by Karen Rose
‘That’s not true,’ he murmured, but she swiped at the air with the cane and he stepped back.
‘My point is, I was doing a damn fine job. We were fine. Now, nothing is fine. Everything I touch goes wrong. Every time I turn around someone is targeting my child to get at me. Do you think I want to need protection? Do you think I want to live in a place that has bullet-proof glass?’ She extended her arm, still gripping the cane, reminding him of Moses parting the Red Sea. ‘And if you say “bullet-resistant”, I will brain you with this motherfucking thing.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said quietly, because her voice was thick with tears.
‘Thank you.’ She held her breath, but a sob escaped. ‘God, I sound so pathetic. Feeling sorry for myself at a time like this. I should be saying, “Thank you, Clay,” and falling down on the floor to kiss your feet. Why am I being like this?’
‘Maybe because your world hasn’t stopped spinning out of control for the past year?’
She laughed, but it was a tormented sound. ‘Yeah.’ She was quiet for a moment, gathering her composure. ‘So. This plan of yours. I’d like specifics. Please.’
‘All right. You know about Daphne’s equine therapy program. She’ll be offering it to kids who’ve been victimized by violence. I’m doing her security. Last week we finished the electric fence that surrounds her property. It’s ten feet high, topped with barbed wire, and positioned through the trees, so it’s not obvious to passersby.’
‘To keep the kids in?’
‘No. To keep predators out. We put in a heavy gate as well, the kind you see at military installations. Daphne picked one with pretty curlicues so that it didn’t look oppressive.’
‘She’d think of that.’ It was said gently, with a note of rueful affection. ‘Is it pink?’
He smiled, relieved. ‘No. I had to draw the line somewhere. Today Alec will finish putting in the cameras and we’ll establish a security center. Tomorrow we’ll add motion detectors and refit Maggie’s house with security doors. No bullet-proof glass, I’m afraid. It’s on order, but it won’t be in for a few weeks. With the other precautions, hopefully we won’t need it.’
‘It sounds very safe. Who will man this security center?’
‘For now, Paige and Alec. If we need more support, my best friend, Ethan Buchanan, is on standby. He’ll be on the first flight out of Chicago if I call him.’
‘Just like that? You call, he comes?’
‘I’ve done the same for him. Would do the same for him again in a heartbeat.’
She nodded. ‘Okay. No offense meant, but Silas Dandridge was one of my best friends. How do I know your best friend Ethan is reliable and trustworthy?’
‘I can give you references. A social worker, a family attorney, a professor, a psychiatrist, an arson investigator, a firefighter, and a half-dozen cops. You can call them and ask yourself.’
‘And if I’m not comfortable with Mr Buchanan watching my child?’
‘Then we don’t do it,’ he said simply. ‘Or you go with her. Or she stays here with my dad and Emma. Or any of the above with your parents or Izzy added in.’
‘Why did you plan this? I know I said I wanted a safer place for her, but that was fear talking. Why risk moving her at all?’
‘Because eventually someone will connect you to me and me to this house. It’s in Dad’s name and while he isn’t the father listed on my birth certificate, he’s easy enough to trace to me if a person is looking.’
‘Maybe nobody else will be looking. Maybe they’ll realize there’s nothing more to be gained by killing me. That too many people know about the dirty cops now.’
‘Do you really believe that?’
Stevie’s shoulders sagged. ‘No. When do I have to decide if I want to move Cordelia?’
‘Not at this moment. Joseph’s people outside are watching the front. They’ll tell us if they see anyone suspicious on the road leading up to the house. She can stay here indefinitely if this place isn’t compromised.’
‘But if it is, it will be too late to get her out.’
‘Not if we get her out by boat, which is why Lou was coming with her boat tomorrow. But, Stevie, if you don’t want Cordelia to move, she can stay here. The farm can be our Plan B.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said. ‘The farm is a good Plan B. The horses would be good for her. Especially with all this tension going on. What about transport?’
‘When she’s ready, Paige will drive Grayson’s Escalade to Lou’s house, which also has a dock. Grayson’s Escalade is equipped with the same window glass as Joseph’s.’
‘Which, according to Joseph, is about as bullet-resistant as you’ll get if your address isn’t 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue,’ Stevie said dryly. ‘Got it.’
‘Cordelia knows Paige, so she won’t be scared. Paige will meet Lou at four thirty in the morning, whatever morning you choose, so that they’ll have the cover of darkness. Lou will bring her boat here, pick up Cordelia, go back to her place so that the transfer is made before first light. Cordy arrives at the farm in time for breakfast, and Maggie’s waffles are almost as good as mine.’
Her shoulders had stiffened at his mention of Lou, but when she spoke, her voice was exceedingly reasonable. ‘It sounds like a good plan, Clay. Thank you.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before Lou did. She’s . . . well, subtlety isn’t her strong suit.’ He chanced putting his hands on her rigid shoulders and released a breath when she didn’t shake him off. ‘I should have realized that this situation would be even harder for you.’
She went still. ‘Why even harder?’
‘Because you’re used to—’ Being on top, was what he almost said, but that put all kinds of pictures in his head. ‘Calling the shots,’ he said instead.
Her self-denigrating laugh made him wince. ‘In other words, I’m a bossy bitch.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘It’s okay. It’s true. I suppose subtlety’s not my “strong suit” either. Well, at least you’re consistent in the type of women you’re attracted to.’ She squeezed the bridge of her nose. ‘God, now listen to me. That was just plain bitchy of me to say. And unfair. I’m sorry, Clay.’
He lifted his brows. ‘Do I detect a little jealousy?’ It pleased him more than it should.
‘Wasn’t I supposed to feel jealous?’ she countered and he had to give her points for that.
‘That could have been Dad’s intent. You know, look what you passed up.’
‘She was your fiancée.’
He heard the question even though she hadn’t technically asked one. ‘She dumped me six weeks before the wedding because she realized she didn’t love me the way she should have for that kind of commitment. She ended up marrying a doctor and they’re very happy. I kept thinking at the time that I should be more upset, but realized I was more relieved because I knew she was right. She just figured it out before I did. And had the courage to verbalize it.’
She said nothing, but when he leaned right to see her profile, she was biting her lip. He wanted to take over that particular job for her. Instead, he gently kneaded her shoulders.
‘What’s bothering you, Stevie?’
‘I don’t know. I want to think I had the urge to claw her face off because she was bitchy to me. Because she was bitchy.’
He leaned in close so that she could feel his breath against her neck. Her shiver did a whole helluva lot for his ego. ‘Agreed. But?’
‘No “buts”. None that I have a right to, anyway,’ she added under her breath.
He wanted to thrust his fist to the sky, yelling in victory at the top of his lungs, but kept his voice husky as he grazed his lips against her skin. ‘Go ahead. Say what you want to say.’ He kissed the curve of her neck. ‘It’s just you and me here.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ she muttered. But she let her head fall to the side, baring her neck for more, exhaling slowly when he complied. As if she’d been waiting. It was like
a whip to his body, driving him to rush. To take. To feast. But he kept himself on a tight leash and was rewarded when she relaxed, her head rolling back to rest on his chest.
‘Humor me,’ he murmured, sliding his hands down her sides to cover her stomach as he continued to press soft kisses up her neck to her jaw. ‘You wanted to claw her face off. Why?’
‘I didn’t really want to claw,’ she said, her words thickening. ‘Maybe just a hard slap.’
‘Because we were engaged?’
She lifted a shoulder. ‘It’s the intimacy. Shared moments. Things you don’t want to imagine two people sharing when you . . . I mean, she knows what you look like . . .’ She turned her head abruptly, removing her cheek from his seeking mouth. ‘I’m stopping this. Right now.’
But she didn’t move. He would have instantly released her if she had. ‘We lived together for over a year, Stevie. We were intimate. I can’t go back and change that. I wouldn’t if I could. She’s part of my past.’
‘And your present.’
He sensed his progress slipping away. ‘True. I see her from time to time – on both business and personal occasions. If that bothers you, I’m sorry.’
She twisted abruptly, turning so that she faced him. Looking up, she met his eyes. ‘You shouldn’t have to be sorry. Whatever I feel is my problem, not yours. And I have no right.’
‘What do you feel, Stevie?’
Looking away, she closed her eyes, color infusing her cheeks. ‘Dammit, Clay. I bring a past with me, too. A husband. A lover. Someone with whom I’ve shared those same intimacies. This is what I meant. This is how I’ll hurt you. I’ll want from you what I can’t give you myself.’
‘What do you feel?’ he repeated.
‘Let me go. Please.’
Immediately he stepped back, dropping his arms to his sides, and watched her limp away, leaning on that ridiculous glittery cane. ‘Stevie, stop.’ It was the voice he rarely used, one he’d perfected way back in the Corps. ‘Please,’ he added stiffly. Stevie stopped, but she was still poised to bolt. ‘What do you feel?’
She laughed quietly. Self-deprecatingly. ‘That I’m the worst mother on the planet. Before you came back, I wasn’t thinking about Cordelia going somewhere presumably safer than here. I was thinking about how much I hated Sheriff Moore. Because she was bitchy. Because she cut me down a few pegs. Because she was right.’ A long, long pause. Then the faintest of whispers, as if she wanted him to know, but hoped he wouldn’t hear. ‘But mostly because she’d had you.’
She took a step toward the stairs, but he was on her before she’d put her foot down. ‘Stevie.’ He grabbed her uninjured arm, his voice cracking loud and harsh. ‘What do you feel?’
Her gaze whipped up to his, full of fire. Defiance. Lust. What he’d only glimpsed before now hit him like a brick. ‘I want you, okay?’ She all but snarled it at him. ‘I wanted you the first time I saw you. Are you satisfied n—’
He kissed her, hard. No gentleness. No finesse. Just raw, brutal need. Are you satisfied now? Hell no. But I’m sure as hell gonna be.
He’d known it. Known she’d wanted him. Wanted this. But hearing the words torn from her lips unleashed the beast that had clawed at him so relentlessly for so long. He’d wanted her for so damn long.
Slow down. The small voice buzzed in his head like a fly. He ignored it. Or tried to.
Do not do this. Not like this. Not with her. Never with her. She’ll hate you. He started to pull away, hanging on to control by a single thread. A very thin, very frayed thread.
But then her cane clattered to the floor as she grabbed the edge of his jacket to yank him down, kissing him back, her need every bit as savage as his own.
The thread broke. Clamping his hands over her butt, he lifted her against him, blindly shoved her hard against the door at the base of the cabin stairs. He hooked her good leg over his hip and began to thrust against her, hard and fast. Relentless.
She coiled her arm around his neck, holding on tight. Digging her heel into the back of his thigh for leverage, she met him thrust for thrust. This was no slow build, no rocking, no sexy undulation. Later. They’d do that later. This was immediate, animal gratification.
But it wasn’t nearly enough. ‘God, Stevie. The things . . .’ – hoarse, harsh words, staccato fragments of sentences ground out between frantic kisses that skated the line between pleasure and pain – ‘. . . I want to do . . . to you. Inside you. I need to be inside you. Now.’ Winding her hair around his fingers, he pulled back enough to see her eyes. As far gone as he was, he knew he had to be sure she was with him. ‘Tell me yes,’ he demanded.
She was breathing hard, eyes narrowed, considering. Then she nodded grimly. ‘Yes.’
Chapter Thirteen
Wight’s Landing, Maryland, Sunday, March 16, 11.50 A.M.
Yes. Stevie had finally said yes. Clay reclaimed her mouth and, grabbing her butt again, supported her weight with one hand as he locked the door with the other. His blood burned and he could feel the start of an orgasm twitching at the base of his spine. Goddammit, not yet.
Bed. He needed her in a bed. Luckily he had one, just a few steps away. Going down on one knee, her lowered her to the mattress, shoving her T-shirt up and wrestling with the front clasp on her bra as he wedged himself between her thighs. She pushed his hands away, released the clasp, and pulled the bra and T-shirt over her head, tossing them to the bed beside them. Then she surprised him by taking off his shirt as well, dropping it on top of hers.
For long seconds he hung there, staring down. Looking his fill after only imagining for so long. She was delicately made. Perfectly made.
He dropped his head, drawing one dusky nipple into his mouth and he sucked long and deep. She cried out, her hips coming off the mattress to press into his chest, making him groan in his throat. It’s been years for her. Too many years. Go slow. Slow the goddamn fuck down.
But he was too hungry. He’d waited so long. Had all but given up hope. He sucked her other nipple and she shoved her fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer, whispering impatient pleas as her hips continued to roll and pitch beneath him.
He leaned to one side slightly so that he could reach the buttons on her jeans while he sucked and licked her breast. ‘Pretty,’ he said with his mouth full of her. ‘So damn pretty. Lift up.’ She obeyed, lifting her hips as he pushed the jeans down her legs. He’d worked the denim to her knees when he stopped, drew a deep appreciative breath, and groaned again. Resisting her efforts to pull him back, he released her breast so that he could look at her face.
Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back. Her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted as she panted, her pulse a visible flutter at the hollow of her throat. ‘I can smell you,’ he whispered. She shuddered, licking her lips. But said nothing. ‘Are you wet?’ he murmured.
She hesitated, then jerked a nod.
He wasn’t letting her off so easily. ‘How wet are you, Stevie?’ He ran his tongue up the curve of her arched throat, chuckling darkly when her hips lifted again, seeking contact with his hand. He was about three seconds away from indulging her, but he wanted her with him. Needed to know she was with him. ‘Tell me, baby. How wet are you?’
Her eyes opened to glare, making him grin. ‘Very,’ she said, tone laced first with warning, then desperate plea. ‘Don’t tease. Please.’
He ran fingers that actually trembled across the lace edge of her otherwise utilitarian black panties. Panties with a telltale dark patch where her arousal had soaked through. God. ‘If I touch you, will you come for me?’
Her swallow was audible. ‘Yes.’
He slipped his fingers under the lace, his own swallow audible when he touched curls. He dipped his forefinger into her slit, swearing under his breath at her slickness. She was ready for him. Right now. I could slam into her with one stroke and not hurt her.
Slow the fuck down. ‘I want to see you,’ he whispered. ‘Take them off.’
Without another wo
rd she toed off her shoes, shimmied the panties down to her knees, then pulled her good leg free. Eyes narrowing in determination, she pulled the knee of her injured leg to her chest, stripped her other leg free, and tossed the clothes to the floor.
And then she was naked. Finally. His heart was beating so hard he felt light-headed. I finally have her naked in my bed. She was beautiful. Hot. Sexier than his most potent fantasies. Holding his breath, he slid one finger into her. Deep. So wet.
He nearly came right then and there.
A whimper escaped her throat and she moved her hips impatiently. ‘Stop teasing me.’
He watched her face as he worked his finger in and out. Harder, faster. Her eyes were closed, clenched tight. So were her fists, digging into the mattress. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she fell into his rhythm, meeting each thrust. Taking his breath away.
‘More. Please.’
He added a second finger and she moaned, making him glad he hadn’t taken off his own jeans yet, even though his erection was throbbing painfully. The second he got naked, he’d be inside her. He didn’t know how long he’d manage to last after that. And he needed this to last.
‘Faster,’ she whispered. ‘Please. It’s been so long. Please.’
Good. God. Certain his cock had the permanent imprint of a zipper, he complied, adding his thumb to the motion, pressing hard against her, gritting his teeth when her body arched off the bed. On a low, strangled moan she came, his two fingers feeling each and every contraction. He closed his eyes, imagining those contractions squeezing his cock. Soon. Another minute.
She collapsed to her back, her chest pumping as she fought to catch her breath. Slowly her body relaxed, hands lying limply at her sides. ‘Oh my God,’ she rasped on an exhale. ‘Thank you. I’d forgotten how damn good it feels.’ And then she was touching him, finally, one hand sliding up his chest to splay across his shoulder, the other darting down to cup his erection through his jeans, making him hiss through his teeth. Which made her lips curve wickedly. ‘Why are you still wearing clothes?’
