“I’ll stay here with you,” he said, pulling out a tea bag, from the canister marked tea. “We can go in together if that’s okay with you.”
Elizabeth nodded. “What about your things at the hotel?”
“I’ll text Lily and have her drop them off here on the porch when she heads into work, and then the problem is solved.”
“Are you mad at me?” she asked quietly. There were lines of tension on his face, and he looked annoyed.
“I’m mad at me not you, Lyzee,” he answered, passing her a steaming mug of tea. “I knew you riled up the mayor, and the newspaper guy. In the back of my head, I thought there could be consequences, but I didn’t follow you home. That’s on me.”
“Ethan, this isn’t your fault. We both knew what I was doing, and I’m the one that walked in front of a glass window. That was incredibly careless of me. I was trained to know better.”
Blackhawk walked around the countertop to where she sat, and took her wounded arm in his hand delicately. “How bad is it?”
“It didn’t even need stitches.”
He delicately laid a kiss over the bandage, looking into her eyes, “Take your tea, and don’t get your bandage wet.” He kissed her cheek as she stood to leave.
“Ethan, there are four bedrooms upstairs, pick whichever one you want,” she said, placing her hand on his chest. His heart beat fast beneath it and matched hers. At least she wasn’t the only one all stirred up.
Blackhawk couldn’t even breathe; her hand was in the exact same spot as in the dream. As he watched her walk away, he wondered if that count of rooms included the one she was sleeping in too.
Not that it mattered. It was going to be another long, hard night in bed alone.
* * *
The killer watched from the tree line with binoculars. It seemed the FBI agent wasn’t planning on leaving for the night. That meant only one thing. The sheriff and the man had something going on between them.
His blood pressure spiked, and the anger pumped through him.
She was just like the other witches.
The voice had said it was true, and he didn’t want to believe it, but now he had the proof. The man had only been here two days, and already she was climbing into his bed.
She had now sealed her fate. Elizabeth LaRue would be put on the list, and her judgment day would come just like the others. Once she was handled, the FBI agent would have to be managed too, or he would just stay and seek revenge.
What a pity, he had seemed like a very nice man.
* * *
Elizabeth stared at the ceiling for what seemed like forever. Sleep was eluding her, not because of being afraid, but more so because Ethan had picked the bedroom right beside hers. Right now, the very sexy agent was on the other side of the wall. It was driving her mad, and she had to focus on something else, anything at this point. In her mind, Elizabeth began visualizing the white board at work. She began by mentally moving the pictures around and analyzing the methods of killings. They had to be missing something. That feeling of awareness was tickling her senses, and telling her it was right there for them to see.
When she couldn’t get it, Elizabeth sat up, pulling a notepad from her bed stand. Writing down the victims’ names, she wrote their method of death beside them. First, there was burning, hanging, drowning and crushing. As she looked at the four methods she tapped her pen.
How were they related? Then she thought about the last two symbols. The one on the rock was smeared, but the one on her table wasn’t. A pentagram? Could it possibly be Devil worship? She drew a picture of the pentagram, and picked up her smartphone, searching online for information. Devil worship and witchcraft popped up. Then she looked at the list, and it hit her. She knew what they had been missing, and she had to tell Blackhawk!
Out of her bed, Elizabeth raced to his room, flinging open the door. When she jumped on his bed, she obviously scared him to death.
“Lyzee, what’s wrong?” he shouted, pulling her against his body protectively, and grabbing his gun from the nightstand.
“I figured it out!” she said, pulling away from him slightly, her eyes sparkling in the pale light from the hallway.
Blackhawk had just been staring at the wall and thinking of anyway to get her to come to his room. He was about to pray for divine intervention, and then there she was with the door flying open.
There was no way he was going to sleep in that bed. It smelled like her, and she was only a room away. He had control, but he wasn’t a saint. Now she was beside him, and he was naked and very aware of her being close. His body painfully reminded him that he needed to be careful what he asked for…
“What did you figure out, Lyzee?” he asked cautiously, trying to not notice her sexily tousled hair, or the way she smelled.
She bounced like a kid. “Know how we both said we were missing the connection? We couldn’t pin down the methodology of the killing?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t help but notice she was in nothing but a dainty cotton nightgown. Elizabeth looked so innocent, and yet so very enthralling. It was extremely chaste, and that made it much more seductive, since he knew what was hiding beneath it. He had a preview today in the morgue. Now he was overheating with her sitting on the bed with him. It was officially the longest day of his life, and he was praying he could keep his focus.
“Well, what do the following things have in common: Salem, burning, hanging, drowning, and crushing? Then the pentacle?” Elizabeth watched him start to process it, and then she knew when he was almost there. “We kept thinking crushing, but what if we said pressing?”
“That would make me think witches.”
“I think this is a religious thing. We need to follow that avenue of thought tomorrow.”
“Were the women witches?” he asked, watching her gorgeous smile. Elizabeth was excitedly bouncing against him, and he was very naked beneath that sheet. This was his idea of torture. No, torture had an end. When she walked out of the room, his purgatory would continue.
He was certain of it.
“I don’t know, but this is our first big connection. Now we may be able to anticipate what’s coming, and maybe save a life!”
“That’s great,” Blackhawk answered, almost emotionlessly. In fact, his face and voice were void of everything, because he was fighting for control of his body.
Elizabeth tipped her head to the side. She didn’t understand why he didn’t sound thrilled. This was a major break. They now had a roadmap to stop the killer. “You don’t sound excited at all.”
Blackhawk laughed hoarsely, “Trust me, I’m extremely excited. I just have other things on my mind, that don’t involve a killer at this moment. Although, it’s possible I may die at any second.”
She stared at him and finally understood. “I am so sorry, Ethan.” Elizabeth went very still, and then she noticed all that was between them was the sheet, haphazardly placed over his lower body. Her hand was on his chest, over a tattoo of a giant raven with wings spread. She couldn’t help but notice that Ethan Blackhawk had been a fan of tattooing. He had quite a few crisscrossing his body.
Something about that sent a warm rush right to her core. Just the knowledge that he kept it all hidden beneath his dress attire sent a wave of heat right through her body. When he said he wasn’t straight-laced, he seriously meant it. Instead, he was an enigma. She could feel his heart beating under her hand, and her body was very close to his. So near that she could smell her soap on his skin. “I should go, I didn’t think...”
“I wish you wouldn’t leave.” It was all he could think to say in that moment. Elizabeth said she wanted the truth, and that she preferred it. Well, the truth was staring them in the face. “I want you, and it’s to the point that it’s consuming me alive.”
Elizabeth froze, before her was a really good man. She could tell since she was an excellent judge of character. Now he was giving her a choice. Elizabeth was in control, and the last time she was in this situation she didn’t
have the option.
Ethan was willingly handing it to her.
All she had to do was choose to stay and the control would all be hers. The deliciously, sexy Ethan was the prize.
Blackhawk watched her with unblinking eyes, unsure if he could let her leave the room. He wasn’t sure how much time passed. Finally, she moved away from him, sliding off the bed and escaping as far from him as possible, without a word. Everything in him collapsed. He just put it all out there for a beautiful woman, and had it rejected.
It was every man’s worst nightmare.
Something inside him wasn’t surprised that a woman like her could ever want a man like him. She was from a good family; he was from an existence that only gave him shame. A soft sound at his door drew his attention. Elizabeth was back and hope glimmered once again.
“I like to have my gun close by when I sleep,” she whispered softly, placing it on the bed stand, as she climbed back into bed with him. “Just in case,” she whispered, moving closer to his body, if that was indeed possible. Her one hand was on his thigh, the other on his shoulder over another one of his tattoos. She waited, her lips millimeters from his, bracing for him.
“Lyzee,” he whispered, finally able to breathe. When she came back, all that died in him was reborn. Elizabeth wasn’t rejecting him, and she did want him the way he desired her. The mere fact that she brought her gun meant she wasn’t only willing to touch him and make love to him, but stay with him through the night.
He was afraid to move.
If he did, Ethan feared he might break apart from the tension gripping his body, or she would vanish like she did in the dreams.
“You were trouble from the start, Cowboy,” Elizabeth whispered, letting her lips meet his in a feather, light kiss. When she pulled away, she looked into his eyes. “Are you going to sit there and stare at me, or kiss me back, Ethan?” Elizabeth asked, smiling gently. “I can’t really do this without your participation. Well I can, but…”
It was one heartbeat, then two, and when he moved, it was with such force and desire that it crashed into both of them, exploding around them. Lips met, tongues fought, and hands explored. Somehow he ended up with her beneath him. Her hands traced a path up his body, and he felt the involuntary shudder at her touch. When her hands found the nape of his neck, and freed his hair, he felt exhilarated and wild.
“I’ve wanted to set your hair free since the first day I saw you,” she confessed, and then she deepened the kiss, arching against him as the storm consumed them both. “I think I like it better this way,” she said into his mouth, and then went back to kissing him.
He knew it would be wild like this. He could tell just by looking at her. She would love completely, and with all she had inside her, like she did everything. He paused only to pull her nightgown over her head, setting her free for him. Then his gaze traced her body. She was curves in all the right places and perfection. In fact, there had never been a more ideal woman for him. Her flesh was pale and smooth, the opposite his. The contrast where they met was breathtaking and erotic.
Elizabeth ran her hands down his sides, over edges and valleys of muscle. Ethan Blackhawk was a fine specimen of masculinity. He was ripped everywhere, and she couldn’t wait to explore him completely. His skin in the soft glow of the hallway light called to her. He was completely tan, and she doubted it had anything to do with the sun and everything to do with his lineage. Everything about him was angles, and lean lines from his chest to the line of his jaw. Her fingers traced the tattoo on his chest.
“That’s some tattoo, Ethan,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s very sexy, Mr. Blackhawk.”
He didn’t know what to say. It was the tattoo he regretted for most of his adult life, and now this woman was using it to undo him. When she placed kisses across it, his body shook, and he just had to feel her mouth against his.
Elizabeth knew he was sexy dressed, but naked… wow! He was quite possibly the sexiest man she had ever seen. When he brought his body down, protectively over hers and locked in a kiss that showed no sign of ever ending, Elizabeth continued exploring with her hands. Lower and lower, until she found what she was looking for, and he inhaled sharply, breaking the kiss when she stroked him.
“I’m warning you, if you continue that I won’t have any control,” he hissed.
“Who needs control?” Elizabeth whispered against his throat, as she teased his earlobe with her teeth and tongue. She used every ounce of her strength to roll with him until she was perched atop his body. “Control is over rated,” Elizabeth answered, smiling and leaning down to kiss him wildly, and yet trying to be aware of his split lip.
When she pulled away, he was breathing heavy, unbothered by the pain. His eyes said it all, as they were filled with complete lust and unquenchable need.
“Tell me, Special Agent Blackhawk, are there tattoos on your back, too?” she inquired, running her fingers across his chest, ribs and shoulders, taking in the designs all over his body, appreciatively.
“Yes,” he answered, unsure what her response would be. The women he had met and been naked with had mixed reviews. The last woman didn’t want anyone to know about them, since they were unattractive to her. She had gone as far as asking him to keep them covered. The others asked why, as if they were a mistake.
“I can’t wait to explore each and every one of them,” she said, right before kissing him again hard, only breaking away to catch her breath. “Lose control for me, Ethan,” Elizabeth whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe.
All he wanted to do was moan at her assault of his ear and neck. He was willing to let her do whatever she wanted, as long as she didn’t stop. “Then the control is yours. Do your worst, Elizabeth,” Ethan replied, hoping he could hold on through this storm. It was threatening to pull him under. For the first time in his life, he was drowning in a woman. Elizabeth LaRue was like a tropical storm. Warm, wild and very dangerous, and he couldn’t wait to be swept away with all she had to offer.
Elizabeth kissed him again, as his hands were buried in her thick hair. He was focusing everything on that scorching kiss. Blackhawk was so distracted that when she positioned him at her wet opening, he didn’t even acknowledge it. When she took him into her body, sinking down onto him in one silky, hot slide then she had his full attention.
Ethan swore he couldn’t breathe as she took him all in, sheathing him completely. The sensation was so delicious, so perfect, he barely held onto control as he arched against her, eyes closing. “My God, Lyzee,” he whispered, on a groan, as the sensation was almost too much to handle. His whole body shook. A moment went by, as they both adjusted to the feel. “Need a second,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Blackhawk fought hard to keep control over his body, thinking about anything but what waited for him when he opened his eyes.
“Mmmmm…,” she whispered back. “Want to take a ride, Cowboy?”
His heart knotted along with his gut. Right then, he knew everything changed. He could feel it; this was completely different for him. He’d had sex and relationships, but she felt familiar, like something that he’d lost and was seeking again. Elizabeth LaRue was already tearing down his carefully built walls, as she accepted him. Finally, he felt alive inside, finding what he was seeking all his life.
“Do you, Handsome?” Elizabeth asked again, waiting for him to regain control. It drove her wild that Ethan Blackhawk was a lover of ink. Before now she hadn’t realized how it affected her. There had been men with tattoos, but not this many, and for some reason the contrast of professional versus wild- all in this man was stimulating.
It was driving her completely and totally crazy.
“Yessss,” he moaned, as she began her assault on his body. Everything about it was torturous, the slow climb up and the fast slide down. It was slick and hot, and it was going to kill him. He sat up, so her body was pressed, and moving against him. Tasting her became the priority, as he pulled her mouth to his in an explosion of need.
Elizabet
h had never felt this good before. Every touch, every kiss, it all felt perfect and right with this man. This moment with him would be a secret treasure she carried with her forever. As she kept the motion going, it heated his body deep within hers. There was a tightness building in her, and the need to keep moving took over.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered, against her mouth, as he rested his hands on her hips. Now, he was guiding her up and then down hard, almost pulling a gasp from her mouth each time. “Please just don’t stop.”
He never wanted this feeling to end.
His hand wandered from her hip, and he found the junction, where they were meeting. He flicked his thumb over her tight bundle of nerves, and when he felt her shake, he let her explode first, pulling him with her over the edge.
Elizabeth sunk into the heat and then the explosion, as she shattered apart. She barely heard his guttural shout of her name, and the hot warmth exploding from him. The intense colors burst around them, and she began falling. Pulled against his body, Elizabeth realized she was in his arms. Ethan Blackhawk had protectively placed her on his chest until they both could regain focus. The tenderness of the act touched her deeply.
“Holy shit, Lyzee!” he muttered, his heart still pounding in his ears. “Just, holy shit! That’s all I got.”
Elizabeth laughed, nestling into his body. Her one leg was over his hip, and they were a tangled hot, sweaty mess, but it was so worth it. “Thanks for the ride, Cowboy,” Elizabeth teased, kissing him on the lips, and then pulled the blankets up around them. She placed her head on his shoulder, and hand over the tattoo just enjoying the sensation of cuddling with him.
Blackhawk grinned in the dark, at the miracle he just found; just the intimate act of cuddling brought warmth to his body that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
In his last relationship, there would be sex and then they would roll over to their own sides of the bed. This is what he never knew he was missing, the emotional connection after the physical one.
The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) Page 14