WASHED AWAY

by RC Boldt

  The scene fades, and I find myself on the beach, my toes sinking into the damp, gritty sand. Liam stands only a few yards away, waiting for me. As soon as I take a step in his direction, the sand beneath my feet turns to wet cement, preventing me from moving.

  “Liam!” I cry out, but my voice gets swallowed by the sound of the crashing waves. Suddenly, he raises his hand, and I realize he’s holding a gun and aiming it directly at me.

  My lungs seize, my movements frantic as I try to move my feet. “Liam!” I cry out again. “No!” Why would he do this? I thought he loved me!

  Time slows, and I watch the bullet release. Heartache and disbelief render me frozen as it comes straight at my head.

  Tears of regret cascade down my cheeks, but my final words ring true even in the face of this betrayal.

  “I love you, Liam.”

  Then it all goes black.

  Consciousness seeps in, and I open my eyes, my heart practically beating out of my chest. Lying on my side beneath the covers, I stare at the bedroom wall. I sense Liam’s absence from the deafening silence before I roll over to confirm it.

  I’m unable to suppress the disappointment that winds its way around me, cinching tight. I can’t begrudge Liam some time with his friend, though. I got the impression it’s been a while since they’ve seen one another.

  I lie sprawled on my back and stretch as the memory of last night returns when I’d confessed to him while he slept.

  Perhaps it was gutless on my part, but I couldn’t bear to risk ruining this for however long we might have together. The last thing I want is to make him uncomfortable.

  Sitting up, I draw my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Perhaps I’m being silly in worrying over his reaction, but I don’t need him to say those words back. He’s proven he cares for me through his actions. Not just any man would go on the run with a woman after nearly being killed.

  But my life is still not entirely my own, riddled with so many blanks in my memory. And if it weren’t for this shitty mess I’ve gotten us into, I would be free to feel excited about whatever the future might bring us.

  That ominous thundercloud hangs low over my head, serving as a reminder of the high stakes. That so much can change in the blink of an eye.

  Someone left me for dead on that beach, and they clearly want to finish the job.

  With a heavy sigh, I scoot off the bed and head for the en-suite bathroom. Once I’m at least presentable and in fresh clothes, I venture in search of the kitchen in hopes of finding some coffee.

  My bare feet are nearly silent along the hardwood floor as I venture down the hallway. I catch sight of a painting on the wall of a gorgeous couple on their wedding day. The man faces away while the woman’s face shines with love for the man.

  Drawing myself away from the artwork, I find the kitchen and a pot of coffee in a thermal carafe with a clean coffee cup sitting beside it.

  Once I pour myself a cup, I take a sip and welcome the rich flavor hitting my tongue.

  “When you’re ready, come on down,” Saint’s voice calls out from somewhere around the corner.

  Curiosity hits me, and with my mug in hand, I amble through the kitchen to find an open door with stairs leading down to a basement.

  Padding quietly on each hardwood step, I descend to find Saint and Liam sitting across from one another at a large steel table. An array of guns is laid out in front of them, along with cleaning supplies.

  Liam’s eyes snag mine, and he slides out the chair beside him in offering. I take a seat and carefully set my coffee mug on the table.

  “How’d you sleep?” The husky quality of his voice dances over my skin in its own unique caress.

  “I slept well.”

  Saint’s sprawled in his chair across from us, his feet crossed at the ankle and propped on the edge of the table. “Glad to hear it. You’d be the first guests I’ve had here in years.”

  He winks at me, lowering his feet from the table and rising. “Next time, though, feel free to come without this loser, okay?” His words possess a wealth of friendly affection.

  I laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Saint grabs his coffee mug and turns, heading up the stairs. “I’m gonna see if I can’t rummage up some breakfast.” A veil of amusement colors his voice when he adds, “Take as much time as you need. Remember, it’s all soundproof.”

  Once he closes the door behind him, I dart a look at Liam to find him watching me with an unreadable expression. “I didn’t mean to scare him off.”

  “You didn’t.” The edge of his mouth quirks up. “That’s his not-so-subtle way of giving us privacy.”

  I frown. “Privacy? For what?”

  He tips his head to the side and lets his eyes drift over me. “Because you came down here looking too goddamn beautiful for words. He knows I can’t resist you.” He delivers this so calmly, as if he’s casually talking about the weather.

  When he moves, it’s so fast that it catches me off guard. He tugs my chair toward him. The legs squeak as they drag across the floor until my knees are between his. Large palms dive beneath the loose hem of my sundress, and he eases my thighs apart.

  He leans closer, and hunger darkens his eyes, sending a bolt of arousal tearing through me. “I was a bastard this morning.”

  My brows pinch together in confusion. “Why?”

  Large palms smooth my hair back from my face, his thumbs sweeping along my cheeks. “Because even though you were sleeping so peacefully, I had to fight the urge to wake you up with my mouth on your pussy.”

  Arousal ignites like a raging brushfire through my entire body. “You did?”

  “Uh-huh.” He brings his lips closer to mine, his gaze flitting between my mouth and my eyes. “I wanted the first thing I tasted this morning to be you.” His whispered words curl around me sensually.

  Every molecule inside me positively melts. He skims his hands higher, and the heat of his palms sears my skin. When his fingertips graze my panties, my words emerge breathlessly. “I would’ve wanted you to.”

  His lust-filled gaze nearly singes me from the inside out. “Yeah?” Fingers slipping beneath my panties, he traces a path along my entrance, and I don’t feel an ounce of embarrassment for how wet I am already.

  “Liam—” His mouth cuts off my words, our lips fusing and tongues tangling. He groans against my mouth before abruptly pulling away.

  Carefully but hastily, he makes space on the table. Tugging me up from my chair, he lifts me and sets me on the surface, quickly capturing my mouth again for another quick kiss.

  He speaks against my mouth, his voice fraught with urgency. “I can’t wait. I’m sorry. I’ve got to have you.”

  He shoves my dress up, and I help him shuck it over my head, discarding it. As he fists a hand in the tank top, his movements are rushed, bordering on desperate as he removes it and tosses it aside.

  I’m clad in only my panties while he takes a moment to look his fill, eyes turning hazy with lust. “Fuck… You’re a living goddess.”

  This man holds immense power over me, yet it’s not the kind I fear. It isn’t the type that makes me weak or degrades me.

  He yields a power to make me believe that all my flaws, all the scars marring my body that I deem as horrifyingly ugly, make me more attractive.

  Liam has succeeded in making me believe what I thought was impossible. That even though parts of my flesh are puckered or ridged in places, I’m still beautiful.

  The main difference is, I don’t care about being beautiful by anyone else’s standards. I care that he sees beyond my scars. He sees the real me beneath it all.

  Hooking his fingers beneath each side of my panties, he eases them down my body and tucks them in his pocket.

  I raise an eyebrow. “You plan on giving those back?”

  A smirk plays at his lips. “Nope.”

  A laugh escapes me, and his eyes brighten at the sound, as though he’s just witnessed one of the majestic wonders
of the world. He smooths back my hair, his eyes sweeping over my face.

  He swallows hard, giving me the impression he’s warring internally with something I’m not privy to. “Tonight, I’ll take my time with you.” Each word emits more like a low growl, coming from somewhere deep within him. “But right now, I fucking need you.”

  I reach for him, molding my palm over his hard cock prodding against his shorts. His hips jerk as he presses into my touch.

  Fingers working at unfastening his shorts, I ease them down to reveal his thick cock jutting proudly. When my hand grips his hard shaft, he sucks in a sharp breath a second before his mouth collides with mine.

  His kiss is filled with desperation as though he needs me more than physically. As if he’s trying to show me what he feels for me—how much he cares for me.

  His other hand traces along my entrance, and when his fingertips glide through my slickness, he groans against my mouth. A thick fingertip breaches my outer lips, sinking inside languidly, and I rock my hips to urge him deeper.

  “Fuck,” he mutters against my lips.

  Angling his head, he drives the kiss deeper, his tongue intertwining with mine just as he sinks another finger inside me. My moan is muffled by his mouth while my body arches in need.

  His cock pulses in my hand as I stroke him, tracing my thumb over the moisture gathering at the tip.

  He tears his mouth from mine, eyes glittering with need as he glances between where I fist his length and where his fingers dip in and out of my pussy. A muscle in his jaw flexes. “Dammit, Alex. I’ve gotta have you.”

  His chest heaves with his labored breaths. Wrapping his hand around mine, he guides himself to my entrance, tracing the tip of his cock along my slick flesh. Never pressing inside, just teasing. “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes—no.” I’m delirious with need. “I need you inside me.”

  Nudging my legs wider, he presses his cock a fraction deeper. I whimper in protest, and a rough sound rumbles from deep in his chest.

  “Look at these.” He raises his other hand to cup one of my breasts, raking his thumb over a hardened tip before moving to the other. “Do they need me, too?”

  I arch shamelessly. “Godyes.”

  Jaw impossibly tight, he drives his cock deep inside me. My lips part on a silent gasp, my nipples tightening more.

  “Holy fuck, you’re so goddamn wet.” He grits out the words against my neck, intermittently placing wet kisses along my skin.

  With one hand at my hip to hold me steady, his other delves into my hair, tugging my head back to meet his eyes. His expression is tortured, and I’m certain it matches my own because I’m torn between wanting to savor this and wanting to chase the release I know will be euphoric.

  Easing back a fraction, he drops his gaze to where we’re joined, voice guttural. “Look at us.”

  He slows his thrusts, easing out of me languidly before guiding himself back in. His cock gleams with my slickness. “Look how fucking wet you made me.”

  When he sinks inside again, my inner muscles clamp around him desperately. He groans, his eyes darting to mine, features vulnerable and so open it has my breath catching in my throat.

  Hand tightening in my hair, he brings our foreheads together before delivering a deep, driving thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

  Our heaving breaths mingle an instant before his lips capture mine in a deep kiss and he goes wild. I’m helpless to do anything but love him with my mouth as he plunges his cock inside me over and over again.

  His deep and relentless thrusts have me clutching at his biceps while the table jolts beneath me. Movements bordering on a fierce desperation, it’s as though he’s attempting to confess something with his body that he’s unable to express in words.

  When he pauses to ease me to my back, his expression is so fiery and carnal, it nearly singes me through to the marrow of my bones.

  He raises one of my legs, resting my ankle on his shoulder before following suit with the other. Leaning over me, he braces his hands on either side of my head, and the position has him sinking impossibly deep. My body shows him its appreciation by growing even wetter.

  I witness the look on his face the instant he feels it. Holy hell, his raw expression will stay with me forever. Nostrils flaring, he closes his eyes as if to relish in the sensation.

  He speaks my name with a reverence that has my heart stuttering. “Alex.”

  In a blink, his thrusts grow wilder, and he dips his head to capture one nipple in his mouth. His scruff abrades my sensitive skin in its own caress, serving to heighten my arousal.

  Each roll of his hips has the root of his cock grinding against my clit while his mouth and tongue toy with both of my nipples.

  My clit throbs incessantly, my need for release increasing. His muscles tighten, straining beneath my hands, and his broken, choppy words reach my ears.

  “Fuck… Need this pussy to come before I fill you up.” His hips piston as his words and body wreak havoc on me. Skin taut across his cheekbones, brows lowered, he’s laying siege not only to my body but also my heart.

  He just may not realize it.

  Slowing his thrusts, he links our fingers before pressing my hands flat against the table. With every subsequent sharp thrust, I feel every ridge of his cock.

  “Ruin me with that sweet pussy.” Each guttural word sounds a touch resentful. “Fucking ruin me, woman.” His brows descend with a feral determination as his words grow strained. “Ruin me with your sweetness…”

  I tip over the edge, my inner muscles clutching at him, attempting to draw him in deeper. His resounding groan vibrates against my skin before his hips jerk with powerful spasms, and wet heat floods me.

  Emotion clogs my throat as he lies slumped over me, his labored breaths puffing against my skin. With a groan, he unlinks our fingers and lifts up, easing my legs from his shoulders.

  When I wince at the soreness, a mix of concern and remorse fills his expression. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t be.” A soft smile tugs at my mouth. “It was worth it.”

  When he makes a move to pull out, I grab at his biceps, stopping him. His brows dive together, and when his questioning eyes find mine, I feel the blush rise on my cheeks.

  “Not yet.” I swallow hard. “Please?”

  Gaze softening, he leans back in, bracing himself over me. “This what you want?” His tone is gentle, intimate.

  “Yes.” I let my eyes look their fill of him, tracing over his cheekbones, nose, and lips. “In fact, I might not let you move for a while.”

  “That so?”

  “That’s so.”

  Slowly, he lowers his mouth to dust his lips over mine in a featherlight caress. The act holds such a tender quality that the whispered sentiment escapes my lips before I realize it.

  “I want to keep you forever.”

  He stills, eyes pinching closed as though my words hold the power to lance through him like the sharpest knife.

  Before I can give it more thought, his gaze finds mine, boring into me with an intensity that robs me of breath. But it’s his response, spoken with the oddest mix of sorrow and longing, that has my heart skipping a beat.

  “I wish you would.”

  Chapter 56

  ALEXANDRA

  Saint never said a word about how long it took us to make our way upstairs for breakfast—which I’m grateful for.

  He made some delicious omelets, and after Liam and I insisted on cleaning up the kitchen, the three of us returned to the basement.

  I’d been distracted earlier, but now that I focus on the array of weapons on the large table, something triggers in the recesses of my memory.

  I study the various guns while a small variety of knives accompanies them. My fingers twitch as if I’m channeling muscle memory of some sort. Though the handguns are undeniably powerful, I’ve always preferred a razor-sharp blade since my accuracy at throwing knives has come in handy—

&n
bsp; My blood chills in my veins, and my heart slows to an eerily slow thudding within my chest. How would I even know that? How did I form a preference?

  I reach up and massage my temples, wishing I didn’t continuously feel like a human jigsaw puzzle that’s missing most of its pieces. Fragments of memories don’t do me any good. It leaves too much up for debate, open to theorizing.

  My main concern now needs to be figuring out how to stay safe and keep Liam out of the fray as much as possible.

  I watch Liam and Saint check each newly cleaned weapon and ensure their mechanisms work while an ominous premonition washes over me. Goose bumps rise on my arms and legs, and as much as I hate it, somehow, I know those weapons will come in handy.

  Silently, I vow if it’s the last thing I do, I will repay this man for what he’s done for me.

  Liam King deserves that…and more.

  “Now”—Liam picks up a Glock—“this is how you insert the ammunition.”

  Offering me a quick tutorial, he’s patient and doesn’t hold an ounce of cockiness or condescension, which I appreciate. Showing me how to move the slide and load the chamber, he adds, “It’s also important to have a secure grip.”

  His thoughtful gaze rests on me for a beat. “You had a good grip back at my house.” Tipping his head to the side a fraction, he narrows his eyes slightly. “And your stance… That was a smart distribution of your weight.”

  I tense because I hear what he isn’t voicing. How did you know to do that?

  All I can do is look him in the eyes and tell him the truth. “I wish I could tell you how I knew to do that.” I’m unable to suppress a wince. “But I can’t…because I don’t know how I knew.”

  Liam studies me while Saint remains silent in his seat at the far end of the table. He works quietly but efficiently, loading clips of ammunition into each gun.

  Finally, Liam murmurs, “It’ll come back at some point.”

  Saint’s movements hitch for a split second before resuming, but I don’t give it a thought. Liam releases the clip of ammo and draws back the slide to remove the lone bullet in the chamber. Then he hands the gun and the clip to me.