And it didn’t hurt that her body was so incredibly erotic.
With just a few reckless tugs, I was able to strip her of her clothing—if you could call those things clothes—and touch her. I touched everything with my hands, my fingertips, and my tongue. I nibbled and twirled, sucked and fingered, bringing the most delicious sighs from her lips. I was so hard—so fucking hard!—that it was almost painful. But I delayed my own gratification in order to hear, to see, hers.
“I want to see you cum,” I whispered against her mouth.
“Hayden…”
She protested, but she didn’t push me away. And she didn’t draw me to her when I pulled back to watch her face.
I slid my fingers inside of her and pressed them in deep to touch those places I knew would drive her wild. Then I slowly pulled them out and ran the tips of my fingers over her clit. She moaned softly, her knees coming together when I touched her swollen clit, forcing my fingers harder against her. And then she would open them again when I shifted down along her wet opening, welcoming me inside of her. Then they would close again.
She knew what she wanted. She knew what felt good.
I watched her, fascinated with the pleasure dancing in her eyes. But I saw other things, too: the slight blue hue around her lips; the quick puff of her breathing; the hand she pressed against her chest.
I tried not to think about her illness. It frightened me, the idea that something could change who she was and how she was with me. I was selfish. I wanted her to always be my girl just as she was right now. I wanted to always see the need in her eyes whenever she looked at me, even when we were standing across the room from each other.
“I love you,” I whispered against her lips.
Her body tensed in that same moment, her thighs quivering as they closed tight around my wrist. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, a low wail slipping from between her lips as her orgasm charged through her body.
I picked her up when it passed, smearing the moisture of her sex across the back of her thighs. I carried her upstairs and lay her in her bed, aware of her watching me as I quickly undressed.
“I wish this wasn’t so good,” she said softly. “I wish you didn’t make me feel the way you do.”
“Why?”
She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “There are so many things I need to tell you.”
“Then tell me.”
I climbed onto the bed beside her, my hand tracing a pattern across her belly as it slowly returned to where it had been just a few minutes before. She closed her eyes and sighed, her hips moving up against my hand.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I wish I didn’t. I wish so many things could be different. But I love you so much…”
She moaned—the sound low and erotic. I stole it from her lips, swallowing it and making it my own. She rolled into me, spreading her thighs for more of my touch. I slid into place, tugging her knees up around my shoulders, filling her with a quick thrust that made her cry out. She opened her eyes and looked up at me, her bottom lip drawn in between her teeth. There was nothing more sensual than watching the woman you love fight the pleasure threatening to throw her over that cliff.
I wanted to make it last. I tried to think of everything nonsexual that I could, but there was just something about watching her needs fulfilled that made it impossible. We rocked together in a nice, easy rhythm, but as I began to lose control, I began to pound against her, working myself into a storm of need, of pleasure, of emotion. I felt her begin to come just before I did. She wrapped her body around me and began to convulse. There was nothing better, nothing sweeter, than the genuine sensation of a woman coming on a man’s cock.
She drove me crazy. Even as we reached our pinnacle, my thoughts were already moving to the next time, to the next touch, the next kiss. I wanted more and I was pretty sure I would never stop wanting more from her.
I rolled to my side and gathered her up against me.
“Sam,” I whispered when my breathing settled down to something like normal, “what would you think if I asked you about the future?”
She mumbled something. Then she snuggled closer, a soft snore slipping from her dainty little nose. I looked down at her, a little surprised by how quickly she’d drifted off to sleep. I shouldn’t have been. She’d done that often when we were in Colorado, especially the last few days.
There was tomorrow, I supposed. With any luck, we’d have lots of tomorrows.
Especially if she said yes.
Chapter 16
Megan
Luke had this scar on the top of his right knee that was shaped like a v. He got it when we were kids in a skateboarding accident. He and Peter built this huge ramp in the backyard using some old lumber left over from the new garage Daddy had built at the back of our property. It was a rickety thing because neither of them knew much about construction. A piece of wood broke off at the top when Luke rode over it and he fell, cutting his knee on a rock that just happened to be in the right place on the ground underneath. I used to run my finger over it, tracing it, joking that it stood for Virginia—my middle name.
I’d branded him, I told him.
Dante’s legs looked like Luke’s. He had the same bulging muscles and the same dark hair. But there was no scar on his knee.
I ran my hand over his thigh, pressing the hair flat against his skin. He touched the top of my head the same way Luke had often done. I could fool myself into believing that this was Luke, that this was the love of my life. But the absence of that scar—of my Luke’s familiar features, his bright smile and the light that often danced in his eyes—made it so clear to me that this wasn’t the man I wanted him to be. Lying with him, I could fool my body into thinking it was right. But I couldn’t fool my heart.
I climbed out of bed a while later, after Dante fell asleep.
The next day, I sat there in my parents’ living room in the house where we all grew up. This was where I first knew Luke, and where Peter was always a driving force. Back then I always believed that life would be safe and secure, and home would be a place where happiness would always be waiting for me. But not now. Now I felt like a ship that had broken loose from its anchor during a storm. And I didn’t see any sign of the storm lessening.
It wasn’t just Luke. I missed him, maybe even more now than I did two years ago when he first disappeared. I was angry then and consumed with hurt. I buried my emotions and held on to the anger so that it acted as a buffer between me and the love that I still clung to. But that anger was gone now, and all I felt was confused.
There was also confusion about Peter and the uncertainty surrounding the accident that took his life. I was watching Peter’s son grow, knowing Peter would never get a chance to hold him or to kiss his soft little head. He would never hear his first words or see his first steps. It was the suspicion that Peter was taken from us, that it wasn’t just some tragic accident, that wouldn’t allow me to let it go.
I was watching Cole, smiling and so happy as he was expecting another child with Amber. I watched him live the life I was supposed to live. And, then there was Sam and Hayden. As much as I loved her, and even with all that was happening in her life, I was still selfish enough to be jealous as hell. It seemed like everyone around me was falling in love and making future plans. And it killed me to see all this happiness, knowing that my chance at happiness had disappeared with my love.
And Luke. There was still the slow stream of information coming from Sam’s attempts to fix what that computer virus had done to Emily Greene’s notes. We knew that his name was in there, but that we had no idea why. There was this deep, dark suspicion that he was involved in all of this, and that he made the choice not to tell me when it first began to unfold.
Why did he leave? Why didn’t he tell me the truth?
It was all so confusing. I wished we had more information so that we could find answers. I wished that I didn’t feel like I was stuck in the plot of some terribly written spy novel, one of those that d
oesn’t expose the truth until the very end.
I closed my eyes, curling up on the couch with a tumbler of whiskey between my hands. I thought about Dante, sleeping down the hall in the same bed Luke and I were planning to share after the wedding. I bought this house for Luke—for our future. It had four bedrooms that I’d intended to fill with children. I used to tease him and tell him I wanted four of each gender. He’d balked, but I knew he was just as excited as I was to have a house full of children.
That was never going to happen.
I liked Dante. I really did. But I needed some space to figure out where I was and what I wanted—and if I even wanted to follow through with this ridiculousness. I wasn’t in the CIA. I’d been a soldier, fighting on the ground. It wasn’t my job to seek out terrorists.
Did it really matter who killed Peter? Would it bring him back? As much as it killed my soul to admit it, Peter was gone. Nothing would change that.
And Luke…it didn’t matter why he left. He left.
I needed to find a way to put my life back together. I wanted to spend as much time with the people I loved as I could because if all this taught me anything, it was that time was too short.
I finished my drink and climbed to my feet, thinking about the way Hayden had looked at me in the office today. I wanted so much to tell him about Sam. I wanted to protect him from what I saw coming because he was important to Luke once upon a time. He was my employee—my best employee—and he was my friend. But I couldn’t because I promised Sam. If anyone had a right to dictate who knew what, she did.
Dante was lying on his side, snoring softly. I watched him for a minute, loving the masculine angles of his shoulders and his hips, enjoying the slight peek at his ass. He was such a handsome man. If he’d wanted a career in television or the movies, he probably could have gotten one with just a picture of that tight, round ass.
I crawled back into bed and slid up behind him. I closed my eyes, brushing my lips against the back of his shoulder. It occurred to me that I should move on and take a lover who didn’t remind me so much of Luke. And that was an option. But for now…
He must not have been as sound asleep as I thought he was. He reached back and touched my hip, drawing me closer to him.
“You got dressed.”
“Just a t-shirt,” I said.
“Take it off.”
“Are you telling me what to do? I thought I was the boss.”
“At the office. Not here.” He rolled over, a stern expression on his face. “Take it off.”
“If I don’t?”
He sat up and grabbed me all in one, quick, fluid motion. He pulled me onto his lap and smacked my ass hard with the palm of his hand. I cried out, not sure if I was more shocked or outraged. I tried to pull away, but he held me tight, smacking me again. Then he pushed me away.
“Take it off.”
I did. I lifted it over my head and tossed it at him, smirking when it hit him right in the face. He silently peeled it away and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me hard against him so that I was forced to look him in the eye.
“Dante—”
“You don’t always have to be in charge. Not everything is a situation you have to control.”
He kissed me roughly, and then pushed me away, forcing me onto my feet. He followed, shoving me up against my low dresser.
“What are you doing?”
“Let me worry about that.”
He smacked my ass again. It hurt but there was a certain pleasure in the pain. And then…fuck! He shoved his cock so hard against my cunt that a different kind of pain burst through me. But then there was the intense pleasure of his cock spreading me open and filling me, touching me in places that only he could touch. For a moment, he held me still against him, his hands on my hips. But then his hand reached around and his fingers were roughly manipulating my clit as his cock rotated inside of me, his body moving in interesting ways.
I wanted to resist him. I wanted to push him away and tell him that I wasn’t his whore to use however he wanted. But there was this other side of me that loved letting go for once.
That’s what I did. I let go. I went on this ride that was more powerful than any ride I’d ever taken. I held on to the edge of the dresser and let him do what he wanted—fuck me like I was just an object. And it was the best fuck I’d ever had.
When it was over, he was a gentleman again, lifting me up and carrying me back to the bed, wrapping me in the sheets and stroking my forehead until I slowly drifted off to sleep.
It was an amazing sleep.
Chapter 17
Sam
I slept a few hours and then insomnia kicked in and I was awake, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts were rushing through my mind at a million miles a second, too fast for me to keep up with them all. Hayden was gone, a note on the bedside table telling me he had an early operation and he didn’t want to wake me. He was so considerate, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. His phone rang twice during the night. It worried me a little, his ignoring those calls.
I pulled on a bathrobe and went downstairs, anticipating the results of the new software I was using to clean up Emily’s files. I didn’t know her, but I felt like I did after all this time working on her notes. She was meticulous, a record keeper who would be a dream employee for someone like Wikipedia. And she loved her sister and Dominic. Anyone who loved Dominic—and was loved by him—couldn’t be a bad person.
I settled in my office chair and studied the screen. It was working, it was just painfully slow. There were pages of notes that were still corrupted, but fractions here and there were clear. It was like looking at one of those pictures that are revealed only a tile at a time.
Luke’s name was there on more than one page. That frightened me a little. But I still believed there was a good explanation for it.
And then there was Peter’s hard drive. I’d figured out why it appeared corrupted. It wasn’t. Someone had run a program on it just to make it look that way, but I’d finally figured out how to reverse its effects. While I waited for the other program to clean up Emily’s notes, I began to sift through the things on the hard drive. It was mostly company stuff, things dealing with the software department at Bradford Telecommunications where Peter worked with his father. I didn’t understand a lot of it.
But Peter, like Emily, kept copious notes. And he kept everything that ever crossed his desk, including emails and reports and just about anything that seemed even remotely related to his work. He even had personal emails saved to his computer from Megan and Cole and his parents.
There were even a few emails he’d begun to write to Amber but never finished.
It was sad, that story. Peter met Amber at a diner he frequented while he was investigating the illegal sales of Bradford Telecommunications’ software. They had one night together and she got pregnant. He knew about it and had even left the bulk of his money to her, but he never had a chance to do anything else about it. Now he had a son he’d never see, being raised by his brother.
I made copies of the emails to Amber and sent them to Cole.
It was a little before dawn when I came across a file that was marked LM. I thought at first that it was just another file filled with business related stuff, but quickly came to realize that LM referred to Luke Murphy.
There were emails. A lot of emails. And some of them were dated after Luke disappeared on the morning of his wedding.
Suddenly, the proverbial light came on, and I began to see what had been right there in front of my face for much longer than I cared to admit.
I laughed aloud as the dots began to connect—I must have sounded like a crazy person. Then I ran upstairs and took the fastest shower in the world, and then dressed almost as quickly, but my chest wasn’t really cooperating. Damn, I hated being sick! I needed to get to the office, sooner rather than later.
I burst through the door, my heart pounding. I dropped my things at my desk, and then rushed to the door of Megan’s offic
e. It was empty.
Damn!!!
“She’s not here,” Marcus called.
I backtracked, my heart pounding so hard and my breath coming in such shallow puffs that it felt like a whole construction pallet of cinderblocks was on my chest.
“Where?” I gasped.
“She called to say she’s running late. I think she took Dante to the airport.”
“Dante? Airport?”
“He’s on his way to Mexico to escort some businessman to a conference in Acapulco.”
That explained why he hadn’t been answering his cellphone. I really needed to talk to him before I talked to Megan, but…
“You okay?” Marcus got up and came over to me, taking my arm and leading me to my desk. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine, I just…where’s Dominic?”
“He and Hayden are running an operation across town.”
I bit my bottom lip as much to catch my breath as to calm my nerves. I could see concern on Marcus’ face, so I knew I must look pretty bad. He never had more than two words for me most days, though he was proving to be one of our most loyal assets.
“When is Hayden due back?”
“By lunch.” Marcus stepped back, glancing at the girls in the bullpen. They were all watching me too, making me feel self-conscious of my appearance. “Do I need to call someone?”
“No. I’ll be okay in a second.”
Vincent walked in as we were talking, this dreamy smile on his face. He always seemed to have that smile on his face these days. It did my heart good to see everyone so happy.
“I guess we should all get to work.” I turned toward my computer, a little disappointed that I couldn’t share the news I’d discovered. But I was convinced it was good news, and it would make Megan happy—angry, but happy.
Growing paranoid, I downloaded everything onto a thumb drive. I pulled an envelope out of my desk and scrawled Megan’s name across it. Then I turned on my computer, thinking about all the things I needed to do today. The thing was that, for the first time since Megan pitched this place as nothing more than an idea, I just wasn’t into it. It just hit me how much time I’d wasted working and watching everyone else fall in love and live life, and I had lived vicariously through them. But I had an opportunity now, a little bit of time and a good man who loved me. Why not accept that and enjoy it? Why not live my life now instead of putting it off and doing pointless things that wouldn’t matter at the end?
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