by Casey Hagen
She’d be exposed. Really exposed. She looked into those hot blue eyes of his, practically glowing with passion. Knowing she’d put the look there was all the reinforcement she needed to encourage her.
She turned and glanced over her shoulder at him as she slid her fingers under the edges of her bikini, beginning the slow glide over her hips, careful to avoid her bandage.
His hand went to his pants, and she craned her neck to see what he was doing.
Her eyes shot wide when her gaze landed on his hard length—as he slowly stroked, back and forth, while he watched her.
She swallowed hard and sucked her lips between her teeth, wishing she could wrap her mouth around him. Most women she talked to hated blow jobs, but damn, they had to be doing them wrong. The power of having a man in her mouth, controlling his pleasure, tormenting him into a frenzy, and making him shout with the explosion into her mouth was like nothing else.
Just the act of sucking a man off brought her to orgasm, even if she wasn’t being touched.
Seeing the way she affected him built her confidence, so she bent over and dragged the bikinis down her legs before stepping out of them.
Before he could give her another instruction she turned to him and wrapped her hand around his hard length, relishing the way he throbbed in her palm.
He hissed, closing his eyes and arching his back, then thrust himself further into her hands.
He grabbed the back of his T-shirt and yanked it over his head. It hit the floor and he took her other hand and laid it on his chest, inviting her to touch him.
She roamed over the ridges of his pecs and down over his washboard abs, where a sprinkling of hair dusted his lower stomach.
Rock-hard from head to toe, he had the ultimate fantasy-soldier physique. The kind women only found in movies and books.
And he stood before her, flesh and blood.
And all hers.
“When this is over,” she whispered against his chest as she kissed it, continuing her strokes, glorying in the way his breathing became uneven and shallow, “when they find out who’s doing this and I’m out of danger, I want this. I want you.”
He lay his hand over the one she danced over his pecs. “You might hate me before this is done. But if you don’t, I’m counting on it.”
Worrywart.
Why would she hate him? They were going to find out who was after her, and he was going to protect her. She owed him her future peace of mind. Her freedom from fear.
He shook his head and smiled the wicked grin she craved. “I want you to go over there and crawl onto that bed.”
“On one condition. You don’t let all of this alpha bossy shit go straight to your head.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now go,” he said, giving her ass a swat.
She raised her right knee and turned to look at him. He held his hands at his sides, curled into fists, the muscle in his jaw jumping.
She lifted the other and crawled to the middle of the bed. She was just about to lie down, when he called out to her.
“Stay right where you are and arch your back.”
His voice got closer.
The bed dipped at the same time her back arched. The cool air hit her exposed sex, making her wiggle.
His palm came down on her ass and squeezed. She heard him tear open a foil packet, and a few seconds later he pushed inside her, inch by heated inch.
She gasped as he stretched her, the feel of him so different than the toys she used to pleasure herself.
He was a hot-blooded male and she was at the mercy of the way he chose to move, where he put his hands, what he did to her with his mouth. The sensations were intoxicating, changing her, ruining any chance at future pleasure because this man had been inside her.
His palms glided up her back and cupped her shoulders as he pulled her back onto him. He set the pace, a pace that built pressure inside her, propelling her to drive herself back onto him even faster, desperate for the orgasm to break and give her relief.
The bastard knew it, too, because every time she teetered on the edge he slowed to a torturous rhythm that had her crying out.
“Please, Slyder. I’m begging you, please!” she cried.
He pulled out completely and she growled in frustration, but the sound quickly died on a squeal as his tongue dragged over her, circling her clit, and sucking it into his mouth.
She beat her fists on the bed, straining, arching her back until her belly practically touched the bed. Sweat broke out over her skin. She curled her fists into the covers, her nails scraping the fabric with so much force that the sound of it tearing under the pressure filled the room.
“Now,” he grunted, and thrust back inside her with a long, hard stroke. The dam broke and she screamed, with the sensation of bursting into a million pieces and flying apart.
She collapsed onto the bed where Slyder drove into her over and over, keeping the sharp sensations shooting through her until he spasmed above her with a hoarse shout.
He collapsed next to her, his face flushed, his eyes locked on hers as he ran his fingers through her damp hair.
Her eyes drifted shut, exhaustion pulling her under.
“Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”
“Sleep with me,” she mumbled.
“Someone needs to keep a lookout. It’s my job.
His voice faded away as weariness took over.
Chapter 8
Slyder’s phone went off about an hour later while he lay in bed, Nebraska draped over him, her warm skin against his from his shoulder to their feet. His hand froze on her spine at the sound of ‘Whiskey in the Jar’.
Disentangling himself from Nebraska’s warm body, he made his way to where his jeans lay in a heap on the floor and pulled out his phone.
“Hello,” he mumbled, trying to stay quiet so Nebraska could sleep.
“Why are you muffled?” Dylan asked.
“Give me a minute,” he said as he ducked out of the room and closed the door. “Okay, what’s up?”
“We know who it is, and he’s hired someone who’s headed your way. We lost him about ten miles from her place. Be ready—we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Who?”
“Aaron,” he said. “But it’s a long story and you don’t have time.” The phone went dead and Slyder’s instincts took over.
Her own fucking brother. They knew it was a family member, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but he cringed at the thought of telling her.
Not that he had time now, because he needed to get dressed and secure the perimeter.
He ducked back into the room and slid on his pants, tucking his gun in the waistband. The sun had started to set, and night was closing in fast, making it hard to see anything going on outside. He flicked on the bedside lamps to make sure that, no matter what, he could see in this room.
Nebraska lay in the middle of the bed, her even breathing telling him that she was out and totally relaxed. He debated waking her, but wanted to check the perimeter of the house before he got held up answering a bunch of questions.
And she would have questions.
He checked the windows and doors in her room to make sure they were locked, and headed through the rest of the house to check all other points of entry just to be on the safe side. Everything was locked but for a window in her home office.
He stared at the gap where the window lay open three inches, the evening breeze drifting in, setting the sheer curtains to swaying.
The hair stood up on his arms and neck. His ears buzzed as his sense of hearing heightened. Sounds that for everyone else became background noise came to the forefront.
The sound of the fridge, the Freon kicking in and the coolant coming on. The low hum of the electronics, a kind of static sound, almost no one heard.
Unless they were trained to hear everything.
The muffled thud of a boot on paver bricks drew his attention, and he ran for the front door to get a better view of the gatehouse.
<
br /> An eerie quiet took over, silencing the background noise, the silence so loud his ears rang with it. It was that quiet that came with a single-minded focus that narrowed to one thing.
One moment in time.
Squinting, he pressed his face to the glass in the door and spotted the gate.
Open.
No light shone from the gatehouse, an indicator that something had happened to José who had taken over for Willy at three.
Son of a bitch!
He ran through the hall and back to Nebraska’s room. He burst through the door and skidded to a stop, his heart hammering behind his ribs.
Nebraska shot up, pulled the sheet to her chest, and blinked at him. “What is it?”
He couldn’t force a word past his seized throat.
Because a man in a ski mask stood behind her, a gun aimed at her head.
The intruder held up his free hand and wagged his index finger at him. A warning to keep his mouth shut.
Nebraska rubbed her eyes with her balled up fists, completely unaware that anything had gone wrong.
Slyder took a tentative step, working his way closer to Nebraska. By the third step, the man figured out what he was up to and cocked his gun.
The sound got Nebraska’s attention and her head whipped around. At the sight of him, she let out a scream that would peel wallpaper clean off the walls. She scrambled toward Slyder but the guy reached out and grabbed her hair, snatching her right back. “Back here, you bitch,” he sneered.
Nebraska fell back onto the bed, the sheet falling away, leaving her breasts exposed. Her lungs heaved as her eyes darted back and forth. He knew that look. Sheer panic, and the search for anything that might help her protect herself.
Because, at the moment, he couldn’t protect her. Not with a weapon aimed at her in such a way that just one slip on the trigger would end her life.
Her breasts lay bare to the intruder’s gaze, earning a leer.
Slyder saw the excitement in his narrowed, shining eyes.
Slyder seethed with rage, his gut burning. His heart thudded, the sound echoing in his head.
“You need to learn your place, and I think I know just the way to do it. I’ll even let your boyfriend watch,” he said, reaching for her breast.
His black-gloved hand reached out and pinched her nipple hard, making her cry out.
Her eyes narrowed, her teeth clenched, and her muscles bunched right before she flipped over and lashed out, clawing, scratching, swinging, doing anything she could to keep the vile man from touching her again.
Her fist connected with his shoulder, knocking him back a step.
Slyder had one shot while the intruder was distracted by the surprise hit. He lunged, his foot on the bed, where he used the leverage to launch himself past Nebraska, and threw his entire body weight at the man.
They hit the floor with a thud that knocked the breath out of Slyder. The intruder’s elbow caught him in the cheek as Slyder fought to get a hold of the gun. The guy struggled against him; desperately try to aim his weapon at Slyder.
“Run, Nebraska!” he shouted.
Slyder didn’t dare reach for his own gun. It took all his strength to keep the man’s arms up and the gun pointed at the wall, shielding Nebraska from getting shot.
Because, if he knew anything, he knew she sure as hell didn’t listen when he told her to run.
Locking his hands over the gun, they fought, rolling across the floor. Whoever the guy was, he was strong and capable, and gave Slyder a run for his money.
He shot a look toward the bed, relieved to find Nebraska gone. Bringing his knee up, he dug it into the thigh of the intruder, hoping to distract him just enough to gain the upper hand.
The guy grunted, but continued to fight.
Slyder took a deep breath, and with all his strength slammed their locked hands against the wall just under the windows, once, twice, three times—until the intruder’s finger slipped from the trigger slot.
A faint click echoed by his ear and they froze, their gazes swinging toward the sound.
Nebraska stood over them, naked, a ball of fury, a Beretta pointed right between the eyes of the man.
“Don’t think I won’t pull this fucking trigger and watch your brains splatter on my wall and your blood soak into my carpet,” she said, her voice low and controlled.
Slyder would never forget the way she looked, fierce and dangerous, her hair wild, a glint in her eyes.
He slipped the gun from the intruder and yanked him to his feet. An unfamiliar ring sounded, coming from the guy’s jacket.
Slyder pulled out his own gun. “Why don’t you go ahead and slide that phone out of his pocket and answer it, Nebraska.”
She did as he instructed, flipping over the phone, the blood draining from her face when she caught view of the screen. With a shaking thumb, she clicked on the phone and pressed it to her ear, but said nothing.
“Is it done?”
“Aaron?” Her chin wobbled.
The phone went silent and slipped from her trembling fingers.
The door flew open, Dylan and Cole bursting in. Slyder moved to block Nebraska from their view and away from the guy sent to hurt her.
Dylan grabbed the intruder. “We’ve got this. Evan’s watching Aaron’s place until the police can get there,” he said, cuffing the man’s hands behind his back.
Nebraska’s damp eyes shot up to Slyder and she took a step back. “You knew?”
Shit. “Yes,” he admitted.
She took two more steps back before squaring her shoulders and wiping her eyes. “Get out.”
“Nebraska,” he said, reaching for her.
“I said get out. Now. Out of my house,” she demanded, her voice unyielding.
Sirens wailed as the driveway filled with cop cars, and uniformed officers poured in.
“This isn’t over, Nebraska,” he said to her. He didn’t care who looked on or what they saw. She just looked at him as though he was no better than her brother, and that was something he couldn’t live with.
He wouldn’t live with.
He’d give her time to calm down and then she’d hear him out.
Whether she wanted to or not.
Chapter 9
For four days, Nebraska walked around, a shell of who she had been before the attack. Her phone rang incessantly, mostly her mother trying to get a hold of her.
Her mother trying to apologize.
Only, she didn’t have anything to apologize for. She’d paid for Nebraska’s protection when Nebraska was too proud to do it for herself.
Too arrogant to even admit that there was a problem.
Nebraska had to come to terms with the fact that one of her own could do this to her. Her own brother, someone she considered a protector as they grew up. Someone she relied on to show her the ropes when she visited him and her mother in California.
Someone dead to her now.
There was only one thing left to do.
She needed to see him face to face.
For herself.
Dylan arranged for a private meeting at the Long Beach prison. Nebraska waited in a dingy gray room at a metal table bolted to the floor. The coldness of the folding chair under her seeped into her bones. Disinfectant burned her sinuses.
Her heart knocked hard when the sound of the lock clicking open filled the room.
An officer led her brother in and sat him in the chair across from her, keeping his hands cuffed.
His disheveled hair stood at awkward angles, his unshaven face making him look more like a vagrant and less like her brother.
Tired eyes stared back at her, dull and lifeless.
It took seeing him like that for her to realize that there hadn’t been that much there to begin with. She had memories of the young boy she’d loved, but when he’d turned into a man they had drifted apart. If she really thought about it, the only time the adult Aaron showed much interest in her at all was based on her success and nothing else.
> She grieved for the brother she needed, the brother he hadn’t been capable of being.
She cleared her throat. “I thought I had a lot to say to you. I was angry and I wanted you to know it, but looking at you, all I’m wondering is why.”
“It was always so easy for you, wasn’t it? You were the pretty princess. You chose Dad and broke Mom’s heart,” he bit out, his hands fisting on the table between them. “Not that she would ever say, but it was there in the way she’d stare at your picture and gush over packages Dad sent of your school projects, or pictures you made for her. She had me, but all she wanted was you. When you chose Dad, you turned me into an orphan. I had no parents. I hate you for that.”
Her heart cracked. All this time, he had hated her. And all this time, she had thought they were a family. Maybe not your average family, but she had been proud that, despite their differences, they’d stayed a unit. “So what was with all those attempts at getting me to sign you on as my manager? Why, when you hated me so much?”
“Because you make big money, and I deserved a cut of it for the life you cost me,” he said, his blue eyes narrowing on her.
It had come down to the money. Of course, it had. Didn’t it always? Her mother had tried to use things—presents, trips—anything she could to sway them into choosing her, and Aaron went for it. Maybe Nebraska should have known this entire time.
“So, every time I spoke out and risked my contracts, I might have been risking your future payday. Is that it?”
“That about sums it up.” He leaned back in his chair.
She slid her chair back, the scrape echoing in the desolate room. “I hate to break it to you, Aaron, but you did it for nothing. I was never going to let you manage me. Never. I run my own life. All of it. And that will never change. Mom might be okay with being a puppet, but I’m not.”
The guard opened the door and Nebraska slipped out. She leaned against the hallway wall, dropped her head back, and took a deep breath.
And she still ached.
Not for her brother this time, but for Slyder.
In such a short amount of time he’d turned her world inside out, and made her want things she never thought she could have.
