by Calista Fox
The sweeping blades of the ceiling fan overhead sent a slight breeze skating over my skin, but it didn’t cool me down. My internal temperature flared. A fire burned through my veins.
I wanted Dane to make love to me, but I couldn’t break the eye contact, couldn’t say anything that would cause him to deviate from the excitement he evoked with his masterful touch. My hips rolled with his sensuous rhythm. Everything in my head and all the danger and drama melted away as he maintained the eye contact and gradually picked up the pace between my legs, turning the leisurely stroking into a quicker fluttering that made my breath catch.
“You’re going to make me come,” I said on a heavy breath.
“That’s the plan.”
“So easily. You barely even touch me.…”
“I’ll touch you more, then.” Two fingers eased into me, filling me.
“Oh, God.” My eyelids drooped, then closed. I let the feeling of him massaging my inner walls, pushing deep, stroking slow and sexy, consume me.
“Ari,” he whispered against my cheek before kissing it tenderly. “All I want in the world is to make you happy.”
The corners of my mouth quivered. A smile that competed with emotion. “You do.”
His thumb rubbed my clit as his fingers pumped expertly, with just the right tempo, the right pressure. Lowering his head again, he flicked his tongue over my nipple, then sucked hard as his fingers drove deep.
Everything inside me erupted and I cried out his name, coming on a powerful release that raged through me. My fingers tightened around his hair. The other hand gripped his biceps, my nails digging in.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered as the sensations flamed over my skin, ignited in my belly.
Dane let out a low growl as I clutched his fingers inside me, my hips still raised as I savored every second of the fiery orgasm.
“Ari,” he whispered against my neck. “You make me so crazed with wanting you.”
“Then fuck me. Dane, now. Please.”
I’d always needed him in a dark, frenzied sort of way. That need had grown into a relentless, insistent ache that made me desperate for him. Especially when I’d suffered weeks without him.
His fingers withdrew from me and he flipped me onto my stomach. Over my shoulder, I watched as he yanked the top button of his pants and shoved the zipper down, then pushed the material—along with his boxer-briefs—to his hips.
He thrust into me from behind, making me cry out from sheer pleasure.
His hand sought mine, our fingers twining above my head. My free hand curled around the comforter while he pumped solidly and fantastically into me.
“Oh, yes,” I said in a throaty moan. “Just like that. Fuck me hard.”
I could tell his need mirrored mine. He plunged deep with quick, full strokes.
His ridged abs pressed to my back. His chest sealed against my shoulder blades. With his head bent to mine, he whispered, “Tell me you know that everything I do is for you—for us.”
I knew instinctively he spoke of the indictments. “Of course, Dane.”
“Because I wouldn’t be away from you for a second, wouldn’t give up having you every night of my life. Forever. If it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Imperative.”
“You don’t have to justify, Dane. Just fuck me.”
I wanted him that much. Conversation, rationale, nothing mattered. Just him, inside me.
All that registered was the insane rush of adrenaline through my veins. The thundering of my heart. The racing of my pulse. My hyperawareness of Dane. A vibrant, powerful presence that surrounded me, permeated every inch of me.
He thrust deeper and hit that perfect spot until I was panting and whimpering and dying for more.
“Dane. Oh, Christ.” He had all the right moves and knew exactly how to use them to push me so high up I couldn’t stop the swelling and subsequent eruption inside me. “Yes, God, Dane!” I cried out.
Every sensation converged and burned until I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t feel anything other than my magnificent husband filling me as I clenched him tight.
“That’s perfect, baby,” he said in a lusty voice. He thrust heartily, keeping me aroused. I wasn’t sure when one orgasm stopped and the other began.
“Fuck, Ari!” He surged and convulsed and exploded within me.
So hot and searing that I came again.
chapter 17
I was sore the next morning, but oh, did it feel good! My inner thighs burned with the sensation of a really great workout. My pussy throbbed from the way Dane had filled and stretched me, the way his thick shaft had thrust in a confident, commanding way.
I clung to the tangible proof he’d made love to me the night before. Because I already knew he’d left me. The bed wasn’t as warm. That strong presence of his had vanished.
Opening my eyes, I rolled toward the side of the bed he’d slept in, noting the indentation still in the pillow. Along with a long-stemmed white rose from our garden. I lifted it to my nose and inhaled. There was no note. As though he couldn’t even take just the tiniest risk by leaving physical evidence behind that he was alive.
With a sigh, I hauled myself up and showered. Fought the tears that came with the heartache of not being with him. I focused, instead, on the cherished moments we did spend together. The man certainly didn’t waste what little time we had on these rare occasions.
Still, it was like being married to a phantom. A seriously hot, sexy one, but an apparition all the same. A husband who could very easily be a figment of my imagination were it not for the soreness of my inner thighs.
I joined Amano on the back patio for breakfast while Kyle lifted weights in the fitness room.
Amano handed over a slim box with a coy grin.
“What’s this?”
“Dane wanted you to have it.”
Okay, maybe he did feel the need to leave some proof of life behind.
I opened the lid. My heart stammered—not in a good way. Carefully removing the ID bracelet, I said, “He wanted me to have his wedding bracelet? Why?” Panic seized me. “Is he not expecting to … come back? To survive this?”
“No, no,” Amano was quick to say. “It’s not his. It’s one similar to his. Since you don’t have the diamond bangle he gave you, he wanted you to have something as a symbol of your marriage, your union.”
“Oh.” Relief washed over me. “Jesus, that was scary.”
I rubbed my thumb over the smooth platinum surface, happy for the material confirmation that, although my husband might be a phantom, I was, indeed, married.
Flipping the bracelet over to inspect the clasp, I got another surprise.
“What is this?”
“Inscription,” Amano said. “It’s on Dane’s as well. You didn’t know?”
“He never takes it off.”
I studied the markings.
DB 51027211 AB
With a frown, I said, “I don’t get it.”
“Dane Bax, the date of your wedding, Aria Bax.”
“Huh.” My brow dipped. “Why’s the date backwards?”
Amano shrugged. “Apparently, that’s a secret-society ring decoder kind of thing. I don’t know all the details.”
“Something tells me that’s a good thing.”
I stared at the inscription a few seconds more, a curious thought clawing at my brain.
Amano noted my consternation. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve seen a number sequence like this before. But I can’t remember where.” I closed my eyes, envisioned the date of our wedding, and then tried to visualize the sequence I’d seen … and wondered why it made me think of Dane. Finally I shook my head. “All this intrigue is clearly messing with my mind. I’m going to do a little yoga. Thanks for bringing me the bracelet.”
I collected our dishes and took them into the kitchen to load in the washer. Then I grabbed my mat and went out by the pool. Gretchen had already told me not to do any poses on my back or that would stretch my abdo
minals too much, now that I’d started my second trimester. So I took it easy, really just working on my breathing and light stretching while my mind churned with the mystery of those eight digits.
It took all day for one very ominous thought to click in my head. I was in the middle of slicing veggies for an appetizer platter before dinner when I dropped the knife. It clamored on the marble counter and Amano jerked to attention, having been engrossed in a magazine.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” My blood ran cold. Numbers that weren’t quite defined but rather a bit blurred flashed in my mind. They were red. Blood red. Then they vanished. Next, I heard Dane’s voice.
Digits? Do you remember what they were?
I hadn’t written anything down that night I’d viewed the Lux’s Web site to see what sort of jobs for the Events department were posted, wanting to get an idea of the positions that would report to and support me, were I to take Dane up on his offer to run the show.
Suddenly the site had turned a deep onyx and the words Under Construction had flickered on the screen, in crimson. Along with numbers in the bottom right-hand corner.
I closed my eyes again, attempting to make a distinct determination of what I’d seen before the Web page had gone blank, solid black.
I could see the five and the one. I concentrated harder, and though I couldn’t recall the exact numbers after those two, I could for sure say there’d been eight digits total.
My lids snapped open.
“Who, besides the secret society, would know about the backwards writing of dates?” I asked Amano.
He looked a bit perplexed by the line of questioning but shook his head. “I can’t say. I only learned about the society when Vale kidnapped you. And Dane didn’t tell me much.”
“It’s supposed to be generational,” I mused, not really certain in which direction my jumbled thoughts ran. “So if Vale wasn’t the sharpest tool in the toolshed, but could still prove his worth to the society—namely the five corrupt members—he might get a seat at the table. But he’d really have to pull off some spectacularly masterminded schemes. Like … gently fuck things up at the Lux, initially, to get Dane, Ethan, Qadir, and Nikolai to consider bringing the original investors back into the fold.”
As I ruminated over this, Amano joined me at the island, sliding onto a stool, obviously intrigued.
I said, “When that didn’t work, Vale had to come up with a more insidious plot. Kidnap me and hold me for ransom, basically twisting Dane’s arm until he cried uncle. But that didn’t work, either. And Vale nearly got the life kicked out of him. Which wouldn’t go over well with Daddy and the others, so his only saving grace would be to take the ultimate, drastic approach. Not just to save face and secure his seat at the secret-society table but also for personal revenge.”
Hadn’t I been thinking of that a lot lately? And understood how it affected people such as Vale?
Amano said, “I’d warned my security staff about Vale after he’d kidnapped you. They all knew what he looked like—there was no way he could get on-property without being seen by a camera, monitored by my guys.”
I didn’t doubt that. Amano was very thorough—especially after what had happened to me. Still …
“Vale wasn’t doing the dirty work, remember?” I said. “It was Wayne Horton. And he knew every square inch of that property, every nook and cranny of those buildings. He had experience with IT, the security procedures and access points, the camera locations and angles.… And let’s face it, he’s one sneaky bastard.”
Wayne’s devious smile flashed in my mind. I cringed. The last thing I really wanted to think about was that terrifying day right here on this land. All similarities had been cleared away and a new house and grounds replaced the old, and yet this was the very spot where Vale had brought me. With Wayne Horton’s help.
“It’s impossible, Ari. I fired Wayne after you told me he’d purposely distracted you when you got into the F5, so that you didn’t look over to see that it wasn’t Dane driving the vehicle.”
“Yeah, there is that.…”
“All of the access codes were changed. Every employee badge was reprogrammed with different rule sets. He wasn’t privy to any of that. He couldn’t have gained access to the lobby to plant the bomb.”
I understood what Amano was saying. But the clicking in my mind happened again. “That you know of. He’s a hacker, Amano. He hacked the Web site, taking it offline at the most critical point of hiring for the Lux. He deactivated my badge so that I couldn’t get out of the stairwell, where he’d planted a diamondback on the landing below me. He was responsible for the damaged security wires. Not beavers. Wayne.”
Amano’s eyes darkened. Took him mere seconds to jump onboard with me. “He could have figured out how to hack your cell phone. Mine as well.”
“I did try to call you when we were in trouble.”
“No calls came through.”
“So, he … what? Jammed or blocked me somehow?”
Amano smacked his hand on the counter. “Damn it, he probably hacked Kyle’s phone, too.”
“Mr. Conaway thought of that. He had Kyle pitch it into the canyon, along with mine.”
“That wily bastard,” Amano said of Wayne. “He must still be working for Vale.”
“And planted that bomb at the Lux.” My blood chilled.
Amano got to his feet. “We need proof.”
I groaned. “That’s impossible. First of all, the guy’s a wraith, like Dane. He’s all over the place, but no one sees him. There’s no evidence of him being here, there, or anywhere. And it’s like he just … knows things.”
“Chances are good he discovered you were meeting Dane at the house and it was him in the Camaro that chased you and Kyle.”
“And what? Vale was in the helicopter?”
“He certainly has the resources, now doesn’t he?”
“He, who?” Kyle asked as he came into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his neck, perspiration dotting his skin from what had apparently been a rigorous workout. His muscles bulged and he breathed heavily.
“Vale,” I said. “We’re thinking he was in the helicopter and it was Wayne Horton in the Camaro.”
Kyle scowled. “That lowlife asshole? Someone should shoot him and put us all out of our misery.”
“Kyle.” Appealing as the idea was, I didn’t condone violence.
“Just sayin’.” He crossed to the fridge and yanked on the handle. While he selected which variety of Gatorade he wanted, he added, “Look at what he did to you, Ari.”
“And to the Lux,” I said in agreement.
He pulled out a bottle of orange and downed half of it before asking, “So is someone going after these two thugs?”
“Not you,” Amano asserted.
I drummed my fingers on the counter, then ventured, “What about me?”
Both sets of eyes burned into my skull. Seemed I was back to having flashes of crazy.
Amano said, “That’s not even worth answering.”
“Why not?” I insisted. “I mean, come on. I’m harmless. If I tried to get a confession from Wayne, he’d never see it coming. My life was destroyed, remember? I can play the lost little lamb to his big, bad wolf.”
“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” This from Kyle as he stared incredulously at me. “He’s willing to kill you, Ari. Did you not learn anything on those switchbacks? If we had gone over the edge, it would have been sayonara and good riddance on his part, and he would have simply washed his hands of you.”
“It’s not an issue, Kyle,” Amano told him in a tone that held crystal-clear finality. “Dane would never stand for it.” His gaze shifted to me. “Neither would I.”
Planting my hands on my hips, I ignored the case closed voice of reason and reminded them both, “Dane is working with the FBI. Wouldn’t they help us? They’d want to bust Wayne—they’d want his confession. We need to find him and get it!”
“Simmer down there, Lara Crof
t,” said my bodyguard. “You might be right, but that doesn’t change the answer. It still is and will always remain no.”
I glared at Amano. Didn’t faze him in the least.
Kyle piped up. “I could do it.”
I gaped but recovered fast. “Put yourself in even hotter water? Did you not learn anything on those switchbacks?”
“Hey, if the FBI is involved, isn’t it just a matter of them wiring me and then me engaging Wayne in conversation that leads to my suspicions about everything that’s happened at 10,000 Lux and how I think he and Vale are behind it all?”
“Not a chance,” I said. “He’d never engage with you—you’re way too threatening. I’m the grieving widow.”
“He already knows that’s crap—he lured you to the house. Besides, he might not even know you’re married.”
“None of this means he knows Dane’s alive,” I reasoned. “He could have suspected, and he and Vale could have been attempting another kidnapping to draw Dane out, to confirm whether he really was behind all the evidence being provided for indictments.”
“He will chew you up and spit you out,” Kyle scoffed.
“And you’ll push too hard from the beginning, not getting any of the information we need.”
Amano stalked out of the room as though Kyle and I were bickering children and he couldn’t take it anymore.
Kyle grinned. “I’m threatening?”
I rolled my eyes. “We aren’t any good at this!” Throwing my arms up in the air, I said, “I’m no help to my husband at all!”
“Well,” Kyle mused, “it’s not like we really need the FBI wires. Cell phones have recording devices embedded.”
“So, we just give Wayne a jingle and ask him to confirm he blew up the Lux—oh, and by the way, we swear we’re not recording this conversation?”
Kyle let out a snort. “You are amusing. I meant that they have voice-recording apps—no need to be on the phone. We could do it in person. Accidentally bump into him somewhere.”
“Because I’m sure he’s spending his mornings enjoying a Grand Slam at Denny’s.”
“All right, stop.” Amano had returned. “There’s no point in continuing this, because you two are not getting involved.”
