by L. B. Dunbar
“Mouse, what’s the matter?” I couldn’t take the quiet between us any longer. It ripped at my heart and gnawed at my nerves. Her back remained to me as she stared out the window, closing herself off from me as she had over the hours it took us to get back to this island.
“It’s over, isn’t it?” she spoke to the balcony window. Evening hadn’t quite pressed away the day, but the sky was shifting. The clouds were dark and ominous. “It was only the island, wasn’t it?”
“What was only the island?” I asked, stepping closer behind her.
“The island made us what we were.” She spun to look at me, her arms crossed in that way she had of holding herself together.
“Were?” I hesitated, my heart racing. Panic surged through my veins.
“Wild,” she whispered. “We were wild there.”
One corner of my mouth tweaked upward. We were wild there. Making love five times. Giving her multiple orgasms in twenty-four hours. It had been incredible.
“I want to be tamed.”
The words startled me.
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t want to just be wild.” Her voice shook as she lowered to her knees, spreading them and placing her hands on her thighs. I’d made this same move for her. When her head lowered, my heart leapt. “I want to be tamed by you.”
“Mouse,” I questioned. She shook her head, not looking up at me. “Are you saying it’s over, or do you want more?”
“I want to know we can be like that here. That it wasn’t just the island, and the isolation, but how we feel for one another.” I lowered to squat before her.
“Mouse, I already told you...” At least, I thought I had through every gesture, every touch, every comment. I loved her; did she not see it?
“I won’t ever be enough for you. You wanted more on that night, that’s why you were there. You wanted to dominate. You wanted control. I give the power to you. You want permission, and I’m giving it to you.”
I wasn’t sure I understood, but my dick stood at attention. I had a new plan.
“Stand,” I commanded, and she did, as did I.
“Turn around.” I flicked off the low light as she spun to face the balcony. We didn’t need the electric lights.
“Open the blinds wider.” The wash of light backlit her silhouette, accentuating her curves. “Strip.”
She did as I said, stepping out of her sandals first. Her shirts came next, the first slipping down her arms to pool on the floor and the second tugged over her head, forcing her hair to loosen. Once her bra was unclasped, the outline of her back was exposed, two sharp dimples peeking over her waistband. I leaned against the bedpost, my mouth growing dry. Her hands came to her waist, and she wiggled her hips to lower her shorts, removing her underwear as well. She stood still a moment, legs spread, hands fisted at her side. The silhouette of her body was burned in my memory. She was art personified.
“Climb on the bed.” My eyes watched her slow movements as she crawled up the heightened mattress. It occurred to me this is what she meant. This wasn’t a mattress on a pallet in a tent by the shore. This was a real bed. In a room. Inside a building. While it was still a fantasy that she was with me, willing to let me do what I wanted to her, this was real, and she needed me to prove it.
I undressed quickly while she lay in the same position she had only last night: her ass in the air, facing me. Her arms stretched for the edge of the bed, but I had a different position for this evening. I climbed up behind her, coaching her to move forward.
“Grip the headboard, but stay on your knees.”
I spread my thighs behind her, while I sat back on my ankles. My palm caressed up her spine.
“Is this what you want?” I whispered. “Is this what you need?” I fisted her hair in my hand, tugging her head gently back to me. “Do you not hear? Do you not see? With every touch I give you, I’m telling you how I feel about you. This isn’t the island, and this isn’t a fantasy.”
I released her hair and lifted her hips so I could position myself under her. I held my dick erect, rubbing it through the crack of her ass, teasing her. I paused at her entrance, already damp with desire, and she moaned, her head lowering forward.
“Don’t let go of that bar,” I commanded.
I slid myself away from her, teasing her once again.
“Not a fantasy,” I muttered, drawing forward through her wet heat. “I love you wildly,” I growled, as I slammed into her, forcing her to impale herself on the length of me. I tried to ignore that she hadn’t responded with words to me. She let out a yelp, and I stilled momentarily, allowing her to adjust to my depth.
“This lesson will be quick,” I snapped, gripping her hips and lifting her to be lowered just as rapidly. The heat of her stroked each ridge of my dick, and she rode me under the guidance of my hands. Slowly, I rose up on my knees, pressing her forward, shifting the angle and delving in deeper. My hands released her hips and slipped around her, resting on either side of her own on the headboard. I pummeled into her as she pressed back on me with equal force.
“For some reason, you haven’t learned yet. I. Love. You.” I slammed into her, releasing the bar and reaching for her jaw. Tipping her head back to rest on my shoulder, I pressed under her chin. “Say it,” I demanded.
“I love you, too,” she snapped. Her eyes rolled back, and her mouth hung open.
“Feel it,” I commanded.
“I feel it,” she said, her voice rising as she clenched over me, milking me with the tightness of her. She moved my hand from her chin to her chest, trying to flatten my palm over her left breast. Her heart raced beneath her skin, and I knew what she was saying. In there, she felt me.
“So close,” I whispered. “Too fast.”
“Faster,” she breathed, and the rhythm between us increased. The bed squeaked; the headboard hit the wall.
“Too close,” I barked and she pressed down on me. She stilled, and her core clenched, denotating the release from me, exploding inside her while she groaned in relief.
“Wildly,” she exhaled while her body rocked over mine, but I had nothing left to give her. She bled me dry and stars danced before my eyes.
“Wildly,” I said, pressing my head to her shoulder. “So don’t leave me.”
+ +
We lay wrapped in the sheet, her halfway over me. We kissed, and we talked, and we kissed some more.
“What next?” she asked.
“I thought I’d follow you to Baltimore.”
“I’ve moved to St. Michaels on the shore.”
I smiled slowly. I actually already knew that, but I hadn’t told her how I’d found her or how I’d gotten her to this island.
“The beach it is,” I said, leaning upward to take her lips again. Her fingers tickled through the coarse hairs on my chest, and I released her, sensing she had more to ask.
“Where’s Calliope Industries located?” Her voice hesitated.
“It’s in Baltimore.” I brushed back her hair, giving her a sheepish grin. “We’ll work it out.” I pressed my thumb between her brows sensing her worry and not understanding where it was coming from. We’d had an amazing two days and nearly two nights. I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she. I leaned forward, reaching for her lips with mine, drawing her down to me. She lay across my chest, continuing to tickle the short hairs there as her mouth tickled mine.
Suddenly, a loud rapping sound came at her door.
“I’m going to kill that Miller,” I snorted, breaking free of her mouth while her forehead came to rest on my chest.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, rising up from the bed. I sat up, following her and reached for her hips.
“You can’t answer the door like that,” I teased, pulling her toward me again as we tumbled back to the pillows.
Another rap at the door broke our kiss.
Slipping away from me, she picked up my shirt from the floor and draped it over herself. She drowned in the linen material
, which fell sheer over her body. I hated that Miller would get a good look at her goods through the thin fabric.
The door opened and in an instant the resort manager stood at the end of the bed.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, Boss, but the weather. There’s a storm coming. It’s not looking good.” I sat up, swiping my hand through my hair, attempting to smooth it. Marco wasn’t the type to intrude, so his presence was a warning. Something large was heading for the island.
“I’ll be right there,” I said, shifting to the left of the bed, keeping myself covered until Marco exited the room. “Wait for me in the hall,” I called after him. Juliet was already handing me my shorts. She reached for the hem of my shirt and slipped it over her head.
“Damn, I like you in my clothing, Mouse, and if you have to take it off, I want to stay, but I need to see what this is all about.” I reached forward, cupped her jaw and tugged her to me. Our mouths crashed together, and I drank her in, gulping at her, feeling the separation before I’d even left the room.
“Get some rest,” I said, lowering my head to hers. “I love you.” The words felt unfamiliar and yet comfortable crossing my lips.
“Wildly,” she replied, tipping up on her toes to kiss me in return. The situation seemed vaguely familiar. The smile in her tone, the gleam in her eyes, the promise of something more lingered until I was out her door, closing it behind me. As I stalked down the hall with Marco, a memory flashed. She looked at me in the same way she had the last time. When it was the last time I saw her.
22
Juliet
I’d fallen asleep, exhausted from the physical activity of the past thirty-six hours. I don’t know what came over me when we returned. Sadness struck deep, and I couldn’t snap out of it, the foreboding feeling of the end wrapped around my heart, cutting off reason. I loved him, I told myself as I drifted off to sleep, and he loved me, I reassured.
The night passed too quickly as far as I was concerned, but when I woke without a trace of Tack’s return, I had new worries. Outside the balcony, the sky looked almost as dark as the night in the distance. Storm clouds filled the horizon. It wasn’t raining but the wind was blowing. The temperature had dropped considerably and the waves rolled angrily over one another in the ocean. I dressed after a quick shower, deciding I’d go in search of Tack.
I’d entered the lobby, heading for the front desk to inquire about the manager’s office when I was intercepted by Abby.
“Looking for Tack?” She eyed me, her blue eyes narrowed as if naturally that thin. Her blonde hair was perfectly pulled up to a high ponytail, in contrast to the wet mess at the back of my neck. She wore a stylish low-cut shirt with capris.
“I was hoping to find him in…” My voice drifted as she looped her arm with mine, leading me toward the lobby bar which doubled as a breakfast area. The lobby in general sounded busy, bustling with voices and the scrape of suitcase wheels over tile.
“Let’s chat, shall we?” I stumbled as she tugged me, her height taller than mine and I realized again that she and Tack made a striking couple, with her perfectly thin body and extra height. Her blonde tresses accentuated his brown locks, reminding me of models paired for their complementing features.
We sat at a small table for two, and Abby signaled someone for coffee. Then she jumped into her warning.
“Let’s get a few things straight. Tack and I have been betrothed since birth. We fit each other. We understand one another. I know things he’s done.” Her squinty eyes narrowed further. “I understand his little obsession with you. That Front Door business and all, but once Branson found you—”
“Branson found me,” I interrupted her. “What do you mean found me?”
“You didn’t know?” she asked, feigning remorse at telling a secret. Thin fingers covered her lips in a move perfected by movie stars. “Branson Marx is a private investigator from Baltimore.”
The air between us thickened, dropping lower than the temperature outside.
“Tack was looking for you,” she shrugged. “He had unfinished business, he said. But I think he’s only interested in your business.” Her eyes lowered, and she cupped the coffee mug that had been placed in front of her. I’d hardly noticed the waitress delivering the steamy liquid. I hadn’t touched mine. My hands gripped the edge of my seat, as if holding me to it so I didn’t launch over the small table and scratch out her weasel-like eyes.
“I don’t believe you,” I said, my voice cracking, but feeling braver than I sounded. “It’s so small compared to his.”
“He knows what you are. That’s why he calls you Mouse. You’re a rat. Vermin to be exterminated. He’ll destroy your organization, erasing you from his past.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked, too startled to think straight.
“Because he loves power.” She shrugged, as if the answer were that simple. “He’ll swallow it up and pretend it was his idea. A reformed man helping deprived woman. Brilliant, actually.” She sat back and crossed her arms over her middle. Her legs crossed as well.
My mouth moved, but no sound escaped.
She paused and leaned forward, wrapping her hands around her mug once again. “But what I want to know is, what were you doing in that club in the first place unless you were asking for something?”
“I worked there,” I blurted, offering too quickly the truth, noting it was the wrong answer. She would misunderstand, but I was too angry to care what she thought.
“Tack has needs, sweetheart,” she said in a condescending voice. “And only someone strong like me can give him what he wants, when he wants it.” Her brow rose, implying that she was willing to let him have her.
I pressed off the table, feeling it wobble under my weight.
“You’re the type of woman that makes other women hate being a woman.” I stepped away leaving her with that thought. I had no other words for her. As for her willingness to meet Tack’s needs, it wouldn’t happen without a fight.
I stomped toward the front desk, demanding to know where Marco’s office was. I was told that Marco wasn’t in his office but in Tack’s private suite on the third floor. Following the directions given, I took the stairs, hoping to release some negative energy before I reached his office.
I knocked just as loudly as Marco had rapped on my door this morning. Immediately, it was opened, and I was faced by Branson.
“Is he here?” I demanded, noting the surprised expression on Branson’s face, which quickly passed. His hard edge returned, but I was not intimidated by his looks. Fueled by my anger, I brushed past him for the inner office. My breath caught momentarily at the alarming view. Floor to ceiling windows in what was obviously a corner room gave a stunning picture of the wild weather happening off in the distance.
“Brenda, thanks for the…” Tack’s voice faded when he realized I wasn’t the bartender. “Mouse,” he said, rising from his chair and circling his desk. He reached out a hand for me, but I stepped back. Instantly, his face fell.
“Abby told me you’re engaged.” The words tumbled out, rocky and sharp.
“Branson, Marco—out.” Tack’s eyes turned a dark green flame I didn’t recognize, and the door clicked behind me. “She told me you were betrothed since birth. Family tradition and all,” I added, knowing Tack Corbin came from wealth, and that meant Abby Goodwin was a good match for him.
“She lied.”
“Abby said you have needs and only she can fulfill them.” At this his lips curled, sinister and pursed.
“Abby said, Abby said,” he mocked. “What else did Abby say?”
“She told me about Branson.”
The world spun for a moment. I sensed the movement of the clouds outside the window. The rough bow of the trees in the wind. Tack standing before me, saying nothing.
“She said he was a private investigator looking for me.”
Tack sat back on the edge of his desk, his hands curling around the lip, his knuckles turning white with the pressure.
“She said you want The Mouse Trap?” I questioned, my voice cracking. “Why would you want my business?” I swallowed the choking lump in my throat. “It’s all I have, Tack. It’s all I have.”
Marco barged into the room but neither of us moved.
“Boss, I’m sorry to interrupt, but they’re saying it’s a hurricane. We need to make a decision.”
“Evacuate,” Tack ordered, not moving his hands or blinking an eye.
“Sir,” Marco replied, standing behind me.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Tack said, his voice coming through clenched teeth.
The door clicked behind me again and I crossed my arms, waiting for an explanation.
“There is no donation, is there?”
“You want the money?” he inquired, looking up at me with eyes edged in black. “Take the damn money. Take all of it.”
“I didn’t want the money, and you know that. I only wanted you,” I snapped. The truth startled us both.
“And I wanted to be all you had,” he added, but the sound of his voice was too controlled, as if he were forcing the words from his mouth.
“Was this all a ruse?”
“It was a way to get you down here, yes. I didn’t want to take The Mouse Trap. I wanted to give you everything. I wanted to make it everything you wanted.” He paused, his eyes drifting up to mine. “And I wanted to finish what we started.”
My eyes blinked, burning as they filled with sorrow.
“What we started when?”
“You know when.” Something about the glare in his eyes bothered me. My mind flipped to that night. He wanted to own me—mind, body and soul. And now business. He wanted all of it. Control. Power. He said he liked to break things to conform to him. Hadn’t I already? Hadn’t I given him everything from me? Forgiveness. Love. Redemption.
“Blink,” I said.
“What?” His eyes widened, his hands still gripping the desk as he leaned forward.
“My safe word. Blink.”
“It doesn’t work like that. It only works when…” Dawning came slowly. “When you no longer feel safe,” he added, his voice low and shaky.
