by Rachel Grant
What was wrong with him? Where the hell were his priorities?
She returned to him and, without a word, again took him in her mouth. She sucked on his cock, her mouth stroking up and down, giving him intense, building pleasure and an immeasurable sense of peace. This was right. Real. He was whole, and so was she. And together…together they would be greater than the sum of their parts.
She was his destiny, and deep down, he knew he was hers.
Sienna couldn’t get close enough to Rhys. She had to have him inside her—her mouth or her vagina, it didn’t matter. She just needed him deep. She needed to feel his thick cock to prove he was fully alive. With her.
“Sienna,” he said with a sharp intake of breath. “Please let me fuck you.”
She gave him one last, deep suck, then released him and stood. He kissed her, his tongue delving deep in her mouth before he said, “Condom?”
She handed him the packet and stroked his cock while he ripped it open. Once he was sheathed, he picked her up and placed her on the worktable closest to the door. The Formica top was cold against her bottom, but she was so hot with need, it didn’t matter. She spread her thighs and pulled him between them. The worktable was the perfect height.
He rubbed the tip of his cock against her slick opening. “Fuck me, Rhys.” Like the shared dream, the pitch darkness gave her the courage to be herself, to say the word fuck and not be embarrassed it turned her on.
He thrust into her, triggering a ripple of intense pleasure. “I wish I could see your beautiful body as I fuck you,” he said, sliding into her again with a slow sensuous stroke.
“Next time,” she said. He touched her clit as he drove deep, and she lost the ability to speak as their bodies merged in a perfect, intense, life-affirming rhythm.
She kept her eyes open, seeing nothing as they rocked together, but when she came, she imagined a colorful burst of light—her own personal aurora borealis or watercolors in the sky. He came moments after she did, his body tightening between her thighs as he let out a hard, hot groan.
Spent, he leaned down and kissed her, still sliding inside her, but slow thrusts now. “I didn’t think sex could be as good as the dream, but that…that was amazing. Better than the dream. Better than anything.”
The dream. She’d forgotten the mask had manufactured the attraction between them. And he was right. It had been better than the dream, which could be a sign that even if the mask had manufactured the attraction, it was now real. Right?
All she knew was she couldn’t imagine not having Rhys as part of her life moving forward, but the thought of needing him after the spell wore off terrified her.
She tried to quell those doubts and enjoy the feel of his firm body against hers, his hips between her thighs. His mouth on her neck. Clutched tightly together in the pitch-dark, it felt like the sort of moment when people made declarations, and her throat burned with foolish words it was far too soon to say.
She couldn’t help but wonder if now that he’d had her, she’d be out of his system.
Dream complete. End of desire.
He shifted, sliding out of her. “For the record, this was a worktable, not a desk. I never said we couldn’t have sex on a table the first time.”
She laughed, remembering their earlier discussion. Would there be an eighth time, or a hundred and eighth, or was this going to end as abruptly as it started? She felt a chill at the thought. She was in over her head, had none of her usual defenses up. What would he think when he realized she was too serious and boring for him?
He was probably an adrenaline junkie—weren’t all the bomb guys in it for the adrenaline? There’d been plenty of adrenaline to feed him in the last twenty-four-plus hours, but what about later?
The happy buzz of sex left her. “What now, Rhys?” Oh crap. She’d asked him point-blank. Stupid, foolish mistake. “I mean… the mask was stolen by Adam. What should we do? Go back to Chuck’s house?”
The lights flared, and she blinked against the sudden brightness, their nakedness startling even though they’d been as close as two people could be moments before. She scrambled off the table and dove for her clothes. Her body was hardly as perfect as his. It would’ve been nice to maintain the fantasy of beauty that darkness had provided for a few more minutes.
“What’s going on, Sienna? Why are you running away?”
With her back to him, she couldn’t see his expression as she quickly pulled on her clothes.
Dressed, she turned to see his beautiful body. Unabashed in his naked perfection. She wished she could be that open. That free. “I’m not. It’s just… getting late. It’ll be midnight soon. We should go to the street dance. We don’t want to miss the fireworks. And maybe the Pelligrew brothers will be there.”
“We’re going to let the FBI handle it from here.” His tone was sharp, coldness creeping at the edges.
“I suppose you should call your contact there now.” She grabbed his phone from his pants pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it—barely.
Confusion warred with anger in his eyes. “I will. But I want to know why you’re shutting me out first.”
She gathered his clothes and deposited them on the table next to him. “I’m not.”
“What the fuck, Sienna? Is this a wham, bam, thank-you sort of screw for you? Because, as I said earlier, I don’t want inconsequential with you, and I thought we were on the same page.”
“We were. We are. I’m just…” She sighed and twisted a finger in her hair. “I’m scared that now the dream has been completed, you won’t want me anymore. I’m giving you an out.”
He set his phone on the table and grabbed her hips, pulling her clothed body against his naked one. His expression softened, and she thought a smile played around his lips. “Sweetheart, I want to fuck you again right now, with the lights on, so I can watch your face as I make you come. Repeatedly.” He kissed her neck. “The only thing that’s stopping me is the lack of soft surfaces. I want you in a bed so you’ll be comfortable as I lick you and slide my tongue inside you. I want to explore every inch of your body. I want to order you around like we did in the dream, because I want to fulfill every damn sexual fantasy you’ve ever had, and when we’ve exhausted those, I want to come up with new ones. Finishing the dream was only the beginning of what I want from you.”
Each word raised her temperature, taking her from hot to inferno. “I want—” She cleared her throat. “I want all of that too.”
“Good.” He kissed her hard and fast. “While I call the FBI, why don’t you call the local police? After we’ve made our reports, we’ll head to the street dance. If we run into Helvig there, I’m going to kick his ass for killing me earlier.”
Chapter Ten
The street dance was in full swing when they arrived, not long before midnight. From the size of the crowd, it looked like every resident and tourist was present. Food and souvenir booths were set up along the waterfront park, and the parallel street was closed off for dancing. Max Midnight, the band Archie had mentioned, was set up on a platform at the end of the street. The sound carried for miles, and there’d been no need to string up lights, as the daylight would continue for weeks.
On the drive to town, the electrical workers they’d seen earlier had all shifted to the blown transformer. Sienna suspected the mask had visited one of those workers and caused him or her to make a mistake that triggered the blackout. She hoped dearly no one would get in trouble for the “accident” that had saved Rhys’s life.
She took Rhys’s hand and squeezed it, caught in a mix of emotions. Being with him made her giddy, but fear and apprehension over who they might meet in town had her stomach in knots. Someone had taken a shot at him today, and later, Adam Helvig would have killed him had they stepped outside at the wrong moment.
Was the shooter Adam or one of the Pelligrew brothers? Had whoever it was poisoned Chuck?
“Adam would be a fool to show up here, and we agreed to avoid the Pelligrews. So why are we h
ere?” she asked Rhys.
He grinned. “It’s a street dance. We’re here to dance.”
She paused. How long had it been since she’d gone dancing? Not since grad school, at least. But then, she’d cut out all fun in grad school, not due to her coursework but because she’d caught her then-boyfriend—and fellow grad student—getting a blowjob from another student in the department study room. After that, she’d focused on school and nothing else. Somewhere along the way, she’d given up on having fun. On the night of her graduation, she’d tried to rectify that by picking up a guy at a bar, but the experience hadn’t been what either of them would call a good time.
So here she was, three years later, wondering if she remembered how to dance.
“Please? Dance with me?”
She nodded, and he led her to the cordoned-off dance area.
“We have just enough time for two more songs before we take a break to watch the fireworks,” the lead singer of Max Midnight said, then they launched into “In the Midnight Hour.”
A familiar soul tune with an easy beat, it was a good song to break her dance abstinence with. She started swaying her hips, and slowly, the rest of her body joined in. It was like riding a bicycle—or sex. Her body knew what to do as long as she didn’t let her head get in the way.
Rhys wore a sexy grin as he moved in time with her, and they brushed against each other with a seductive sway. The world was reduced to her, Rhys, and the beat. The song ended, and the band changed to a female vocalist for the last song of the set, the sexy jazz standard, “Midnight Sun.”
Rhys took her into his arms for a slow dance. The perfect song for the moment. Was there anything more romantic than dancing at midnight in the full light of day, with Kotzebue Sound and the Bering Straits to the east and south and low, rolling arctic hills to the west?
His arms tightened around her, their bodies pressed together as they rocked to the music in a rhythm that mimicked languorous sex. By the time the song ended, she was ready to drag him back to the house, forget watching the extravagant daylight fireworks display.
Rhys, however, was eager to see the fireworks and led her to the beer garden, where he found them seats in the packed space. “We should be able to see the whole show from here.”
They ordered drinks, which the waitress delivered quickly. Sienna sipped her beer, an Alaskan brew she’d never tried before but discovered she quite liked, and looked out over the water. “So. You really like fireworks, don’t you?”
He smiled. “I’m a guy. They explode. Need more information?”
She laughed. “Not really.”
“Seriously, though,” he said, settling back in his seat with his gaze fixed on the barge floating on the Sound from which the fireworks would be launched. “I did two tours in Iraq, defusing IEDs, C-4 bombs, unwilling suicide bombers, you name it. When everyday survival depends on understanding explosives, something like this is interesting and more than just a pretty show. I want to see the setup, how it’s designed. It’s part of who I am now, I guess.”
“Are you okay with the flash and boom?” she asked. “Does it trigger memories?”
“Yes and no. Yes, I can handle the noise—because I know it’s coming. Today in the storage unit nearly did me in—because it was real—and I wanted to shove Officer Tourney’s head into the wall when he suggested I’d suffered from a bout of PTSD panic upon hearing a random firework.”
“I did too,” Sienna said.
He smiled. “I’ve had PTSD issues, but nothing like some of the guys I know. I’ve had time—seven years now—and therapy. I had a bigger problem missing the adrenaline rush. It’s not exactly a healthy line of work, but I’ve learned to refocus.” He fixed her with a sexy smile. “And found other ways to get my rocks off.”
She flushed with heat.
A loud boom rent the air, drawing their attention back to the barge. The first volley was a streak of blue smoke, eliciting a gasp from the crowd when the end burst into a yellow, sunlike shape.
The display was slow, as a slight breeze was needed to wash away the previous sky painting before moving on to the next. But the pace was fitting for a show that was more like an aurora borealis than the flash and spark of normal fireworks. On the barge, white and gray smoke billowed prior to each low explosion, signaling the next image.
The show was long, loud, and beautiful as colors filled the bright blue midnight sky. The report of the explosions bounced off the water and echoed from the hills. The sound vibrated through her body with a resonance akin to the mask, making her wonder where the mask was, and what had made Adam desperate enough to steal it again.
The finale was a grand, burnt-sienna-colored sun that rivaled the real midnight sun. After the boom faded, the silence was deep and stark in contrast.
The crowd remained silent seconds longer than Sienna had ever imagined a group of revelers could, until the peace was broken by a woman’s scream.
The body had been dumped on the bandstand. The bass player had screamed when she found him sprawled over an amplifier. Whispers filtered through the crowd, finally reaching Rhys and Sienna: no one recognized the dead man.
With a sense of foreboding, Rhys led Sienna to the stage. Officer Tourney was there, behind the hastily strung-up crime scene tape. Other officers from Itqaklut were present as well. “Tourney,” Rhys called out. “Let us take a look. There’s a chance Sienna will recognize the guy.”
“It’s a head shot,” he said. “Gruesome.”
Rhys turned to Sienna. “Can you handle it?”
Her face was pale but her gaze resolute. “Yes. We need to know.”
To the officer, Rhys said, “Let her in.”
Tourney nodded, and Sienna pulled Rhys with her. When the officers objected, she stood her ground. They let him pass the barrier with her.
She glanced quickly, then away. She gave Rhys a sharp nod, which was good because Rhys had a harder time recognizing the man with the hole in the middle of his face.
To Tourney, Sienna said, “His name is Adam Helvig. He’s a museum curator and lives near Tacoma. He’s the person we suggested might have taken a shot at me earlier, and the man we suspect might have stolen a box from me with an artifact inside. I called it in about an hour ago.”
Tourney frowned and insisted on questioning them separately. It took the fool thirty minutes to round up witnesses in the crowded beer garden who verified Rhys and Sienna had been enjoying drinks during the entire firework display, precious minutes in which the Pelligrew brothers—if they’d shot Helvig—could be fleeing Itqaklut… except, there were no night flights, so maybe the snail pace of the investigation wouldn’t be a disaster.
Rhys considered the night a success when neither of them was arrested for murder.
Chapter Eleven
Rhys pulled the damaged SUV into Chuck’s driveway and paused, wondering if the house was safe. And if it wasn’t, would the mask be able to tell Sienna? It had, after all, been stolen, and with Helvig dead, who knew where it was now?
“I can still feel it,” Sienna said. “I live fifteen miles from the museum, but it sent me nightmares every night. I don’t think a few miles matter.”
“What’s it saying? Is the house safe?”
“It’s saying nothing, so I guess so?”
“Okay, then. Here’s how we’re going to do this: I’m going to search the house—with my gun out. I want you right behind me.”
She nodded.
The quick search showed the house was empty, and Sienna flopped onto the couch. Rhys leaned against the open bedroom door. He was so tired, it took a moment for him to realize they were both in the same places they’d been at the start of the dream.
Some of the tiredness left him.
Not being one to mess with what had been successful in the dream, he quickly shucked his shirt. She laughed and tugged her shirt over her head, then stood to remove her jeans. In seconds, she stood before him in nothing but a black bra and panties.
�
�God, you’re beautiful,” he said, meaning every syllable. Her body was athletic and strong, yet soft in all the right places—thighs, ass, belly, breasts. He loved her curves. He’d made love to her once, but had yet to taste every perfect inch of her. Time to remedy that.
He took a step toward her, but she held out a hand to stop him. “No. Lose the pants first. I want to see all of you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” In moments, he stood before her, fully naked.
“Lights are on, and neither of us has died in the last ten minutes. Promise me this isn’t just a dream.” Her voice was husky. Sexy as hell. She took a step toward him.
“Gorgeous, this is one hundred percent real.” He closed the distance between them, placed his hands on her perfect hips, and pulled her against him. His erection pressed against the soft skin of her belly, drawing a groan from him as he leaned down to kiss her.
Her satin bra rubbed his chest. As sexy as it was, he needed her skin, all of her soft, smooth, sweet skin against his. His tongue slid inside her mouth as he undid the clasp. Her bra hit the floor, and he shifted to her panties, peeling them off her without breaking the kiss. He had her naked in a flash and cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs across her hard nipples as he dropped his mouth lower to kiss her neck.
She purred against him, pressing her breasts into his palms.
“Are you going to… order me to do things… like you did in the dream?”
He chuckled. “Next time, and, if you want, every one of the next two hundred times after that. But this time, no. I want to be certain you want everything I do to you and everything you do to me.”
“What if…what if I don’t…please you?”
He laughed, incredulous, and then realized from her wide eyes she was serious. He scooped her into his arms and headed for the bedroom. “Sweetheart. All you have to do is breathe and you please me. Besides, you’ve pleased me enough already. Now it’s my turn to please you.” He dropped her on the bed, then returned to the living room.
