by Tara Wyatt
He kissed her, more gently than he wanted to, trying not to be too rough with her. He was ready to burst out of his skin, adrenaline coursing through him. She bit at his lower lip, and he groaned, kissing her harder, deeper, his hands gripping her ass. She writhed against him and let out a shuddering moan.
“Tell me no, princess. Tell me to stop,” he said, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to be gentle or tender with her. Not right now. He pressed his face into her neck, kissing her warm, slightly salty skin.
“Please don’t stop. Please don’t, Zack. I want this. I want you. Now.” Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, slipping them clumsily free.
“I’m too wound up. I need it hard, maybe even rough. Tell me no.”
“Please don’t stop,” she said, her voice shaking. He raised his head and pressed his forehead to hers, struggling with what he wanted. Struggling with what he needed.
She met his eyes. “Please,” she whispered, and it was that tiny plea, so quiet it almost disappeared in the rumble of bass through the walls, that dissolved the last of his control.
He closed his mouth over hers and ground his hips against her, flattening her arms between them. His shirt hung open now, and she raked her nails down his chest. The sharp sting felt good, a kiss of pain that only heightened his senses, and he set her back down on her feet.
“Take your panties off.” He backed away from her, only a half step, but enough to give her room to move. Holding his gaze, she slid her hands up her thighs, taking the fabric of her dress with her. She hooked her thumbs into her black thong and slid it down her legs, then stepped out of it and let it drop to the floor. Zack rubbed a palm over the bulge in his pants, his cock throbbing, his pulse pounding in his ears.
“Good. Now turn around, princess. Put your hands on the door.” She did as she was told, and he closed the distance between them. Roughly, he gripped her hips and pulled her against him, causing her to step back and lean forward. He pushed the skirt of her dress up around her waist and palmed the flesh of her ass, caressing and then squeezing.
“I’m going to fuck you just like this,” he said, her cheeks filling his hands, the skin impossibly soft against his palms. He nudged her feet apart with one of his and dipped one hand lower. Slick heat greeted him, and he slid a finger inside her. “Holy shit.” He couldn’t stop the words from falling from his mouth, she was so hot and wet around him. His balls tightened, the need to get inside her obliterating everything else.
She glanced up over her shoulder at him, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright. “That’s what you do to me. That’s how much I want this.”
He added a second finger, stretching her, not because she wasn’t ready but because he didn’t want this to be over. And he knew he’d be gone soon after he got inside her. Pumping his fingers, he stroked her clit with his other hand, and she arched her back, moaning.
“Could you come like this, princess? You’re so wet and swollen. Do you want to come on my hand?” She clenched around him as he spoke, and he pumped his fingers harder, curling them as he circled her clit.
“I think…Maybe…Yes…Oh God, please…,” she panted out, working her hips against him. He added a third finger, and her legs started to shake as she clamped down on his fingers, coming hard. She let out a low, throaty moan, and he circled an arm around her waist to keep her upright as she shook and came and shook and came. He gave her a second to ride it out and then slipped his fingers free. Palms still against the door, she glanced up at him, her face gorgeously flushed.
He sucked one of his fingers into his mouth and let out a groan. Her eyes widened, and he smiled. “You taste so damn good.”
She didn’t say anything, only heaved a heavy sigh and returned her gaze toward the door, arching her back and stepping her legs farther apart in silent invitation.
Hell fucking yes.
His hands shook a little as he wrenched his belt open, tugged down his zipper, and freed his cock. He pulled a condom from his wallet, then tore the foil open and slid it on in record time. Desperate for her. Chasing the adrenaline.
“Alexa.” It was all he said as he gripped her hips and slammed into her. She was soaked, and he slid deep with one thrust. He knew he should go slowly at first, give her at least a second, but every cell in his body screamed go, and he pulled his hips back and plunged into her again, hard and deep. She was hot and tight and so damn wet around him. He thrust again and again, fucking her hard, his hands rough on her hips. With each thrust she pushed back against him, and for a second his vision faded in and out, euphoria cresting over him like a wave. Like a fucking tsunami. Her fingers curled against the wood of the door, and she moaned with each fast, hard slide of his cock inside her. Bass thumped through the walls, swallowing her sounds, and he pulled all the way free, taking a second to memorize the gorgeous sight in front of him. Alexa, sprawled against the door, back arched, ass on display. Pretty pink pussy wet and swollen. Dress around her hips.
And she’d said she was his.
The thought seared through him, and he pushed back into her, fucking her harder. The metal of his belt buckle clanked rhythmically, punctuating each thrust. Sweat trickled down his temple, stinging his swollen eye. Heat flared down his spine, and he cried out, his grip on her hips too hard, too rough, but he couldn’t stop. He came, hard.
King of the goddamn fucking world.
With his heart racing in his chest, his skin tingling, his muscles finally loose, he leaned forward and laid his hand on the door beside Alexa’s. Her hand was so small, so pale and delicate next to his, and his heart clenched when she inched that hand over and placed it on top of his. She wove their fingers together, knotting them against the door.
He bent over her and kissed her shoulder, her neck. For several moments neither of them spoke, and he stayed buried inside her, still hard. The music vibrated through the walls, female laughter erupting in the hall as a group made its way to the ladies’ room. The pipes above them made a chugging noise. The sounds of life happened around them, but the only thing that mattered was Alexa. Beautiful, sweet, lovely Alexa, who he’d just fucked fast and dirty in a supply closet.
Some of the haze started to clear, and he kissed her shoulder again. “I’m sorry.”
She turned, causing him to slip free of her body, and he missed her instantly. She raised a hand and cupped his cheek. “No. Don’t. It was perfect.”
He kissed her, slowly and sweetly this time, basking in her. The way she felt, and tasted, and sounded, and smelled. Every piece of her.
“Nobody…” He swallowed against the thickness in his throat and blinked, shaking his head. Jesus. The words pushed up through his chest, into his throat, filling his mouth until they spilled out. “I love you.” He’d never said those words to a woman before, and he knew it was because none of those women had been Alexa.
His heart beat frantically in his chest, and she laughed, her entire face lighting up. “Because I let you fuck me in a storage closet?”
He smiled. “No. Because it’s impossible not to love you. Because you’re everything I never even realized I wanted, or needed. Because I can hardly breathe when I look at you, you’re so damn beautiful. Because it doesn’t matter that I was just inside you. It’s not enough. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, ever, and I can’t imagine ever feeling like this about anyone else, and it’s because of the thousands of tiny things that are you.” He took a deep breath, his chest heaving. “It’s you.”
God, did the truth feel good.
She blinked, and a tear fell, slipping down over her still-flushed cheek. “I’ve been in love with you for a year, Zack. A whole damn year. From the first day we met, I was done.”
He brushed her tear away, his hand trembling. His thoughts scattered in a million different directions, past, present, and future coming together in a flashbang of emotion. Regret and lust and happiness and love.
“Taylor knows,” she said. “She knows, and it’s okay.” A smile broke o
ut across her face, and he could see the relief in it. Could almost taste it.
“I’m glad, but even if she hadn’t been, I couldn’t have walked away.” He brushed his lips against hers. “I can’t. And no matter what happens with your father, with this investigation, I’m not going anywhere.”
They stood together for several moments, touching and looking, basking in the afterglow of hot sex and the truth. But they couldn’t stay, just like the other night.
“We need to do this in a bed,” he said, and she giggled, stuffing her thong into her discarded clutch. He disposed of the condom in the small garbage can in the corner and then buttoned his shirt and buckled himself back up. He pressed his ear to the door, listening. But the music was too loud, and he couldn’t hear much except for the booming beat. After giving her a once-over to make sure she was decent, he took her hand and pulled the door open, and they stepped out of the supply closet.
Alexa’s father stood in the hallway, his back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Protective instincts kicking in, Zack moved in front of Alexa, sheltering her from her father. From this monster of a man who’d abused her in horrible ways.
Jonathan sneered at Zack, his gaze lingering on the gash above his eyebrow. Pushing off the wall, he strode toward them, moving with a cocky swagger. White-hot rage coursed through Zack’s veins, and the only thing that stopped him from decking the asshole was concern for Alexa’s safety. As badly as he wanted to make him suffer for what he’d done to her, he couldn’t.
“I have to say, I quite enjoyed that fight, De Luca,” Jonathan said, his voice dripping with anger. “Even if the wrong man did win.” He raised his hand toward Zack’s injured eye, and Zack jerked his head out of the way, his mind reeling.
He’d been at the fight. He knew Zack had lied to him. He knew who Zack was. Zack shifted in front of Alexa, keeping her behind him.
Jonathan dropped his hand. “Alexa, honey,” he said, his voice cold and commanding, “come here. I have a present for you.”
Zack didn’t move and stared Jonathan down, not wanting Alexa to get any closer to her father. Logically, Zack knew he should be scared, but all that mattered was Alexa and keeping her safe.
Jonathan got right in Zack’s face, and he didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “You have no idea who you’re fucking with, De Luca. Move.”
“No.” Zack was amazed how low and calm his voice sounded, because the protective anger beating through him was making it hard to breathe.
Jonathan moved his hands to his hips, holding his suit jacket open and flashing the gun stowed in his waistband. “Move. Right. Fucking. Now.”
“No.”
But before he could stop her, Alexa stepped out from behind him. She didn’t say anything, but she held her head up, meeting her father’s gaze. Zack’s eyes darted from Alexa to her father’s hands to the fire exit down the hall. Visualizing all the ways this could go wrong and all the ways he could protect her. Every muscle in his body tensed; he was ready to do whatever it took to keep Alexa safe.
Jonathan reached into his pocket and handed something to Alexa. A diamond earring. She gasped, and her fingers trembled as she closed them over it.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this is your one and only warning, you stupid little bitch.”
Zack’s temper flared, and he took a step toward Jonathan, his fists clenched at his sides. His jaw ached, tension and anger and the need to protect her twisting everything tight.
Jonathan flashed the gun at his hip at Zack again with a flick of his suit jacket, and stepped farther into Alexa’s space. “You’d better run, little girl. This is the only chance you’re gonna get.” He turned his sneering glare on Zack. “And if I see you again, I’ll kill you. I’ll blow your goddamn brains out.” He stepped back, slipped his hands into his pockets, and turned to walk away. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Zack stared at Fairfax’s back, torn between wanting to go after him and needing to stay with Alexa to protect her. To comfort her. He stared until Jonathan disappeared into the crowd, and Alexa sagged against him. His arms came up around her as wave after wave of protective anger crashed over him.
The game had just changed, big time.
Chapter 20
The sun’s yellow glow was just visible on the edge of the horizon where the mountains met the sky. Alexa traced the shadowed, rocky outline of the mountains with her eyes, watching as the band of gold around them grew slowly. She let her eyes wander up, the gold fading into a soft peach color, and then a delicate pink, and finally a seemingly endless stretch of lavender sky. The underbellies of the clouds glimmered a vibrant coral. Scrubby little bushes dotted the sides of the two-lane road.
Dawn in the desert.
Alexa shifted in the backseat of Morales’s car, watching the desert landscape as they headed north, away from Los Angeles. Away from her father, and the Golden Brotherhood. Away from the threats and the danger and what she’d done.
She hadn’t known what to do after the confrontation with her father yesterday, but Zack had insisted on leaving the after-party and had taken her right to Morales, who’d met them at her office after Zack had called her. He’d filled her in on what had happened, and she’d made several phone calls. The terms safe house, protective detail, and intelligence unit had filtered through the fog of Alexa’s mind. She realized now, in hindsight, that she’d been in shock. Despite everything she’d known about her father, a part of her still hadn’t expected him to come after them like that. Hadn’t even expected him to find out.
Sean had met them at the LAPD offices, two duffel bags in his hands, one for her and one for Zack, packed with clothes and toiletries. Alexa knew Sierra had packed her bag for her because she’d found the note inside. She’d started to cry, tracing her fingers over Sierra’s recognizable, loopy scrawl.
I love you. Be safe.
Ian had volunteered to come with them for extra security, and Morales had taken him up on the offer. He now sat silently in the front seat beside Morales.
Until everything with the Golden Brotherhood blew over, they had to disappear.
Alexa didn’t want to think of what it meant for her and Zack if things didn’t blow over. Would they have to go into some kind of witness protection program, starting over in a new city with new identities? Would they be allowed to stay together? What would she do with her life? What about Zack’s fighting career? What kind of future did they have? She didn’t want to spend her life looking over her shoulder.
After the four of them had made all the necessary arrangements, she, Zack, and Ian had piled into Morales’s car, not a police vehicle but her own, and she’d driven north into the desert, not taking the highway but small, deserted side roads. The safe house was in a city called Palmdale, about two hours away from Los Angeles. Two officers from what Morales had called “Special Ops” would meet them there and provide security.
Safe houses and security details. This was her life now.
Zack reached over and intertwined his fingers with hers, his thumb rubbing circles over the back of her hand. The swelling around his eye had gone down, but the skin had darkened to a nasty purplish black, and it looked even worse than it had yesterday.
Yesterday. Twelve hours ago his fight hadn’t even happened yet. God, had only a handful of hours passed? It felt like so much longer.
She felt as though she’d aged a year, at least, over the past few days.
Once, when she was a little girl, she’d imagined that life was measured in heartbeats. A person was given so many heartbeats at birth; some got more, some got less. But when they were gone, they were gone, and your time was up. If her childish theory was true, she’d spent a lot of her heartbeats over the past few days. She’d spent them being scared, worried, anxious, and upset. Wasted heartbeats. But she’d also spent them on Zack. At least those heartbeats had been worth it. She knew she should feel guilty about dragging him down with her, but she didn’t. She couldn�
��t bring herself to feel anything but happy and relieved that he was here with her.
Morales turned into the driveway of a completely normal-looking house on a quiet street. Light-beige stucco. Sage-colored garage door. Matching shutters framing the windows. Small front lawn with a cottonwood tree right in the middle. Morales pulled the car into the garage, and, bone weary, Alexa followed her into the house, Zack and Ian behind her. Morales pressed her phone to her ear, checking her messages as she did a sweep through the house, shutting curtains and checking the locks on all the doors. Zack set their bags down by the stairs.
The garage led into the kitchen, which, again, was completely normal. Light-gray tile floor. Oak cabinets. A table and four chairs by a set of sliding glass doors that led to the backyard. The kitchen opened onto a living area with a large sectional sofa, a small gas fireplace, and a flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. Built-in bookshelves flanked the fireplace. Everything clean and tidy. It could’ve been any family’s home. And for who knew how long, it’d be hers.
“I know it’s been a long night, but we need to debrief and go through house protocol. Then you can crash,” said Morales, tucking her hair behind her ears. “We’ll do protocol first.” She looked at Alexa. “I’m sorry we took your phone away, but it’s a way for the Brotherhood to trace you, and bringing it here could compromise the location of the safe house. You have your burner?” she asked, and Alexa nodded. Sean had brought both her and Zack prepaid phones so that they’d have a way of communicating, if need be. “Good. You might’ve noticed that this looks just like a normal house, and that’s because it is. The main reason this location is secure and safe is because the Golden Brotherhood has no way of finding its location. That being said, we do have safety protocols in place.
