by Kym Roberts
Fuck. She was breathtaking. Everything about this woman brought him to his knees. As she began to come down from that place in the skies, her eyes fluttered opened and the smile that crossed her lips made him feel more of a man than he’d ever felt before. Screw all the macho bullshit and the heroic deeds, giving Téa Bello her first orgasm was the fucking pinnacle of his life. She laughed as he leisurely stroked and licked her feminine curves, enjoying the last remnants of her orgasm on his tongue.
“That was a first for the ages,” she sighed.
You’re goddamned right it was, and what exactly that meant, Khaos had no idea.
Chapter Twelve
He was gone. She’d followed him to the door and locked it behind him like a good little captive. Except she wasn’t being held against her will. She’d chosen to stay within these four walls, even if they had felt like a prison. Every night and morning he’d tested her with his touch, never once demanding anything in return. She’d begun to crave his caress. Itch for the feel of his fingers in her hair, on her arms, on her neck on her legs and feet. He’d held her close, rocked his cock against her ass, but all with the barrier of clothing between them. He’d made her wet and wanting every time, and then he’d left.
Until today. This morning he’d shown her what it meant to be a woman coming apart at the seams of ecstasy. That was what she’d missed as a young woman whose future had been stolen. And after giving her the first orgasm of her life, he’d walked into the bathroom with his cock tenting his slacks and had taken care of himself without a word about it. He could’ve thrown her terms of their agreement back in her face and said, quid pro quo. She would have complied. Gladly.
But he didn’t. He even closed the door between them as he jacked-off on the other side. She knew he did. She’d listened. The sounds he made as he’d fisted his length made her want to watch. What he’d done to her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, which made her giggle like a blushing virgin. Her glee made him pause, as if he’d become aware of her ear against the door, but then he continued. His groans became louder, harder, and she knew he’d been imaging her in that room with him. Running her tongue across his balls, taking them into her mouth one at a time and working them as her hand wrapped around his hard, stiff cock. She wanted to watch for that first glimpse of cum seeping from his strong head, then swirl her tongue around the hood as she savored his taste.
Standing there, against the door listening to him was almost as erotic as what he’d done to her—because he was thinking of her. Not only in his release, but in the deed itself. He’d locked himself in the bathroom without invoking, quid pro quo.
With Khaos, anything was possible. In the future, she could walk down the street holding hands with the man she loved. She could play with her child on a playground and enjoy the simple joy of a smile. She could grow old with the man she loved…
She wasn’t naive enough to believe she loved Khaos, but God, what she felt was so close to developing into something much, much more than like. It frightened her. It unnerved her, yet made her feel bold and brave. She wanted to face down her past, and that’s exactly what she planned to do. She would live the life her parents had wanted for her.
While he was in the bathroom, she’d been so caught up with the man Khaos was proving to be, that she hadn’t been able to put her own clothes back on. Instead, she’d grabbed the shirt he’d worn the previous day and slipped her arms into it. And now that she’d taken a step forward as a woman with Khaos guiding her way, she wanted to run with him to the finish line.
Téa smiled and twirled around the room with his shirt billowing away from her body. When she stopped, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and froze. The woman standing there didn’t look anything like the frightened rabbit that had sought refuge with the nuns years ago. Nor did she look like the fearful creature that had changed the pigment of her hair, like a chameleon changed its skin, when she’d started another journey almost a week earlier. The woman looking back at Téa looked happy for the first time in…forever.
Yes, she’d enjoyed a few of the jokes at the food bank over the past several years, but nothing had ever lightened the darkness in her soul. The woman staring back at her in the mirror was a completely different person. In a miraculously short period of time, Khaos had done the impossible. He’d given her hope.
Afraid to tempt fate, and change the direction of her tides by dreaming for the impossible, Téa turned on the television and went into the bedroom. She supposed she could sit in his discarded dress shirt all day smelling the scent of him on her body until he came home, but she wanted to shower and get cleaned up. Besides, sitting around with nothing on under his shirt seemed like something Miguel would’ve forced her to do in Mexico City. She didn’t want anything with Khaos to feel like that.
She opened up the armoire and couldn’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time about his neatly hung shirts and suits. They were divided by color and style. The man was as neat as her obsessive mother had been. A few short sleeve Guayabera shirts hung at one end, and she immediately knew from experience, the Latino styled shirts were worn for the ease with which they hid a handgun.
She refused to let her mind disappear into the murky waters of her past, and began searching through the neatly stacked t-shirts and jeans Megan had purchased. They were a bit too big, but she’d purposely given the agent the wrong size. She still found herself wanting to hide her shape, or draw attention to it.
Except with him. When he entered the room, she found herself wanting to look feminine. Sexy. She sighed. She wouldn’t let her lack of wardrobe choices change her mood. This morning had been a very good morning.
A piercing alarm warbled through the room. A light on the ceiling flashed and Téa immediately knew it was the fire alarm.
“Well, crap.”
Khaos had strictly forbidden her from leaving, but did he expect her to go down with the fiery hotel if he wasn’t there? She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand and called him.
“Khaos?” She asked on the third ring when someone picked up the phone. She couldn’t tell if it was him or not; the blaring noise reverberating throughout the room and in the halls made hearing anything next to impossible.
She finally heard his response when a break in the warble occurred. “Yes! What’s going on?” He asked.
“The fire alarm is going off.”
Several curses on the opposite end of the phone made her smile. The man was nothing but creative. “I’ll call you back after I talk to Palmer.” The line immediately went dead. If he hadn’t told her the name of the agent standing at the end of the hallway, she would’ve never known who the heck he was talking about. As it was, the only description she’d received about Palmer was for her to visualize a blond linebacker with a thick forehead and a nasty smile. Whatever that meant.
Taking no risks, Téa quickly dressed in pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt. A man’s dress shirt with no panties or bra was the last thing she wanted to wear if she had to evacuate the hotel. Her phone lit up on the bed and she answered it when she saw his name come across the screen.
“Hello?”
“The fire alarm was triggered on the second floor. Palmer is going down to check it out. I’m heading back that way.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’ll figure it out.”
Khaos’s response was drowned out by the alarm.
“What?”
“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” he argued. At that moment the tone of the alarm lowered, and Téa heard the change in his breathing. He wasn’t out of breath. On the contrary, his respirations were the practiced rhythm of an athlete. If he’d been a stranger she wouldn’t have noticed, but not an hour earlier she’d learned what Khaos sounded like when his breathing was erratic.
“You’re running. Do you see smoke?”
She looked around for something to put on her feet. Megan hadn’t had time to get her any shoes and she had nothing
for her feet after breaking her heels. She reached into the armoire and pulled out two pairs of his socks. A double layer would have to do.
“No. I’m just trying to get there quickly in case you need to evacuate,” he yelled into the phone.
Halfway through his sentence, the alarm turned off completely and Téa giggled at his yelling.
“Sorry,” he said.
A noise from the living room made her lean back and look in the other room. Was he at the door already? She waited for him to call out and give the secret code he’d said he’d use. No code came.
Had he forgotten?
“Is that you?”
“Is that me where?”
“At the door.”
“No.” His answer was quick and succinct. “Get in the armoire, now.”
“Couldn’t it be Palmer or security checking on the guests?” she asked in a whisper; her heart wanting it to be the agent she didn’t know. The door opened and stuck on the latch.
“No, Téa. Get in the armoire,” he growled. Téa’s breathing increased when no warning was called out. No security personnel yelled, “Ma’am we need to evacuate the hotel.” Nothing, but the sound of the television and the movement of a hand reaching in to undo the latch.
Téa quickly got inside the armoire and hid behind his suits. She rumpled the folded clothing and made it appear as if the entire lower layer of clothing belonged to a messy inhabitant. Then she pulled the door closed and sunk back behind his suits like she was in the armoire to Narnia. She wished there was a panel that opened up to another world on the backside. Instead she quietly huddled in the corner, holding her phone against her chest as she turned down the volume and silenced the ringer. She couldn’t break the connection with Khaos, she wasn’t brave enough to do that, but she didn’t want whoever was breaking into his room to hear him on the other end of the phone either.
She listened intently as the beat of her heart pulsated in her ears, throat and chest, blocking out everything else. It was as if the life-sustaining organ was playing pinball inside her body. Buzzing and dinging through every pulse point in her arteries like a real silver ball striking spinners and bumpers as she desperately tried to control it with a few taps of the flippers. Except she sucked at pinball. Her ball always dropped to its death before she’d scored a point.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. Ten minutes ago she’d found hope for the future—her future. The possibility of a real relationship, of a family with children and—love. Yet sitting in an oversized piece of antique furniture, she felt as if she were in a coffin. It was all slipping away. Her dreams and hopes were sinking with that stupid little, silver ball.
A click in the other room announced someone was there, and it wasn’t Khaos. Khaos would give the all clear; he wouldn’t sneak up on her. She moved the phone away from her chest and saw he was still on the line with her.
“Someone’s in the other room,” she whispered.
“Help is on the way. Don’t say anything else. I won’t leave you.”
Tears filled her eyes with his words. He’d promised to keep her safe and she’d known it was a promise he couldn’t keep. She didn’t have to remind him of that conversation. It was in the silence between them. The challenge she’d given him when he’d believed in his ability to protect her from the world. He’d thought he was infallible, and he’d roped her in with the strength of his conviction.
She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. Her life had been riddled with violence since she was seventeen. Her dad hadn’t been able to stop it. Her mom had died at the hands of it in front of her, and now Khaos would have the haunting sounds of her death repeating in his mind. Over and Over, like that knife slicing her mother’s …
She couldn’t do that to him.
She couldn’t allow him to live with the guilt that would be compounded by the sounds. They were awful sounds. Specters that would come back and live with him for the rest of his life.
Her fingers shook as she pressed the end button on the phone. She didn’t risk speaking to him. Téa closed her eyes as a tear slipped out and left a warm trail down her cold cheek. Breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth, acceptance calmed the erratic drumming of her heart. Yet she couldn’t leave this world without saying goodbye. She quickly sent him a text:
Thank you for giving me hope.
Today was the best day of my life.
Goodbye, Khaos.
In the short time she’d known him, Khaos had brought her strength, courage and happiness. He wasn’t responsible for the turmoil ensnarled in her life. That had been there long before a valiant man tried to make it right.
The shower curtain slammed open, the rings clinking against the tile.
“Cazzo!” A man growled. “So che sei qui.”
I know you’re here, too, asshole.
Dead silence filled her ears. It seemed her heart finally got the memo to stop making so damned much racket.
The door to the armoire opened quickly, but she didn’t move. She waited for the moment that had been inevitable since her father’s death at the hands of her uncle. Shirts flew from the wooden rod and Téa balled her fists, one holding her phone, the other ready to deliver the first hit. She would not go down without delivering one helluva punch.
But then everything stopped, and she heard footsteps retreating. The front door opened and the walls vibrated. A man yelled. Was it English? Was it Khaos? Before she could throw the clothes away from her body a shot rang throughout the rooms.
No. Not Khaos. Not him.
A door slammed closed before she could escape the armoire. She stumbled out and fell across the floor. Scrambling to her feet, she ran into the other room where she found a man’s body on the floor.
“No!” Without hesitation she dropped to the floor next to the blond, baby-faced agent who wasn’t Khaos. He wasn’t Khaos.
“Where are you hurt?”
“I’m not sure.” His breathing came fast, but shallow. “I think…” He wheezed. She searched his body and found the bullet wound under his arm. He moaned and looked up at her.
“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m calling Agent Artino.” She hit redial on her phone and ran for the bathroom where she grabbed two towels from the rack before returning to the bleeding man as the call rang through.
“Téa!”
“Your agent’s been shot,” she said as she held the phone to her shoulder and pushed the agent’s hands away from his wound. “I need to stop the bleeding.”
“Palmer? Where?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Is your name Palmer?”
He nodded, his face contorted in pain, and the realization he was dying on the floor in a hotel room with a stranger didn’t help level his breathing. “Tell Khaos,” he wheezed in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m s-sorry. He g-got my gun.”
“Don’t worry about that. Let’s get the bleeding stopped.” She said as she applied pressure and he groaned.
“He’s been shot under his arm.” She relayed into the phone.
The door slammed open and Téa nearly dropped the phone on Palmer’s face. In the doorway stood Agent Megan McClary looking every bit as capable as Khaos had when he’d fought her attacker in the alley. Except Megan held a gun ready to kill any threat within her range.
“Where is he?” She yelled.
“Gone. I don’t know where. He went out the door a few minutes ago,” she said as she talked to Khaos. “Megan’s here. I need to go.” The phone dropped to the carpet and Téa didn’t bother trying to retrieve it. “He’s wheezing.”
Megan didn’t hesitate. She spoke into her earpiece, demanding another agent get there immediately and a car be readied. She holstered her gun and removed some type of packet from her chest as she knelt down next to the fallen agent. She immediately pulled out some rubber gloves and handed a set to Téa. “Put these on and hold the palm of your hand flat against the wound.”
Megan donned a
pair as well and began cutting Palmer’s jacket and shirt off with a scissor she produced out of nowhere.
“M-Me-Me—,” the agent tried to talk, but was unable to say his co-worker’s name.
“If you tell anyone that I tore your clothes off with another woman in a hotel room, I will beat you to a pulp, Palmer.”
A faint smile passed his lips before Palmer lost consciousness.
“Fuck.” The one word said more than enough about the dire situation.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway and Megan reached for her gun, but Khaos’s voice breached the entrance before he did. “Don’t shoot, McClary. It’s me.”
He entered the room without stopping. His eyes traveling over Megan, Palmer, and then her, making sure everyone was intact. That moment would live in her memory forever. Regret, fear, sorrow, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a bit of relief was reflected in his somber grey gaze, before he spoke to Megan, not her. It was a telling tidbit about their relationship, but she knew she shouldn’t expect anything more. No matter how much she tried to tell herself to the contrary, their bond was based on blackmail, and nothing more.
“How is he?”
“How does he look?” The bite in Megan’s voice wasn’t directed at Khaos. It was in response to the stress of cleaning the area around Palmer’s wound. “Pull the ACS out of my pack.”
Khaos knelt down at Palmer’s head and tore open the first aid package. Megan tossed bloodied wipe after wipe onto the floor, and when she had the wound as clean as possible around Téa’s hand, she reached for the bandage Khaos held out.
“When I tell you, lift your hand.”
Téa nodded.
“One, two, three—lift.”
Téa raised her palm off the wound that was no bigger than her ring finger and Megan secured the bandage in place. It was a specialty bandage like nothing Téa had ever seen before. It was a white, flexible plastic, a little larger than the size of her palm, with what looked like a cut-off balloon nozzle sticking out from the center, which Megan placed directly over the wound.
