Dangerous Love

by E. B. Walters

  She tried to swallow but her throat had gone dry. She hated to be made love to from behind, and he knew it. She’d told him a year ago. The position was impersonal…she couldn’t see his expression or look into his eyes…she could be any woman. Worse, the position made her feel vulnerable.

  Heart pounding, she reached behind her to find him, but he moved out of her reach.

  “No, sweetheart. This is not about me. This is about you trusting me. Accepting I’d never hurt you.”

  He moved closer, his body pressing on her back. One hand covered her breast and played with her nipple, his mouth on her neck, while the other splayed across her stomach. She shivered as sensation spread across her body. Her insides went soft and quivering. Her breathing became labored. He took his time, caressing her belly button, making her squirm in anticipation as he moved lower. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she wrapped one around his wrist, determined to direct him to her core, to speed up his progress.

  “Easy, baby,” he said, taking her hands and bringing them up, so she could hold his head. His kissed her shoulder. “Keep them up there.”

  She closed her eyes and gave him control, trusting him with her body. Fingers teased and plucked budded nipples. The others slipped lower, then through the soft curls to find her folds. Instead of touching her, he spread those nether lips. Cool air rushed to replace warm. Her sensitized skin responded. It was the most arousing thing, as though he was blowing on her. Anticipation had her moaning, moving her hips to dislodge his fingers.

  “Tell me what you want?” His low voice was guttural and intense, his warm breath fanning the sensitive area behind her ear.

  “Love me.”

  He slipped a long finger along her the fleshy part of her labia, obeying her, yet deliberately ignoring her pleasure point. Faith squirmed. Ached for more.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “You don’t have to beg, baby.”

  He touched her throbbing flesh, his movements gentle, teasing circles. Faith’s legs shook, hips pushed against his hand. Such exquisite torture. She was addicted to this man and his skillful fingers.

  “You’re mine,” he whispered in her ear. “Say it.”

  “Ken—”

  “Say it,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I’m yours.”

  He turned her head at just the right angle, lowered his and branded her with a marauding kiss. At the same time, he slipped a finger slowly inside her sheath, then two, his movements rapid, insistent. The position was odd, yet she wouldn’t change it even if they were in the epicenter of an earthquake. She clenched around his hand as he pleasured her, his fingers reaching a spot inside her that made her squirm. Her moans mixed with the soft wet sounds his fingers made as they slipped in and out of her.

  Everything inside her tightened, then the convulsion pulsed through her body as she peaked. Her legs gave out, but he was there to catch her. He lifted her as though he weighed nothing, then set her gently on the bed. Faith was still catching her breath when she realized he wasn’t touching her.

  She opened her heavy-lidded eyes and found him rolling on a condom, his breathing ragged, sweat drops dotting his brow. Was it possible for a man to look both beautiful and lethal at the same time? He moved to the foot of the bed and held her gaze intently.

  “Offer yourself to me, Faith. Freely.”

  She swallowed. A relationship begins with trust. She trusted him, and it was time she showed him. Heart pounding, Faith rolled over to her hands and knees, then arched her back.

  A rough breath shuddered out of him then he lifted her up and lay her on her back.

  “But I just—”

  He placed a finger on her lips. “Baby steps, sweetheart. I want to look into your eyes when I touch you too, when you come, when I do. For the record, you could wear a sack over your head and I’d know it was you. Make love to you in pitch darkness, and I’d know it was you.”

  She was in deep trouble with this man, but for once, she didn’t care. She sat up and kissed him, showing him with her hands and lips how much he meant to her. She pulled him on top of her, legs tangled, his face coming to rest on her breast. She shimmied along his sweat-drenched body and covered his mouth with hers in a searing kiss. At the same time, her hand closed around his massive erection and guided him to her entrance.

  He broke off the kiss, reared his back and hissed with pleasure as they joined, their gazes locked. Every moment was like the first time, her sheath adjusting to his size, to the heavy intrusion.

  “You feel so amazing,” he ground out.

  “Then you’re going to enjoy this.” She wrapped her arms around him and rolled with him, almost landing them on the floor. A chuckle rumbled through his chest.

  She’d surprised him, but then again, that was his Faith. Unpredictable. Impossible. He’d wondered when she’d get tired of letting him have the upper hand and switch roles.

  “You’re mine now, Kenneth Lambert,” she said and started riding him.

  “Willingly,” he ground out.

  “Say it,” she repeated his previous command.

  She was perfect. Amazing. “I’m yours.”

  She splayed her hands on his taut stomach, rose up his shaft and sunk down. A sheen of moisture dotted her skin, her breasts bouncing with each move. He reached up to cup her breasts, but she wasn’t having any of it.

  “No touching.” She clasped his wrist, pushed up his arms above his head and paused to kiss him. “It’s my turn to please you now. Lay back and enjoy the ride.”

  Holding on to his shoulders, she pushed herself up his length, almost letting him his slip out of her before sinking. She picked up tempo, riding him hard and fast. He burned with the need to let go. He fought back his orgasm, reached out and grabbed the edge of the headboard.

  Her movement grew frenzied, each sensual glide pulling him deeper and deeper into an abyss where nothing else mattered but this woman and how she made him feel. He bucked under her, thrusting upward to meet her again and again, until she arched her back and cried out, her muscles clenching around him.

  Still, she didn’t stop, her muscles squeezing him tighter and tighter. The sensations rocking his body became too much. He let go of the headboard, pulled her down, and kissed her as an explosive release catapulted him over the edge.

  CHAPTER 15

  Ken flopped on his back with Faith draped on top of him. He couldn’t move or formulate a thought if he tried. His chest expanded as he tried to slow down his heartbeat and ease the knot in his gut. Mind-numbing couldn’t begin to describe what just happened. But then again, Faith was an amazing woman.

  “You okay, honey?” she asked.

  He glanced down at her. Her auburn hair coiled in silken loops on his sweaty chest. He pushed the strands away from her face and kissed her forehead, ran his knuckles up, and down her shoulder.

  “Never better.”

  She kissed his chest, traced the scars across his chest. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

  He chuckled. “You unmanned me.”

  She raised her head and nibbled his jaw, the corner of his mouth, then his lips. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

  “No need to be sorry. I’m not complaining.” He tapped the tip of her nose, ran a finger across her lush lips. She kissed it. “Are you hungry?”

  “Famished. Can we have a bath too?”

  “If you run one, I’ll order us some food.” He kissed her then watched as she peeled her delectable body off him with an agility of a dancer, slid off the bed, and sashayed toward across the room with a gentle sway of her hips. At five-nine and in great physical shape, she was breathtaking. Blood rushed to his groin again.

  She disappeared into the bathroom. Sounds of cabinets opening and closing followed. She was probably searching for spa salts and soap. He didn’t do spa. Running water followed.

  Ken got up to get rid of the condom. When he walked into the bathroom, Faith was seated on the edge of the tub, humming som
e song under her breath as she wiggled her finger under the running water. Having her here was perfect. Right.

  He paused long enough to kiss her then left the bathroom. She was inside the tub, sponging her body when he returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  “Food will be here in thirty minutes.” He placed his cell phone by the sink then opened the bottle of Merlot, poured generous amount in each glass and handed her one. When he joined her inside the large tab, his body caused the water to slosh closer to the rim. He settled behind her, pulled her against his chest, and between his legs then took over the bath pillow.

  “Is the water all right? I tend to run mine hot,” she said, titling her head sideways to glance at him.

  “It’s perfect.” He took a sip of his drink, content holding her and enjoying the moment.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asked after a while.

  “Shoot.”

  “How did you get the scars on your body?”

  The past flashed before his eyes. He’d never spoken about the incident that caused him to leave the Bureau. The nightmares were almost gone, just an occasional remnants waking him up in a cold sweat.

  “Ken?” Faith glanced at him over her shoulder.

  “There was a hostage situation at an elementary school involving some militias. They took the school hostage. My superiors thought we could negotiate with them.” He paused to squash the images. She didn’t need to know the gory details, the sociopath masterminding the hostage situation and his naïve followers, his superiors’ miscalculation and inability to listen, the decision he made, which had the commissioner hailing him as a hero and his superiors hating his guts. “We didn’t know they had a bomb, until negotiations broke down and some of us were inside.” His closed his eyes as he relived the horror, the mangled bodies, most of them children, the grieving parents, and the finger-pointing afterwards. “We got most of the students out except one class and a teacher.”

  He didn’t realize Faith had put her glass down and turned sideways, until she cupped his face and pressed a gentle kiss on the scar on his shoulder. She rested her head on his chest and gently rubbed his arm until he unclenched his fingers from the rim of the tub.

  “I left the Bureau afterwards, moved here to L.A., and started my firm.”

  “What did your family say?” she asked.

  Ken grimaced, recalling his father’s elation “They were thrilled. Mom and Misa were happy I was no longer doing a job they considered dangerous. My father never approved of my decision to join the FBI and couldn’t wait to have me in a suit and a corner office at his company. I hate suits and board meetings. Then they learned about my new P. I. firm. Dad went ballistic. He doesn’t consider what I do a job, but…”

  He talked about his father’s inability to meet him halfway, the frustration, the tension whenever the subject came up until the shrill sound of his doorbell floated upstairs. “The food is here.”

  Faith scooted, so he could get up.

  Ken grabbed a robe from behind the door and hurried downstairs. The shower was running when he came back with a tray laden with food. He’d gone all out at a nearby Peruvian seafood restaurant that was open 24 hours on weekends. From Lomo saltad—grilled beef strips sautéed with onions, tomatoes, and French fries served with steamed rice to shrimp ceviche. The sauces that came with the dishes were spicy and the bread rolls fresh. Ken spread the offering on a blanket on the bedroom floor.

  When Faith came out with one of his robes enveloping her slender frame, the remaining wine and their glasses in her hands, he led her to their picnic area.

  “My favorite,” she said and grinned.

  Halfway through their meal, his cell phone rang. In his line of work, he didn’t ignore calls, even those coming in at two in the morning. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom, where he’d left it.

  “Boss, you said to call you if anything unusual happens,” Hailey said. “O’Neal is back in the vault. He’s shoving clothes in garment bags. The ones that belong to Ms. Fitzgerald.”

  “Pull out and follow him when he leaves the building. Call me back with your whereabouts.” He terminated the call and left the bathroom. “That was Hailey. Sean is in the vault, removing evidence.”

  Faith was on her feet before he finished explaining. She reached for her dress.

  “Not those. You need dark clothes.” He entered his walk-in closet and removed a pair of sweats with drawstrings and sweatshirt. He was several inches taller than her, so she’d have to roll up the sleeves, but they’d do.

  She didn’t argue when he handed her the clothes, just pulled them on as he did his. Then she adjusted and knotted the draw-strings for a better fit. He grinned. Only his Faith could make oversize clothes look sexy.

  “What?” Faith asked.

  “You look good.” He offered her flip-flops, the only footwear in his closet she could borrow.

  She chuckled, dropped the flip-flops on the floor and shoved her feet through them, then ran her fingers through hair. “I’m sure I look like a clown.”

  Despite her dismissive words, he could tell she liked the compliment. By the time he pulled on socks and sneakers, she was at the top of stairs, impatient to leave. One thing he loved about her was her level-headedness during crisis. No hysteria. Femininity and grace.

  “I need few more things,” he said as they bounded downstairs.

  “What?”

  “A concealable video recorder. We can’t use the footage from the vault without being charged with breaking and entering, so I want to catch him with those clothes out in the open. I don’t care if he’s throwing them in some dumpster or burning them, I want something we can use to haul his thieving ass to jail. ” He went to his office, grabbed his bag of gadgets, and rejoined Faith.

  “Do you want me to drive?” she asked, following into the garage.

  “No, but you can navigate.” He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t be content just sitting in the car doing nothing. Besides, getting her involved would ease her tension. “We’re driving blind, so I’ll need to keep changing routes as we go.”

  “What do you mean ‘driving blind’?”

  “That’s when I depend on my surveillance team to guide me to my target.” He caught her frown and added, “Don’t worry, we’ve done this before. We’ll catch up with him.” He placed his bad of gizmos in the back seat and handed her the wireless phone piece then dialed Hailey. “Hailey will tell you where they are and you can relay the info to me.”

  She put the earpiece on then said, “Hailey? This is Faith. Yes, we’re leaving. Can you tell me where you are now?” She cocked her head a she listened then glanced at Ken. “They’re on I-10 West, heading west toward Santa Monica Freeway.”

  Ken gunned his engine and eased out of the garage. He headed north, adjusting his route by taking back roads whenever necessary. When not giving directions, Faith conversed with Hailey. At first, he didn’t eavesdrop, his mind on his next move, but when she chuckled, he couldn’t help it. They were discussing comic con costumes. Funny, his assistant Lucy were still trying to connect to Hailey while Faith found a common interest with such ease.

  Ken was on La Cienega when Hailey relayed to them that they just took exit 3B and were headed south on I-405. At first he’d thought O’Neal was headed to Santa Monica Airport, but now he had a feeling he knew the designer’s destination. He flipped on his indicator and turned west on Slauson Avenue.

  “Why are we taking this road?” Faith asked.

  “I have an idea where O’Neal is headed.”

  “Just a second, Hailey,” Faith said then shifted, so she could look at him. “Where?”

  “He’s headed to your jeweler’s place.”

  “Deidre? She lives in Burbank,” Faith said.

  “She moved about two months ago to a complex near Marina Del Rey. Tell Hailey to call back when they turn toward the marina.” He waited until Faith turned off the phone then continued. “While you were in New York, I found
out a few interesting things about Deidre.”

  Something in his voice set off warning bells in Faith’s head. “Like what?”

  “First, Deidre is not her real name. She was born Charlene Butler in a small town in Texas, worked at a local diner after high school and married some loser who used to beat her up. When he died in a mysterious fire, she left town. She slipped under the radar, didn’t pay taxes or even have an address. Then she resurfaced in L.A. as Deidre Jamison, a jewelry maker.”

  Faith tried to remember anything that would have alerted her about…Deidre. “Her character references checked out. I talked with one of her teacher and formers managers at the two jewelry stores.”

  “That’s because a Deidre Jamison did go to Chattanooga College and worked at those stores. We found department pictures and saw employee files. That Deidre Jamison looks nothing like the woman working with you. How did you two meet?”

  “She walked into my store a few months after I opened shop and showed me her jewelry collection. They were exceptional.”

  “Maybe she made them, maybe she knew the real Deidre Jamison, I don’t know. But she’s very resourceful, which explains why she’s living comfortably in a resort-like townhouse way above her means.”

  “How do you know what she earns?”

  “Don’t ask how,” he added and chuckled.

  Faith didn’t know how he could find anything humorous at a time like this. The sense of betrayal returned, stronger than what Faith had felt when she learned about Sean’s thievery. She had taken a chance on Deidre, given her a sweet deal to sell her jewelry in her store and design more specifically for both Falasha’s couture and ready-to-wear lines. Even Sissy planned to feature Deidre’s jewelry in a futuristic chick flick movie next year, all at Faith’s suggestion. How often did Deidre talk to her about her money problems? While undermining her business by selling her designs to Sean.

  “Say something,” Ken urged.