by Tina Donahue
Her teasing had the desired effect. As tired as she knew he had to be, he still pretended to be alert. With his hands on her upper arms, Hunt used what remained of his strength to pull Alexa to her feet. He rested his forehead against hers. “An hour or so?”
“Sorry. That was insensitive.” She pressed her face against his throat. “I know how tired you get. I’ll give you a full day. Unless you think you’ll need more—oh.”
The shower was large enough for him to sweep Alexa into his arms. For a moment, his body sagged with her weight, but he soldiered on, gathering enough stamina to keep from dropping her.
“Should you be doing this?” she asked, holding tight.
“Doing what?”
“Carrying me when you’re—”
“I’m not tired,” he interrupted. He pushed his elbow into the valve that turned off the water and bumped his shoulder against the glass door, forcing it to open. The thing swung widely, shuddering to a stop. Hunt’s feet slapped the stone and then the hardwood floor of their bedroom.
Dark paneled walls, chunky furniture and the scent of leather made this a male’s lair. He’d already turned down the bed’s comforter before joining her in the shower. Heat poured from the vents, ruffling the fawn-colored linens, the warmth creating a cozy cocoon, far removed from the snowstorm and howling wind outside.
The mattress dipped beneath their weight, causing the springs to squeak. Between her legs, Hunt went, his cock in his palm, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breaths, water dripping from his body onto hers. Alexa waited. She watched as Hunt stroked his shaft, no doubt willing it to perform.
Within seconds, his breathing had slowed. Minutes later, his shaft began to blossom, growing thick and rigid once more, the crown pointing at her cunt. “A full day?” he asked.
“Fuck me,” she begged.
His proud grin said he enjoyed her being submissive now, rather than kittenish. However, he hadn’t forgotten her previous teasing. To make her pay and wait for release, he ran the head of his cock up the length of her cleft, then over her nub.
Alexa gasped. She was so turned-on it took very little to send a torrent of sensation through her.
Hunt murmured something she didn’t catch. He rested his hand on her belly, his thumb on her clit.
God yes. She tensed, anticipating the first stroke.
Didn’t come. Why? “Go on,” she pleaded.
“Huh?”
“Rub me.”
“Sure.” He stroked her belly.
Not in the mood to play, Alexa pushed his hand aside. “That’s okay, baby. I can take care of myself.”
“Like fucking hell.” Hunt kept her from reaching her cunt and thumbed her clit.
A powerful shudder tore through Alexa, making her moan.
He stopped.
Mercy. “Dammit, Hunt, you’re killing me.”
“Sorry, darlin’.” With that, he entered her in one hard, masterful thrust.
Alexa’s back arched. Heat poured through her so quickly, perspiration broke out on her already damp shoulders and neck. A feeling of weakness coupled with overwhelming arousal swirled through her torso, arms, legs.
Hunt eased back, then thrust into her again, their bodies smacking. She moaned in delight. He thumbed her clit, for real this time, not letting up until she had to fight for air.
Not allowing her a moment’s peace.
He drove into her repeatedly, the sounds they made shameless and wild. He grunted. She hollered her approval and encouragement a couple of times, not caring if any of their neighbors heard, lost in the act. With her hands on his biceps, Alexa gripped as hard as she could, figuring she’d leave bruises. Something else for Hunt to show off to his friends at the club, making them wonder exactly what went on in this bedroom.
She loved how he took her. Without restraint, with possessiveness she allowed.
The bed frame jounced with his hurried thrusts, indicating his need for release. He stroked her clit at the same pace.
Her moan turned into a whimpering cry as she came. Hunt growled as he reached climax. The headboard smacked the wall with his final thrusts.
As they both gulped air, the wind shrieked and a horn honked on the street below. In the distance, Alexa caught the wail of an ambulance or a cop car.
Trembling, Hunt lowered himself to her, his face pressed to her throat. His hair was as sodden as hers, their bodies wet from the shower and making love.
On a contented sigh, Alexa worked her fingers through his damp locks. He still smelled of his cologne and now her. She smiled.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
Alexa held him even tighter. In spite of the months they’d spent together, he always said that after they made love, as though he wanted her to know she’d never stop being special to him. To have her in his life made it complete…worthwhile.
She whispered, “I should be thanking you.”
“For making you feel better?”
She tightened her cunt around his cock, grinning as he released a pleased sigh. “Yeah. I feel great.”
“Good.” He paused to yawn. “You looked stressed when I came into the bath. Want to tell me what really happened today, other than messed-up schedules?”
Alexa stopped running her fingers through his hair. “Nothing,” she blurted, hating herself for lying the moment the word was out of her mouth.
“Sure?”
Catherine’s plea not to tell him the truth twisted Alexa’s gut. Not that Hunt could possibly be referring to that.
She knew the thought of someone exposing the agency was always at the back of his mind, the same as hers despite it being strictly word-of-mouth. There was no website to investigate, no Craigslist advertising, no stream of men or women coming in and out of the office to raise any suspicions from nosy neighbors. Mostly, Ronnie used her private properties for the intimate part of the appointments, infrequently resorting to upscale hotels. Alexa was doing the same. “Everything’s okay at work. I just had a headache earlier. PMS,” she continued to lie. “You know.”
“Glad I made it go away.” He patted her shoulder, then let his hand drop to the bed and yawned lustily.
Alexa sucked her lower lip, torn between getting the truth out now and ruining his happiness or risking it later.
“Hunt?” she murmured.
“Yeah?”
Go on. You have to tell him. He deserves to know.
“What?” he asked at her lengthening silence.
Alexa couldn’t break it. She kept seeing Catherine’s face in her mind, the flicker of joy in the young woman’s eyes when she spoke of Tim. Although he wasn’t Alexa’s idea of a good time, to Catherine he was one of the few bright spots in a life filled with abandonment and pain. She sighed. “You tired?”
“Hell no. I could go for hours.” He yawned again.
She suppressed a giggle and the urge to confess everything. Somehow, someway, she’d figure out what to do without hurting anyone.
“You don’t want me to get up, do you?” he asked.
He sounded so mournful Alexa shook her head. “You’re fine.” She caressed his strong body, needing him close, sheltered within her arms. “Stay right where you are.”
“Thanks.” He kept his weight propped on his elbows to avoid crushing her. “After my day, this is just what I needed.”
“Clients giving you a hard time?”
“I wish.” He rubbed his nose on her shoulder. “One of our interns screwed up the files. She cried so hard about her fuck-up, David gave her twenty bucks so she could buy herself some lunch.”
“Aw, he’s such a sweet guy.”
“Sweet?” Hunt chuckled. “I think he likes her—oh I almost forgot. Want to hear something really weird?”
“Is it gross?” His humor at times, especially after he’d been with the guys, was a bit much.
“More like amazing. Don’t you want to hear?”
Again, that forlorn tone. “Of course.”
“
Tim met someone.”
Alexa’s skin went hot, then cold. Her muscles tensed.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Hunt asked. “Am I too heavy?” Without waiting for her answer, he pulled his cock from her cunt and rolled to the side, then settled her on top of him. “Better?”
Alexa’s heart pounded too hard for her to find words or another lie. She nodded.
“Good.” Hunt ran his hand down her back, resting it in the furrow between her cheeks. “Anyway, about Tim. He’s like I’ve never seen him before, except when he talked about Fantine, that woman I told you about that he loved in Paris. At lunch today, he told David and me about a new girl he met at a party this weekend. Catherine something. She’s a student at George Washington. Damn, he’s really into her.”
Oh god.
“Maybe we should all have dinner together sometime,” Hunt added. “A double date. Might be fun.”
Oh god, god, god.
Chapter Six
The foyer at Paramount Extended Care looked magical. A massive tree, sprayed with artificial snow, stood in one corner, its miniature red lights blinking merrily. Large velvet bows and scarlet ornaments hung from its branches, while gaily colored packages lay in a semicircle beneath them. From the sound system poured Nat King Cole’s The Christmas Song. A perfect accompaniment to the fire crackling in the stone fireplace and the scent of pine and baked goods hanging in the air. Everything smelled and looked so joyous, hopeful.
Catherine gripped her cell phone, letting the damn thing vibrate, unwilling to answer the call.
A nurse dressed as Santa’s helper crossed the spacious room, a tray of medication in her hands. The older woman offered a bright smile as if to say “Aunt” Opal was still holding steady, even though Catherine had seen her minutes before. There wasn’t any deterioration in Opal’s condition, but there wasn’t any improvement either. She was still partially paralyzed, unable to speak.
Tears stung Catherine’s eyes. She swiped them away, comforting herself that here Opal would have the best care. Six thousand dollars a month this place cost. Catherine would have paid twice as much, three times, whatever she could afford. It was only money. Love, a connection with another person, not feeling alone anymore was what mattered.
She chewed her lower lip and glanced at the grand double doors. In a few minutes, Tim was supposed to be here to pick her up for their date. She hadn’t wanted him to know where she lived, couldn’t risk revealing that much. He might decide to surprise her one evening by coming by. If he caught her getting into a cab and followed, he might see her arriving at one of the District’s palatial homes—or worse—one of the area’s tony hotels. Curious, he might ask the establishment’s staff what parties were going on. If there weren’t any, it wouldn’t take Tim long to figure out why she was there, what she was doing.
Better to have him meet her here so she could be with Opal for a few more minutes. At least that part of Catherine’s story to him was true.
Her phone stopped vibrating. She remembered to breathe, then gritted her teeth as it started up again. Crossing the room to the tree and away from the staff, Catherine answered the call. “I don’t want to talk about this.” She kept her voice low. “Quit calling. Please.”
On the other end, Alexa sighed, “Are you with him now?”
“Would I be talking to you if I were?”
“But you are seeing him this evening?”
“Just for fun.” A lie. Already Catherine was in too deep even though she barely knew Tim. “I’m freaking allowed.”
“Calm down, sweetie. I didn’t say you weren’t.”
Catherine bit back a sigh and touched one of the ornaments frosted with white glitter. When she was five, Opal had purchased a small holiday tree, an extravagance given what little she made as a cook at a local diner. Together, they’d decorated the fragrant branches with paper ornaments Catherine had colored and popcorn Opal had strung. On Christmas Day, Catherine opened a pile of gifts, most of them much-needed clothes Opal had got from thrift shops. However, one of the packages held a doll Catherine had coveted, brand new, another luxury that meant Opal did without bus fare for several weeks.
Catherine’s eyes filled again at what the woman had given up for her, the sweet memories they’d made together. That part of her life couldn’t be drawing to a close. She refused to accept it or to let anything ruin tonight. She’d thought of little else this past week, reckless in her joy in a way she’d never been with any guy growing up. “I won’t do anything to hurt you or the agency, I swear,” she murmured into the phone. “You haven’t said anything to Hunt, have you?”
Alexa didn’t answer.
Aw shit. “I asked you not to,” Catherine whispered. “I begged you not—”
“I haven’t said anything. Hunt mentioned you to me.”
Catherine’s stomach clenched. She turned away from the tree and moved to the fireplace, needing its warmth. Her hands and feet had turned icy. “Why? How? I thought he didn’t know anything about the agency.”
“He doesn’t. I never give him details. Tim told him about you.”
A mixture of surprise, pleasure and dread rolled through Catherine. “He told Hunt what we did at the party?”
“No. He said he met a woman he really liked.”
A rush of pleasure replaced Catherine’s anxiety, relaxing her shoulders. Her cheeks hurt she was smiling so hard. “Seriously? He actually mentioned me to his friends because he likes me so much?”
“Catherine, you need to be straight with Tim before this goes too far. You don’t want to hurt him with your lies, do you?”
Her smile collapsed.
Alexa continued, “The last woman who did that was Fantine, a woman he fell for in Paris. Since then, Tim’s been gun shy around women he thinks are trying to snow him.”
“What did she lie about?” Oh crap. “Was she an escort?”
“No, an artist—sculptress, I believe, doing illustrations for some company to pay for her real passion. I don’t know the rest of the gory details. Hunt never went into them and I didn’t ask because I wasn’t particularly interested. If I claim to be now, he’ll wonder why. He might even come out and ask, he’s like that, wanting us to be totally straight with each other. I don’t like lying to him, Catherine. When he mentioned Tim talking about you, I just listened. I feel like shit for keeping this from him.”
“Please don’t say anything,” she pleaded. “I’ll work something out, I swear.”
“Good. What?”
She wanted a detailed plan when Catherine was having trouble thinking and breathing? “I’ll handle it. I’ll look for the right time to tell him.”
“Tonight?”
A wave of dizziness made her unsteady. She gripped the edge of the mantel for support. “I’ll take care of it. I have to go.”
Pocketing her phone, Catherine stared at the bobbing flames, angry with Alexa for ruining her fantasy, furious with herself for having gotten into this mess, and so effortlessly too. Even as a kid, she’d had a steel will, resisting the boys she’d grown up with for obvious reasons. She hadn’t wanted to get pregnant at fourteen, living out her days on welfare. She wasn’t about to let any man brutalize her because he felt berated, rendered powerless by the world.
At Georgetown, she’d never allowed herself to get close to the guys in her classes. Even if any of them had appealed to her—which they never did—revealing that she’d paid for her education by being a high-priced call girl wouldn’t have gone over very well.
So she remained apart, alone…lonely.
Meeting Tim, being within his arms, had provided such contentment Catherine realized for the first time how empty her life had been. Although powerful men coveted her, the momentary pleasure they gave never reached her soul. It hungered for something substantial and lasting.
Which wouldn’t be Tim. The moment she told him about her past, he’d take off. Tolerant guys like Hunt didn’t come around every day, and even with him accepting Alexa’s past, h
e wouldn’t have put up with her continuing to sleep with clients. If the impossible happened and Tim didn’t mind that guys had paid Catherine to be with them, he surely wouldn’t be thrilled that she couldn’t quit. Even after she settled into her real career, it wouldn’t pay enough for her to afford Opal’s continuing care, and no damn way was that woman going to be put out of this place.
As much as Catherine had clung to foolish hope while speaking with Alexa, reality and defeat weighed on her now. She had no other choice than to tell Tim everything and accept the inevitable.
It’s the only way.
She pressed her fingers into the mantel’s stone, repeating the awful truth. You have to do this. There’s no other possible out—
“Hey.”
Tim. Oh god. He must have come in while she was beating herself up for being such an idiot.
He snaked his arm around her waist as though it had always belonged there. It felt heavy, protective, required.
On a whimper, Catherine forgot everything she’d decided and turned into him, filling herself with his clean scent, fresh from his shower, woodsy from his cologne.
“I’m a bit early,” he murmured. “Hope you don’t mind.”
She curled her fingers into his beige cashmere sweater, wanting to feel the man beneath. He’d dressed stylishly casual tonight in a camel’s hair jacket, overcoat and brown pants. Chastely, he kissed her temple and forehead. A passing nurse, this one male and dressed like Santa, threw them a smile.
“Your aunt all right?” Tim asked.
Catherine pressed into him, needing to be close, sheltered, desired. She nodded.
“You sure? Look, if you want, we could stay here and order in a pizza—if they allow that. I could meet Opal. Help you keep her company.”
A lump rose in Catherine’s throat at his willingness to do that, telling her more about him as a man than all the dossiers the agency could have compiled. They were still relative strangers, supposed to have a wild night out, and Tim was offering to forgo it because he knew how important Opal was to her. They’d behaved outrageously at that holiday party and yet he hadn’t bragged about it to Hunt…he’d mentioned how much he liked her. That didn’t begin to address how quickly Catherine was falling for him when she shouldn’t.
