She understood that if her own urges were any indication. She wanted to trace every inch of him, to savor, remember, wanted her hands and body as well as her eyes able to summon up the memory of this, in case he went all noble on her again and this was the only time they would have.
And then, as his mouth came back to hers, his hand moved, and in the moment before his lips took hers again she felt his touch in that most intimate place. Realized by the ease of his stroke how ready she was for this man, in the instant before the feel of it made her cry out again as he captured the sound with an ever deepening kiss.
He lifted his head, breaking the kiss. She made a small sound of protest.
“Point of no return, Laney,” he said, his voice so low and rough it sent a shiver through her, and the counterpoint to the building heat somehow made it all explode. “Are you sure?”
“What I’m sure of,” she whispered, “is that if you don’t hurry I’ll go insane.”
He made a harsh sound somewhere between acknowledgment and relief. He moved then, reaching down to the floor to wrestle with discarded clothes. A condom, she realized.
He’d come prepared this time.
As if he’d read her thought he said ruefully, “I almost didn’t. Thought maybe it would keep this from happening.”
“But you did.”
“Just remembering how last night felt told me that was useless.”
The husky, quiet admission released any last reservations she had; all she’d needed was to know this was the same for him, this growing, consuming inferno they created together.
“Bed?” he asked.
“Too far,” she answered.
“Yes,” he agreed.
When he finally slid into her, slowly, carefully, she thought she would scream if he didn’t hurry. She wanted all of him, as deep as she could take. And yet the sensation of the slow, steady invasion was so wonderful she wanted it to go on forever.
And then he was there, and her name escaped him on a whispered groan, sending another shock wave through her. She lifted to him, wrapping arms and legs around him, pulling him as close as she could.
He groaned again and finally began to move. Tentative at first, as if unsure.
“Not fragile,” she reminded him, the words taking all the breath she could manage.
The sound he made then was fierce, low and utterly male. And then he gave her what she’d been aching for, a powerful steady rhythm, stroke after stroke after stroke, driving her higher each time, until she was clutching at him, on the edge of spiraling out of control.
Something shifted awkwardly, and she vaguely realized the couch wasn’t quite wide enough for this kind of energetic activity. They were slipping.
“Hang on,” Teague said in her ear, pausing for a nibble that made her shiver anew after he spoke. He moved her arms around his neck, then tightened his hold on her hips. And rolled.
Still joined, they hit the floor. He’d done it so he landed on the bottom, taking the brunt. It drove him even deeper into her, and she gasped more out of pure pleasure than the shock of the impact.
He urged her up slightly, shifting her weight until it was centered on the connection.
“Over to you,” he said.
He was giving her control, she realized. A new, different kind of flame kindled in her, low and deep and hotter than anything she’d ever known. He was hers now. For this moment in time, he was hers. Surrendered. Willingly. This man she doubted knew the meaning of the word in the fighting sense had done it without hesitation for her.
She would see to it that he didn’t regret it. She began to move, slowly, then faster as he urged her on. Every move that ratcheted up her own pleasure seemed to give him just as much, so she quit thinking and just moved as it pleased her.
She knew the moment when he reached the precipice, felt it in his body, heard it in his warning gasp of her name. She leaned forward just enough, felt him shudder. It was the last push she needed and she cried out his name in turn as she went up and over, spiraling, flaming, and not caring if she ever came to earth again.
* * *
She woke slowly, sleepily. Opened her eyes to her small bedroom, the dawn coming early this time of year, seeping around the edges of the blinds designed to keep it out. Familiar, unchanged. She lay still for a moment, letting her fuzzy brain slowly rouse.
And then she was jolted wide-awake by some very unfamiliar changes. In almost the same instant she realized two things. Her body was most pleasantly sore in a few unusual places, and there was a heater snugged up behind her.
Teague.
She was tucked into the curve of his body as he slept, half-wrapped around her.
It all came back in a rush. The couch, hitting the floor. Then he’d picked her up, brought her in here. Good thing, since the box of condoms Amber had gifted her with was here. And now open and less full than it had been.
It was all she could do not to jerk upright and stare at him, just to be sure it had all been real.
But it had been. She knew it had. Her body knew it had. Incredibly, impossibly, magnificently real.
He was still asleep, so she tried to stay still. He had, after all, worked hard last night. She smiled—a silly, pleased, self-satisfied smile. And why not? She was pleased. She’d been pleased to within an inch of her life, and that last time, just after midnight, she wasn’t sure they hadn’t blasted that last inch out of existence.
She lay there in the faint light, luxuriating in the feeling, letting herself remember it all. She had no idea how this morning after was going to go, but right now, at this moment, she didn’t have to think about it. She could allow herself to relive it, from the moment he’d unexpectedly shown up insisting she needed to eat, to the meal itself—which, she thought now, she should have eaten more of, but she’d had no idea she would be burning off so much energy later.
She could have done without the wearying walk-through of that last day with Amber, but she was sure he could have done without hearing it again, especially since she’d come up with nothing new. Nothing had changed from what was said to the fact that Edward had seemed a gentleman who would let Amber decide, from Amber’s flattering sandals to Edward’s rather battered ball cap with the fastener in the back that was tearing.
An image flashed through her mind. That cap, with the plastic snap strip that had started to tear. It had been nearly halfway through the half-inch strip...that tear. She remembered thinking he was going to lose it eventually. The image was clear in her mind.
And so was something else.
She sat up abruptly, heedless this time of waking Teague. And she did; barely seconds later, she heard him.
“Laney?”
She turned, looked at him. But instead of taking the long, romantic look at him she’d wanted moments ago, she cut to the chase.
“I remembered something,” she said.
Chapter 26
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
She grabbed a T-shirt from a hook near the bathroom door and tugged it on. It was blue and long, covering her to midthigh, and he had the feeling she normally slept in it. He was glad she hadn’t last night. But then, there had been nothing normal, at least for him, about last night. Something he was going to have to process later, obviously.
“I only got a glimpse, and the broken snap band distracted me, but it was there. Embroidered on the back, right over the hole they leave to adjust the hat size.”
“And it said Clamshell Marina.”
“Yes.”
Teague gave up his disappointment that she’d covered up. No matter how much he liked looking at her, or how much he’d wanted a different kind of morning, especially after a night that had been nothing less than epic, this was more important now. He tugged on his own jeans before fol
lowing her into the living room. She went to the small desk in one corner of the room, turned on the laptop that sat there, then grabbed up her phone from beside it.
He let her do the search. His own Foxworth smartphone might be quicker, and have some extra bells and whistles courtesy of Tyler and Liam, but he sensed she needed to do something, and since she’d done the remembering, this seemed only fair.
In moments she had the location mapped. He looked over her shoulder. “Over the bridge?”
She nodded, then turned to the now booted laptop. He studied the map on the phone she’d set down. The Hood Canal was what made where they were a separate peninsula rather than simply part of the larger Olympic Peninsula. The two were connected by a rather remarkable floating bridge that opened to allow marine traffic, including the occasional submarine his former navy brethren were piloting to or from their home base.
“Here it is.”
He switched his gaze to the laptop screen where a simplistic website showed an image of a small, picturesque cove with a few structures and modestly sized boats of various types. Masts poked up from occasional sailboats among the powerboats that took up most of the space at the three docks.
“Small,” he said.
“Yes.” She was reading the page quickly. There were no links, so it seemed the single page was all there was. “No services except a small fuel dock, and no available boat slips.”
“Full of locals, maybe,” he said. He leaned in over her shoulder, schooling a body that recognized her all too well after last night to behave.
“Then why would Edward have gone there?”
“He ever talk about fishing when you used to see him?”
She thought for a minute. “No. And the only boats he ever mentioned were the ferries.”
“As in looking or riding?”
“Riding. He missed one once, and was complaining about the traffic.”
“So he uses them.”
“Yes.”
“Meaning he comes to this side of the sound, somewhere.”
“Apparently.”
He looked back at the web page, scanning. Judging by the description, the little cove didn’t even have a name, it was so small.
“Moorings,” he said.
“What?”
“They have a few moorings, it says. Offshore, for transient boats.”
“So, if he has a boat, he could be there even if the slips are full?”
“Could be.”
She grabbed for her phone, clearly intending to dial the number for the rather grandly titled harbormaster. He stopped her with a touch on the arm. A mistake, since even that mere contact reawakened senses that had been on a slow simmer since he’d awakened naked beside her and memories of the night had swamped him.
She stopped, looked at him. God, those eyes, he thought, distracted by their warmth. With an inward shake and more discipline than it should have taken, he steadied himself.
“It’s a lot of ifs, but if he does have a boat, and if he is there, and if Amber is with him, it might be best not to risk warning him.”
She set the phone down abruptly. Clearly she hadn’t thought of that. “Then, what?”
“It’s not that far,” he said.
“We’re going?”
“Seems the best plan to me. It may be nothing, he may just have bought, found, or been given the hat, but it’s something to check out.”
He didn’t add that he thought any action, even useless, would be better for her state of mind than just waiting yet another day. And much as he would like that action to be staying here and further exploring that fire that erupted between them at the slightest touch, he doubted that would be met with approval on several fronts, including his own judgment.
“While we’re on the way,” he said, “I’ll get Ty working on finding out if the guy has a boat. It should have turned up on our basic info run, but maybe he just bought it or something.”
“Maybe he just bought it for this,” Laney said, sounding grim.
“That would be an elaborate plan, but possible,” he said, adding silently, and I don’t put much past the machinations of twisted minds anymore.
She was on her feet without another word. She started back toward the bedroom. Then she stopped. Turned back, looked at him. And then came back.
His breath jammed in his throat when she put her arms around him, leaned in and kissed him.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I... For what?”
She backed away then. And gave him a smile that made him wish they were both naked and back in her bed again.
“A whole list,” she said softly.
And then she vanished into the other room.
On second thought, he mused, feeling pinned in the spot where he stood, this wasn’t that bad a morning after all.
* * *
“Ty says he rechecked, still nothing in the system on a boat in Edward’s name. He’s checking under the aunt’s name now.”
Laney nodded. “If she bought him his car, she might have bought him a boat, too.”
“If Ty comes up empty, we’ll contact her again directly.”
“She got pretty defensive before,” Laney said.
“Then Quinn and Hayley may do it in person. They make a good tag team. Quinn intimidates, Hayley commiserates.”
That earned him a smile that warmed him probably far more than it should.
“I wonder how long it takes to get stuff into the licensing computers?”
“A while, I’m guessing, knowing the pace of government. But even if he bought it the day before, it should be in there by now.” He hesitated, then decided he had to say it. “This may well turn into a dead end, Laney.”
“I know that. It’s the tiniest of clues that may not even really be a clue. But we won’t know that if we don’t do this, right?”
“Yes. Sometimes it’s all about eliminating possibilities.”
“Sherlock Holmes.”
He laughed, liking that she felt light enough to make the reference. “Something like that, yes.”
“My parents used to love going over there,” she said as they passed a road sign indicating they were headed west. “Dad said Olympic National Park was the most amazing place he’d ever been.”
“Did you go with them?”
“Of course. We went every year for a while. Camped out a lot.”
“Sounds nice.”
“You should meet them sometime.”
He blinked. Had she actually suggested he meet her parents? He had no idea what to say to that, and the way his pulse had leaped at the simple suggestion made him edgier than he had been.
“Then at least you’d know what normal, real parents are like,” she said, promptly pushing the whole idea back into feeling-sorry-for-him territory. He didn’t like that, either, so ended up saying nothing.
They were at the bridge now, the long, floating span unrolled before them. The sun was bright, reflecting off the water, and he pulled a pair of sunglasses from the visor and slipped them on.
“Weird to think it’s a fjord,” she said.
“Does sound a bit exclusively Scandinavian.”
“No big boat delay today.” The bridge was built so most small craft could cross under at one end of the crossing, only having to open the center for larger vessels.
“No.”
“Did you know it’s the third-longest floating bridge in the world?”
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t feeling exactly light. “No, I didn’t.”
“I had to wait for a submarine to pass once. It was kind of exciting. I mean, you see all kinds of navy boats coming and going, even carriers, but the subs, they’re...different.”
“It’s the stealth,” he said.
Then he reached out and put a hand over hers. Hers was cold.
She sighed. “I’m chattering, aren’t I?”
“Yes. For you, anyway.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
They cleared the bridge and headed up a rise onto the Olympic Peninsula. It wasn’t far to where the GPS on his own phone told him to make the turn onto a country road, and then farther on onto a local road. They ended up on a narrow, downward-tracking side road that looked as if it had been fairly recently built, making Teague wonder if the marina was new also. That might explain the Spartan web page and the lack of a name for the tiny cove.
They reached the water and they could see the marina farther on, where the road curved around the other side of the cove. There were few other buildings; this wasn’t a town, not even a village, unless you counted a small general store, gas station and boat repair combination as such.
They cleared the store building but Teague kept driving. He slowed when they were at an angle where they could better tell the layout of the small marina. And could see there were two boats at offshore moorings.
“Narrows it down,” he said.
“Unless he keeps the boat here, in a slip,” Laney said. “Assuming this isn’t all a wild-goose chase.”
“Then we talk to the harbormaster. They’ll have records.”
“Not much of a harbor to be master of,” Laney said.
“But his domain nevertheless,” Teague said with a grin.
They came to a widened spot where it appeared people frequently pulled off the road. He guessed it was because it gave a nice view of the little cove, and so it wouldn’t look unusual if they did the same.
“Let’s take a look,” he said.
Laney looked puzzled but said nothing as he got out and went to the back. He quickly unlocked the metal case that was fastened to the side of the cargo area. He selected the smaller of the two weapons inside, in a clip-on belt holster, and slipped it into place on his hip under his shirt. Better safe, he thought. He didn’t really know what he’d be dealing with. It was his absolute last resort, especially if Amber turned out to be a hostage.
Operation Blind Date Page 18
