He didn’t like what she was saying. Didn’t want to hear it. But at some point in the last ten seconds, the fight had whooshed out of him, and he didn’t have the strength to push her off him or even try to get up. The backs of his eyes grew hot. Hot and tingly, and he closed them tightly, wishing—shit—he didn’t know what he wished anymore.
“You couldn’t have saved her then,” Harper went on, gentling her voice. “Nothing you do now can save her either. You have to let her go, Rusty. You have to let all of it go before it destroys you.”
His conversation with Ethan days before echoed in his head, melding with the words Harper was saying now. “Whatever it is you’re chasing, let it go. Let it go before it ruins you. It’s the only way you’re ever going to be free.”
“Fuck.” The burn behind his eyes intensified, spread to his nose. He tossed an arm over his face, not wanting Harper to see his epic breakdown, fighting to hold up the crumbling wall that held back his emotions because he knew what would happen if that wall broke. Those emotions—the things he hadn’t let himself feel in years—would drag him down into a darkness it would take weeks, probably months, to claw himself free from.
“I’ll help you,” Harper whispered somewhere close. “Whatever you need, however you need it. I won’t leave you alone to deal with it all. I’ll help you get through it. I promise.”
He swiped at his damn eyes with the back of his arm, focused on breathing, tried to protect himself, but the emotions broke through, pummeling him from every side, stealing his breath, his thoughts, sending a jarring burst of pain straight through his chest.
Soft lips skimmed his damp temple, his cheek, brushed against his hairline. In a daze, he felt Harper’s warm breath tickling his cheek. Felt her body shifting over his, felt her hands cupping his face as she whispered words that made no sense and kissed his temple, his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth—
A new wave of emotion slammed into him, this one stronger, more immediate, and all-consuming.
He lowered his arm, turned his head, found her mouth, and kissed her, needing her heat to warm the cold chill inside him, needing her strength to lift him out of this funk. She groaned and opened to him, licking into his mouth with the same hunger suddenly consuming him. And then she lowered her hips to his, pressing the heat between her legs right over his cock, shoving aside every thought until only one need remained. A need so hot it was all he could see and feel and hear and crave . . .
His arms closed around her. He shifted his weight and rolled her onto her back, never once moving away from her mouth, continuing to kiss and nip and lick and savor every bit of her on his tongue. Her legs fell open. Her hands streaked up into his hair as she tipped her head and kissed him deeper. His hands rushed to the buttons down the front of her white blouse, but his need was too insistent, his craving too fierce. Unable to wait, he grasped the two sides of her shirt and yanked.
Buttons went flying, skittering across the concrete. She kissed him harder. He made quick work of the clasp on the front of her bra, flicking it free, then dragged his mouth from hers and closed his lips over her left nipple.
She groaned his name, arched into his mouth, and threaded her fingers into his hair. He wasn’t gentle. He couldn’t be gentle when every inch of his body was on fire. He circled the nipple with his tongue as she moaned beneath him, then bit down with his teeth. She cried out and lifted her hips against his, grinding against his swollen cock. The sound fueled the fire inside him, made it rage higher. He moved to her other breast, tortured it with the same motions, and when she was writhing against him, he shifted back, found the snap on her jeans, then wrenched the garment from her legs in one swift move.
She gasped in a shocked breath, pushing up on her elbows, but he didn’t give her a chance to get up. Wrapping both arms around her legs to hold her still, he lowered his mouth to her sex and feasted.
“Oh fuck, Rusty . . .” She collapsed back on the blanket, bucking against him. And the sound of her pleasure was like a drug, pushing him harder, making him hungry for more, drowning out every other thought and sound and need.
He drove her right to the edge, and when her climax consumed her, he swallowed every drop. She collapsed against the ground, but he didn’t give her time to relax. He licked and sucked and swirled again and again, needing more, needing everything, driving her to the peak again and again.
“Please,” she panted after three strong orgasms had decimated her. Her trembling hand landed against the back of his head. “Please . . . I can’t . . . No more. I want . . . you.”
Her words were like gasoline to a spark. He tore his mouth from her dripping sex, wrenched the snap on his jeans open and finally freed his aching cock. She lay still and breathing heavily below him, but he wasn’t done with her yet. Not even close. He made quick use of the condom in his pocket—slid it on, then hooked his arms around her thighs and jerked her toward him.
“Again.” He pressed into the ground with his knees, lifting her with his arms so he could line her sex up perfectly with his cock. “Come for me again, Harper.”
She lifted her head, her face slicked with sweat, her lips trembling, and the moment her glazed eyes met his, he drove in deep, filling her completely in one thrust. She groaned. Then her whole body shuddered as her sex tightened around his length, holding him as close as she possibly could. “Oh God, yes . . . .”
He drew out, shoved back in harder, tightened his hold on her legs as he held her up and plunged into her again and again, driving them both closer to the edge of something neither of them could see.
“Come,” he growled, fucking into her faster, deeper. “Come now.” His need to feel her release all around him was a blinding obsession, fueled by something he didn’t understand. All he knew was that he needed this. Needed her. Couldn’t think of anything else.
He hammered into her, watching her body, the way she clawed at the blanket beneath her, focusing on her tightly closed eyes, knowing she was close, feeling his own orgasm barreling toward him. Fuck, he was going to come, was so close . . .
“Now.” Every muscle in his body contracted, and electricity streaked down his spine. “Fucking come now . . .”
Her body tensed. Around his length, her sex spasmed uncontrollably. And just as she arched her back and cried out, that electricity ignited in his balls and exploded, shoving aside every last bit of pain he’d been feeling, leaving behind nothing but blinding pleasure.
He wasn’t sure what happened next, but when sound slowly returned, he heard fast, heavy breaths and realized they weren’t his own. They were Harper’s, right below him. At some point he’d collapsed against her, but he didn’t remember it. He didn’t remember anything except the all-consuming power of that release. He didn’t want to remember anything but that. That and the way her soft fingers were threading through his hair now, the silky feel of her damp skin against his, the citrusy scent he’d always associate with her, and the way she was holding him everywhere—with her arms wound possessively around his shoulders and her legs locked tight against his lower back.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out, shifting his head slightly so he could press his lips against her shoulder, the only part of her he could reach at the moment. Because his body was completely wrecked.
“Are you alive?” she whispered.
He swallowed the lump that seemed permanently wedged in his throat and managed to find the strength to say, “Yeah.” But his voice was raspy, thick, and he knew she heard it. But he didn’t care. For the first time in his life, he was glad he wasn’t alone.
“Did I hurt you?” He knew he was crushing her, but he couldn’t quite move yet, and she didn’t seem to want to let him go. And the honest truth was he didn’t want to leave the heat of her body or the warmth of her embrace.
“No. Unless you call making me climax four times hurting me. I think I understand now why the French call it la petite mort, the little death.”
One side of his lips curle
d, relief sliding through him. He pressed another kiss against her silky-smooth skin.
“And I think I hurt you. Sorry about your leg. And knocking you down. I was just trying to get your attention, not, you know, really hurt you.”
He knew that. Emotions flooded his chest again, but they weren’t the dark, painful, agonizing emotions he’d felt earlier. These were sweet, from a place of light, from knowing she cared.
He shifted his hand to the concrete and pushed up on his arm, just enough so he could look down at her. At her captivating face in the flickering light, staring up at him with so much affection his heart contracted.
“Thank you,” he rasped. “For getting my attention. I needed it.”
She lifted one hand to his face and caressed his cheek, and without even thinking, he leaned into her touch. Savored it.
“I meant what I said, Rusty. I’m not going anywhere.”
His heart pinched harder, and he turned his face to press a kiss against her palm. And in a shaky breath, he said, “I need that too. I was on the edge of a dark place, spiraling, and you stopped it from taking me. I won’t forget that.”
“Good.” She lowered her hand to the blanket, pushed up on her elbows, and pressed her lips against his in a hard, swift kiss. “I won’t let you forget it either.”
Out of nowhere, a laugh pushed up his chest, one he only felt when he was with her. In the middle of the shitstorm that was his life, she was there, making him happy, making him whole, reminding him he was alive.
He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, drew in another shaky breath, then gently climbed off her.
He pushed to his feet and pulled up his pants. After disposing of the condom in a trashcan near the entrance to the cave, he came back to find her sitting upright in her jeans, her hair a mess around her gorgeous face, her hands fumbling with the two halves of her ruined blouse.
“This is a lost cause.” She dropped her hands in her lap and frowned up at him. “Gimme your shirt.”
He reached back and tugged off his T-shirt, then watched with rapt attention as she pulled it on and the black garment all but swallowed her whole. “I’m tellin’ ya. A flag on a conquered fortress.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed to her feet. “Now I see. That was your plan from the start. Sneaky.”
He captured her hand when she drew close and tugged her into him. Surprise registered in her eyes as she lifted both hands to his chest, but he didn’t let it deter him. He wrapped his arms around her back and closed her tight in his embrace. “No plan. I never have a plan with you. Just a craving I can’t ever seem to sate.”
Softly, he pressed his lips to hers, so thankful she was here, wanting to tell her just how much she meant to him, but wary because he didn’t want to do anything to scare her away. Especially after that epic meltdown he’d nearly had.
She sighed and kissed him back, then rested her cheek against his chest and just let him hold her. And God, that felt good. Everything he hadn’t known he’d needed or even wanted until this week.
“I like this cave,” she said against him. “It’s the one you’ll hold events in, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” But he really wasn’t in the mood to talk about the winery. Or anything, really. He just wanted to go on holding her.
“Where did you get the condom?” she asked long moments later.
“I stopped at the store on my way home.”
Her lips curled against his bare skin. “Wishful thinking, huh?”
“No. Hopeful. You have that effect on me. Making me feel hopeful.” He tightened his arms around her and lowered his face into her hair. “I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered. I don’t want you to ever leave. “I want you to stay with me tonight.”
Her fingertips pressed against the muscles in his chest. “I want that too.”
Thank God . . .
He drew back just enough so he could kiss her again, then said, “Let’s go back to the house. It’s warmer there. And I’ve been dying to have you in my bed.”
“Hmm. Another petite mort? Okay, you talked me into it.”
Laughing, knowing he didn’t deserve this woman but unable to let her go, he wrapped his arm around her waist and steered her toward the cave doors. “Great. Now the pressure’s on.”
The hand wrapped around his waist dropped to slap his butt. “You bet your cute ass it is. No rest for the weary here.”
Nope. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. He just hoped she didn’t change her mind after she got to know him better. Or that by choosing to stay with him, her life wasn’t in any kind of danger.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Andy was running out of time.
He paced back and forth in his home office in the early-morning hours, running his hands through his hair again and again, trying to figure out what he could do, how he could spin this, what steps he needed to take to make sure the people he cared about were safe.
Harper had not taken his advice yesterday at the office. When he’d given her another case to work on, she’d said she’d get to it but that she was still looking into McClane’s activities, building a case for him in the event the cops decided to charge him with something. Only Andy had known she was lying to him. She was a bloodhound when she had her mind set on a case, just like her father. He’d foolishly thought he could use that to his advantage when she’d been pushed off the force, but now . . .
He chewed on his lip as he turned near his desk and paced the other way, thoughts of both Harper and McClane swirling in his head. He’d been stupid to have Harper check into McClane’s activities. Even if the man was Robin Hood, Andy already knew everything there was to know about McClane’s past.
He’d thought he was protecting her by hiring her to come work for him. Had thought if he kept her close, she wouldn’t fall into the same trouble her father had stumbled into, that if he could do one good thing for her, it would make up for some of the shit he’d done in the past. But he was wrong. He could barely protect himself. And even though the secret he knew about McClane could be Andy’s get-out-of-jail-free card, he wasn’t going to pull it.
It was time to take a stand. It was time to keep all the shit from happening again. He wasn’t going to let the Plague get to McClane or Harper. Not when he knew they were both innocent. And not when it was clear if something happened to either one of them, he’d be in even deeper shit—this time with the authorities.
Decision made, he moved to his computer, opened his laptop, and booked flights and hotels for Maureen and their daughter with a Visa gift card he’d previously purchased so the Plague wouldn’t know what he was planning. The girls wouldn’t question this surprise. His daughter, Cindy, a sophomore in college, would jump on the chance to spend a week or more in Paris. And it would get them out of the country and somewhere safe while he attended to matters here.
When he was finished making travel arrangements, he sent a text to his daughter, asking her to stop over for lunch today. Then he drew a deep breath and dialed Harper.
Everything hinged on her going along with his plan. On her listening for once and not being so damn stubborn.
Because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she didn’t cooperate.
Harper smiled as she snuggled against Rusty beneath the covers. The man was right. His bed, it turned out, was way more comfortable than hers.
She sighed, loving his warmth, and told herself to remember to ask him what brand this mattress was when they were both fully awake. She needed to get one. She’d slept better last night than she had in years.
A lingering voice in the back of her head said she’d slept so well because Rusty had been curled around her, holding her close and making her feel safe all night long, but she ignored it. Just as she’d ignored the other voice, insisting that she’d better tell him sooner or later about the deal she’d made with the commissioner.
A buzzing sound echoed through the room. At her back, Rusty mumbled, “You better not have set an alarm,” into her hair.
“Are you kidding?” she answered in a sleepy voice, eyes still closed. “It’s Sunday. I don’t set alarms on Sundays.”
The buzzing stopped, and his arm around her waist tightened, pulling her back against a—oh, wow—very aroused erection.
“Good,” he muttered in her hair. “Because I’ve got a better way for you to wake up.”
She chuckled, then groaned when he pressed that magnificent erection between her legs and bit down on her throat.
Oh my, yes . . .
The buzzing sounded again, stilling Rusty’s movements at her back. Lifting his lips from her throat, he said, “I think that’s a phone. Can’t be mine. I left mine downstairs. Must be yours.”
There was only one person who could be calling her on a Sunday morning, and she really didn’t want to take his call. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him about anything.
She reached for Rusty’s hand at her waist and scooted back against him. “Let it go to voice mail. It’s probably just Andy.”
He didn’t rub against her again, and his silence told her he was thinking. That just her one comment had burst the bubble of happiness around them.
Rolling onto her back, she looked over at him in the hazy morning light. “Are you okay?”
He perched his elbow on his pillow and rested his head against his hand. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He didn’t look fine, though. He was staring down at the pillow beside her, looking . . . troubled. Like he had last night when he’d been staring at that paper she’d given him, trying to convince himself it didn’t mean what he knew it meant.
She reached for his other hand against her belly and lifted it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Don’t go there.”
His dark gaze lifted to hers. “I’m not. I’m thinking about you and Renwick. You don’t like working for him, do you?”
She lowered his hand to her chest, liking the weight of his touch. “It’s fine.”
“But you don’t love it.”
“Do many people love their jobs?”
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