by Jami Alden
The drugs took hold again, swirly gray fog deadening the brief surge of adrenaline. She tried to keep it at bay, her brain struggling to catalog every detail.
“Finish up,” he said harshly.
She flushed the toilet and pulled her shorts and underpants up with clumsy fingers, then let him lead her back to the bed.
She offered her left hand without protest and didn’t even flinch at the metallic snick of the cuff closing over her wrist.
When she lay back against her pillow, she didn’t turn her face away from him when he pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, as though the way he sat there and just stared at her didn’t freak her out. The drug tried to pull her under, a leaden gray wave. She tried to fight, one coherent corner of her brain imagining what he could do to her vulnerable, unconscious body.
Panic at the thought made her heart flutter even as she felt like she was floating out of her body. As the last threads of consciousness slipped away, she locked on the one thing that gave her even a shred of hope.
In the bathroom, right next to the vanity, a crack in the floor showed straight through to the dirt outside. If she could get through that floor, she could get to freedom.
All she had to do was convince him to trust her.
Chapter 13
Kate spread the case file in front of her on the table, but after two paragraphs, the words blurred in front of her eyes. She stood up, went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, then went to the living room and switched on the TV, her thumb twitching as she scanned through all five hundred channels in record time and found nothing to hold her interest for more than a few seconds.
Up again, to pace to the window, staring out at the darkness of the lake, the mountains like black, craggy shadows against the night dark sky.
Back to the table, to try to read the police report on Stephanie Adler. The coincidence with the skin cream nagged at her, but there was nothing in the report to show that it was anything more. She read through all of the files again to see if she’d missed something the first several times and found nothing. Twenty minutes later, back on her feet to start another restless cycle.
It had been like this for hours, from the moment she’d returned home. Over Tommy’s protests, Kate had insisted he drop her at volunteer headquarters once they got back to town.
She hadn’t given her drowned-rat appearance much thought until she ran into the small group of reporters hardy enough to brave the elements huddled under the awning outside.
Still, somehow appearing in the press looking like a drowned cat wearing clothes that threatened to fall off her seemed a better option than having Tommy accompany her back to her place. Alone.
Because even if he apparently had no problem shutting himself off and pretending nothing had happened, Kate had a bad feeling that if he walked her to her door, she would grab him by the collar, drag him inside, and not let him go until he damn well finished what he’d started.
The bad weather had forced them to call off the search parties, and the phone lines were covered through the night. Kate had given in to CJ’s urging to go home and get some rest after her stressful afternoon.
And he didn’t know the half of it, she thought as she made another foray to the kitchen. Or maybe he did, she thought, remembering the sidelong look he’d given Tommy when he’d met them at the volunteer headquarters.
This time, instead of water, she reached for a bottle of wine, desperate to get rid of the itchy, uneasy feeling that had taken over her body. Like everything was pulled tight, her skin two sizes too small for her body. Maybe a glass of cabernet would help her mellow out.
Half a glass in, she realized her mistake.
The wine took the edge off, sure. But it also sent her defenses crumbling, and now the reason for her restlessness took center stage in her brain.
That kiss.
She walked over to the couch and sank down. This time she didn’t turn on the TV. Instead, she took another sip of wine and closed her eyes. Her lips, the tips of her breasts, her entire body tingled at the memory. Of his lips on hers, his hot, callused hands on her skin, closing over her breasts, his long, thick fingers plucking at her nipples.
And, God, the feel of him nestled against her sex. So thick, so hard, leaving no doubt of how much he wanted her. Her own body, hot and wet, leaving no doubt how much she wanted him.
Now the mere memory of it was enough to pull her nipples into hard points against the soft cotton of her tank top, make her sex swell and throb between her legs. She shifted again, trying to will the ache away.
This was not her. This was not how she operated. She’d had lovers—good lovers—but no one had ever made her hot and ready with just a kiss. No one had ever made her ache at the memory of his hands on her skin.
No one but Tommy, a wicked little voice whispered.
She took a sip of her wine, trying to dull the memory of this afternoon’s kiss as it melded with all of the kisses and touches they’d shared that summer. How she’d walked around, her body literally aching for him, a giant void of need inside of her that she was convinced only he could fill. An ache she was still too young and scared to fill until that last horrible night.
For fourteen years, she’d convinced herself that the only reason he’d felt so special was because he was the first guy to make her feel real desire.
And that seemed to be true as she went on in life and her true, sexual nature became clear. While she enjoyed sex, there was none of that bone-deep ache for the other’s touch, no ravenous craving for the taste of him on her tongue. And none of her handful of skilled lovers had ever made her forget his mouth and hands on her. All it took was the feel of Tommy’s lips and hands on her and she was willing to have sex with him right then, right there.
In the very room where her brother was murdered.
Her father was right. There was something deeply, terribly flawed in her.
She drained her wine and got up to get a second glass and face the stark reality. No matter what she told herself, Tommy was like her own personal form of meth. Just like the first time, one hit and she was hooked.
Worse, the man she was dealing with now was not the Tommy she’d once fallen in love with.
The nineteen-year-old she’d fallen for was full of laughter and easy smiles, and he looked at her like she’d hung the moon.
This new Tommy, with his hard stares, harder body, and stony silences… Kate was pretty sure he didn’t even like her. And judging from his attitude after CJ’s call interrupted them, he was pissed as hell that he’d given in to the combustible chemistry that simmered between them.
It was better this way, she reminded herself, even as she felt a pinch of disappointment, and maybe a little hurt, in her chest. She and Tommy had never been anything but trouble for each other, and they had no business stirring up trouble when the stakes were so high.
She started back for the couch. The mellow buzz of the wine didn’t do much to soothe the tightness between her legs or in her breasts, but it slowed her thoughts down enough she thought she might be suitably distracted by a movie.
A sharp rap on her front door froze her midstride. She glanced at the clock and frowned, wondering who would come over after nine without calling first.
She headed for the door, setting her glass on the breakfast bar on her way. She leaned up onto her toes to peer through the peephole.
Though the overhead light cast his features in shadow, there was no mistaking the strong cut of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheekbones, not to mention those acre-wide shoulders.
She flipped the dead bolt, the metallic thunk echoing the thud of her heart as it threatened to beat out of her chest. “Tommy,” she said as she opened the door, her voice coming out all breathy and raspy. “What are you doing here? Did something happen? Did they find something?” Her stomach plummeted to the floor. That had to be it, she thought as she stepped aside and ushered him into the entryway.
There was no other reason fo
r him to be there than to deliver horrible news, too horrible to deliver over the phone. She closed the door and tried to brace herself for the worst.
But Tommy, who stood, arms folded, feet slightly apart, didn’t look like a man who was preparing to deliver devastating news. He looked grim, sure, but these days Tommy always looked grim. As she met his gaze, she got that funny feeling she always got with him, like he could see right through her. Like he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Her face went hot at the memory of what she’d been thinking right before he knocked on her door.
“What’s going on? Did you find something?” Kate said again.
Tommy shook his head. “Nothing new.” His gaze raked her from head to toe, taking in her knit pajama bottoms, her thin tank top. It lingered on the hard points of her nipples pushing against the soft cotton and Kate felt her entire body sizzle.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
Before she could react, he closed the distance between them, pulled her to him, and covered her mouth with his.
Kate didn’t even think. Her lips parted instinctively to take him in as he thrust his tongue inside.
He kissed her like he wanted to consume her, one hand cupping her head, the other spread against her back, holding her so tight she could barely breathe.
Kate didn’t care. Just as before, one touch of his mouth and her entire universe shrank down to this, his lips on hers, the rasp of his tongue against hers, the hard wall of his chest crushing against the softness of her breasts.
One kiss, and he had her wanting him so badly she was nearly shaking with it, his effect on her so profound it scared her.
That tiny kernel of fear allowed what was left of her common sense to wave in feeble protest. “We can’t do this,” she said, even as she took his bottom lip between her teeth and swiped her tongue along its curve. “You know this is a bad idea.”
“You don’t think I’ve been telling myself that since the first goddamn moment I laid eyes on you?” There was no mistaking the anger in his voice. At him? At her? Then Kate didn’t care about the answer as he roughly shoved his hand up under her tank top and closed his hand over her breast. His mouth trailed over her jaw, down her neck, and Kate couldn’t stifle a moan as he cupped and kneaded her breast, his thumb rasping back and forth across her nipple. “I’ve spent the last fourteen fucking years making sure no one ever got in, no one ever made me lose my head and do something stupid again. I told myself whatever I felt for you was dead and buried and I’d never be dumb enough to let anyone get to me the way you got to me.”
His mouth came over hers again in a deep, claiming kiss as his fingers closed over her nipple in a pinch that danced on the line between pleasure and pain. “And then one goddamn look at you and I’m fucking lost. And all I can think about is how you used to taste.” He slid his tongue against hers. “How you used to feel.” His other hand slid down to squeeze her ass.
Kate gave a little whimpering cry as the knot of desire between her legs pulled tighter, threatening to unravel with nothing more than his hand on her breast and his mouth on hers.
“And the way you used to kiss me, like you couldn’t get enough. The way your hot little body was practically begging for me and I was too much of a good guy to do anything about it. For all the good it did me.”
The undercurrent of anger cut through the haze and made her pause. She pulled her mouth from his. “So are you saying I owe you?”
He stared at her a few seconds, his eyes glittering with a mix of heat, desire, and pent-up frustration. His breath came in harsh pants, and she could see the thrum of his pulse in his neck. As out of control as she was.
The realization sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her, a slick rush of moisture soaking the silk of her panties.
“I tried to be so good,” he whispered, almost pained as he kissed her again. “I tried to hide the fact that every second I was with you—hell, even when I wasn’t with you—all I could think about was stripping you naked, sucking your tits, licking your pussy until you came in my mouth. Sliding my cock as deep inside you as I could get and fucking you until you came so hard you passed out.”
His words were crude, deliberately so, and she should have been offended. But her body reacted to them like gasoline on a fire, raising her desire to a level she’d never experienced.
He yanked his shirt off, then hers, and she didn’t think to protest as he pulled her against him. They both gasped, nerves jumping at the first contact of skin on skin.
“I never stopped wanting that, wanting you,” he murmured against the tender skin of her neck. He gave her a firm nip under her ear that sent a shudder through her body. “I thought I could keep it under control. I never should have touched you. I shouldn’t be touching you now, but I can’t fucking help myself.”
Kate could relate, her body trembling, every nerve alight with sensation as her hands roamed every inch of his bare skin, delighting in the ways he was familiar, the ways he’d changed.
“And how the hell am I supposed to resist when I know you want me too?”
Kate didn’t bother to try to deny it. Even if she had, he would have found out her lie the instant he slid his hand down the waistband of her pajama bottoms, down the front of her panties, and cupped the swollen mound of her sex.
His eyes locked on hers and he parted her slick folds.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her lips parted on a cry as he circled her clit, his gaze still locked on hers. “Do you have any idea how many times I dreamed about touching you like this? Feeling you?” Her eyes squeezed shut as he slid one finger deep inside her.
He kissed her hard, his finger pumping, thrusting inside her, his thumb flicking her clit. Kate let out a high-pitched cry. Then, just as he was about to hurl her over the edge, he pulled his hand away with a whispered curse.
Kate’s cry of protest died in her throat when Tommy cupped his hands under her butt and lifted her from the floor. She eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her upstairs, loving the feel of his cock, hard and throbbing through the fabric of his pants as it nudged against her sex. His mouth never left hers as he made his way down the hall and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.
Earlier she’d turned on the lamp on the bedside table, and now its light cast a golden glow across the tawny skin of his chest and shoulders. He laid her down across the bed, hooked his fingers in the waistband of her pants, and pulled them and her underwear off in one fell swoop.
For several seconds he just stood there looking at her, and her face heated as a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. She’d never had a problem with her weight, but the trade-off to that was a set of breasts that barely filled his big hands. And her fair complexion required a near-compulsive use of sunscreen, which left her skin pale as milk, in sharp contrast to his tawny hue.
“Christ, Kate, you’re gorgeous,” he said, his voice low and raspy.
Any anxiety that he looked at her and would dismiss her as pale and flat chested and infinitely undesirable fled at the almost-reverent tone in his voice, the way his eyes greedily moved over every inch of her pale skin. Her nipples hardened under his stare. As his gaze roved down her belly to the patch of curls that was a shade darker than the hair on her head, she felt her sex swell and pulse in anticipation.
Never much of an exhibitionist, Kate surprised herself by stretching her arms up over her head, arching her back against the mattress in invitation. She angled one leg out to the side and pulled her knee up, offering him a view in between so he could see just how wet, just how ready she was for him.
One look and it was like a switch went off, the last thread of Tommy’s control snapping. He came down over her with an animal growl, settling himself between her legs, hips grinding against hers as he bent to take her nipple in his mouth.
He sucked, hard, and she let out a sharp cry at the heat and pressure tuggi
ng between her legs. He cupped her breasts, sucking and tonguing her nipples in turn, and her hips rocked up off the bed to rub herself against the irresistible hardness straining against the front of his pants.
It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, and within seconds Kate was fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel the hard, thick length of him inside of her.
She’d never felt anything like this, a need bordering on desperation, as though she would have a psychotic break if Tommy Ibarra didn’t get inside her in the next ten seconds.
Her shaking hands finally managed to loosen his belt and unbutton his pants, but he brushed her aside before she could start tugging at his zipper. The metallic zip seemed to echo in the dim room as he worked around the massive bulge now contained only by the soft cotton of his boxer briefs.
Kate couldn’t wait, shoving his pants and underwear down his hips and reaching out to touch him, his heat and hardness spilling into her hand.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. Tommy was a big man, as big here as everywhere else, she realized as she drank in the sight of him. Even longer and thicker than she’d imagined, the head dark and swollen, glimmering with a bead of pre-come, so hard she could see his pulse throb in the thick vein that ran down its length.
Unable to resist, she wrapped her fist around him and stroked him from base to tip. His breath hissed between his teeth and she did it again, loving the way the muscles in his arms jerked and stood out in stark relief as he braced himself above her. Again she pumped him, her own body clenching as he pulsed in her hand, anticipating the feel of his whole hard length buried inside of her.
She circled her thumb around the tip as he shuddered against her.
“Enough,” he rasped, wrapping his fingers around her wrist in a firm grip as he pulled her hand away. He sat back on his heels, his chest bellowing in and out as he fumbled in his back pocket.
