by Dee Davis
He knew in his heart it was much more complicated than just joining. But in the moment all he could think about was the feel of her skin beneath his fingers and the heat of her lips moving against his. The promise of what was to come. He pulled her closer, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom, relishing the way her soft curves melted against him.
He deepened the kiss as one hand drifted upward to circle her breast, his thumb rasping over her nipple, the tender peak tightening with his touch. She pushed closer, clearly as lost in him as he was in her. His lips moved to her neck, tracing a wet line of kisses to the hollow of her throat and then moving to bite gently at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
She arched against him, their hips pressed together, a single pulse pounding between them as passion bound them together. Her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer, her face tightening with need. He pulled the buttons on her shirt free and cupped her breasts in his hands, her succulent skin mounding over the tops of her satin and lace bra.
His mouth watered and his body tightened in anticipation. Slowly, savoring every inch, he slid his lips along the valley between her breasts, trailing open-mouth kisses as he moved to push her bra cup down and close his mouth over one nipple.
She moaned and tilted back, offering herself. And using his arm for support, he laid her back and sucked her deeper into his mouth, his tongue teasing and taunting, his free hand moving in sensuous circles over the soft curve of her belly.
His body ached for hers and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside her. To possess every sweet inch. And yet even as he moved to caress her other breast, he felt her shudder, not with ecstasy, but with pain.
He pulled back abruptly, drawing her back into the circle of his arms, his gaze searching hers. "Am I hurting you?" he asked as he brushed at the tears clinging to her lashes. "God, what was I thinking? This is the last thing you need right now."
For a moment she seemed lost in thought. Or maybe still locked into the passion they’d shared. And then her vision cleared, and her lips tilted up in a smile. "This is exactly what I need."
"But you’re in pain." His eyes took in the purpling bruises and cuts from shrapnel that crisscrossed her face and torso.
"Yes," she whispered, her hands warm as they splayed against his chest. "I am. I hurt so deep inside it feels like I’m going to splinter apart. But you have the power to make me feel better. To help me forget. To escape, if only for a little while. Make love to me, Gideon. Show me how me how good it can be. I don’t need words right now, I need you. Only you."
With a hunger deeper than anything he’d ever felt before, he swung her into his arms, determined to prove to her once and for all how much he needed and wanted her. To help her find release. To make her world feel safe and secure.
And then he’d hunt down the bastards that started this and end it once and for all.
CHAPTER 27
EMILY’S BODY ACHED and her heart had been destroyed, but the minute Gideon closed his arms around her she felt as if she’d come home. Intellectually, she knew she’d only traded one betrayal for another—maybe two, but emotionally she knew she needed Gideon more than she needed to breathe. And so if she had to lose someone to betrayal, better her father than this man.
He kicked open the door to her bedroom, crossed the room and laid her gently on the bed. Then with a stern command for Bailey, he closed the door. She settled into the soft cotton of the duvet and watched as he moved toward her, his muscles bunching and tightening, his desire outlined against the tight pull of his jeans.
Her mouth watered and all pain was forgotten as he pulled off his shirt, his green eyes darkening with desire. Her breath caught in her throat as he kicked off his shoes, unzipped his jeans and removed the rest of his clothes. His body was magnificent. Hard in all the right places. Completely and utterly male.
He reached the bed and, with a slow smile, helped her with her clothes until they lay together skin to skin, his heat pressed into the juncture of her thighs.
He took her mouth in a slow and easy kiss, his breath caressing her face, his warmth surrounding her. Their tongues danced together, tasting and teasing. Lips caressing as the kiss slowly built from a flicker to a flame. His calloused palms found her breasts, further igniting the blaze as he stroked and circled and then rolled her nipples between finger and thumb.
She sucked in a breath, arching against him, and he moved to suckle. Pulling her nipple deep into the warm cavity of his mouth, pulling and laving until she was writhing beneath him, sensation flashing through her body fueling the already raging fire. She cried out his name and he moved to take possession of her lips again, his kiss relentless now. A promise of things to come.
Her hands moved to stroke his powerful shoulders and back, her fingers whispering across his skin as she memorized contour and texture. She inhaled deeply, her body relishing the masculine scent that was uniquely his. Need ratcheted upwards with her increasing desire and she gasped with pleasure when his strong fingers dipped into the soft wet heat that marked the center of her desire.
Moving in and out with a steady, sensual motion, he brought her quickly to the edge, her body tightening with anticipation. And then his hand was gone, and she swallowed a groan of disappointment. He pulled away from her lips as well, a crooked smile on his face as he kissed his way down her throat, past her breasts and across the soft slope of her stomach. Pushing her legs apart, he dipped his head, his warm breath caressing the curls between her thighs.
She shivered and twisted, but he held her hips firmly as he bent closer, his tongue dipping inside, tasting and teasing her. Her hips rose of their own accord, wanting more—needing more. And he delivered, his fingers back in place as his mouth closed over the nub of her desire, swirling and sucking as his fingers thrust deeper and then deeper still.
Sensation swirled higher and her body tightened as if it were a bow. For a moment she felt herself standing on the edge of the precipice and then, with one final pull against her tender skin, she fell, screaming his name as her body came apart, shards of light dancing against her eyelids as she felt him pull her back into his arms.
As she convulsed against him, he kissed her eyes and her ears. His tongue tracing a line from her lips to her collar bone. And then finding the taut peak of each breast. She shuddered with ecstasy, her breath coming in harsh rasps. But even as her body rejoiced she knew there was more. More to give. More to receive.
She kissed the top of his head, and then slid lower, pushing him onto his side, sliding her hand down until she circled the velvety strength of his erection. She felt his breath catch, and it was her turn to smile as she slid lower still, her tongue tracing the line of his pleasure. Tip to stem, one hand cupping his balls as she slowly traced her way back to the top, licking off the bead of moisture, reveling in the salty taste of him.
Twirling her tongue around the head, she opened her mouth and slowly pulled him inside, working him deeper, and then sucking the smooth, hard length of him. She felt his fingers in her hair, urging her on as she laved and suckled him, feeling him grow harder as his need ratcheted higher.
Sucking deeply, she coaxed him to come. Wanting him to experience the same pleasure he’d given her. But instead, he groaned and whispered her name, pulling her up, sliding her over-sensitized body against his own as his lips took possession of hers again. The kiss hard and deep.
Emily shook with her own desire, suddenly tired of sexual games. She needed to be a part of him, to feel him inside her. "Please, Gideon," she cried, stiffening as his thumb moved again across the tiny nub. "Not again. Not until we’re together."
With a groan, he removed his hand and positioned himself above her, and then with a single thrust, slid inside. She lifted her hips, urging him deeper. And for a moment they remained motionless, eyes locked together as they each reveled in their joining. Then Gideon began to move, thrusting deep as she arched to meet him, the accompanying friction threatening to obliterate
her world.
Faster and faster they moved. In and out. Deeper and harder. Closer and closer until she could hardly tell where she ended and he began. His finger found the nub again and joy splintered through her as she tightened her inner muscles around him, the wet, hot suction pushing her closer and closer to release.
And still he moved inside her, until the world spun away on a burst of violent light. Her body spasmed as her soul took flight. "Emily." She heard him call her name. Felt his fingers twining with hers as together they soared. Even as his body continued to move deep inside her, her body shuddering with pleasure just this side of pain.
Now, in this moment, Gideon held the key to everything. Her soul, her body, her heart. And whatever new horrors tomorrow might bring, she knew that she’d fight for this—for them—no matter how high the ultimate cost might be.
*****
LIFE WITHOUT CREATURE comforts was a waste. At least that was Vincent Masterson’s take so far. Hell, he hadn’t really considered what it would be like to be on the lam. And here he was in a half-baked hideout he’d only thought to use for a worst-case scenario. Truth be told, if he’d known he’d have truly needed the place he’d have stocked it with more than good scotch.
Son of a bitch.
In his wildest dreams—even given his wildest scenarios—he would never have thought he’d end up here. Hiding from an unknown killer. Wishing to hell he’d never allowed himself to get in so deep. It had seemed so easy in theory. A sure shot.
Really the whole damn thing was Blake’s fault. If only his brother had agreed to back his plans, but his brother had had enough.
Which maybe, in hindsight, hadn’t been the worst of thoughts. Although it was way past time for that realization to matter. Vincent looked around at the squalor of the apartment and knew that he’d made a fatal mistake. Although the words were probably misused in this case. Since fatal meant dead. And he had no intention of giving in to whatever fate awaited him.
No; to survive, he’d simply have to sacrifice something. Honor or family—or his soul. Which all weighed about the same in the moment. Since anything was better than death.
There was an obvious path to follow. A way out, for what it was worth. But maybe the price was too damn high. It wasn’t an easy choice, especially for someone like him. He’d never had the kind of moral compass his brother had. Blake wasn’t by any means a good guy, but he’d always held family above the rest, supporting Vincent even at his worst. And now Vincent’s only out seemed to be to betray family. Or to risk his life. And the latter seemed utterly stupid.
God, he hated the idea of being noble. His niece was a grown woman. More than capable of taking care of herself. Irwin had been a bastard. But his choice of victims was only an inconvenience. Vincent blew out a long breath, his mind centering on Emily. He loved her. Maybe in a way that he’d never loved anybody else. But she was as fallible as anyone. And Irwin was a master when it came to seducing innocents.
Except that, in his heart, he knew that none of this was Emily’s fault. Outside of falling for someone like Gideon Sloan. But she’d been young and vulnerable. And open to someone like Sloan’s seduction. Now, she was older and wiser. Hell, she’d faced the bastard’s betrayal head on.
But all of that aside, the reality of the situation was that someone was trying to kill her. And if there was even the slightest chance that the threats on her life were because of Vincent, then he had no choice. He had to stop it.
If he could.
He’d stupidly allowed himself to fall in with Patanko. And now suddenly the only way to stop the threat was through Emily.
Oh God.
He hadn’t signed up for this.
What the hell was he going to do? At the end of the day, no matter what he felt for his niece, his only real loyalty had to be for himself. And he was too deeply involved to believe things could all be reversed just because he had a change of heart.
For a moment he considered the Beretta he had hidden in his luggage. If he were to die, it wouldn’t stop the chain of events that led to catastrophe for his family. But it would free him of any obligation.
But that meant Emily was sure to die as well. Nothing in the current scenario allowed her to live. Except if Vincent took matters into his own hands. There wasn’t much he could do to bring honor to his name, but saving his niece was something.
And given his deep-seated feelings for her, the idea wasn’t something he could reject.
But how to help?
The idea of using his power to divert attention from her was almost as viable as the thought of using her unwitting involvement to somehow change the focus of the investigation. But the hard truth was that the situation had evolved way beyond his ability to control it. And yet, he needed—no, wanted—to protect Emily from the fallout. This wasn’t her fault. Not even close.
So what to do? It should be simple. But it wasn’t. Make the guilty pay? And yet in so doing he’d be indicting himself. Still, if doing so freed Emily, so be it. Valiant thought, but then again, he wasn’t the self-sacrificing type.
So either he chose to run, leaving the cards where they fell, or he stood up once and for all and protected Emily. His heart twisted. He wanted to care. To show her she was more important than all the trivial bullshit that made up his life. But it was an impossible choice. Still, at the end of the day, who didn’t choose themselves?
Who?
*****
SUNLIGHT DANCED ACROSS the comforter and spilled out onto the floor. Emily winced as she rolled over onto her back. Every inch of her body hurt, but she smiled, remembering last night.
Gideon.
Turning onto her side, her smile faded.
"Well, you’re not exactly the warm body I was expecting."
With a doggy sigh, Bailey, who was sprawled out on the other side of the bed, opened his eyes and yawned. Emily reached over to scratch his head, and then sat up, running a hand through her hair as she looked around the empty room.
There was no sign of Gideon, but she swallowed her disappointment. Considering the circumstances, he wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. Moving slower than she would have liked, Emily got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Not exactly her best look, but it was easier than trying to struggle into jeans. A quick look in the mirror to pull her hair into a ponytail was a mistake. The left side of her face was decorated with a mottled purple from where she’d been slammed into the Gingko tree.
No doubt her ribs, hip and knee looked much the same. Of course, the very fact that she was standing here looking at the bruises meant that she’d survived said attack. Of course some of the stiffness was internal, marking the fact that she and Gideon had celebrated her still being among the living in the most elemental of ways.
She smiled at her reflection. If nothing else, she’d proved in spades that she could withstand whatever hell the world tried to throw at her. That had to count for something, right?
The sound of footsteps and the smell of bacon alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone in the room. Turning slowly, she smiled at the sight of Gideon standing in the doorway with a breakfast tray. With his morning beard and rumpled hair, he looked incredibly sexy. She swallowed, gut tightening, not sure which she wanted more—the bacon or him.
"I was hoping to get you this while you were still in bed," he said as his concerned gaze settled on her bruised face.
"Actually, I was a little disappointed when I woke up next to the wrong guy." She nodded toward Bailey, who lifted his head to stare longingly at the plate of food on the tray. "Although I think he’s up for breakfast."
"He’ll have to get his own. This is for you." He moved into the room as she settled back onto her side of the bed after shooing Bailey onto the floor.
Gideon laid the tray on her lap and then sat down beside her as she took a sip of coffee. "This smells delicious." She smiled up at him, suddenly wanting a whole lot more than just scrambled eggs and bacon, but knowing t
here were more important things to deal with. "Have you talked to Declan or Ryder?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "Nothing on your uncle. I checked in with Ceraso, too, and his men haven’t had any more luck. And it looks like Patanko has disappeared as well."
She tried but failed to contain a shiver. "If Patanko is involved in all of this, then his men could be after Uncle Vincent, right?"
"It’s possible. But it’s equally likely that, if your uncle is in league with the man, Patanko is helping him escape."
"From a different killer?"
"I don’t know. I wish I had answers. Thanks to your father’s interference and your uncle’s, it’s really difficult to tell what the hell is going on."
"Maybe I should talk to my father again." The idea didn’t appeal at all, but she was willing to face him if there was a chance he could help finish this thing once and for all.
"I don’t want you meeting with him unless I’m there. And right now I need to get to work. Apparently, Harrison thinks he may have found something. I’m meeting him, and the guys, at the office."
"Do you want me to come?" A part of her didn’t want to leave Gideon. But another, stronger part, just wanted to stay home and duck for cover.
"I thought you had a meeting with Jules here at the brownstone."
"Oh gosh, I forgot all about it." She pushed the tray aside and swung her feet off the bed, wincing with the motion.
"Careful, sweetheart, you’re still recovering."
She grimaced and laid back against the pillows. "Don’t I know it. Every muscle in my body is protesting. But hey, you should see the tree."
His smile flew straight to her heart, the warmth stretching down to other less innocent parts. "Just try to take it easy today. Okay? Don’t let Jules bully you into taking on more than you can handle."
