Veils: A Killers Novel, Book 4

by Asher, Brynne

  I feel my bra go slack as he pulls away and I gasp, my lungs begging for air even though I want his mouth back.

  My bare feet hit the floor. I lost my flip flops somewhere between here and the front hall. He steps back and reaches over his head, demanding, “Jeans.”

  Untangling from my bra and dropping it to the floor, I watch as he pulls his black shirt off, leaving me with a view nothing short of a religious experience. I was wet before from just his touch and sheer proximity.

  I mean, I knew he was a big guy.

  But holy hell—I was not prepared for this.

  His pants, with all the pockets he uses to carry all the things I probably don’t want to know about, sit low on his hips. And he wasn’t kidding, black must be his favorite color because a smattering of hair is lined straight and center within a very defined V, disappearing into a black banded pair of underwear. And below that, a sizeable bulge, taunting and ogling me, promising me memories I hope last a lifetime.

  I see my share of bodies all the time and know for a fact the one standing before me is special.

  “Grace.”

  I look up and his dark eyes are heated. I realize I’m standing here with my arms folded over my bare chest as he’s angled at the waist, ripping at the laces of his boots and tossing them to the side, one by one … thud, thud.

  After he rips off his socks, he steps toward me and repeats, “Jeans.”

  He reaches for my button before I can drop my fingers to my waistband to help. The denim scrapes at my hypersensitive skin, my wet panties joining them. He untangles them from my feet before pausing, his hot eyes slowly raking up my body, not even trying to make me comfortable standing here above him, as bare as the day I was born.

  I reach out and run a light finger down his fresh, puckered skin.

  Do scars really ever heal? Science says yes. The human body agrees—physiologically speaking. My physical wounds are hidden and some have disappeared. Poof—like they never even happened. Children heal differently than adults. I know that from my work and my experience. Lucky me.

  But the heart?

  As much as I’ve willed it to be true, that’s something I’ve come to doubt.

  Not taking his eyes off mine, he runs a single finger up the inside of my leg. My eyes fall shut and I force myself to breathe when he reaches my sex, his finger sliding through me easily until he hits my clit.

  I whimper.

  Then I’m lifted. Surprised, I’m forced to hang on. He kisses me, and with one arm angled up my back, his other dips between my legs from below. Not wasting a second, he sinks two fingers inside me and my head falls back. His lips hit my collarbone and he sucks right before he growls against my skin, “So fucking wet. I’m going to bury my face between your legs until you come and then I’m gonna do it again. You might just miss your flight.”

  “Noah,” I breathe and force myself to look up at him even though he’s working double-time between fingering me and teasing my clit. At this point, there’s no way I’ll be able to wait for him to bury his face anywhere.

  “Not yet,” he rumbles.

  My back hits something soft—a pile of blankets and sheets twisted into a tornado, not unlike the man I just allowed to walk me through the dark woods and strip me down to nothing. He pulls my nipple between his lips, and with a pop lets it go, before working his way down my body.

  Licking.

  Tasting.

  Nipping.

  Holy mother of all things sexy and dangerous.

  I feel his fingers before his breath and his breath before his tongue. I moan and I swear I feel him sigh, or groan, or maybe even growl against my sex.

  “Grace,” he murmurs when he pushes my legs farther apart. “You’re definitely missing your flight.”

  “Stop ruining my memory.” I put my feet to the bed and lift to get more of him. I haven’t been with anyone since my last one-night-stand-gone-awry that turned into a relationship I regretted. I look up through the dimly-lit room to the ceiling and go on, “There’s no way I’m missing my flight.”

  This time he does growl, but he also gets back to the matter at hand. And, bless the sex gods, he’s good. Like, the best—better than the most expensive B.O.B. I’ve ever invested in and I’ve compiled a modest collection.

  His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass, holding me to his mouth when I arch. Lights explode behind my eyelids and my ears ring a chorus of orgasmic choirs. It’s too much—I try to pull away but he doesn’t allow it. Milking my orgasm and drawing it out until I’m spent, he licks his way up my exhausted and tingling body.

  I’m still trying to catch my breath when I hear a rip.

  “Sweetest pussy,” he murmurs over my lips before he takes my mouth. His tongue dips inside and I taste myself mixed with whiskey. It’s all I can do to bring my languid hands to his hair. I’m surprised how soft it is, how the ends turn around my fingers like he grew it just for this.

  For tonight.

  For me.

  But when he surges inside, it takes me by surprise and my hold on his beautiful hair tightens. His breath dances on my temple as mine hitches. He fills me, stretching me to his exact shape. When he’s planted deep and I feel skin against skin, he stills.

  When we’re as close as two humans can possibly be, he puts his lips to the side of my head where my only visible scar is hidden. “You good?”

  I squeeze my eyes tight. He’s a voracious lover, selfless yet with just enough edge to make it so hot. I’m almost sad to think this might possibly be the best I’ll ever have.

  “Grace?” He presses his cock into me, showing me he’s anxious but still with that hint of sweet.

  A lucky woman will no doubt snatch him up someday, I’m sure. “Yes, give me everything, Noah.”

  Because I’m making a memory and I’m greedy.

  Tonight, I want all Noah Jarvis has to give.

  * * *

  An hour and fifteen minutes later

  I walk out of the bathroom and bend to pick up my panties that are still tangled with my jeans. By the time I get them unraveled and step inside with one foot, a thick arm picks me up by the waist and I’m thrown through the air.

  “What the fuck?” I yell, bouncing on the soft mattress.

  “That’s what I want to know.” Noah comes down on top of me and pins me to the bed. There are no more blankets or sheets in sight. They’ve all been kicked to the floor. “Where are you going?”

  “I have a flight,” I repeat. I don’t know how many times I’ve told him this since we met.

  “Not for hours and I want to see your ass in the air when I take you from behind.”

  I freeze. “Are you serious?”

  “Lover, you don’t know me, but I can promise you I’m nothing but serious when it comes to what position I want to fuck you in.”

  I grip his shoulders. “Stop being so weird and sexy at the same time. You’re freaking me out.”

  His smile taunts me. “You asked for a memory.”

  I try to cover up the fact he takes my breath away so I pull him to my lips to save face.

  And apparently to get fucked from behind.

  * * *

  Jarvis

  Forty-two minutes later

  Sweet Jesus, NFL Playoffs, and thick-cut, hickory-smoked bacon—this girl just dropped to her knees.

  I dip my hand in her hair as her teeth come out, biting the skin at my hip and I groan, “Grace.”

  “I know, right? I can’t help that I’m awesome,” she quips, licking the skin she just nipped and working her way closer to my cock—long and hard, looking angry and impatient compared to her beautiful face. She takes me in her fist and squeezes as I make a deal with the devil, praying she has no gag reflex. Her blue eyes angle up to mine and I might actually die right here, buck naked in Crew Vega’s headquarters, if she doesn’t do something soon. “You deserve this for rocking my world tonight. But you’d better stop me because I’m not into swallowing. If you don’t, I’ll bite
you somewhere else, and I promise, you won’t like it.”

  I can deal with that. “Noted. But I’ve gotta come somewhere, Lover.”

  She licks her lips and smiles.

  Fuck, yes. I’ll clean her up afterwards.

  I shift my legs so I don’t fall over from pure fucking delight and thank God I’ve already come twice so I can enjoy this. I can’t take my eyes off her and suck in a breath as the head of my cock disappears between the sweetest lips that rendered me stupid at a wedding reception.

  She sucks me in as far as she can before pulling me out with a pop and looks up to me. “I knew you were big, but you’re big. I’ll do my best.”

  “I’m rooting for you, baby. Go for it.”

  Her beautiful fucking face lights up into a mischievous smile that I could look at for the rest of my days, right before she sticks her tongue out to flick my tip, pressing it into my slit before circling. And the picture of her kneeling below me playing with my dick will be forever set in my brain like a fossil, preserved for centuries.

  Then she goes for it.

  And she fucking kills it in the best possible way.

  * * *

  Gracie

  Fifty-seven minutes later

  I put my hand to my mouth to cover my yawn. “So tired.”

  My front is pressed into the soft mattress because the man I chose to bed me for one night is naked and half-lying on me, pinning me down. His leg is hitched, lying across my ass, and his thick arm is curled up my body. He’s turned me into a pancake but it’s oddly nice.

  My head feels like the heaviest medicine ball at the gym when I lift it to look at him. “I need to leave for the airport at five. I should go so you can get some sleep.”

  His eyes are closed and he doesn’t even bother to open them when he dips a hand in my hair and brings my face to his. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

  “I’m not sure what world clock you’re living by, but I don’t have this time of plenty you speak of. I need a shower and I really need to charge my phone.”

  “No, you don’t. You need to turn on the light and ride me so I can watch.”

  I’m so tired, I’m delirious because I laugh. “You didn’t glue all your brain cells back into your skull when you got hit over the head because you’ve lost your mind.”

  He moves off me and drags my body over his in the process. I straddle him and sit up, looking down at his Adonis form—tan, chiseled, and perfect. And he’s not light-hearted when he demands, “Give me a memory, Grace.”

  Oh.

  Lordy.

  * * *

  Thirty-nine minutes later

  “Noah. I’ve got to go.”

  His cock is pressed into the crack of my ass, his hand is splayed on my chest between my breasts, holding my back tight to his front.

  The night started out energetic with a bite of desperation. As the minutes turned into chunks of time that turned into hours, our touches have become slow and methodical and I hate myself for staying.

  When I sank down onto his cock, his hands at my hips guided me—no, they controlled me—at a pace that was so gradual, by the time we both came again, I was begging him to let me move faster. We both orgasmed at the same time and it was different. It swept through my body like I was drowning in the deepest ocean and I couldn’t be happier about it. Beautiful and all-encompassing and so … deep. His eyes never let go of mine and he touched me in places no one has ever reached before.

  Both figuratively and literally.

  The moment I laid eyes on Noah Jarvis, I knew what I wanted. I just had no idea how many ways I’d be fucked by the end of the night.

  This will be the memory that will prove to be too much. Too good. It will ruin sex for me for the rest of my life. Noah Jarvis is just that mind-blowing.

  I have a feeling tonight will destroy me … forever.

  It’s past three in the morning. I’ve got to leave for the airport in less than two hours, and I really need a shower. And if my luggage hasn’t shown up, I’m in deep shit.

  I turn in his arms and he immediately pulls me to him.

  “I’ve got to go. Thank you, Noah. For the memory. I needed it.”

  “Wait,” he mutters, his voice heavy and deep as he throws his thick arm over me the way he’s done every time I try to pull away. He yawns again. “You’ve got time.”

  I press my lips to his jaw and pull myself out of his hold even though it tears at me in a way I know I won’t soon forget. Reaching for my panties and bra, I move across the room so the badass known as Jarvis to everyone else can’t reach me.

  “I have to go. People are counting on me. I can’t miss my flight.”

  He sits up and throws his legs over the side of the bed, sitting there naked and not giving a damn. Lucky me. And because I’m making memories, I allow my eyes to rake over his bare body, his cock lying half-stiff, tempting me to toss my goals and dreams out the window and miss my flight.

  His contemplation of me is as serious as pneumonia for the elderly when he asks, “Where’s your work trip?”

  “Africa.” I grab my jeans and pull them right side out to step into them. “I’m volunteering on a medical mission. It’s my first one.”

  If anything could act as a bucket of ice water on our time together it’s his tone. “Where in Africa?”

  “Uganda.”

  “You’re going by yourself?”

  I frown. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I’m fucking serious.”

  I zip and button my jeans before moving to him. His hands land on my ass he’s made no bones about loving over the last few hours and I dip my hand into his hair for one more touch, upping my memory a notch to the point it might make me sad later for never having it again. “Thank you, Noah. I’ll never forget tonight.” I lean in and brush my lips over his scar. “I’ve gotta go.”

  His fingers flex over my jeans. “Give me your number.”

  I shake my head. “There you go again, trying to muck up our night.”

  His expression turns hard and he pulls me into his chest. “I’ll get dressed, take you where you need to go. But I will get your number or else there’s no way you’re leaving.”

  I pull out of his hold. “Go back to bed. I can walk.”

  He gets up and reaches for his black underwear. “You’re not walking.”

  I slide my cell into my back pocket and do my best to make my exit while I can—out the door and down the stairs to find my shirt and shoes where we dropped them last night. “It’s really okay. I’m just going across the street.”

  His voice booms from the upstairs bedroom as I pull my airport-purchased T-shirt over my head. “Wait—what?”

  When I turn to look up the stairs, he’s coming at me in nothing but his underwear. “You know, should you ever get tired of carrying around skin glue in one of your many pockets, you could be an underwear model.”

  It’s not a lie. His boxer briefs are straining in all the right places. No wonder he pinned me to the bed so efficiently last night. His thighs look like they could crush small humans, such as myself.

  He ignores my advice and growls, “Across the street?”

  I slip my feet into my flip flops and turn for the door. “Yes. I’m staying with my brother and his family.”

  An expression crosses his face that’s nothing short of incomprehension before his jaw goes hard. “Your brother?”

  I open the front door and turn back to him. “Thanks, again.”

  “You’re Cain’s sister?”

  I roll my eyes. “The youngest. Now I’ve really got to go.”

  He doesn’t say anything else but the last thing I see is him bringing a hand up to his face, violently rubbing it before pulling it through that hair I’ve come to love. But after I shut the door, a yell bellows from the old farmhouse I’ve been to a handful of times over the last few years and even stayed at once before Grady bought the mansion and horse farm across the street.

  “Fuck!”

&n
bsp; I try to smile as I walk off into the dark but it tugs at my insides too much and I have to bite my lip to keep my eyes from stinging.

  Memories and reminders. They get more difficult as the years click on.

  Goodbye, Noah Jarvis.

  Chapter 3

  Leave Me Be

  Gracie

  “Give Cayden and Chloe a hug for me. I hate that I didn’t get to see them this trip.”

  “Say the word, Gracie, and I’ll turn around. You can spend a couple weeks with them instead of traveling to some clinic in Uganda.”

  I look over at my brother who’s always been larger than life. There have been times over the last decade when he’s disappeared for months at a time, but he’s always been there for me. He put me through college, bought me my first car that I still drive, and the biggest one of all, I’m here today—living and breathing—because of him.

  It’s still dark and I haven’t slept. Thank goodness my suitcase was waiting for me in the entryway of Grady and Maya’s house. I barely had time to shower and repack.

  The only reason I was able to sneak back onto Grady’s land and into their house is because I know how to turn off his alarm system since my sister-in-law, Maya, taught me how. They basically live in a fortress and I’m surprised she doesn’t feel like a prisoner from the level of security. My brother did some scary shit after he was discharged from the Army and got paid a mint to do it. I’m pretty sure he gets paid an even bigger mint now that he works for Crew.

  “You did the background checks. The clinic I’m joining is legit and takes extreme safety measures, even if they are understaffed—you said it yourself.”

  Grady shakes his head as he changes lanes. “I said it’s safe compared to others. I don’t like this, Gracie.”