Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel

by Shannon K. Butcher

  “Do you think that’s what would happen?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. There’s no way to know for sure.”ont>

  “There are no Wednesday the thirds floating around on the calendar, so that has to be a time. Or maybe a hole on the golf course.”

  Clay shoved away from the table. “I give up. This is all a tangled mess of bullshit that makes no sense. I need to be out there looking for this doctor asshole, not stuck in here, waiting for the man who brought all this down on my head to do something he’s not willing to tell us.”

  “Like it or not, we need Payton.”

  “You do. He’s the only link to your brother.”

  “And the only link to you if you get thrown in that facility. Without Payton, I’d never see you again. I don’t know about you, but that idea bothers the hell out of me. So for now, we play nice and stay here like he asked. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

  A long sigh of surrender fell from his lips. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to grab a shower and clear my head.”

  “You should try to eat. Maybe get some sleep.”

  “Yeah,” he said, though his voice was empty of everything but frustration and weariness.

  He went down the hall toward where Payton had told them there were sleeping quarters. She ached to follow him and find a way to ease his tension, but there wasn’t much she could do. And if she followed him, she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to keep her hands to herself.

  The only time she’d truly relaxed since meeting him was when he’d held her in his arms and stroked her until she fell apart. As delicious as that idea was, she couldn’t stand a repeat performance of him storming off, furious and guilt ridden because of the bruises he’d left on her. He hadn’t been in control then. It hadn’t been him who had hurt her. That charge was squarely on the shoulders of whoever was pulling his strings.

  Hollis had never believed that she’d forgiven him for breaking her arm. He couldn’t accept that he wasn’t responsible for his actions during that time.

  He’d died thinking that she blamed him. He’d simply wandered away that night after they’d had dinner and watched TV, and put a gun to his head. She hadn’t seen it coming. She hadn’t even considered that he’d hurt himself.

  Maybe she had a blind spot for su

  ch things. Maybe Clay was down the hall right now, thinking about eliminating the possibility that he could ever be used to do bad things again.

  He’d seemed so disheartened when he’d left, like he’d given up. Leigh couldn’t let that happen. She needed to keep him focused and fighting. It was her job to make sure that he didn’t do anything stupid.

  A sudden surge of anxiety grabbed her with cold, clammy hands. She couldn’t lose Clay. She’d already lost too much. Her world was an empty, threadbare place she was barely holding together. If something happened to Clay . . .

  Nothing was going to happen. She wouldn’t let it happen.

  Leigh squared her shoulders, er holdinpreparing for the fight she knew was to come, grabbed her medical bag from the cart, and headed out into the hall in search of Clay’s room. She was keeping him alive, even if she had to drug him unconscious to make it happen.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Clay saw the shadow of footsteps flicker beneath his door before he heard the light knock.

  Leigh. She was here, and his body lit up like the Fourth of July with her sudden nearness. A giddy, boyish thrill raced through him, only to be pounded flat by reality. If she was here at his door, then something had to be wrong. Maybe she’d found something else in the jumbled mess of photos and notes.

  He crossed the small room, registering the feeling of thick, soft carpet under his bare feet without allowing himself to enjoy it. Everything about this space was luxurious but not ostentatious. The towel around his waist was ridiculously soft. The hot water had gone on for miles. Low lighting, hidden beneath wooden trim, spilled a golden glow on the pale walls. A subtle shimmer of something metallic ran through the wallpaper. A matching sheen glistened in the dark bedding, like strands of silver.

  Clay wasn’t used to fancy furnishings, but this place didn’t make him feel like the proverbial bull. There were no frills or knickknacks to destroy. The furniture was solid and sturdy. It was as if Payton had the place designed to put men at ease. Then again, if this was some kind of bomb shelter or a safe haven to wait out the zombie apocalypse, he wouldn’t really want a bunch of men trapped down here, raging at one another.

  Clay paused with his hand on the door. He’d just stepped from the shower and wore only a towel. He hadn’t bothered to cover himself, hoping that his lack of clothing would embarrass her enough to drive her away.

  Droplets of water cooled on his back, but the moment he cracked open the door and saw her standing there, all he felt was heat.

  She was so damn pretty. He couldn’t get over it. Every time he thought he’d gotten used to her curves, the heat in those dark eyes, or the shape of her kissable mouth, he was proven wrong. Her hair was messy, with wild strands of it curling at her temples. His hand tightened on the doorknob in an effort to keep from reaching to touch.

  Shadows of fatigue hung below her eyes. The constellations of freckles on her cheeks appeared darker against her pale skin. The bruises he’d left on her jaw had faded slightly but were still there as a reminder of what he’d done. He wanted to kiss them away and beg for forgiveness he knew he’d never deserve.

  Her presence hit him like a physical blow, driving the oxygen from his lungs. He stood there like a jackass, mute and still.

  Leigh’s voice wavered with uncertainty. “I came to rebandage your wrists.”

  His brain had gone to a whole slew of places, imagining why she was here at his door. He’d already imagined her raging at him for the things he’d done, for failing to find a wale y to save her brother. He’d also imagined her all sultry and sweet, coaxing him to take what she once had offered. Or fiery and demanding, ordering him to make her come again.

  He had not considered her showing up in the role of physician, completely practical and reasonable.

  As his fantasies faded in the face of reality, he stepped back, allowing her inside.

  Her scent slid around him as she entered the small space. It seemed darker than before, but even more mouthwatering. The urge to snuggle close and breathe her in struck hard and fast, leaving him shaking.

  His gaze slipped down to her breasts against his will. The buttons on her blouse gaped slightly as she pulled in a deep breath. All he could think about was the sound of those buttons flying off as he’d ripped her shirt open, followed by the little gasp of excitement she’d given him after.

  She looked him over from head to toe, pausing at the bulge he felt growing under his towel. A flush of embarrassment heated his face, but there was nothing he could do about his cock. It refused to lie silent and obedient, despite Clay’s constant reminders that it wasn’t getting anywhere near her.

  Leigh pushed the door shut. The quiet click of the lock being engaged sounded as loud as a grenade going off in the room. And it rocked him just as hard.

  He stood frozen on the thick carpet, refusing to move. He didn’t even breathe.

  She set her medical bag on the bed and stepped in front of him, only inches away. Her fingers touched his arm, sending an electric jolt through him. She lifted one wrist for inspection, then the other.

  Clay let her do as she pleased, knowing that if he did more than stand there, the only action his body would want to make would end with her on the bed beneath him.

  His cock wedged against the towel, threatening to pull it loose. Leigh inched closer until he could feel the soft give of her belly pressing against the tip of his erection.

  Sensation so intense it was like raw, living need poured through him. His skin grew too tight as every muscle in his body tensed against the urge to reach for her.

  She said nothing, simply stared into his eyes. Some kind of internal debate was
waging within her. He could see her indecision in the way she held her bottom lip in her teeth, see her desire in the expansion of her pupils as she continued to stare.

  He wanted to tell her to leave—that he wasn’t sure how much longer her could keep himself from touching her—but rampant lust fused his throat shut, trapping him in silence.

  Leigh pressed her hands flat against his chest. This was it. She was going to push him away and free him from riding the painful edge of possibility.

  Instead, she closed her eyes as if soaking in the feel of him. Her lips parted. The little dent left by her teeth teased him, daring him to lick it away.

  Clay held fast, refusing to do anything more than stay exactly where he was. No matter what she did to himshem">, so long as he didn’t move toward her, he’d stay in control. If he didn’t touch her, he couldn’t hurt her again.

  She tilted her head forward and placed a soft kiss at the base of his throat, like a sweet little gift.

  His heart kicked hard enough that he was sure she could feel it beating against her mouth. Then her tongue swept out, dipping into the hollow of his throat, and he was no longer sure of anything.

  “Leigh.” Her name, a single word of warning, was all he could squeeze out.

  She ignored him, letting her mouth trail up his neck and over his jaw. When she could reach no higher without his cooperation, she gripped his head and pulled it down to her mouth.

  Her kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a demand. An order for him to obey. And like the puppet he was, he bowed to her whim and kissed her back.

  His body ignited, his resolve going up in a fiery wash of flames. Gone was every sliver of concern and indecision. She’d burned them all away, leaving him room to simply feel.

  The towel around his hips fell to the floor. Leigh slithered down his body in a trail of warm skin and hot, wet kisses. She took his cock into her hands and peered up at him from beneath reddish lashes. As her fingers slid over him, her eyes dared him to try to walk away now.

  Not in this lifetime.

  Leigh had won. She’d conquered him completely, and surrendering to her was going to be the sweetest failure of his life.

  Her lips grazed over him, teasing him to the point of madness. He tried to stand there and take it like a man, but he wasn’t that strong. He had to touch her.

  His fingers slid into her hair, close to the scalp. He could feel the heat of her excitement radiating out from her skin. And then she opened her mouth over him, and all he felt was wet, hot pleasure.

  Clay reveled in it, throwing his head back in abandon. There were no dark thoughts for him here, in this place of shivering warmth. She cast some kind of spell over him, driving away everything but the slick glide of her mouth and the fiery sweep of her tongue.

  His fingers curled against her scalp, tangling in her hair. He didn’t try to control her movements—she knew exactly what to do to send him screaming to the edge.

  He hadn’t come in weeks. Maybe months. He couldn’t remember. What he did know was that he was barely holding back now, skating so close to the line that he was no longer sure where it was.

  Clay tightened his hold in her hair, easing her head back. She looked up at him in question, her lips swollen, dark, and wet. A flush of arousal covered her cheeks and spread down her neck to disappear beneath her blouse.

  “I want to see you,” he choked out, his voice strangled by lust.

  She smiled, but it was more than a curving of her lips. It was a sultry invitation—an offer of feminine delights.

  Leigh rose to her feet and stepped back out of his reach. Her fingers went to the top button and popped it free. Then it went to the next and the next.

  He stood there and watched, his cock thrusting out, red and shiny from her mouth. With each open button, his erection jerked toward her with embarrassing eagerness.

  When the last button was undone and her blouse was hanging open, with only shadowy hints of what lay beneath visible to him, she paused.

  “You’re not running from me this time.” It wasn’t a question. Like everything else she’d done since walking into the room, it was a demand—a statement of fact.

  Clay swallowed and nodded. Any words he spoke would be blubbering gibberish laced with humiliating need.

  Leigh stripped the shirt from her torso, displaying her breasts. The lacy bra lifted them up like an offering, distracting him from the dark marks ringing her biceps.

  He thought he was going to have to try not to look at them, but then she reached behind her, unlatching her bra and letting it fall to the floor.

  Clay no longer had any reason to look elsewhere. Better even than his fleeting fantasies, her breasts took his breath away. Full and round, with large pink nipples drawn tight. His mouth watered for a taste. His hands itched with the need to touch.

  As he watched, she cupped herself, catching her nipples between her fingers and pinching slightly. Clay stared in rapt attention, learning how she liked to be touched even as he clamped down on the sudden urge to come.

  She toed out of her shoes and slipped off her jeans. The lacy pink panties stayed on—an unspoken barrier of “Do Not Pass.” He accepted it, too overjoyed by what she was offering to let it rob him of this high.

  Her waist was smaller than he’d imagined. Or maybe it was the womanly flare of her hips and the sweet swell of her belly that created the illusion. Whatever the case, he was enthralled by her shape, imagining all of the ways he could fit her tight against him.

  Leigh caught and held his gaze as she moved toward him again, coming close enough to touch. And then she kept coming, until her hot, soft skin was plastered against his.

  Clay shuddered and gave up fighting for control. She was too much temptation—too potent to resist. His self-control was a tattered shambles, and there wasn’t enough of it left for him to hold back.

  He wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hands over the smooth heat of her back. She offered him a shiver of her own and closed her eyes as if enjoying the feel of his hands on her.

  Until this very moment, he wasn’t sure she would. Sure, he’d made her come before, but they’d both lost their heads a little back in that motel room. She’d had time to think since then, to decide what she wanted. And didn’t want. He was certain he’d fallen into the latter category until this very moment.

  He kissed her mouth, giving in to the need to taste her again. With her sweet tits pressed against his chest, he wanted to kiss her all ovess n’t r, but there was something about her mouth that kept drawing him back for more. She made soft little noises of approval and excitement, kissing him back like she was dying for it. The fact that she would let a man like him get this close went to his head, making him puff up with pride. She was all smooth intellect and control, while he was a raging berserker determined not to drive her away.

  Clay forced himself to be gentle when what he wanted to do was toss her to the bed and rip away that last lacy barrier standing between them. If she was half as slick and ready as she’d been yesterday, he’d have no trouble sliding his cock inside her, over and over, until they were both too weak from coming to move.

  While that was the best idea he’d ever had, he couldn’t guarantee things would go that way. The panties were still on. He wasn’t going to push her. And yet the longer he kissed her, the more impossible it became to think that he’d never get to feel all of her naked and gliding against him, from head to toe.

  Clay felt her legs tremble. His own weren’t too steady, either, so he wrapped his arm around her ass and lifted her up enough to get her to the bed.

  She sprawled back onto the coverlet, her skin gleaming and flushed. Her breasts swayed, and Clay knew he’d reached the end of his control. He went on all fours, crawling over her until he reached her waist. The scent of arousal hung around her, an intoxicating perfume that drove him mad with the need to feel her come against his fingers again. He didn’t dare touch her there. Not now. Not yet. But soon, he promised himself. Soon, he would f
eel her hot and slick in his hand, quivering and screaming as she came.

  That thought spurred him on. He kissed the indentation of her waist, moving up her ribs, one by one. Each delicate bone got his attention, with nibbling kisses and gentle sweeps of his tongue. His path moved between her breasts. A deep red flush spread down her chest, and it thrilled him to know that he’d been the one to put it there.

  She wanted him—at least she wanted what he was doing to her now. The agonizingly slow progression was killing him, making his cock slick with the need for more, but he refused to rush her. A woman like Leigh was meant to be savored, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

  She tried to grab his head and drag it up for another kiss, but Clay had given her enough control. It was his turn to take what he wanted.

  He fought her hold and lifted her breast to his mouth, swiping his tongue over the puckered tip. Leigh arched off the bed and hissed in pleasure, digging her fingernails into his scalp. The sweet sting of pain glided down his spine and tightened his balls.

  He barely held back his orgasm. She was too much to take—too intense and potent for him to keep at arm’s length. She crawled into him, warming him from the inside out, driving away the filth and terror of reality. He wanted to chain her to him and never let go. Never before had anyone made him feel like his life was a place of hope rather than bleak and endless desolation.

  Clay was so shaken by that thought that he went still. This kind of thing was too heavy for him. Too serious. All he wanted was to get back to where he’d been a second ago with her soft noises of pleasure filling his ears and her writhing dance of abandon making him crazy.

  She must have sensed his weird shift in mood. Her hands lifted his head until she could look into his eyes.

  He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her to see what she did to him—laying him open and stripped of his defenses.

  But rather than gloat at her victory, all he saw was concern. She pulled up enough to kiss the tip of his nose. “Where did you go?”