by J. Kenner
Tried, but failed, and as he’d settled on the couch with the pillow and a spare blanket, I’d gone to bed with him anyway—in my thoughts, at least—as I had for so many nights after Hades.
Back then, he’d been with me every night. Telling me in dreams that he forgave me. That he understood what I’d done and why I’d done it.
We’d make love through the night, and then he’d leave by morning, abandoning me to the life I’d made, alone.
Those dreams—fantasies—had been my anchor in that first year. His touch, albeit imaginary, was what had gotten me through.
But now here I am with the real man. A man who pushed every single one of my sensual buttons the first time I glimpsed him, and that doesn’t seem to have stopped even after all this time.
I’d shut him down earlier because I know sleeping with him would be a bad idea. We can’t get back what we had because there’s nothing real to grab onto. Nothing but lies to anchor us.
But now, as I close my eyes and slide my hand between my legs, I ask myself if it matters.
It does. Of course it does.
But for tonight, maybe I don’t care about the past or the future. Maybe I just want the now.
Maybe I just want Winston.
I slide out of bed and walk in my tank top and panties to the couch. I expect him to be asleep, so I’m surprised to see him still fully dressed and propped on his side. He’s wearing earphones as he watches a movie on his phone. I glance at the screen and recognize it right away — To Catch a Thief.
I can’t help but smile. It was one of our favorite movies to watch together, curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.
He must hear me, because he turns over, then frowns. He takes out the earphones, then puts them and his phone on the table as he sits up. “Are you okay?”
I don’t answer, and I see concern flicker in his eyes. “Linda?”
He starts to stand, but I reach out and push him back. Then I move forward and straddle him. My eyes lock on his as I try to read his thoughts. As I pray he won’t push me away.
“What is this?” he asks, as his fingertip brushes my lower lip.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “A one-off, maybe. We can’t— we can’t go back to the way we were. That’s gone. And it was never real in the first place. A shadow built on a lie.” I draw in a shaky breath. “But even so, we never got to say goodbye.”
“So this is an ending?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him again. “All I know is that I want you inside me. Is that terrible? Would I just be using you?”
“Using each other,” he says, brushing my lower lip. “I don’t think it would be terrible at all.”
My heart flutters and my skin heats with the glow of lust. “Winston,” I say. “Please.”
This time he presses that finger to my lips and shakes his head. Then he reaches down and pulls my tank top up. It comes off easily, and he tosses it aside. I’m not wearing a bra, and my nipples tighten more in response to his gaze than to the cool air.
I bite my lower lip, forcing myself not to beg him to touch me. I trust him to know what he’s doing. After all, there was never a day when Winston’s touch didn’t make me feel amazing.
Now is no exception, and when he reaches out to cup my breast, his thumb brushing lightly over my nipple, I lean my head back and gasp from the sweet sensation of the electric heat slicing through my body, a straight shot from my nipple to my sex.
His mouth closes over my other breast, his teeth grazing my nipple. I slide my hands down his back, wanting to feel him, and I sigh in pleasure when my fingers slip beneath his untucked shirt to find the bare skin of his back.
He lifts his mouth from my breast, then kisses me. Softly at first, then harder and deeper, his tongue warring with mine as his hand slips down, lower and lower, until his fingers are inside my panties.
I whimper as he brushes my clit. “Take them off,” I say, but he ignores me, instead teasing me with his fingers as his tongue does the same with my mouth. I want to make demands—deeper, harder—but I’m lost in a haze of sensuality. My body tightening. Needing. I want him inside him, and yet this is incredible. The intimacy of his mouth. The feel of his fingers. And—oh, God—the wild, crazed need that bursts over me as his fingers fill me.
“That’s it, sugar. You’re so damn wet. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? How powerful it makes me feel to see you like this, wanting me? Demanding all the pleasure I can give you?”
“Yes,” I murmur. It’s the only word I can manage.
“Will you do something for me, baby?”
“Anything.”
His fingers tease, and I grind against them, my clit rubbing his hand as his fingers thrust deeper.
“Come for me, darlin’. Come for me right now.”
Chapter Sixteen
Winston moaned as Linda cried out, her body clenching around his fingers as if his words really had sent her over the top. He was so hard now it was painful. And it wasn’t even that he’d gone so long without touching a woman.
No, it was this woman. Linda. The woman he’d once craved every moment of every day. The woman he’d mourned so damn deeply. And here she was alive and in his arms and it was as if he wanted to both celebrate her being here and punish her for leaving him in the first place.
She sighed, her body ceasing to tremble, and her eyes fluttering open. “I want more,” she whispered. “Not just your fingers.” She shifted position, leaning in to kiss him as she straddled his leg.
“No,” he whispered.
She leaned back, and he saw the hesitation in her eyes.
He smiled, then flicked the band of the panties. “Take them off.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, and she did as he ordered, then slid back on him, her hips undulating as she rubbed herself against the material of his slacks. “You?”
He shook his head. “No.”
He could see that she expected him to say more, but right now, this was what he wanted. His wife, naked on his lap, his only mission to make her more and more desperate.
He cupped her bottom as she shifted, no longer straddling his leg, but his hips. His cock. He was so damn hard, and the motion of her body was making him harder, driving him a little insane. And not just her touch, but the fact that she so obviously wanted him. The years hadn’t diminished the heat between them. If anything, it seemed more intense, a knife-edge added to it, giving this night a hint of danger along with the passion.
“I should spank your ass for leaving me,” he said, not even sure where the words had come from. That had never been a thing with them.
“You probably should,” she agreed, and he almost moaned aloud in pleased surprise. “For that matter, you should probably tie me to the bed again.”
He leaned back to find her looking at him. Her eyes were on his, heavy-lidded with lust. But she was biting her lower lip, a sign he recognized from the past. Something she wanted in bed, but had been hesitant to tell him.
Interesting.
“Close your eyes,” he said, and when she did, he smacked her on the rear. She gasped, but her eyes stayed closed—and she grinded against him even harder.
He slipped his hand between their bodies and thrust a single finger inside her, finding her even more wet and slippery. Oh, dear God, she was going to break him.
“I like this,” he said. “Watching you. Seeing you like this. Your skin flushed and your lips swollen. So desperate you’re willing to get yourself off while I watch.”
“Willing?” Her brow rose. “That’s part of what makes it so hot.”
He grinned. “I can’t argue with that.” She was more bold now than she’d been in Hades. He probably wouldn’t like the reasons if he thought about it too much, but he couldn’t deny that he liked the results. Their lovemaking before had been on the sweet end of the spectrum. Wonderful, but tame.
This was raw and rough, and he craved it. Needed it. And the idea that she would agree—hell, had
suggested—to be bound … well, he couldn’t deny that he wanted that, too.
“Come on,” he said, easing her off of him, then leading her to the bed. “Lie down.”
She did, and he glanced around the room, finding the hotel robe tossed over a nearby chair. He pulled the sash free, then walked to where she was stretched out on the bed, her arms already above her head. There was no headboard, but he had her move so that her head was at the corner, her body diagonal across the king-size bed. He used a slipknot to bind her wrists, then tied the other end to the frame.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “And keep them closed.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, with enough of a smirk that he knew they were both going to enjoy the game.
He peeled off his clothes, then sat beside her, wanting first to simply look at her. Once, he’d been so familiar with her body. Even now, he recognized the little things. The scar from an appendectomy. The birthmark on her pussy, visible only because she shaved. The curve of her neck. The tiny mole on her left breast.
He looked, then he used his finger to trace from point to point, making a game out of seeing if he could make her arch up or bite her lip as he worked his way down her body. It wasn’t hard. She was so damn responsive.
“Tell me,” he said, pulling his hands away and moving back so that his hip wasn’t brushing her skin. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to touch me. Please. Don’t stop. Touch me, and then make love to me. Make me explode.”
It was a demand too tempting to resist, and he circled the bed until he could take her ankles, then tug her legs apart. If he’d had more ties, he would have bound her that way, too, but all he could do was demand that she promised to keep her legs wide.
She nodded, and then bit her lip as he stroked his fingertip along the soft skin between her thigh and her sex. He let his gaze roam slowly over her. Her smooth skin. Her beautiful face. Her pussy, wet and ready for him. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he said.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Untie me. I changed my mind. I want to touch you.”
He grinned. “No.”
She opened her eyes and he pointed at her. “No,” he repeated. “You know the rules.”
She closed her eyes, and he resumed touching her.
With every glance and stroke, the need built in him. The need to be inside her. To claim her. To take her like this, bound to the bed, a proposition that had become even more enticing since she’d asked to be released.
Slowly, he kissed his way up her inner thighs, enjoying the way she strained to keep her legs spread and struggled against the bonds at her wrists. He licked her clit with the tip of his tongue, satisfied when she arched up and cried out. Then he moved higher. Starting at her neck and kissing and licking his way down, enjoying both the taste of her and the way she responded to his touch.
He was teasing the soft skin of her mons when she started to beg again. “Please.” She tugged against the cord holding her arms in place. “Please, I want you inside me. Winston, please.”
He wanted to draw it out more. To make her desperation like a living thing. But how the hell could he when he was already so incredibly hard, his body so tense that he was about to explode right then.
“Please,” she begged, and he had to give in, as much for himself as to satisfy her pleas.
He wanted to go slow—to tease both of them—but he couldn’t. He was too hard and she was too ready, and he thrust inside her with one bold stroke, sinking deep and making her arch up and cry out, begging him to fuck her harder as he pistoned inside her, closer and closer until, finally, her core tightened around him, bringing him all the way over the edge.
They exploded together, the world falling in starbursts around them. And in that moment—that singular moment—he wasn’t sure if they were in the past or the present or sometime in between.
All he knew for certain was that she was his. For tonight, at least, they were together.
Later, when she was untied and they were spooned together, he whispered, “Why?”
He couldn’t see her face, but he heard the smile in her words when she said, “Because I knew it would be amazing.”
She rolled over, facing him. “And it was.”
“It was,” he agreed. “And?”
She drew in a breath. “And I wanted you to know I trusted you. Completely. It’s important for the mission.”
“I did know that.”
She shook her head. “You thought you knew. Now you really do.”
For a moment, they simply held each other’s gaze. Then she said. “This doesn’t change anything. The past is gone, Winston. This was wonderful, but not important.”
“I know,” he said, but that was a lie. It was important. And he had a feeling it changed everything.
Chapter Seventeen
He was swimming naked in the quarry outside of Hades with Linda beside him, their bodies twined together, as slippery as eels. The sun beat down on them, and they laughed as the water buoyed them. He’d missed her so much, and now to have her in his arms again, to feel weightless with her the way he did now, it was as if he had suddenly been shown a small slice of heaven.
“Hey.” Her soft voice filled his senses.
“Hey, yourself.”
She smiled, the expression as bright as the sun above them. He tugged her closer, and they laid back, floating easily on the water, their fingers twined together as they looked up at the white, fluffy clouds. It was a perfect day. Absolutely perfect.
Nothing could go wrong. Nothing could take her from him, not again. He’d lost her once, but he’d found her, and damned if he wasn’t going to keep her this time. Damned if he wouldn’t die to make sure that happened.
He shifted, the water splashing against him as he turned his head to look better at her. “You know the truth, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I love you.”
“You don’t know me. And I don’t know you.”
“But you do. We do.”
“You have to be smart, Winston. You have to really think about these things. You have to know that nothing is ever really what it seems. Haven’t you learned that by now?”
“But you are back,” he said.
“I am,” she said. “But for how long?”
He could barely hear her voice at the end, because that’s when the clanging started. The alarm bells ringing out, filling the quarry, echoing against the stone walls.
They filled the space and the sound was soon joined by a cacophony of machine-gun fire. Beside him, Linda screamed, and when he looked over, she was gone, and the water was red, red, red, and all he could do was scream and scream and scream…
“Winston!”
He felt the hands on him, shaking him.
“Winston!”
He sat upright, his heart like a jackhammer in his chest, his ribs aching from the force of his fear.
“You were having a bad dream.”
He exhaled loudly and scrubbed his hands over his face. “You think?”
“It’s Emma,” she passed him his phone. “I wouldn’t normally have answered it, but you weren’t waking up, and I saw who was calling.”
“It’s no problem.” He put the phone to his ear. “Emma?”
“Good God, Starr, what the hell is going on?”
“Just give me a sec.” He stumbled out of bed and toward the coffee maker. It was the single cup kind, and Linda hurried over, slipping on the hotel robe as she moved toward him.
“I’ll make it,” she whispered. “Go take the call.”
He nodded, grabbed his slacks from the bedside where he’d left them last night, and tugged them on. When he was finally seated and felt somewhat human, he focused on Emma. “Okay, shoot,” he said, then gratefully took the coffee that Linda handed him.
“Well, he wasn’t on the flight he had booked. A no-show. And he’s not got another reservation. Like I s
aid before, he could be at the airport waiting to grab a plane at the last minute, but I doubt it. He knows you’re tracking him, he’s going to try to get as far away as possible. That makes me think that he skipped out during the night.”
“I agree. Hang on, I should have had this on speaker.” He put the phone on the table and tapped the button as Linda came over, her own paper cup of coffee in her hand.
“I figure he rented a car, right? But there’s no car rental in his name. Not from the Austin airport, not from anywhere in Austin.”
“So we’re out of luck?” Linda said.
“Actually, no. And you’re welcome. I’ve always told Winston I’m a genius. I’m about to prove it.”
Winston grinned. “I will happily repeat that if you get us a solid lead. What do you think you have?”
“As far as I can tell, he didn’t rent a car, but there are a number of rentals that could be aliases, assuming this guy doesn’t have much imagination. For example, someone named Barry Thompson rented a Buick.”
“Barry Thompson, Tommy Bartlett. It’s close,” Emma said.
“But not definitive,” Winston added. “I’d like more before we go chasing a ghost. You got any more?”
“I do indeed.” He could practically hear the grin in Emma’s voice. “The car that Barry Thompson rented was from a rental place that uses GPS trackers on their vehicles. Most do these days, but not all are as easy to hack into the tracking system.”
“This one was easy, I take it?”
“Fuck easy,” Emma said. “I got in because of my amazing skillset, thank you very much.”
“Where is he?” Linda asked.
“That Buick is now parked on a piece of land outside of Austin near some tiny little town called Thrall.”
“And this is relevant why?” Winston pressed.
“Well, as it just so happens, if you poke through about a million layers of paperwork, which yours truly did—you’re welcome—you learn that the property in Thrall is owned by a company called CLM Accounting.”
“Owned by Bartlett?” Linda asked.
