It's Always Been You

by Paige, Victoria

  There were no more words as he drove into her in a hard pounding rhythm. The slapping of flesh against flesh increased along with her moans and his grunts until finally, they both unhinged. Travis roared his climax, as Caitlin cried out hers. He let go of her wrists as he buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. He shuddered spasmodically against her, his body sweaty from the ferocity of their mating. He turned his face toward her. His warm Scotch-scented breath mingling with her own serrated inhalations.

  “That was amazing,” she finally whispered, her throat felt raw. How loud did she scream? She could feel his lips curve into a smile by the skin on her jaw.

  “I was too rough,” Travis said. It was a statement with no regret.

  “We both needed rough, I think.”

  Travis rolled them over so she was lying on top of him. He brushed her hair out of her face, tucking her locks behind her ears. “I love you, Caitlin.”

  His eyes were searching. She pressed a light kiss on his lips and said, “I’m getting there, Travis.”

  “I’ll wait forever, sunshine. I loved you then. I love you now. I’ll always love you.”

  The way he said the words was so beautiful, Caitlin could feel the burn behind her eyes. “Thank you, thank you for waiting for me,” her voice choked with emotion.

  Arms tightened around her. “It’s always been you, Cat.”

  And instinct told her that it had always been him as well.

  *****

  The doorbell chimed.

  Travis cracked open his eyes and looked at the clock. Sunday at six a.m. What the fuck?

  Caitlin stirred beside him. His arm had fallen asleep. That was the only disadvantage of spooning. Still, he wouldn’t change a single thing if it meant she was in his arms all night long.

  Maybe whoever was at the door would just go away. He wanted to make love to her again this morning. But luck was not on his side. The bell rang incessantly once more.

  Someone better be dead or dying. Travis extracted himself from Caitlin’s warmth.

  “Travis?”

  “Someone’s at the door. Stay here.” He walked to the bathroom to quickly freshen up; then realized he didn’t have any clothes in her bedroom. Damn it, when would she move all her stuff into his room? He quickly returned to the master bedroom. While pulling on a pair of jeans, he checked the CCTV console on the wall for the front door.

  The detectives.

  Travis was annoyed, but figured if they had to come here early this morning, something was up. Shit.

  He passed by Caitlin’s bedroom and heard some movement there. Shaking his head, he made his way to the first floor. The woman just wouldn’t listen. He realized he still hadn’t confronted her regarding her actions last night when they had that shootout. He gritted his teeth at the memory. He thought a good spanking on that beautiful ass of hers was in order.

  He opened the door to disheveled, sleep-deprived detectives.

  “A little bit early for a house call, don’t you think?” Travis asked with no small amount of candor, however, a level of unease slithered up his back. “What’s going on?”

  “Pavlo Milekhin has disappeared.”

  “What do you mean he disappeared?”

  “Shall we do this inside?” Moore asked wearily.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “How could the Loudoun County PD and MPD let this happen?”

  “It wasn’t our jurisdiction,” Smithers whined.

  Travis narrowed his eyes at the two detectives. “Are you guys seriously going to play this jurisdiction bullshit? The first men you captured killed themselves on your watch. Now, you let their leader disappear?”

  “It would have helped if your wife had been forthcoming with information,” Moore shot back. “We didn’t know what we were up against.”

  Fuck. He had a point. But as far as Travis was concerned, this was above their pay grade and even he didn’t know the extent of the whole operation. Who was clean and who was on the take.

  “I can’t help you,” Travis said finally.

  “Oh, is this what you folks call classified?” Moore sneered.

  Travis kept silent.

  “How about the other guys who survived?” Caitlin walked into the study, stopping just short of the entrance.

  “Ms. Kincaid, wonderful of you to join us.”

  Caitlin nodded stiffly to the detectives. She met Travis’s displeased gaze with a wince. Yes, woman. Keep disobeying me, and I’m really going to give it to you. Her eyes widened, and then looked away. Travis smiled inwardly. They had always communicated well with their eyes. It looked like they would have no trouble picking that back up.

  “The three men are under a suicide watch,” Smithers replied. “We haven’t found any cyanide capsules on their person, which leads us to believe the directive of their mission has changed. Are they even as committed to their cause or are they just hired goons with no loyalties?”

  Moore took a step toward Caitlin. “What are you hiding?”

  Travis detonated. “Not a step closer, Detective, or I’m throwing you out and you can charge me if you want. Let me remind you that you’re in my home. Without a warrant.” He pulled Caitlin behind him, ignoring the glare she shot his way. “Caitlin is the victim here.” Hopefully the CIA would scoop up Pavlo’s thugs straightway. “As I’ve said before, this is over your head and mine as well. Take my advice.”

  “I’d hate to see you lose your wife for real, Mr. Blake.” For the first time since he had butted heads with the detectives, there was no malice in Moore’s voice. “You and I both know her disappearance the first time is linked to what’s happening now.”

  “Your concern is appreciated,” Travis said curtly. “Anything else?”

  “We just wanted to warn you both,” Smithers said. “I agree. This problem may be a job for the other alphabet agencies. If the perps are far reaching enough to put a man inside our department, we’re compromised.”

  “You don’t know whom to trust,” Travis said, and he noted grimly, neither did he.

  Smithers nodded. “Now may be a good time for both of you to take a vacation, until whatever this is blows over.”

  When the detectives left, Travis called Porter.

  “I got the news, Travis,” the admiral said when he answered the phone.

  “Tell me you had nothing to do with this,” he growled. His molars were grating against each other in repressed anger.

  “I have nothing to do with Pavlo Milekhin’s disappearance,” Porter replied immediately. Then added, “Watch it, Lieutenant, lest you forget who your allies are.”

  “Are you?” Travis challenged. “Still my ally?”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “I don’t trust anyone right now.”

  “That may be a good thing.”

  “Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you?”

  The admiral sighed. “I’m saying, Blake, with Pavlo Milekhin at large, you should be careful.”

  “What’s your plan of action?” Porter inquired casually. Too casually. Travis’s hand tightened on his phone as he contemplated what to say.

  “Caitlin’s on lockdown. No one gets to her except through me. That includes you and anyone outside BSI,” Travis told Porter. “Don’t even think of using Beatrice.”

  “I understand.”

  Travis didn’t know what to make of the admiral’s quick acceptance. Fuck. It was screwing with his head. He had no patience for mind games, which was probably why he’d never make it as a spy. While he knew Porter had no qualms lying when the situation arose.

  “Good. Later, Admiral.”

  Travis disconnected and turned his attention to Caitlin who was looking extremely troubled.

  “I’m on lockdown again?” Caitlin asked sadly. “Can I at least go to the office with you? I love this house, but I’ll go nuts in here by myself.”

  “I have a better idea,” Travis said. “I’m taking you out of town.”

  *****

  Th
eir black Chevy Suburban flew past the lush pastoral lands of Southwestern Virginia. They had been on I-81 for a few hours. They left DC a little after 3:00 p.m. According to Travis, they should make it to the town of Iron Ridge near Virginia’s border with Kentucky by nightfall. Caitlin got to witness firsthand how careful Travis was about covering their tracks. After packing enough for a week or two, he loaded up her Audi in the garage and left for the office. In the underground parking garage, they switched cars with Nate and drove back to Nate’s house where the Suburban was waiting for them in the garage. The car was rented under one of BSI’s undercover IDs, and Travis had matching credit cards to use.

  Still, for a good distance from the nation’s capital, Travis remained vigilant, checking the rearview mirror for any tail.

  It was only when they made the transition from I-66 to I-81 that he started to relax, and his jaw unclenched from its grim line.

  “You doing okay, sunshine girl?” he asked, glancing over at her. His hand drifted over the console to find hers, intertwining their fingers. Caitlin always found it so sweet that Travis loved to hold her hand while he drove.

  “I’m fine,” Caitlin replied. “Getting tired of counting cows though.”

  “Sheep, Caitlin. It’s counting sheep,” Travis laughed. Sometimes she mixed up her expressions. “You count sheep to sleep.”

  “The scenery is pretty, but yes, it’s making me sleepy.” As if on cue, a big yawn escaped her mouth. She caught the glint in Travis’s eyes and the grin that flashed across his face.

  Caitlin punched his arm. “Your brain just went to the gutter there, buddy.”

  “What?” Travis said in all innocence. “I’m just admiring your mouth.”

  “Yes, what about it?” She was feeling flirty.

  “Imagining it wrapped around my cock,” Travis said unabashedly. This time his grin turned devilish.

  Up to this time, Travis had always taken the lead in the seduction department, and with his attention more or less occupied with driving, a boldness she never felt before took hold of her body.

  She was wearing a sundress and was impressed with Travis’s restraint for not feeling her up under the skirt. Caitlin knew it wouldn’t be long before he did. Once the tension of the day faded into memory, Travis wouldn’t waste an opportunity. She just had to get the jump on him this time.

  Kicking off her sandals, she spread her legs, lifting the right one on the dashboard. Her skirt immediately fell back, revealing pink and white cotton and lace polka dot panties. It was innocent as well as sultry. And based on the tightening grip on her hand and a strangled groan emitted from the driver’s seat, the effect was instantaneous.

  Clearing his throat, Travis said, “Do you want to get fucked by the side of the road?”

  “That was fun, honey,” Caitlin said in her most affected Southern drawl. “Care for an encore? Loved the way you fucked me with your tongue.”

  Travis’s laugh was a bit strained. He released her hand, the back of his fingers brushing the crotch of her panties. She felt a jolt of wetness pool at her core.

  “Damn, are you wet?” he croaked.

  “Care to find out?” Whatever she had started, there was no way she could stop, because her greedy self suddenly wanted more than a tease. She wanted a release.

  Fingers nudged the scrap of cotton aside and stroked her cleft. Caitlin moaned softly as her fingers dug into the back of his hand keeping it there.

  “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re slick . . . and hot,” Travis whispered, his voice had turned rough.

  “Fuck me with your fingers, Travis.” The pressure was building imminently. She didn’t expect to let it get this far, but her hips were undulating against his thrusting fingers. She turned her head to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw working convulsively. Her lustful gaze drifted to the massive erection straining against his jeans, and she wanted to taste it. Luckily, they were at the section of the interstate that was single lane on both sides, so there wouldn’t be any motorist voyeurs.

  “I want to taste you,” he growled as he cast a glance at her. His fingers pumped harder inside her. “Fuck!”

  “Oh!” Caitlin cried out as she got off hard. Her toes curled as the waves of her orgasm washed over her.

  She shoved Travis’s hand aside, lowered her leg and fumbled at his jeans. She wanted his cock in her mouth.

  There was a problem.

  His full-blown erection was making it difficult to lower the zipper.

  “Uh . . . Trav, how do I work this?”

  Travis choked on his laugh. “You can’t. You’ll have to wait for me to go down a little.”

  “Well, hurry up.”

  “It’s not that simple, babe. You almost made me come in my pants after that little seduction routine of yours.”

  “Think of something else.”

  “I can’t . . . think,” Travis said. “All the blood has gone to my dick. I can’t think of anything else, other than wrapping your legs around me and shoving my dick inside you . . . over the hood of this car, up against a tree. Babe, you’re going to be feeling me everywhere.” This was said with a deep growl.

  She almost worked his zipper down when his hand stilled her. “Stop.”

  “I want to taste you,” Caitlin whispered.

  Travis’s face was pained. “My control is not there, sunshine. Last thing I want to do is to make a big mess. Let’s wait until I can make love to you properly.”

  Disappointed, Caitlin plopped back to her side. “That was a one-time offer.”

  “We’ll see,” Travis said in a more level voice. “You can never resist my cock.” His eyes slanted to her teasingly.

  “Never knew a man who could resist a blow job.”

  Travis tensed beside her; the air turning frosty having nothing to do with the blasting AC. “Was there someone else other than Cooper you’ve given blow jobs to?”

  Caitlin realized how her statement came across. “I mean generally. What—what I read in magazines. And where the hell did that come from?”

  Travis didn’t answer her, just stared fixedly in the distance.

  “That statement was made in poor taste, Travis.”

  “Was there someone other than Cooper?” Travis repeated. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

  “I’m not answering that,” Caitlin fired back. “My time with Jase is my own. You don’t get to be a part of that.”

  She fisted her hand in her mouth to stop her from saying something more hurtful.

  “Fuck!” Travis growled, hitting his palm on the dashboard.

  It was going to be a long drive.

  *****

  They arrived in the town of Iron Ridge late in the evening. Instead of going to a diner, Travis suggested they just head to the local bar that was known for their microbrew choices and their farm-to-table philosophy.

  They had reservations at the Bluebell Bed and Breakfast under the name, Mr. and Mrs. Travis Bennett. The country inn had three suites and five regular rooms. They managed to snag a suite because of a cancellation. Caitlin hated that she and Travis were barely civil to each other. Their tiff in the car caused a very uncomfortable four-hour drive, rife with tension, neither willing to apologize. She refused to censor her words all the time. The statement wouldn’t have been a big deal if she had all her memories. Travis needed to get over her past.

  It was a hot and humid night, so she pulled out one of her strapless dresses with a flounce skirt. Iron Ridge was a small community known for an eclectic mix of people from hippies and hipsters to bikers. So really anything went. She’d probably dress biker chic tomorrow, and was curious what Travis would think of that.

  Travis emerged from the bathroom, towel around his hips, which he quickly discarded to dry his hair and back further. Caitlin managed not to react from the display of chiseled perfection. The rippling of muscles under taut skin as he rubbed the towel against himself was infinitely erotic. It didn’t help that he had a m
agnificent ass and imagining how it flexed as he pounded inside her—Whew, it’s getting hot in here. She concentrated on gathering her hair up in a messy knot, ignoring the heat that flushed her skin before simmering down to her belly. She could feel her core start to swell with arousal. Stop it!

  When she turned from the lighted vanity table, she drew in a ragged breath. Travis was watching her with a predatory gaze. His eyes never wavered even as he buttoned on a white linen shirt. Thankfully, he had already put on cargo shorts.

  “I’m ready.” Caitlin hated how her voice quivered.

  “You look nice,” Travis said.

  Okay, they were still pissed at each other. Nice? What happened to sexy or gorgeous? Clearly her man was trying to get a rise out of her. She childishly didn’t want to give in and say he looked devastatingly handsome. The white shirt played against his tan. What was he trying to do, give all the estrogen in the bar apoplexy?

  “Can we get moving? I’m hungry,” Caitlin groused.

  Travis shrugged as he sat on the bed to put on his sneakers. He rose slowly and rested his hand on the small on her back to nudge her forward. “Come on.”

  Foster Bar was already hopping. The hostess sat them at a corner booth, leaving them with a couple of menus. There was a game room in the back with a couple of pool tables. Dark wood vaulted ceilings, a nickel-plated bar, and a collection of antique-looking tables and chairs brought a uniqueness to this place that suited the quaint town.

  One end of the main room had a communal table that was presently occupied by a group of bikers and their women. Caitlin knew a bit about biker culture from watching a popular series on TV. Some of the women were called “sweet butts,” who were like groupies that hung around the club. They were property of the club and had its protection. Others had earned the position as an “old lady,” who was a biker’s steady girl or wife. Hipsters in their tight jeans and vintage clothes filled the other side of the establishment. They were huddled together discussing politics and art. Some were busy on their smartphones texting or posting on some social media website. One thing Caitlin would say though, there was no shortage of tattooed bodies around. Travis himself had ink on his back.