harpy mouth of hers closed.

  She didn’t push me the rest of the night about my mood, but that’s only temporary. She will, likely the second she opens her eyes. Then what? How will I divert her this time without outright lying? And that I just can’t do. Lying will erode this fragile trust she’s placed in me, and I won’t do that no matter how tempting it may be.

  With a sigh, I reluctantly leave her and make it to the door right as the loud noise resumes. I throw it open, not even bothering to check the peephole, sure it’s housekeeping. I’m preparing to bite an innocent’s head off when the face of my best friend appears in my vision.

  “What the fuck? We aren’t scheduled to leave until noon.”

  “This couldn’t wait.” He brushes past me, uninvited. Asshole.

  I don’t want to deal with Noah right now. I don’t want to deal with what’s waiting for me back in Seattle, either. I want to crawl back into bed beside Willow, peel back the sheet covering her, and tongue my way down her perfect curves until I reach her center. I want her to wake up panting, clawing at my hair, begging me to let her come. I don’t want to leave and a big part of me wishes we never came here in the first place because at least then I could still be living behind a cloak of denial a little while longer.

  Quietly shutting the door behind me, I follow Noah into the living room of my suite. “You could have called.”