“Nothin’ for you to be sorry about, love.”
A literal melting sensation went through her when he called her that. How could one word have so much power over her?
“Not sorry as in ‘I did something wrong.’ Just”—she shrugged, tightening her grip on Fionn’s hand—“upset that something hurts you.”
Silence fell between them again. It stretched the limits of her nerves, her courage, but she refused to let it win. “I guess there are some things I need to say I’m sorry for, things I did wrong that need to be made right.” Things that, through all the sex and fighting and tenderness, they hadn’t brought up.
Like the bomb.
“I truly never meant for anyone to get hurt, Fionn.” Surely he believed that by now. She hoped so, but his silence was shredding every assurance the past couple of days had built in her. “I am…so sorry. I can’t even express how sorry.”
The smile on his face was small, but at least it was there. “I think you’re doing a fair job of it.”
“When I got the message…” God, could she really talk through this? “When I read it, understood what I was seeing, all I could think about was—”
“Keeping me safe,” he filled in.
“Yes.” She sneaked a peek at him from the corner of her eye. “How did you know that?”
Fionn shrugged. The gesture could be taken as good or bad, but it was only when his hand turned over and his fingers entwined with hers that she settled on good. Or at least okay.
“Deacon figured it out.” He glanced her way. This time the grin twisting his lips was full. Honest. A little self-deprecating. “He’s much more intelligent—and level-headed—than I am.”
He was, not that she’d agree out loud. Just the memory of Fionn’s face that first night in her apartment, the anger radiating from his body, sent a shiver of remembered fear down her spine. The man evoked more emotion from her, of every kind, than all the people in her life combined.
“Look,” he said, eyes on the road but fingers still tangled with hers, “I know you were trying to keep everyone, including me, safe. You made sure there was no one in that wing of the hospital. And there was no way you could have known Deacon and I would show up at the last minute.”
“I should have found another way to handle it, maybe told someone.”
Fionn’s thumb stroked across the sensitive flesh between her thumb and forefinger. “Why didn’t you?”
That was the stupidest thing of all. She didn’t realize she’d turned her head to stare blindly out the window until Fionn tugged on her hand. “Why, Lyse?”
The words were soft, full of the tenderness he’d used to coax her body under his control. Only now he was coaxing her secrets out into the open.
“You know,” she finally managed, “being young, excelling in technology and having my eyes on a computer screen twenty hours a day isn’t easy. People don’t accept you as readily, especially men.” Deacon had always been decent, but a lot of men couldn’t decide if they should harass her because she was a genius and they weren’t, or because she didn’t dress like a femme fatale and try to get them into bed the first time they met. “I’m an awkward fit; I know that. Even with my parents…”
“What about your parents?”
She shifted on the seat. “They took care of me, but they didn’t really know what to do with me. First I was sick”—she gestured toward her chest, ignoring the urge to rub at the phantom ache that suddenly appeared—“then I was difficult, at least for a while. My mind was speeding too fast for my age. I didn’t really thrive until they put me in an accelerated school program.”
Fionn hummed in understanding. “Because you weren’t bored then.”
“Right.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t that my parents didn’t try, and when my brother was adopted, things were great. But after he died…we just kind of…lost touch.” The sun flashed in her eyes as they rounded a hill, causing her to squint. “GF appreciated my talent, but individually, most people didn’t know what to do with me other than tease.”
“And they teased you about me.”
Because everyone had known about Awkward Lyse’s crush on the sex god of Global First. “Yes.” She flicked a glance his way, but Fionn seemed calm, relaxed…accepting. “It all became jumbled in my head. I knew I had to take care of everyone. Especially you.” And in the end, though she regretted her actions, it had been good in a way. Forced her to grow up. To appreciate what she’d had. She sure as heck wasn’t going to regret the fact that it had ultimately given her what she’d dreamed of for far too long—time as Fionn’s lover.
A hard squeeze on her hand pulled her attention back to the man beside her. Fionn glanced her way, expression serious, before returning his gaze to the road ahead. “I forgive you, Lyse.”
Her heart shattered into a million pieces. “Do you?” she choked out.
Fionn didn’t argue; instead he brought her hand to his mouth and rubbed his soft lips against the back. “I do,” he said, the words like a kiss.
And just like that, the million pieces of her heart flew back together.
The silence this time felt light, easy, as if a burden she’d carried for months had suddenly been lifted. It had. She let herself drift, the hum of the tires mesmerizing her, until Fionn spoke out of the blue.
“So…without the work at Global First, how have you been taking care of yourself?”
There was a hint of worry in the words, which warmed her heart. “GF always paid me well.”
Fionn snorted. “That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”
He wasn’t wrong. Computer geniuses—and yes, she had a genius-level IQ—could pretty much name their salary anywhere in the world. Her only limit had been the desire to work for a legit company and not some criminal mastermind. “True. Seventy-five percent of that salary went into investments. Six years of that…I don’t think I’ll ever have to worry about working again.” It was a blessing, enabling her to do the work that truly touched her. “Since moving here I’ve actually been using my skills to trace some of the women like Elliot’s mom. Women who disappeared into Mansa’s trafficking ring and never resurfaced.”
Elliot, Deacon’s fiancée, had been the product of rape. Her mother had been kidnapped by Mansa, an African pirate overlord, and used to breed babies to sell on the open market as slaves. Her pale, delicate looks had made her the perfect mother for a beautiful, expensive blonde-haired little girl. Mansa hadn’t counted on Elliot’s mother being as resilient as she was; the woman escaped with Elliot, only to be killed a decade later when Mansa tracked them down.
“You’ve been working on finding women Mansa kidnapped?”
“Yes.” The wonder in Fionn’s voice made her heart swell with something she hadn’t felt in a long time: pride. “They aren’t the only ones, but… Fionn, I had to do something. Mansa used me. He tried to hurt the people I care about. Even though he’s dead, I couldn’t let him keep on hurting other women.”
Fionn slowed the car and pulled into a gas station to fill up. When he was stopped at the pump, he turned the car off and twisted to face her. “I want you to know, Lyse, I’m finding there’s a lot about you to admire. You’re not who I thought you were. You’re not the Bat Girl without a thought in her head beyond her keyboard. You’re a smart, courageous woman, and I’m admiring that.”
She couldn’t resist teasing him. “You’re just saying that to get me into bed tonight.”
He leaned close, his smiling mouth coming to rest against hers. “I don’t have to convince you, thank feck.” Sharp teeth nipped her bottom lip. “Between the two of us, I’m the one who lagged behind. I’m sorry.”
“Maybe we both needed the time to grow up.”
Fionn rewarded her insight with a kiss that wiped away the residue of all the lonely nights, the times she’d forced herself to watch him with other women, the devastation of realizing she had to do something he’d never forgive her for. And yet he had. He’d forgiven her—and so much more.
Fionn finally drew away. “Hold that thought. I’ll follow up on it tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lyse had made reservations for them at a hotel in the town nearest the estate that was big enough to maintain anonymity. By the time they’d had dinner, checked in, and gotten settled in their room, it was almost nine. He’d been up over twenty-four hours, but he wouldn’t be letting the time slip through his fingers, not tonight, no matter what time they were needing to be up. In his early days as a mercenary, mostly in places like Afghanistan and Iraq, he learned to sleep when he could, to be sharp on as little rest as possible. He’d be fine tomorrow; for tonight, he needed Lyse.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” she asked as she unpacked her bag. Fionn had never understood that, why women unpacked in a hotel. Grab what you need when you need it was his motto, but then, he never cared if his clothes were wrinkled, and since everything was in the black color family, he didn’t have to worry about matching.
Something low in his gut clenched when she pulled out her toiletry bag. “We’ll head out early,” he said absently. “Ferrina won’t arrive till almost dark. That gives us plenty of time to search.”
And then all this will be over, and she’ll be gone.
He shook the thought away. Now was no time for regrets, no time for sadness. It was time for them, and he wouldn’t give that up to emotions he would have to live with every moment of his life after she was gone.
Getting up from the queen-size bed, he prowled across the room toward her. “Shouldn’t you be asking me about the plan for tonight?”
She shot a startled look his way, a soft shade of pink sweeping up her cheeks. He loved that she still blushed, no matter how many times he took her. It had become a game, trying to provoke that color, the one he knew from experience spread to the tops of her full tits.
He needed this tonight, needed the haven, just the two of them together before tomorrow. Before…
Don’t be going there.
Lyse squeaked out an, “I—” When she didn’t get out more than that, he smiled. It was a predatory smile, he knew. He stalked her, and she backed away, swallowing hard. He knew exactly what this side of him did to her—it sparked wild adrenaline and that edge of fear she didn’t quite understand. He wanted her on edge, wanted her wild. Wanted to gorge himself on the beauty, the essence that was his Lyse, one last time.
He jerked his chin toward the toiletry bag still in her hand. “Time for a shower.”
Her eyes dilated. Satisfaction filled him as he backed her into the adjoining toilet.
“Sure. Shower.”
The room was generous, easily fitting them both. Fionn closed the door and leaned against it. “Undress for me, love.”
Her posture softened, the lines of her face easing into a half smile at the word love. He’d never thought that look would have him moving toward her instead of away, never wanted the chains of emotion, but everything about his feelings for Lyse surprised him.
She dropped her chin, glancing up at him from under long, thick lashes as he moved in on her. Planting his fists on the wall on either side of her head, he leaned in until their mouths were a hairbreadth apart. “Are you going to undress, or do I need to be doin’ that for you?”
Something flared in Lyse’s eyes—a challenge. His heartbeat ticked up.
“I think I’ll let you do that,” she said, voice low and husky.
His hands went to the buttons on her shirt, his gaze holding hers to him even as he slowly revealed the creamy flesh he’d become so obsessed with. One button, two, three. By the time he got to four, Lyse was breathing light and fast and he couldn’t resist the lure of her tits. Black lace cupped her, hid her, but couldn’t conceal the hard jut of her nipples, the way they strained toward him, pleading for his touch.
He slid the shirt down her arms, then reached for the clasp of her bra behind her back. “Look at how pretty you are, Lyse,” he said, peeling the lace from her skin. “So round. I love it when your tits press against me, so soft, nipples so hard. See how they beg for me?”
He flicked the taut tips. Lyse whimpered and arched her back. He gave her nipples a hard pinch, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.
“Are you wanting my mouth?” he asked, fingers dropping to work on the button of her jeans. “Want me to suck those pretty tits? Because I’m going to. I’ll be giving you my mouth and a whole lot more.”
He knelt at her feet, taking her jeans and panties with him. Lucky for him, her shoes were already gone, her socks easily following the rest of her clothes onto the bathroom floor.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “That’s my wan. Stay just like that for a bit.” He kept his eyes on her, absorbing the sight of her bare body, her hungry gaze, trying hard to imprint it on his mind. He needed the memory, needed to own this piece of her for the rest of his life. He didn’t even turn to start the shower, but reached blindly for the knob, all his focus on Lyse splayed against the tile wall, a siren calling him back to her.
It took no more than a minute for steam to begin pouring from the shower, a minute filled with excruciating anticipation. Only then did he hold out his hand.
“C’mere,” he demanded.
Lyse came. “Fionn, you’re killing me.”
“And we haven’t even got to the good part yet.”
When he winked, she blushed. He couldn’t resist the impulse to be tracing that color along her throat with his tongue. “In you go,” he murmured in her ear, giving her a gentle push against the small of her back.
Wanting Lyse warm and pliant, he settled her beneath the spray of water and began to wash her. Thoroughly. Head to toe, he used every trick he knew to arouse her, pleasure her, drive her hunger higher. When she was a frenzied mass of need, he again went to his knees, only this time his hands were on her inner thighs and he was pushing outward, urging her to open for him.
Lyse complied with a hitch in her breath.
“Are you wanting to know what I see, love?” He brushed his lips across the sensitive skin below her navel. Eased down to the join between hip and thigh, where she quivered at the trace of his tongue. A nip to the top of her mound brought a cry to her lips. “I see dark, dark curls hiding pretty pink flesh,” he told her. “I see the sweetest cream waiting for me.” Sliding his fingers along her labia, he found that secret place and drove deep inside. With his other hand he reached up to tug and pinch her ripe nipple. “I see you opening up, just barely, to let me inside. You’re so tight, Lyse. Every time I enter you, it’s a fight to get as deep as I need to.” Cream coated his fingers as he pulled them out, making his mouth water. “But I can’t stop, can’t wait,” he said, his lips brushing her skin so close to where he wanted to be. So close the scent of her arousal had him going light-headed. Hooking his fingers, he thrust back into her, scraping the swollen pad of her G-spot and earning Lyse’s hands in his hair, urging him forward. When her legs parted just that little bit more, he accepted the invitation.
His lips surrounded her clit, the nub hard and throbbing, its hood pushed back. He grasped it gently between his teeth and sucked, drawing on her, beginning a rhythm that he matched with his fingers in her core and on her tits. Lyse writhed against him, pulled his hair, forced him tight against her, her cries filling his ears just as her taste and feel saturated the rest of his senses. In mere seconds she was gushing and pulsing around his invasion, her body straining toward him as she climaxed.
“We’re not done,” he warned her as he got to his feet. Watching her, he did a hasty wash of his body. His cock was stiff and straining, just as Lyse’s clit and nipples had been, threatening to blow with the lightest touch, but he fought back the hunger viciously. He wouldn’t blow until he was inside her, not tonight.
His rinse was equally quick, and then he had the water off. Lyse came first, with a thorough drying, before he scrubbed the water from his own body and threw his towel on the floor.
“You know,” Lyse said, her tone drowsy
and satisfied, “you talk about how nice my body is.” Moving closer, she trailed a hand along his chest, the ridges of his abs, right down until she surrounded his aching cock. “I could never have imagined a man as beautiful as you.”
He hissed as her fist stroked up his cock, tight around the head, then back down. “Men aren’t beautiful.”
She stroked him again. “You are.”
A growl burst from deep in his chest. Afraid one more touch would destroy his self-control, he surged forward, lifting her slight body in his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. “I’ll be showing you beautiful.”
In the bedroom he flipped her around and set her on hands and knees on the bed. “Now that is beautiful.” The lines of her body were smooth and sensual, the dangling of her tits too much to resist. He crowded over her, using his chin to clear a path from nape to spine, his hands already full of the gorgeous mounds. He took his time then, biting at her neck, sucking the sweet flesh, leaving his mark on the most sensitive parts of her body. Nipples were pinched and pulled and fondled. The long line of her spine was licked and nuzzled. And that plump ass—she was so delicate you might never guess how round and generous her ass was. He bit the sensitive curve, scraped his stubble over her until goose bumps rose, then traced his tongue down the divide until he hit that most secret opening.
Lyse flinched, but his grip on her tits wouldn’t allow her escape. Before long her self-consciousness was forgotten in the moaning delight of his tongue right where he wanted it. Only when she was rocking back against him did he pull away.
“Every part of you belongs to me,” he told her, reaching for a condom. Rolling it on. “Every bit is mine.” No matter how unfair that seemed.
Lining his cock up with her clit, he rubbed gently for a moment in a desperate effort to stave off his climax.
“Don’t wait,” Lyse begged, arching against him. “Please, Fionn, do it.”
A quick adjustment of his hips and he slid right into her core. “Lyse! Feck.” His eyes crossed behind closed eyelids. When Lyse slid forward, stroking herself along his erection, then back, his gut clenched, his balls drew up. “Feck!”
Destroy Me (Southern Nights: Enigma Book 3) Page 18
