by Leigh, Jo
“Not at all. Hiding out from killers with a man who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants couldn’t be nicer. Honest.”
He laughed, and she was glad because she’d meant to lighten things up. Melancholy was not a place she could afford to go.
He went to the table and brought back more dishes. For the next while they busied themselves with straightening up, and she even finished her wine. She also couldn’t help but notice how close he stood. How big his hands were, how tanned against the white dishcloth.
He smelled good, too. Masculine. Sexy.
With no warning at all, the weight of her loneliness crushed her chest. Every night she’d slept alone in a strange bed, every solitary meal eaten in hiding, it all rushed at her in a wave of aching despair. She’d lost everything, everything. Could she steal one night to remind herself who’d she’d been? That once upon a time, she’d loved the feel of a man inside her?
The sound of the plate she’d been washing shattering in the sink made her jerk back, and then his hand was on her shoulder, turning her around.
“Kate?”
She looked at him, trying to mask it all, to smile so he wouldn’t know that she was shattering, too. She failed miserably as her eyes welled and her lips trembled. This was all wrong. She had to be strong, invulnerable.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
She tore herself out of his grip and turned away, humiliation making her tears come faster. No one was supposed to see this part. Especially not him.
“Dammit, what’s happening? Did I say something? I’m sorry if I did. I can be a total moron, really. Just ask my ex-wife.”
She shook her head, but she still couldn’t speak. Her throat felt swollen and her whole body ached with the sobs she was holding in.
His hands came back to her shoulders. “This is nuts,” he said, pulling her toward him. “Talk to me.”
She spun around, surprising him, and she wanted to tell him that she was all right, that she just needed—God, how she needed. With tears streaming down her face, she did the only thing she could. She lifted her chin, took him by the arms and pulled him down into a kiss.
He seemed frozen at first, but a second later he kissed her back. The moment his lips parted, she was desperate for more. To taste him, to feel him, it was all that was keeping her sane.
His body forced her against the sink, and she felt his cock beneath his jeans. Her hands moved to his back where she stroked him. She wasn’t crying anymore, and her trembling had nothing to do with emptiness. He would fill her. He would take her back to another time, when she was Katherine and she was happy.
She needed to feel his skin so she tore at his T-shirt, pulling it out of his jeans so her hands could slide over his smooth, warm flesh.
His moan made her thrust with her hips and her tongue. When he pulled at her sweater she forced herself to let him go, to lift her arms, and once it was off, she reached behind to unclasp her bra. Vince pushed the straps off her shoulders, and her ugly white bra fell away.
She closed her eyes, feeling the air on her naked breasts. When he came back to her, his shirt was gone, too, and she sighed when she rubbed against his chest.
He swallowed her up with his arms, with his mouth, and that’s exactly what she wanted. To disappear inside him and forget everything else.
The hair on his chest was soft but his small nipples were as hard as her own. His kisses were skillful and urgent, and the sounds he made were low and rough, the sounds of sex, which she hadn’t heard in so long.
He ripped his mouth from hers only to find her neck, where he licked and sucked and bit her, and it was perfect because she wanted to be devoured, swallowed whole.
Her hands moved down his back, and then slid over his sides until she found the waistband of his jeans. It wasn’t easy to undo the buttons, to find the zipper and pull it down, not while he was touching her everywhere, squeezing her breasts and brushing her nipples with his broad palms. But somehow, she reached inside and found the fly of his boxers. Behind that, his cock. She circled him with her hand, feeling the heat and the weight of him, the slick moisture at the top and the straining of the shaft.
“God almighty, I can’t—” He moaned as she pumped him, growing in her hand. With her eyes closed and his hard cock in her grasp it was easy to pretend that this was more than just scratching an itch. In the dark, he was not just a beautiful man who wanted her for his own reasons, but a man who wanted her. If she kept her eyes shut, she wouldn’t be Kate.
He pulled his head back and gasped as her fingers squeezed him. His hand circled her wrist, holding her still. “Stop.”
“No.”
“You have to stop.”
His pleading got through to her. If she didn’t let him go, it would all be over, and she wasn’t ready. Not nearly. So she pulled her hand away.
“Kate,” he said.
She didn’t want to see. Not yet.
“Kate, look at me.”
She opened her eyes, knowing she was losing something necessary. Something that would hurt when she thought of it again. He had crouched a bit so that his eyes were level with her own. It wasn’t so bad. He wanted her. The blue had almost disappeared behind the dark pupils. There was no mistaking his hunger.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
He smiled. “To the bedroom.”
She was afraid that the short walk would dispel the fantasy, but how could she tell him that?
“I want to see you,” he said. “I want you naked.”
She nodded, but she didn’t move.
“God, you’re so beautiful. I can’t—” He shook his head, stood tall and pulled her into a scorching kiss. As he stroked and teased her with his tongue, he squeezed her bottom, then he lifted her off her feet.
She cried out, latching on to his neck with her arms and his hips with her legs. Holding her, still kissing her, he headed toward the hallway.
She didn’t even mind when he bumped her back against the wall, or that he had to pull away so he could maneuver. She just buried her face in his neck, breathing deeply and tasting everything she could.
He stopped, and she let her legs drop. When she looked up at him, he was smiling. Gently, he put her arms down to her sides. Then he undid the top button of her jeans.
She touched his hair as he bent to pull down her zipper and then her pants. Halfway there, he kissed her, right above the band of her panties, just below her navel.
After one more sharp tug, her pants pooled by her feet and she stepped out of them. He put his thumbs under the side band of her underwear and then they were off, too.
His sigh was loud and his breath warm just before he stood up again. She toed off her shoes and socks as he stripped himself bare.
There, that was it. The way he looked at her. He was her lover and he wanted her desperately, and she wanted him right back. Nothing but heat and want allowed, and she fell happily into this new moment.
His body was stunning. Everything from head to toe pleased her. His chest, his slim hips, the way his cock jerked when he touched her cheek.
He stepped closer. His arms circled her shoulders and he brought her flush against his body.
For a long moment, she simply reveled in the connection. How warm he was, how broad his shoulders. He kissed her gently, swept his tongue over her bottom lip, then he bent and lifted her once more. This time, he put her right back down on the bed, her head on the pillow.
He didn’t join her right away. First, he looked at her, slowly, his gaze painting every inch of her skin.
She felt wanton, glorious and she parted her legs for him, wanting him to see how badly she ached.
“Oh, God,” he whispered as he climbed on the bed. He kissed her again, taking his time, learning everything he could, and she learned him right back. The shape of his teeth, the way he breathed through his nose, and how when she moaned, he shivered.
Soon, though, he moved down, using the same skill, the sam
e patience, to discover the rest of her. Not just her breasts, although he seemed to like them especially, but the curve of her neck and the taste of her inner arm.
She was in heaven behind her closed eyes, letting the sensations have her. When he moved between her legs, she spread herself wider, wanting everything there was.
He spread her lips with his thumbs. A hot breath gave her gooseflesh, but it was his tongue, hardened to a point and deadly accurate, that took her to the edge.
She held on to the bed, then to his hair, then back to the bed, pulling the comforter as he kept up the perfect circles right on her clit, pressing slowly harder, getting faster and faster until every muscle in her body was strained to the limit. He didn’t let up, not even when she pulled his hair hard, and then she came, the spasms jerking her body, the release so powerful she couldn’t even breathe.
She hadn’t even stopped shuddering when his knees moved under her legs, when his hands moved her feet around to his back. He was over her now, his breath hot and rapid on her face. Then his cock was pushing inside her, filling her slowly until he could go no farther.
She opened her eyes, needing to see him. And when she met his gaze, she squeezed.
His mouth opened on a silent scream, a bead of sweat dropped onto her temple. He moved. Pulled back. Thrust deep. Hard. So hard the whole bed moved. So hard she bit her own lip and didn’t even feel it.
The whole time, he stared into her eyes. He never looked away, and she didn’t blink and they were alone, the two of them, in all the world, and they were connected, and they were both trembling.
When he came, he cried out, a low bellow that was everything primal. Perfect. She closed her eyes once more, holding on to the moment, squeezing him close, fighting to stay right there.
But it didn’t last forever.
He fell beside her, panting. She pulled her legs together, still feeling the ache where he’d been. Just that fast, he ceased to be her lover. It wasn’t making love. And she was emptier than before.
* * * * *
Nate stared at his computer screen, not quite believing what he was seeing. He’d already listened to the audio about fifty times, and now was studying the video feed. Although the camera position was a little high, it did capture the surface of Leland Ingram’s desk.
He’d been tailing Leland for a long time, and he’d discovered a lot about the man. He was married, but his wife was having an affair with her writing teacher. Leland had no clue. He also had no clue that his daughter, the light of his life, was a regular cocaine user. It would have killed her old man to find out, but the girl was crafty.
Leland spent most of his waking hours at Omicron. He wasn’t the top man there, not by a long shot, but he was in charge of most of the dirty work. Nate had no proof, but he knew without doubt that it was Ingram who had put out the orders to kill Nate’s team in Kosovo. Now, in addition to the bombshell about the secure facility, there was this.
On the corner of his desk was a copy of the Los Angeles Times. It was open to page three. To the picture and article about Kate Rydell, a material witness in the brutal slaying of antigang activist Tim Purchase.
Kate’s picture was circled. There was no note attached. Ingram hadn’t mentioned it once. But the picture was there, and that was bad.
He thought about calling Kate, but he didn’t want to rush things. For the moment, Nate couldn’t think of where to take her that would be safer.
She could stay with him, but it wouldn’t be easy, and he’d have to leave her too often. Same with Seth. He didn’t want her alone, not for a minute.
So maybe staying with the cop wasn’t such a bad thing. He knew, given enough time, that Ingram could find out anything, including the address of Detective Yarrow’s deceased mother. But for the immediate future, Kate was reasonably safe.
She’d told him that only three people knew about the house. He had to believe that none of them were connected to Omicron. Why would they be? The police force was local. They were small fry compared with Omicron.
The only thing that made sense was to get Kate out of L.A. He’d contact Cade tomorrow and start putting the wheels in motion to get Kate away.
But, he realized, she had to know. She had to be on her guard. There was no choice.
He looked at the clock. It was almost eleven. No need to bother her tonight. Tomorrow, he’d tell her. He hoped like hell she was getting a good night’s rest. She’d need it.
* * * * *
Kate had her eyes closed while her breathing calmed, next to him on the bed. Her hair was a wild mess all over the pillow. Vince, propped up on his arm, let his gaze move slowly from her long legs to her smooth, flat belly, to the rise and fall of her breasts. He lingered there for a moment, thinking of how she’d tasted, how it had felt to tease that nipple with his tongue until it was ripe and hard.
It had been a long time for him. He’d been so optimistic, bringing the box of condoms here, but they’d sat in the drawer, unopened for the last three months. Before that, he’d had a couple of encounters, nothing to write home about. Nothing like Kate.
Shit, he wished things were different. If she’d just tell him the truth, they could figure things out. Get things moving in the right direction.
Well, that was pretty optimistic, too. Why would she want someone like him? Burnt out, obsessive, with no idea what he was going to do with his life. And if she was working for Interpol, then she didn’t even live in this country, so…
Jesus, what the hell? He sat up, wishing he hadn’t given up smoking.
Kate stirred, and the first thing she did was pull up the sheet to cover her body. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I thought you might like something to drink.”
She nodded, then let her head fall back. “Juice would be great.”
“Juice it is,” he said. He got up and headed to the kitchen, grabbing his old blue robe from the back of the door on his way out. He stopped by the bathroom for a minute, then got the carton of OJ out of the fridge. He grabbed two glasses and headed back.
The whole time, he debated bringing up her undercover work. Maybe now wasn’t the best time. It could wait till morning. She wasn’t going anywhere.
The real question was, did he stay with her? In the bed? Did she want him to? Would they get any sleep? Damn, she looked so good lying there like that. She was so beautiful…He could still feel her legs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself inside her. Jesus. He was getting hard again. He hadn’t known he still had it in him.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, pulling herself up, and putting the pillow behind her back. He wished she hadn’t pulled up that sheet.
But it was late, and it was cold, so he put the glasses and juice down, then pulled the rest of the covers up to her waist. Her smile made his cock jump, but he paid no attention to it. He’d let her call the shots for the rest of the night. If he got the feeling she wanted to be alone, he’d make a quiet exit. If she wanted him to stay, that would be just fine.
She poured them each some juice, and when she didn’t tell him to leave he went around the bed and sat down on top of the covers.
“That was very wonderful,” she said. “Thank you.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. You’re right. It was very wonderful.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“No, I’m not. Trust me.”
She didn’t look altogether convinced, but she let it go. “What time is it?”
He checked the clock on the bedside table. “Closing in on midnight.”
“Is that all? I thought it was later.”
“Tired?”
She nodded. “I think I’m going to sleep really well tonight.”
“Good.”
She looked down, then back at him. “You’re welcome to stay. Or not. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
He shifted, wanting to see more of her face, but when he did, he
didn’t like what he saw. She wanted him to go. It was there in the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze. The downward tilt of her lips. “You’re tired, and I snore like a madman. I’ll let you get some rest,” he said, standing up, not letting her see his disappointment.
“That’s probably for the best,” she said.
“Okay, well, good night.” He walked to the door. “Is there anything else? You need something?”
“No, I’m good.”
He nodded, smiled, then walked into the hall, closing the door behind him. He went to the living room and looked at the couch. He’d slept on it many times, but it had never looked so uninviting.
He sat down, wondering what the hell had just happened. He couldn’t remember a better time. Not in bed. She’d been amazing, and goddammit, she’d been right there with him. So what had gone wrong?
Maybe he was just being a sentimental fool. She’d been horny. He’d been the only guy available. It was probably true, but it didn’t feel right.
What was it about Kate Rydell? What didn’t he see?
Chapter 8
The harder she tried to stop crying, the worse it got and even though she buried her head in the pillow, she was sure her sobs could be heard throughout the house. Thank goodness Vince was sleeping.
She never should have slept with him. The moment he’d walked out the door she’d felt horrible. Sadness filled her so intensely she thought she might go mad.
Her chest ached, her face hurt, her muscles strained and still she kept crying, weeping for all she’d lost, all she might never have again. There was so much wrong with every part of her life, and dammit, it had felt amazing to be with Vince. The way he’d kissed her, the way he’d touched her. It wasn’t like she remembered at all—it was a thousand times better.
He’d been gentle and firm and sweet and hot and all the things her body had ached for. But mostly it was the way he’d kissed. God, she’d missed it so much.
And then it had gone to hell. The reality of her situation, the hopelessness of it all.
Some part of her had wanted him to stay the night. She’d wanted to feel his body next to hers. To spoon with him and to feel his sigh on her shoulder. She’d wanted to wake up next to him and to see him smile in that hazy, early morning warmth.
