Mixing Temptation

by Sara Jane Stone

  “My husband will be back soon,” Helena snapped, her smile fading now. She looked close to tears again. “I’d like you to leave. Please.”

  “Your friends were concerned,” Josh started. But she’d already stepped back and closed the door.

  Caroline stared at the brass knocker and debated trying again. But if Helena didn’t want them here, what more could they do?

  “I guess you should have replaced ‘hello’ with ‘cut off his balls,’ ” Josh said. “Want to try again?”

  She shook her head. “Let’s go. We can have Lily call and see if she can convince Helena to meet with us at a bar or restaurant. Or at our hotel if Helena would prefer someplace more private. Even if she agrees to meet with us, all we can do is offer help. We can’t force her to leave. We can listen. But we can’t save her. She needs to make that call on her own.”

  “We’re hanging up our superhero capes?” he said as they reached his truck.

  “She needs to be her own hero.” Caroline opened the passenger door and climbed into the truck. “We came down here so that she knows someone is here for her. There’s a way out if she wants it.”

  But the escape route comes with its own pitfalls.

  Caroline glanced back at the house. She’d fought back, but she wasn’t free. Not yet. And the only way to get there?

  No, she pushed that thought aside. Turning herself in wouldn’t set her free. She’d be locked up in a military jail.

  “It’s past lunch time,” Josh pointed out.

  “And we need to find a place to stay,” she said.

  Josh picked up his phone and asked SIRI for directions to the nearest hotel.

  “You forgot cheapest,” she pointed out once the phone offered an address.

  “This doesn’t look like the cheap part of town,” he said as they pulled through the security gates at the front of the community. “If you want Helena to visit us, we can’t expect her to drive an hour away.”

  “I only have so much cash,” she said. And no access to bank accounts or credit cards.

  “This is technically our fifth date. My turn to pick the location and pay.”

  “You paid for the motel last night too,” she pointed out.

  “Extenuating circumstances. We were already right there.”

  That was one way to look at her meltdown on the beach yesterday. But so far he’d paid for everything on their road trip—­a trip that had been her idea from the beginning. Of course without him, she would have had to have relied on Noah or Josie to purchase a bus ticket for her. Hiking would have taken too long—­especially for their anxious friend in the air force.

  “I’ll pay you back for the rooms last night,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Just have your golden lasso ready.”

  WHILE JOSH WENT out to pick up a pizza instead of splurging on the overpriced room ser­vice, Caroline surveyed the five-­star room for something that resembled Wonder Woman’s lasso. His cell phone’s not-­so-­budget-­friendly selection featured a queen-­sized bed. The modern headboard and nightstands were permanently attached to the wall. Not far from the foot of the bed stood an oval-­shaped desk with a sleek black chair. Beside the desk was a cabinet that housed a flat-­screen television and the mini-­fridge, but sadly lacked a golden lasso.

  She walked through the bathroom. Shower. Tub. Two sinks. A stack of white towels that might work if she cut them apart . . . But she moved on to the closet.

  And after careful consideration she selected the white sash from one of the bathrobes provided by the hotel. She set the sash on the bed. She could do this. She could play the part of the superhero seductress.

  “I have pizza,” Josh called. The smell of melted cheese followed him into the room. “I also talked to Lily. She promised to text Helena’s number. We can try calling later. Maybe her husband will be out? Or in bed already?”

  “Maybe.” She picked up the sash and dangled it in the air between them. “I found my lasso while you were out. How hungry are you?”

  “For half a pie? I need a workout first.” He set the pizza on the table and headed for the bed. He pulled off his Moore Timber T-­shirt as he moved past her and tossed it aside.

  “I think we’ll work up an appetite.” She toyed with the makeshift lasso, pulling it taut between her hands.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and held out his hands. “I’m ready for your best superhero impression.”

  “Oh no, this is your date. You call the shots,” she said.

  “You want me to tell you how I like to be tied up?” he said with a laugh.

  She nodded as anticipation spread through her, honing in on the part of her body most likely to respond to his touch.

  “All right.” He stood up and began stripping off his jeans. “First thing, I’ll need you to lose the clothes.”

  “Ah, the ‘get naked’ step.” She pulled off her top. Her cargo pants joined her boots, shirt, and underwear in a pile. “You know, so many of the comic books skip that step.”

  “It’s a shame.” He kicked off his boxers and they flew across the room. “Now I want you to tie one end of the rope around my wrist.” He held out a hand. “And the other to yours.”

  “Worried I’ll run away?” she teased as she followed his instructions. She tied a double knot at each end, but struggled with her wrist.

  “This way I’ll be able to rein you in if you get too wild,” he said as he took the end of the rope from her and finished binding her left wrist to his right.

  “I wasn’t planning to go far.” She sank to her knees and ran her hands up his thighs. Unlike his position last night, her mouth lined up perfectly with his erection.

  “Fuck,” he murmured.

  “Soon. Very soon. But first . . .” She wrapped her hand around him and guided him to her lips. Pumping her hand up and down his hard, thick length, she ran her tongue around the tip of his cock.

  “Caroline,” he gasped.

  There was a power that accompanied giving him pleasure and hearing him call her name as her mouth moved over him. Her free hand—­unbound and not working his cock—­reached for his ass. The muscles tensed beneath her touch as his hips rocked forward into her mouth.

  “Too much?” he murmured, pulling back.

  She ran her lips up and released him. “Trust me. I’ll tell you.”

  “I do.” His fingers worked their way into her hair, drawing her mouth back to his erection. “Trust you, that is. But I have limits too. Lick me. Suck on me. But I want to come inside you.”

  Her hand rose up to meet her lips and he pulled away. Still tied to him, she dropped to all fours and crawled after him . . .

  He glanced behind him. “Shit. I forgot,” he said, eyes widened, before he turned back to his bag and retrieved a condom. She heard the rip and felt the tug on the tie holding them together as he covered himself. Then he looked over his shoulder. “To the bed?”

  She nodded and rose up onto her knees. She placed her hands on his butt and held on as she shifted to her feet. “Work on your glutes while baking those pies?”

  “You have no idea,” he said with a bark of laughter.

  She stepped away and pulled on the sash. “This time, I want to ride you.”

  He turned and backed up to the foot of the bed. Slowly, he sat down. “Ready?”

  She nodded. And he leaned back on the mattress. She moved with him, climbing onto him, her legs straddling his thighs. She inched her way forward, her hands pressing into his chest as she rose up and then sank down onto his cock.

  She welcomed the control. But more than anything, as she began to rock her hips, she wanted his pleasure. She wanted to push him over the edge and fall with him. She felt free, riding him closer and closer to the peak of pleasure—­even while bound to him.

  Somehow, I’ll find a way to make this work.
I’ll find a way to stay with him.

  Chapter 16

  CAROLINE PICKED UP the hotel phone at nine-­thirty that evening and dialed the number Lily had sent to Josh’s cell. They’d tried once earlier—­after they’d shared a shower and pizza—­but they’d reached Helena and Ashford’s answering machine.

  “Hello?” a soft, female voice said.

  Her pulse quickened. “Helena? Please don’t hang up,” she said quickly as Josh sat down on the bed next to her. “This is Caroline. We met on your trip to Forever and I stopped by today with Josh Summers. We’d like to meet with you. Sit down and talk to you. At our hotel or—­”

  “I can’t come meet you,” Helena whispered urgently. “Not tonight.”

  Josh leaned in to hear and she tilted the phone. “What about tomorrow?” she asked as footsteps sounded in the background. “I just want to offer you a way out if you want it. Someone to talk to—­”

  “Why?”

  Her voice was so low that Caroline almost missed the word. “Because your friend, Noah Tager, he was there for me when I needed help. He stood up for me. He tried to save me. And as soon as I knew I wasn’t alone . . . I fought back.”

  Caroline closed her eyes. She could still picture the first time Noah had fallen in step beside her while she walked across the base. At first she’d thought she’d misjudged him. He’d seemed like one of the good guys and now she’d have to fight him off too. And probably lose given his tall, muscular frame. He’d win, just like Dustin had won, even if she fought.

  But then Noah had stopped by the bathroom door and murmured I’ll walk you back when you’re done. He won’t get to you while I’m standing here.

  “You’re not alone,” Caroline said to the woman on the other line.

  “You can’t help me.”

  The whisper shot through the phone and Caroline’s stomach dropped. “Just don’t hang up,” she said. “Please, Helena.”

  “Who are you talking to?” a man’s deep baritone asked. He didn’t raise his voice. But he didn’t need to. The sound carried. And Caroline recognized the implied threat in his seemingly harmless words.

  “Someone from the club,” Helena answered quickly. “About a tennis match.”

  Oh no, lies are never a good sign. . .

  “At nine-­thirty at night?” he said.

  “An emergency,” Helena called, her voice slightly muffled as if she’d partially covered the receiver.

  “Who is it?” he asked, his tone low and threaded with steel. “Who are you talking to?”

  Helena hesitated. Caroline heard the unsteady hiss of breath and she knew the woman on the other end of the line had waited too long.

  “Hang up.” The man’s words were barely audible through the phone.

  “Yes,” Helena said. And then, “I’m sorry, I—­”

  “Hang up,” he barked.

  Caroline waited for the line to go dead, her chest rising and falling with one trembling breath after another. Tension rippled through her. But instead she heard a shuffling. A tap as if the phone had been dropped, or maybe placed somewhere?

  She looked over at Josh. His brow was furrowed and his expression focused. He glanced over at her and mouthed the words we listen.

  But Caroline wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what came next. What if—­

  “Get on the bed,” the deep male voice said.

  Caroline covered the receiver. If they weren’t silent, they would give her away. And if Helena had been trying to prove a point, if she wanted to show them once and for all that her husband wasn’t hurting her, then they might be here for a while. But if she was reaching out and asking for help . . .

  A chill ran down her spine. She realized that being able to empathize with Helena didn’t necessarily make her the best person for this mission. But they were here now and they would find a way to deliver whatever she needed.

  “I’ll be right there,” Helena called, her tone bright and cheerful.

  Caroline drew her lower lip between her teeth. If they’d made a mistake coming down here—­

  “Now!” The male voice—­presumably Helena’s husband—­boomed through the hotel receiver.

  And Caroline jumped, nearly dropping the phone. Josh wrapped his arm around her and held her to his side. The phone remained between them, cradled in her grasp. She heard footsteps, followed by a rustling. Sheets? Discarded clothes?

  And then a soft moan.

  “No, Ash,” Helena murmured. “Not right now. I’m not ready.”

  “You don’t say no,” he growled. Ashford—­her husband—­Caroline thought as she mentally assigned the name to the baritone.

  “Please,” Helena said. “Just let me—­”

  “You don’t say no, baby. Not to me,” her husband said. “Now lie down on the bed.”

  He’s going to rape her. Right now. While we listen. . .

  It didn’t matter that he was her husband. The fact that Helena had trusted him once upon a time only made it worse. She’d made promises to him.

  But that doesn’t strip away her right to say no.

  “I’m calling the police,” Josh murmured, his voice a low growl. He stood and withdrew his cell from the front pocket of his jeans. He moved toward the bathroom and stepped inside to place the call. But he kept the door open and his gaze fixed on her.

  Josh returned, his cell in hand, and leaned down to her ear. “The police are on their way. We should meet them. They will need our statements.”

  She nodded. But she knew the cops would require more than that. She’s seen the size of Ashford’s house. They would need proof if Helena had any hope of breaking free from a man like that. And Caroline guessed Helena had known that from the beginning. She couldn’t run from her husband. Helena had to fight. And for that, she needed hard evidence.

  She grabbed Josh’s phone and pressed buttons until she found the one she needed.

  Record.

  JOSH GLANCED AT the clock on the nightstand. A matter of minutes had passed since he’d hung up with the local cops, but they had to go soon and meet the police. Shit, he wanted to leave Caroline behind, but he would need help getting Helena away from that place. And he didn’t want Caroline to be alone.

  Talk about a trigger. This one is a fucking nightmare.

  If he’d known their little road trip would end with them listening to a woman’s husband taking her against her will, he would have demanded that Noah, Dominic—­anyone else—­go on this mission. He’d honestly thought they’d get here, hit the roadblock they’d met today—­Helena turning them away at the door—­and head back to Forever.

  “Caroline?” he murmured. He ran his hand down her arm and took his cell. The sounds on the other line had stopped. He ended the recording, pocketed the phone, and reached for her hand. “We need to go.”

  “OK.” She stood and took his hand. And then glanced at her backpack, resting beside the hotel bed. “I should get my—­”

  “No guns,” he said. “We called in the cavalry. Let them bring the firepower. We don’t want questions about permits that we can’t answer.”

  “You’re right,” she said slowly. “But I could bring the bag and leave it in the car. Just in case.”

  “No.” He drew her toward the door. “Trust me on this.”

  He led her to the elevator bank and down to the garage where they’d parked his truck. Guiding her into the passenger seat, he fastened her belt. Then he climbed in and drove as fast as he could to Helena’s gated community. He offered the wide-­eyed night security guard a rushed explanation. But as soon as he said he was with the cops, the guard waved them through.

  “Wait here,” Josh said as they pulled up in front. The lights were on in the entry and he saw Ashford standing in the doorway talking to a pair of uniformed policemen.

  One look and Josh wanted to tak
e aim at Asshole Ashford’s face. He wanted to leave bloodstains on the man’s silk bathrobe. Helena’s husband probably worked out. There had to be a gym somewhere in his enormous house. But Josh could still take him.

  Right here on your freaking perfect lawn, asshole.

  He approached the front door. “Evening, officers. Josh Summers. I’m the one who placed the call.”

  “My wife’s not home tonight,” Ashford said sharply. “I don’t know what kind of prank you’re trying to pull here, but I’ll say good-­night now.”

  Ashford moved to close the door, but Josh said, “I don’t think so.”

  He held out his phone and pressed play on the recording. Helena’s pleading filled the quiet.

  “Where did you get that?” Ashford demanded.

  The officers’ eyes widened at the man in the bathrobe that probably cost half their salary. And Josh looked too, just in time to see a fist swing at his face.

  Chapter 17

  CAROLINE TRANSLATED WAIT in the truck to stay here until someone starts throwing punches. She saw Josh dodge the blow as she slammed the passenger door. She raced over the manicured lawn and leaped over the hedges.

  By the time the policemen grabbed Ashford and hauled the bastard’s arms behind his back, she’d reached the front door. She kept going. She heard one officer reciting the Miranda rights while the other radioed for backup.

  Why the hell aren’t they looking for Helena?

  That jerk belonged in jail. But it didn’t end there. Not for Helena.

  “Helena!” Caroline called into the house. “Helena!”

  Helena rushed into the foyer and Caroline froze. She blinked, taking in Helena’s wild mane of blond hair. She’d traded her pretty pink dress from this afternoon for a pair of silk pajama bottoms and a black tank top. And she’d traded her heels for tennis shoes. She had a purse slung over her shoulder as if ready to make a break for it with or without the police presence.

  “You came,” Helena said, rushing into the marble entryway.

  Caroline caught the other woman in her arms and felt her break. With her face pressed against Caroline’s shoulder, Helena wept. She wrapped her arms around Caroline and held on tight.