Runaway

by Susan Sheehey

  Guy caressed her thighs inside and out but never touched where she ached the most.

  “Don’t you think that pot is clean now?” he whispered at her ear.

  Right. She rinsed the pot, not caring if it was clean or dirty. She was desperate to have Guy inside her.

  Finally, the tips of two fingers slid easily through her wet slit, spreading the moisture over her lips.

  “Oh my.”

  He pulled her back from the sink one step. “This shouldn’t be much of an imposition. Is it, Skye?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  He was playing with her, building her up, teasing her, not giving her what she desired.

  She whimpered.

  His fingertips slid over her sex again, and this time he slid them higher. Right through—oh, God—her ass cheeks.

  Oh heavens! She grabbed the side of the counter, a gasp lodged in her throat. But it felt so good. Being so dirty in the process of cleaning. That pressure…that building heat… She shouldn’t like that so much.

  She wanted to arch more, push back against him, but she dared not move.

  Concentrate. She washed her spatula and rinsed it under the faucet.

  The soft cotton of his towel brushed against her ankles, where it pooled at her feet.

  He was naked too. Then the condom wrapper ripped open.

  Yes!

  His magnificent erection glossed over her wet core, one pass, then another.

  “Are you ready for another round?”

  “Mm, yes.” Her voice was so breathy.

  Finally, with his hands spreading her apart, he pushed inside.

  They both moaned.

  Her eyelids dropped closed as she savored the exquisite feeling of Guy’s cock pushing against her vaginal walls.

  He pumped a few times, then pulled out.

  Her eyes flew open. “What—”

  “Sweet Skye. I’m concerned I’m distracting you. Perhaps I should stop.”

  Bastard. “No. I’m good.” She reached for a lid. Only a few pieces left.

  With a small chuckle, he began kissing her again, starting at her neck, trailing down her back with small nips. He went to his knees behind her, and with another pull at her hips, she stepped back more—giving him access to her achy sex.

  “Does this make you want to come?” His tongue smoothed over her clit, swirling this way and that with a flat tongue.

  She moaned, “Hell yes.” Her heart pumped double-time.

  Wash. Rinse.

  His tongue swirled and flicked, making her raw with need.

  He stood, pulling her hair away from her shoulder.

  “You are so beautiful. I want to hear you come.” His shaking hands clasped her hips. With a groan, he drove into her.

  Oh, thank God. Her channel tightened around him, and it was as if her whole body sighed. She could tell stringing it out for her was about to kill him. Served him right. This slow, teasing, almost torturous lovemaking needed to be reciprocal.

  Pumping slow and controlled, the orgasm she’d craved threatened to claw its way to the surface. So close… Just a few more, and she’d shatter.

  He pulled out again and dropped to his knees, his mouth worshipping her sex.

  “Ah.” She’d forgotten to keep cleaning. All the magical things he was doing to her body wiped her memory.

  Wash. Rinse.

  Guy pushed two fingers inside her, circled his thumb over her burgeoning clit, and sucked a spot at the base of her ass.

  Her knees nearly buckled. He made life dizzying, delicious, and oh so unexpected.

  Amazing.

  “How does that feel, Skye? Do you want more?”

  “More,” she panted. The ceiling started to spin.

  He added more pressure, sucking harder with that incredible tongue.

  That tipped her over the edge. She cried out. And splintered apart, gripping the edge of the counter. Waves of shimmering joy shot throughout her body.

  He stood and, with his hands holding her tightly, he dove deep inside her. Ramming the end of her nearly split her apart. He thrust several more times, and that pulsing coil inside her tightened again, much faster than she imagined. Before long, another orgasm detonated from her core.

  “Unh.” The glorious release unraveled her from the inside out. She slumped against the sink, completely unable to hold up her own weight.

  Guy growled and wrapped his right arm around her waist, his left hand braced on the counter. His breath labored against her back.

  Her panting slowed. “I’d think I’d died and gone to heaven, except I’m pretty sure there’s no dish-detail behind the pearly gates.”

  He chuckled and kissed between her shoulder blades. “Perfect.”

  It certainly was.

  At this point, Skye was more than damn sure. Guy wasn’t just a fleeting infatuation, nor was she enamored with an enigma passing through. This man not only owned her body. He owned her heart.

  Renewed with extra vigor from the amazing Sunday with Skye, Reed forced himself to focus on work the following day. The diner was closed the Monday after the festival, so he didn’t have to go in. He would’ve rather spent the whole day making love to Skye in her bed. He found himself insatiable with her. But he had to concentrate on his case. To move the needle on identifying Joe’s murderer.

  Luckily, she was like a fountain of youth on his motivation. His fingers flew across the keyboard faster, and he thought more clearly. When he hit a dead-end, it didn’t frustrate him. He just maneuvered around it.

  By the end of his twenty-four-hour-straight research session on the computer, coffee grounds and microwave meals filled his trash can.

  Reed pushed forward on Joe’s game, Dark Inferno, and managed to uncover the IP address and physical location of every player on the chat sessions. Even several with images of the players themselves through their computer cameras, completely unaware they were monitored. Most were dead ends. Legitimate players of the game with no connection to his case.

  The few smart ones had their cameras blocked. Particularly LocoLobo, the one who’d threatened him. His was the first one Reed looked up. Several IP addresses were linked back to the same online retailer, from a single purchase order from one company. After a little more digging, it was a dummy corporation in Mexico. The game developer was through another dummy corporation also out of Mexico. Neither of them rang any bells from Reed’s previous bank searches last year when he was knee-deep in the financials of the cartel’s holdings. The game designer was listed as D. Huerta in California. But there were far too many D. Huerta’s to look into.

  Much of the information he needed was now only available in government databases. And that he would never dare search from his own home. He didn’t have the equipment or processing capacity to defeat their security systems from this rental house without being caught. That would certainly bring other agents to his door in less than twenty minutes. Which was nowhere near enough time to conduct his search.

  He’d have to make another trek out to Seattle. To conduct the fastest search he’d ever done. Because he had to be ready to run.

  His fingers stopped on the keyboard. His heart sank. Once he was on the run, he couldn’t come back here. He’d never see Skye again.

  The thought made his heart crack.

  The DEA would inevitably follow him. Leading them back to his hideout in the beautiful Cascade Mountains was unthinkable. Because then they would start digging for information on him, including interviewing everyone in town. Which meant Skye would learn the truth about him.

  Damn, the woman had already been burned enough in her life, he didn’t want to be the cause of more anguish. No, he couldn’t do that. He ground his teeth.

  Shit, there has to be another way.

  He stood and paced the kitchen. His brain had started to turn to mush, and his leg muscles were like jelly. “Think, Reed. Think. There has to be another way.”

  How could he break into DEA’s systems without compromising
his location? The methods were out there, just far out of his capabilities with a ramen-noodle budget and second-hand equipment. Showing up at a DEA field office was out of the question, too. He’d be arrested on sight.

  He needed another DEA agent’s login. That way, he could search without having to rush. Obviously, he couldn’t use Joe’s, and his own was shut down long ago.

  Looking up the agents out of the Seattle division to break into their personal computers would be easy enough for him, but would considerably lengthen the time to find this target. Or he could flood their servers with traffic, all at once. Give them thousands of other leads to trace, which would delay their response time. That might give him the cycles he needed on their systems. But that required preparation. And more computers.

  He had to find a way. There was no other way to clear his name. It wasn’t just enough to prove he didn’t do it; he had to find the one who’d killed Joe. Turn that bastard over to the DEA on a platter, along with the evidence to prove he wasn’t rogue. It was impossible to achieve any of that from a prison cell.

  He started doing pushups on the kitchen floor, expending energy to get his brain rewired. After fifty, he moved to chin-ups on the overhead wooden beam. Which took standing on a chair and jumping up to grab the lowest one. After a set of those followed by some pull-ups, he was still far too antsy. He shut down all his systems except the security cameras, laced on his shoes, and threw on his ballcap.

  A run was the second-best way to get this energy out and flood his brain with fresh oxygen. The best way to boost his energy required calling Skye for another amazing date, but he needed to save that for when he had a longer chunk of time. In fact, he’d use a call with Skye as his reward. Find the killer’s location, then schedule another date with his infatuation.

  But first, a quick run.

  With a stretch of his legs, he trotted off down the long, gravel driveway.

  The pine trees gave off a fresh scent that combined with the cool mountain air in an invigorating way. The rushing creek in the distance combined with the sound of his pounding feet created a rhythmic soundtrack. He never listened to music as he ran as much as he wanted to. He had to be on alert for someone coming up behind him. Constantly scanning his surroundings for anyone suspicious was innate. Despite how comfortable he felt here in Cascade Creek, he couldn’t let his instincts become dulled. He turned onto the road, hugging the shoulder toward town.

  Late afternoon sunlight filtered between the trees as he trekked down the mountain road. He almost couldn’t handle the normalcy of the moment. Being able to just walk out one’s door for a run without having to worry about being chased or caught on cameras… just enjoying the nature around him. He’d almost forgotten that feeling.

  As strange as it was to him, he liked it. He wanted to get used to it. He wanted normalcy. Like a deployed soldier fighting hard to get home, only to realize the atrocities he’d seen made it difficult to fully adapt to the change.

  Dammit, he didn’t want to be like that. He didn’t want to admit that he probably suffered from some form of PTSD. Seeing his partner get shot would do that to anyone, let alone having to constantly be on the run, full-paranoia twenty-four seven for a full year. But sitting around, focusing on it wasn’t the best way to handle it either.

  He had to keep moving. He had to stay focused on the end goal. He’d worry about after if he ever got to see it.

  The road curved around a bend then opened to a waterfall over a small cliff. Not too high, only about fifteen feet, but the rushing water sound enveloped his mind like a blanket. The water fell into the creek that meandered parallel to the road. Down the hill beyond a few apple and olive orchards, the courthouse bell tower stood tall among the other buildings nestled against the main road. Even from up here, Reed could see the children playing on the school playground. Teachers guided little kids into lines to go back into the building, where they’d finish their lessons, then go home to their families. Likely have dinner together around a table, and then parents help their children with homework. The usual bath, book, bed routine that ‘normal’ people experienced.

  An image of Skye sitting across a table from him as they fed their children flitted into his mind. Her smile was bright, the same as on their daughter’s, twirling her fork around a plate of spaghetti. He could even see the smudge of sauce on his son’s face, which he’d wipe off with a napkin. His heart ached for that potential future. He dared to let himself smile.

  The image transferred to the door busted into splinters. Skye’s scream was piercing; her form huddled over their kids. The doorframe filled with the vicious face of that cartel assassin from the warehouse. The dark eyes, the demonic sneer…

  He raised a black pistol, aimed directly at Skye, …and fired.

  Reed blinked. His heart raced on the top of that hill, the waterfall still crashing into the creek in front of him. The gunshot still rang in his ears. Almost as loud as the scream.

  He pulled off his hat and wiped the cold sweat from his brow. He put that cap back on, backward this time. He continued jogging, focusing hard on the sound of his feet on the pavement.

  He had no idea what the future held for him. But it sure as shit wouldn’t be that one with Skye in the crosshairs. He wouldn’t allow it.

  Skye walked out of the classroom when her phone buzzed in her purse. Guy. She instantly smiled.

  “Hi, stranger.”

  “Hi, beautiful. Hungry?”

  “I am.” She’d grabbed a protein drink from her fridge before heading out, but days like this, she’d have to eat a late dinner. She was pretty used to pulling something out of the freezer. Anything quick and easy.

  “Good. I’m bringing dinner. I’ll be there in thirty.” The line went dead.

  She smiled again. Short and to the point.

  That’s my man.

  Her stomach did a backflip at the thought.

  There was just enough time to drop her backpack on the bench, check her hair, and down a glass of water when the doorbell rang.

  Guy stood at her door, holding a brown bag that smelled like barbeque. He looked just as yummy in his tight, black V-neck sweater and freshly shaved face.

  “Don’t you look delicious.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  He strolled in slowly, eyeing her up and down. “So do you.”

  “Thank you.” She opened the door wider and let him enter. “But you didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “How can you tell?” He set the bag on her kitchen table.

  “The creases in your forehead. You’re wearing them a little too deep.” She stepped closer and tried to wipe them from his skin.

  “You’re wearing my favorite jeans.”

  She grinned as she glanced down. “Your favorite?” She lifted her head to meet his gaze, and his eyes were the color of rich chocolate ganache. Yummy!

  He moved closer, wrapping his hands over his hips as his thumbs stroked the space over her waistband. He kissed her briefly, his mouth lingering over hers.

  Her breath came quicker. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “Dinner can wait.”

  She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry.

  He brought her flush to his body, his arousal pressing on her low belly.

  She tilted her head as he leaned down, his lips brushed against hers.

  “Do you know why I love them so much?” His hand crept over her left ass cheek and squeezed. “Because they make your ass look so fucking delectable.”

  Moisture gathered at the apex of her thighs. Her hunger for food became a distant memory. She was hungry for Guy.

  “Says the cook,” she murmured.

  “You know it.” His hand slid down her thigh, lifting at the knee. He aligned their bodies in just the right way.

  “Oh my,” she breathed. Her hands flew to his shoulders for balance.

  He easily lifted her mere inches off the floor and swung her toward the door. His body pressed her against the wood panels as his kisses t
railed over her jaw and down her neck.

  She stole a glance at her large front window. It was dusk, but still, anyone could look in and see them. “Guy, the window.”

  He raised his head to cast a glance at the uncovered window. “I don’t care if they see us.” He flipped off the light switch, and before she could protest, he grabbed the hem of her sweater and whipped it off her.

  Oh, God. People would be able to see inside. Since when was Guy an exhibitionist? Skye wished she cared more, but right then, with his hungry mouth on her neck and collarbone, he was all she cared about.

  “You must have really missed me,” she panted.

  “You’re damn right I did.” He kissed and licked his way south, pulling the bra straps off her shoulders.

  She clutched his head, arching into his face and his warm, talented mouth.

  He growled. He moved lower to her belly while unfastening her jeans.

  Her breaths came quicker, and her face warmed. “What have you been doing all cooped up at your place?” She pushed against her waistband, helping him with his task. The need for him thrummed throughout her whole body, down to her fingertips.

  She stepped out of the garments as Guy rose.

  “Nothing as important as this.”

  She reached for his belt and began working on his clothes. When his zipper was open, she reached in and cupped him, wrapping her fingers around his length.

  He growled again, letting his head fall back a few inches. The ecstasy on his face was palpable. She loved that look. “Fuck, Skye. I crave your touch. I crave you.”

  She gave him one last glance, pushed against his hips, signaling her next move. She slid down the door, and he stepped back, giving her all the room she needed.

  His cock was so rigid, the head an eager reddish-purple with a tiny drop on the tip. With a firm grip at the base, she instantly took him in her mouth.

  “Fuck,” he breathed. He braced his hands against the door, leaning into her, letting her pleasure him.

  She took him all the way in, as far as her throat would allow, and wrapped her tongue around him. Then slowly dragged out, sucking as she went. His skin was salty, and his semen tart. But what she loved most were his groans, the moans that proved she’d hit the right spot. She loved knowing she could make him feel this good.