by RC Boldt
The comment section is flooded with thousands upon thousands of comments of strangers sharing their grief over this child’s unnecessary death.
But none of them realize I’m the cause. Because of this motherfucking place and all its demonic creatures that have ruled over it.
She wouldn’t have died if I had just accepted the consulting job. If I had figured out a way to share my time between this investigation and hers… If I had put my vengeance on pause and shelved my selfishness…
My chest grows tight, and I drop my phone, clutching at my chest and bending at my knees. Breathe, breathe, breathe, I chant internally, but it’s a struggle to get my lungs to cooperate.
Finally managing to suck in deep lungfuls of air, I slowly straighten, but the walls of my apartment feel as if they’re beginning to close in.
I need to get out of here.
I don’t bother grabbing my phone off the floor. I rush toward the door and stuff my feet inside my boots, grab my wallet and keys, and run out the door.
Chapter 75
Landon
I toss back the covers, about to slide into bed, when there’s a knock on my door. Who the hell would be coming here this late? I glance at the time. Christ. It’s almost eleven forty-five.
Gripping the muscles already tensing at the back of my neck, I pray it’s not him. I can’t do this shit tonight. Not after everything else that’s gone down.
Padding over to the door, my gun in hand as a precaution, I peer through the peephole and immediately freeze in surprise. A small part of me doesn’t want to open it because I’m still licking my goddamn wounds. But I flick the safety back on and set my gun aside before unlocking and tugging open the door, anyway.
The instant I set my wary eyes on her, I know something’s very wrong. She’s visibly trembling and pale, eyes dull like she’s in shock.
“Talk to me, Doc. What happened? What’s wrong?”
It isn’t until I gently cradle her face, lifting her chin to meet my eyes, that she seems to snap out of her stupor.
“She’s dead. And it’s all my fault. I couldn’t take her case.” Her eyes fill with tears, expression so tortured that it twists my damn gut in knots. “He raped her to death, and I wasn’t there to save her.”
Her legs give out, and I catch her in my arms, scooping her up. Nudging the door closed, I flip the locks before rushing over to the couch. I sit with her on my lap, holding her close while she cries, fisting my shirt in her hands.
Jesus Christ. She’s not just crying. This is the type that comes from deep within. Sobs that break my fucking heart. I hold her tighter, pressing my lips to her hair, and close my eyes against the pain her cries incite within me.
My voice sounds hoarse to my own ears. “Get it out, Doc. Just let it all out.”
She tries to talk, but her words are choppy and difficult to decipher with her heart-wrenching sobs.
“They called me…consult…
“But…I was here…
“…she’s dead now. Because of me.”
“No, no, no. Kennedy. No.” My heart feels like it’s being carved out of my chest with a dull knife. “It’s not your fault. You can’t be everywhere. You can’t save everyone.”
It’s ironic that I’m telling her this since Mom’s said the same thing to me more than a time or two. But fuck. It’s different when my woman is hurting.
Kennedy raises her head and stares at me with puffy eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice matches her expression: broken. Sobbing hiccups riddle her words. “She was a year old, Landon.”
I pinch my eyes closed and lean my forehead against hers. “There’s nothing I can say that’ll make it better. I get that. But it was not your fault.”
“I could’ve saved her.” Her whispered words have a haunting quality, and it has me leaning back to smooth some of her hair that’s sticking to her wet cheeks away from her face.
“I wish I could take this hurt away from you.”
Her golden eyes appear more open, more bared to me than ever before. She swallows hard before whispering softly, “Hold me?”
Then she ducks her head, averting her eyes, still hiccupping from her sobs. “Never mind. Shit. I’m sorry for bothering you. I shouldn’t have come here, especially after—” She cuts off abruptly and shifts as if she’s planning to move off my lap and leave. “You probably have—”
I tighten my hold on her and tip my head in her line of vision, forcing her to meet my eyes. My voice is gentle because she’s finally opening up to me, and the last thing I want is for her to get spooked. “You’re not bothering me, Doc.”
If you’d just fucking let me, I’d always be here to hold you.
“Why don’t I get you into a hot shower? I’m not claiming it’ll fix things, but it can’t hurt, right?”
Her fingers still clutch my shirt in tight fists. Vulnerability etches her features, and a hint of caution lines her voice. “Will you…take one with me?”
I know she’s not asking with any sexual intention, but because she needs me. This incredible, confident woman needs me.
“Of course.”
Moments later, I adjust the water temp and set the towels on the edge of the vanity for us. Antsy and unsure, I gesture for her to go ahead and get in first.
She steps forward, peering up at me with an unguarded expression I’ve never witnessed. “Help me?” Then she raises her arms above her head, and I grip the hem of her thick hooded sweatshirt and ease it up over her head.
Beneath it lies a long-sleeved shirt, and I remove that carefully, revealing her plain black bra. She turns slowly, sweeping her hair to the side and over the front of her shoulder.
My fingers fumble as I work the clasp of her bra because this feels like…more. It’s as if she’s peeled away some of her defensive layers.
Removing her socks and shoes, she slides off her leggings and panties and shoves them in the small heap where I dropped her other clothing. She steps inside the shower, the glass block wall distorting her naked image.
My chest is too tight, as though my heart’s enlarged and pressing against my ribs. I plant my hands on the vanity and force myself to drag in a deep breath.
I can’t explain it, but the strangest sense of foreboding edges its way in, as if something’s telling me that when I join her in that shower, everything will change. That there’s no turning back.
I glance over at the image of the woman who’s had me tied in knots and think back over her coming here tonight.
She came to me. She fucking came to me.
Before I realize it, I’ve shucked my clothes and stepped inside the shower, the hot water spilling over us. She immediately turns and slides her arms around me, pressing her cheek to my chest. Hair matted to her head and down her back, I hold her while her shoulders shake silently with more cries.
My large hands glide over her in what I hope are soothing motions, and I just hold her. It fucking sucks, feeling helpless like this. I wish there were something I could do.
“You are.” Her muted response makes me realize I voiced my thoughts. “You’re doing everything.” Then her voice drops lower, nearly inaudible, but it sounds like, “Everything I never had before.”
I don’t know what to make of that, but it lances deeply through me. I decide to say fuck it, and just bare it all. “If you’d let me, I’d always do this for you.”
She lifts her head slowly, as if she’s hesitant to face me. Remorse and grief line her expression so vividly that it has something sharp twisting in my stomach. “I’d like to believe that.”
“It’s the truth.” I rake my thumb along her cheekbone and swallow hard. My eyes track her expression as I confess softly, “Another truth is that I love you.”
Her eyes go wide before filling with more tears, and my stomach feels like it drops out on the shower floor.
“Well, fuck. Never mind. We can pretend I never said—”
Rising to her toes to press her mouth to mine, she cu
ts me off. It takes me a second to recover because, holy shit, Kennedy’s kissing me.
Her mouth fused to mine, I cup her nape, our tongues meeting and tasting like we’re starved for one another. Our mouths move, lips barely lifting as we angle for deeper draws, frantic and needy.
She tastes like fucking heaven, but she’s giving me a part of her she’s kept hidden all this time, and that’s what makes it more powerful. It’s what has my heart beating out of my chest and kicks my lust into overdrive.
This is what she’s been holding back—not only from me but from herself, too. She breaks the kiss, both our chests heaving, and stares at my mouth for a beat. Her gaze lifts to mine in what appears like shocked wonder, and she raises a hand, her outstretched fingertips grazing over her lips.
An invisible force clinches my throat tight. The sound of the shower threatens to swallow my words. “That’s love, Doc.” Gently, I take her hand and guide her fingertips to my lips and kiss them. “That’s love.”
Chapter 76
Kennedy
“That’s love.”
His words reverberate within my brain before sinking inside every crevice, filling me with a sense of comfort and bliss I’ve never experienced.
I’m not sure who moves next, but our mouths meld once again. With his hard, lean body flush against mine, I feel nothing but an odd amalgamation of contentment and raging lust.
I’m unable to get enough of him—of the way he cradles my head in his large palm, fingers threaded through my wet hair, steering me this way and that to deepen the kiss. How he holds a hand at the base of my spine, fingers splayed in a protective manner, holding me firmly against him as if he physically needs me close.
He gives no impression that he plans to touch me elsewhere. It’s as though he’s simply content to devour my mouth, but I crave more. He’s stirred up a barrage of foreign sensations within me, including carnal need.
Ice has run in my veins ever since my childhood illusions were shattered years ago. When monsters preyed on me and pecked away at every innocent quality that remained, like vultures attacking carrion.
But with Landon, it’s as if he possesses the power to thaw my heart from its frozen, lifeless state and infuse warm blood into my veins instead of the muddy sludge that’s always resided there.
Landon Lattimer is bringing me back to life. As wonderful as it feels, it’s also terrifying, shaking me to my core.
I indulge myself and greedily soak in the warmth of his love. Love he offers freely, with no strings attached, because Landon simply wants me.
He wants the you he thinks he knows. I immediately stifle that annoying voice and bury it deep.
Running my hands over every inch of his body I can reach, I smooth over the firm muscles dancing beneath my touch. My hand descends between our bodies, and I trace a path down the center of his broad chest to the tiny trail of hair beneath his navel that ends at his groin. His guttural groan vibrates against my lips and urges me on.
Taking his hard length in my hand, I curl my fingers around it, and he tears his mouth from mine. His fingers tighten in my hair, his expression one of pure torment. “Kennedy.” My name is spoken like it’s the holiest of prayers. “That’s not what I—”
“I know,” I interrupt gently. When I dust another light kiss to his lips, his responding groan sends a rush of satisfaction coursing through me. “I want you to show me…” Love. My throat swallows the word, but I see the moment he realizes what I’m asking.
I want him to show me what it’s like to make love. When it’s not simply two bodies using one another for release.
When it’s not one body overpowering the other for its own enjoyment.
When it’s two people sharing their bodies and hearts.
He frames my face in his hands as if I’m a fragile, priceless work of art. One edge of his mouth tips up in a tender smile. “Give me another kiss, and I will.”
Eagerly, I place my lips on his, still getting acquainted with the feel of them against mine. When I dart my tongue inside to taste him, a rough sound rumbles from deep in his chest, and he breaks away. Eyes hot and heavy, he grits out, “Go. Get in my bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Confusion riddles me. “But—”
He drags in a deep breath with a wince, nostrils flaring. “Just give me a second to get control, okay? I don’t want to go at you like some sort of animal.”
“O-kay.” I edge away, carefully slipping out of the shower. Once I grab a towel, as I dry my body and then tackle my hair, his voice travels over the glass walls.
“Kennedy?”
I pause. “Yes?”
“It’ll take all night.” Caution colors his words, and I know why. It doesn’t make it any easier to swallow, knowing I did this. I made him feel this way. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No. Not a problem at all.”
I can practically hear his internal sigh of relief. “Good. Now, go wait for me in bed. I’ve been dying to take my time with you.”
With hasty movements, I hang the towel on the hook on the back of the door and nearly launch myself over the threshold into the darkened bedroom. The covers are shoved back on one side of the massive bed, so I choose the other and slide beneath the cool, crisp cotton.
I listen while he turns off the shower, my ears perking at the sound of faint movements as he dries off. Once he emerges, the glow of the bathroom light behind him caresses the cuts and curves of his muscled body.
He stalks toward his side of the bed and slides in beside me. Propping himself up on his side, he rests his weight on an arm. “Come here.”
I scoot closer and turn onto my side to face him. “Better?”
His eyes crinkle at the edges, his mouth curved slightly, and I realize this is the look of love. When Landon Lattimer loves, it’s displayed freely on his face. “A little.” He reaches out and traces the pad of his thumb along my lower lip, his voice soft-spoken. “I never thought we’d get here.”
Instinctively, I rake my teeth against the flesh of his thumb, and his eyes flare. Emboldened, I dart out the tip of my tongue to rasp against it, and his eyes close as if he’s in pain.
“Kennedy.” His nostrils flare, and when his eyes lock with mine, I don’t think; I just act.
Moving over, I press him back against the mattress, bringing us skin to skin. He’s an inferno against me, heating me through and through. I feather my lips against his before gently capturing his lower lip between my teeth and giving it a tug. His hips jerk upward, cock hard against me, and I fit my mouth to his in a hot, wet kiss.
Rough palms trace over me as if he’s memorizing the path they take, callused fingertips rasping along my skin in a caress that brands me. When I rock against him, already so wet with anticipation, he combs my hair back from my face.
“I want to savor you,” he murmurs. Then he steers me to my back. His eyes are watchful, searching for any sign of my discomfort. But he’ll find none.
My throat swells, and my eyes burn with emotion. Love does hold immense power, after all—especially Landon’s brand. It’s one that’s managed to make me feel safe and empowered all at once.
Every kiss he places along my face, to my lips, and along my body holds a unique reverence. He sets my flesh on fire with want—with ardent need—that only he can satisfy.
Easing down my body, he leaves a trail of kisses to my breasts. Mouth latching on to one puckered nipple, his eyes never leave mine. I clutch at his muscled biceps, my breaths choppy with each pull of suction from his mouth.
He releases my nipple to trace it languidly with his tongue. “Could spend all night doing this,” he murmurs against my sensitive flesh. Lust intermixed with affection gleams from his eyes as they hold mine captive, crinkling at the corners. “That okay with you?”
I let out a cross between a moan and laugh. “Maybe.”
He moves to the other, giving it the same treatment, his mouth securing around my puckered nipple, suckling me. Cupping my br
easts in his large palms, he feathers his thumb overtop one hardened tip while he latches on to the other. He sucks it deep into his hot mouth, and my pussy grows even wetter.
Moving lower, he gently sweeps his hands along the inside of my thighs, spreading them wider. As I lie bared to him, he exhales, his warm breath dusting against my slick flesh. “Look at this pretty pussy.” He ducks his head to drag his tongue through my slit and groans, “Fuck, yes.”
Eyes searing me with hunger, he holds my gaze and fastens his lips around my clit. When he sucks it into his mouth, my hips jerk in response, and he slides his hands beneath my ass, cupping me firmly. Once he releases my clit, he flicks the sensitive flesh with his tongue before feathering his lips over it.
With his bedsheets clenched in my fists, I arch shamelessly, silently urging him to continue.
One cocky brow arches. “You want more of my tongue?”
My breasts heaving, I nod. “Please.” I never beg, but right now, I feel as if I might perish if he doesn’t put me out of my misery.
He licks a path along my entrance. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs against my sensitive skin. “I’ve got you.”
He proves it in the next instant when he fits his mouth over me, tongue diving inside. Hands molded to my ass urge me closer as his tongue pushes in and retreats in a rhythm that sends pleasure coursing through me. My inner muscles clench, and a surge of wetness floods me. His answering groan vibrates against my skin, telling me he noticed.
He moves one hand from my ass, his fingers finding my clit, lightly pinching my flesh and toying with it. He slays me, amplifying the ache that has me chasing his mouth and tongue, pressing myself against it. My muscles tighten as I strain to grasp the pleasure dangling in front of me, my hips frantic in their silent begging for more.
As if he senses my need, the licks of his tongue get hungrier and deeper, and it tips me over the edge. My climax rips through me, and I rock against his mouth, riding out the waves of my release.
