by Addison Fox
She was hurting over the death of her friend and here he was taking advantage of her vulnerability.
“Everything’s changed since last night, Finn.”
“Externally, yes. But not what’s between us. I can’t take advantage of your pain.”
He watched a world of emotion flit across her gaze before something very much like acceptance settled her face in serene lines. “We are in different places and I won’t pretend I approve of what you continue to do. But I don’t want to postpone the joy of being with you. Don’t want to miss out on something I want so very desperately.”
She reached for his hand and lifted it to her chest. “The attraction between us? It was there at the start.”
“I know.”
“And I’m done running from it. From us.”
“And in the morning?”
“That’s tomorrow. I want right now with you.”
The gentleman that did live inside of him kept arguing he needed to walk away. But the man who had feelings for her simply couldn’t do it. “I want you so badly.”
“Then share this with me, Finn. On this, please believe we’re agreed.”
He’d spent years mentally enslaved by the next big deal. Whether legal or illegal, he’d made a life built on the acquisition of things.
How humbling, then, to have something so special—and infinitely more valuable—be given freely. He pulled her close once more. “Yes.”
Their need already heightened, it didn’t take either of them long to strip the other of their clothes. Finn shifted their positions to settle himself on top of her. He ranged kisses over her face and neck before dipping his head to capture a nipple in his mouth.
Her harsh intake of breath followed by a light moan was his reward, and he cupped her breast with his other hand, his fingers plying her sensitive flesh. His body screamed for release, but he was so desperate to brand every inch of her, he ignored his body and pressed on.
Her figure was so small and firm, the body of an athlete. He continued to follow her curves, kissing a path from her nipple to the underside of her breast, then down the quivering muscles of her stomach.
He ran his tongue over those ridges, then blew lightly on her flesh. Those muscles that fascinated him to distraction rippled once more under the sensual assault and he smiled to himself before he continued his carnal march over her flesh.
The slim line of her panties—the only article of clothing he’d yet to remove—acted as a barrier to his lips and he stopped, slipping his fingers underneath the thin material. The wet heat of her flesh had his body clenching hard in response as he slid his fingers over the smooth seam before slipping a finger inside. He was rewarded with the hard lift of her hips. “Finn!”
“Yeah, baby.”
Her hands danced over his shoulders before grasping his arms to pull him closer. “I can’t wait.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.” He pressed his lips once more to her flesh before dragging her panties off, then moved to position himself over her body. He snatched the condom he’d pulled from his wallet when they removed their clothes, and ripped it free of its packaging.
Rowan accepted him once more as he resettled himself between her thighs, the heat of her flesh a torment. She reached down and gripped him—another torment—before guiding him into her body.
The rhythmic lift of her hips as he buried himself inside of her, again and again, had the tension in his body rapidly spiraling out of control. Sweat slicked them both and he fought desperately to hold on. To make the moments last.
Despite every effort to hold back his release, the demands of his body quickly overtook his intentions and he held out a few moments longer until he felt her inner muscles around him.
With one final thrust, he buried himself inside of her and took solace in the warmest welcome he’d ever known.
Chapter 14
Rowan watched the early-morning rays of dawn edge the curtains and thought about the past forty-eight hours. She’d slept briefly after she and Finn had made love a second time, but woke less than an hour later and had been staring at the walls ever since.
At least she wasn’t cold anymore. The warmth of his body, pressed to her back, had allowed her to feel physically safe, even as her mind ran through the risks they were both facing.
Risks that she’d never anticipated when she agreed to the job.
Someone was watching them. The incidents that had piled up over the past two days were far from random, but it was the personal aspect of the violence that had her puzzled.
Finn was assigned to the dig and he’d subcontracted with her to join him. He was authenticating the dig. It was standard protocol in the management of artifacts and antiquities, and his presence on the excavation team was far from unique.
So who would want to keep them away?
Which was why, no matter how she turned it over in her mind, she kept coming back to the same place.
It was personal.
As if she and Finn were the targets of a puppet master neither could quite define.
Finn shifted, tightening his arms around her before pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. His voice was husky with sleep when he finally spoke. “You taste delicious.”
She smiled and bent her head to give him better access to that warm, sensitive spot he’d honed in on. “Aren’t you a sweet-talker in the morning.”
“I’ve got the sweetest subject.” He pressed another kiss before gently tugging on her arm to get her to roll over. “A sweet subject who didn’t sleep very well.”
“You knew that?”
His gaze was open and direct, but she saw the concern, as well. “Yes. Is it Will?”
“Will. Your incident yesterday morning. The attempted mugging after the museum. All of it points to something personal and I can’t understand why.”
Those large, sturdy shoulders that made her feel so safe and secure stiffened before he lifted up onto an elbow. “You think we’re the targets?”
“Don’t you?”
“I’ve been so busy associating this with the dig itself I hadn’t thought about it.”
She ran a hand along the whiskers that lined his jaw. “But when you frame it up in that light, you start to see what I see.”
“Yes.”
“Who do you think’s responsible? I thought about Baxter but he’s too focused on himself to run something this complex.”
“And I never took him for a killer, just a conniving climber of the corporate ladder.”
“Anyone else?”
“No one comes readily to mind.” He rubbed the bandage that still covered his side. “The thing that hasn’t made a lot of sense is that this wound wasn’t that big.”
“And you’re complaining?”
“Hardly. I just mean it wasn’t lethal. A deterrent, yes, but actually harmful? Not in the least.”
She couldn’t be more grateful for that fact, even as she knew Debbie sat across town, unable to escape the same fate. “It was lethal to Will.”
“Yes.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. “Yes, it was and I’m sorry.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. He had escaped a bad fate—they both had—and she needed to focus on that miracle.
They’d get to the bottom of it. They had to.
* * *
Her grandmother greeted her at the door of the townhome. “Good morning, sweetheart. This is a pleasant surprise.”
Rowan threw herself into her grandmother’s arms without conscious thought and didn’t even try to hold back the tears.
“Rowan!” Her grandmother patted her back in large, soothing circles before stepping back and pulling her into the foyer. “Come inside, sweetie, and tell me what’s wron
g.”
Her grandmother led them into the same parlor they’d had dessert in the night before. It had long since been cleaned of the previous night’s entertainment, but she could still smell the light scents of coffee and brandy as she walked into the room.
Maybe they’d always been there, a subtle reminder of the people who lived and loved in the house, and she’d simply never noticed.
Or maybe they were there to remind her how quickly life could change.
Either way, as she stared into her grandmother’s concerned eyes, Rowan knew Finn had been right to suggest she come this morning.
“It’s about my friend Will. The one I talked about last night.”
“That tall, lanky man you’ve known since college.”
Again, the tears clogged her throat and her grandmother’s warm smile faded. “He died last night.”
Penelope led them to a small settee. “What happened?”
Rowan avoided some of the more gruesome specifics and focused on as factual an accounting of the story as she knew. It was only when she came to the end that she whispered the same words she’d told Finn the night before. “I can’t help but feel responsible.”
“You didn’t do this, Rowan.”
“I know, but if I hadn’t asked him...”
“Stop. Just stop.” Her grandmother’s tone was firm before she pulled her close in a hug. “We all make our own choices and he chose to help you. I understand why you’re upset, but you do him no good wallowing in guilt.”
“I’m not wallowing.”
“Yes, you are.” Penelope Steele pulled back but kept a firm grip on her shoulders. “I know you well enough to know the signs.”
“I asked for his help.”
“And he gave it freely. Remember that.”
“He’s a professor, Grandma. A college professor with two small kids. That doesn’t just happen.”
“Then you need to find out why it happened.”
“That’s just it. There’s no rational reason for it. He was nosing around on some message boards for us, nothing more.”
“Has Campbell checked into it?”
A quick lick of embarrassment hit her that she’d forgotten she’d pulled her brother into the project. “He’s been looking, yes.”
“What did he find?”
“I don’t know. I forgot I’d asked him. I’ve been so wrapped up in losing Will.”
“If there’s something deeper there, your brother will find it. In fact, we’ll call him when we’re done. Together.”
“Thanks.” She gripped her grandmother’s hand, willing some small part of the woman’s stoic strength and wisdom to impart itself to her. “For everything.”
Her grandmother took a heavy breath. “There’s something I need to say. Your grandfather and I have gone several rounds on this, and to say we’re on opposite sides is an understatement.”
Her grandparents were normally in tune and in sync with each other, so the fact they weren’t spiked her curiosity. “Opposite sides of what?”
“He’s afraid for you. He’s been worried about this trip from the get-go and would like nothing better than for you to stay home.”
“And you?”
“You need to go. There’s something in Egypt and you need to find it.”
“What something?”
Her grandmother ran a finger down her cheek, the move warm and so reminiscent of their long-ago bedtime ritual. Her grandmother always hugged, then ran that lone finger over a part of her face, as if memorizing the visage of the ones she loved. “The key to your happiness, darling.”
* * *
Finn glanced up from the maps he’d spread out on the small meeting table and couldn’t hold back the smile. Rowan had been quietly mumbling under her breath since they took off a half hour before, and the grumbling had grown louder.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She closed the paperback she was holding and tossed it on the chair next to her.
“Problem with your reading selection?”
“Don’t get me started.” She unbuckled her seat belt and crossed the cabin, those frown lines still marring her forehead.
Try as he might, he couldn’t resist poking her a bit more. “What was so bad about it? Awful writing? Poor characters?”
“Not exactly.”
He eyed the pale pink book across the aisle before looking at her once more. “Then what is it?”
“I’m sick to death of reading stories where the man has to swoop in to save the woman.”
“Maybe you’re reading the wrong kind of books. That cover is awfully pink.”
“I actually like that author quite a bit, so don’t be dissing her pink cover. And I read fiction across all genres and it’s the same across the board. In each and every one it’s always the hero rescuing the heroine. Swooping in to save the day.”
He puffed up his chest and pointed toward it with his thumb. “Us heroes need to rescue someone roughly once a month in order to keep our hero status.”
Her smile was small, but it was there all the same. “You’re a funny guy. All I’m saying is why can’t it be both of them? Or why can’t the heroine rescue the hero every once in a while?”
Without question, her annoyance wasn’t about scenes in a book, no matter how prevalent. “Why does this bother you?”
“Do you really want my rant on this?”
“Bring it on, postfeminist angst and all.”
“It’s not postfeminist angst. It’s real-world experience.”
Finn knew without her saying anything what came next. “And what did that experience tell you?”
“Being rescued isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Especially when the person who rescues you doesn’t make it.”
He reached for her hand, wrapping it in his own. “You need to get past this, Rowan. I didn’t die that day.”
“I can’t get past it. And I’ve spent my life trying to make up for it.”
“But I’m fine.” He stopped, anxious to find the words that would finally calm her mind. He hadn’t died. Hadn’t even come close, yet she carried this irrational guilt that she could have done something. “I understand you’ve only had a few days to get used to that, but the facts are the facts.”
“I didn’t act very heroically when I had the chance. That’s not a character trait I’m proud of.”
They’d gone a few rounds on this already and nothing he said seemed to make a dent, so he opted for a new tack. One he thought her logical mind might be better able to take in. “Do you know I’ve used that night to help me get better?”
“Better how?”
“The body heals quickly at nineteen but I was still down for several days. And I went over that night in my head. Over and over what I could have done to get us both out of there.”
“There was nothing to be done.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I didn’t prep properly for the job. That was my first and most significant mistake.”
The set of her shoulders changed, relaxing as his words sunk in. “Me, too.”
“And I didn’t cut and run when I had the chance, which was my second mistake.”
“You were helping me.”
“I was flirting with you and I shouldn’t have bothered. We needed to move, and instead I wasted precious minutes in that closet.” Unbidden, a smile sprang to his lips. “You smelled so good. And you looked so damn sexy in that black outfit you wore.”
A light blush suffused her cheeks and she ducked her head. “You weren’t so bad yourself. I kept asking myself why I wasn’t afraid of you, mask and all, but I kept getting distracted by your broad shoulders and come-hither eyes.”
He batted his eyelashes and got a small laugh. “Our opponents didn’
t feel the same, which brings me to my last point. I didn’t expect company and wasn’t prepared for it.”
“There were a lot of us in that town house that night.”
“It’s always bothered me. Why were we all there? The house was conveniently empty, maybe too conveniently, yet there were three sets of thieves casing it? On a bracelet no one was supposed to know about.”
“I never thought about that aspect.”
“Because you’ve been too busy feeling guilty. Negative emotions distract our focus and make us lose sight of the bigger picture.”
She hesitated for the briefest moment before she spoke. “Is that why you don’t feel remorse for what you do?”
“One of the reasons.”
“What are the others?”
The night before filled his thoughts. The open and easy way they made love and the physical intimacy between them that left no room to hide. He needed to do the same with his words.
“I’ve always thought it was hypocritical to do something and then feel guilty about it afterward. Especially when you keep going back and doing it again.”
“I see.”
From what she’d shared of her youthful escapades, it was clear Rowan had done exactly that, but he forged on. They stole for different reasons, and sugarcoating his truth wasn’t helpful to either of them.
“I stole for a lot of reasons, but the primary reason I stole was for the age-old reason people take things.”
“What’s that?”
“I needed them. My father and I had nothing, and the kids I went to school with never let me forget it. So I stole to buy the things.”
“And the other reasons?”
“Pride and prestige. The personal confidence that said I could do it. The thrill and adrenaline rush. All of it’s a part of the whole.”
“You have those things now. Your business is wildly successful and you’re a respected leader in our industry. You can buy anything you want ten times over. Why keep doing it?”
Did he dare tell her?
Even as he wanted to remain silent, Finn knew he owed her better than that. Making love had changed everything between them and not just because sex always did.
