Motive

by Kennedy Layne

  She didn’t doubt him for a second. This house was right out of their previous discussions of dream homes, right down to the gabled Victorian style roof.

  “Take off your bra and panties.”

  There was something downright naughty when a man—this man—gave her directions. Her heart raced and arousal traveled through her spine in anticipation of what was to come.

  Grace arched her back and unfastened her bra, taking her time removing the straps from her arms. She was busy enjoying the view in front of her and didn’t mind delaying in the least. By the time she’d removed her lingerie, he was standing there in the nude.

  And what a stunning sight he was to see.

  He was already hard, his cock long and wide. There wasn’t a time her sheath didn’t burn in its attempt to accommodate his generous size. A dull throbbing began to pulsate inside of her, anticipating the inevitable.

  Rye dropped to his knees, but instead of lowering himself over her, he grasped her ankle and slowly raised it to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss on her sensitive flesh while maintaining eye contact.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  “Take your nipples in between your fingers and don’t stop rubbing them until I tell you to.”

  Grace moaned when she realized what he was about to do, and her contribution would only have her reaching that precipice in a matter of minutes.

  She’d wanted this moment to last.

  “Rye, you know that I’ll—”

  The light nip on her calf was a small warning, but it was enough to tell her that he wanted her complete surrender tonight.

  Grace didn’t have to touch her nipples to know that they were already hard, but she took them between her index fingers and thumbs anyway. Delicious, tiny shocks of stimulation blossomed throughout the ample flesh as she began to knead the delicate nubs. Her back immediately arched as the pleasure became overwhelming.

  He’d done this to her before, but she still emitted a cry of primal desire when he slid his fingers through her folds.

  “You are so wet,” Rye muttered, almost as if he were talking to himself. His deep, rich tone was like molasses being poured over her body. She wasn’t expecting him to slide a finger inside of her, so she couldn’t control the small contraction that gripped him tight. “I don’t want you coming yet, Grace. And I don’t want you to stop pinching your nipples…not until I tell you to.”

  Grace was beginning to lose all the worrying thoughts that plagued her throughout the day. The only thing that mattered in this moment was the pleasure he was giving her.

  Rye continued to gradually stroke his finger in and out of her entrance, purposefully ignoring that sweet spot he’d found so many times before. He was prolonging her pleasure, yet he didn’t seem to care that the delay was agonizing.

  And he didn’t stop there.

  He placed his other hand on her inner thigh, letting her know he wanted her to separate her legs even wider. She obliged, knowing full well what he intended to do. She couldn’t hold back the loud cry that escaped her when his warm lips surrounded her clit. It was impossible to hold back his name when the tip of his tongue stroked over the throbbing tissue.

  The pulsations of her erogenous zones were now timed together, and her arousal rose every time she squeezed her nipples.

  “I need to come, Rye,” Grace managed to gasp, perspiration beading on her flesh…not from the fire, but from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving her body. “I’m going to come.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Rye continued to lightly stroke her clit with his tongue until the indulgence began to mimic the flames in the fireplace. There was a burning need that couldn’t seem to be placated, yet continued to reach for complete and utter dominance. Her nipples were no longer separate from her core, and she began to float away into that sheer oblivion she’d only ever reached with him.

  Her soft fingers continued to do his bidding, not stopping their manipulations of her nipples. Her breath hitched with each tight compression. The strokes of his finger that was still eluding her sweet spot caused her hips to rock on their own. Inherent response had taken over, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it until he allowed her to come.

  Grace screamed again, but this time it was when his touch disappeared. It was as if ice cold water had been splashed over her soul, and not even the fire next to them could do a thing about the change of temperature.

  “Rye, please,” Grace pleaded, finally opening her eyes to find him above her. He’d quickly rolled a condom in place. She didn’t have time to brace herself when he drove himself into her with one thrust. The burn that accompanied his possession was now an out of control inferno. “Yes!”

  “Come for me, angel.”

  Grace broke into a million pieces.

  Rye had seen to it that her calves were on his shoulders, allowing him full access to her in the most vulnerable way possible. He was balls deep inside of her, and she wouldn’t want it any other way. His cock finally satisfied that itch that had settled in her sweet spot from the moment he’d unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt.

  Flashes of light burst in front of her as she tried to maintain eye contact with Rye, but her body was in full blown meltdown as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Her lashes finally closed to savor her release. He’d joined her in the fall, and together they rode out the tide until they were mere puddles of bliss.

  Grace was hardly ever aware of how she ended up in his tender embrace, and this time was no different. She was on her right side, facing the fireplace with her back against Rye’s solid chest. Her still hardened nipples were cold in comparison to the heat from the flames in front of them.

  “You have no reason to be afraid, angel,” Rye murmured, pulling her in tighter against his body. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

  “I know,” Grace whispered, allowing the fatigue she’d been fighting since her arrest to finally claim her consciousness. There was something she needed to say before she fell into that welcoming void of slumber. “This isn’t a second chance, Rye. I loved you back then, and I still love you today. Nothing has changed, and I was foolish to think I could ever live without you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Why are Kurt and Goldie still parked across the hallway?”

  Grace came up short when Cynthia sidled up next to her, both of them on their way to Laurel’s office. A quick glance out the glass doors and through the outside foyer explained the inquiry.

  “Ethan and Taryn are still my protective detail until Rye decides to stop paying them,” Grace replied wryly, having already had this argument on the drive into work today. “He says he’s not convinced Brandon is the actual killer or is guilty of anything to do with murdering Brad.”

  “But you think he is?”

  “Absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt.” Grace had seen her stepbrother in action, just as Rye had. He was erring on the side of caution. She wasn’t sure why he would take Brandon’s plea of innocence to heart when he’d stooped to the same kind of criminal behavior before and turned out as guilty as sin. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the pearls around your neck. I take it Gareth is coming into the office today.”

  “I’m wearing pearls because they go with this outfit. Nothing more. Gareth has nothing to do with the choice of jewelry I wear.”

  “You keep telling yourself that,” Grace countered as she was the first through Laurel’s office door. “Cynthia’s wearing pearls.”

  “I heard Gareth was stopping in to speak with Paul and Smith.” Laurel looked up from the financial reports on her desk with a perfectly arched eyebrow. “When are you going to accept your fate, Cyn?”

  “Bite me,” Cynthia muttered, taking one of the guest chairs. She conveniently changed the subject. “So what’s the word on Brad’s office? I heard Paul and Smith were thinking of renting office space on Fifth Avenue.”

  “I bet Gareth would like to bite you,” Laurel countered under h
er breath, but she allowed Cynthia to change the subject. “And yes, Paul and Smith believe that we should have new offices if we’re going to have a new name on the door.”

  Laurel’s sights landed on Grace, suddenly changing the topic of conversation for a third time in the span of ten seconds.

  “You professed your love for Rye Marshall last night, didn’t you?”

  “How—”

  “Oh, please,” Cynthia interrupted with a wave of her hand and a twitch of her red lips. “You’re glowing like the next bride-to-be. It’s almost nauseating, but I guess you could have done worse.”

  Grace had to laugh at their banter and welcomed the lighthearted discussions about their love lives, as well as their careers, with open arms. It had been weeks since they’d been able to have small talk in this manner. It was about time their lives got back on track.

  “Did you notice that Steve has the same clothes on as he did yesterday?”

  “Marilyn told me a few minutes ago that Meredith called in to speak with Paul twice this morning,” Grace said, wishing she’d stuck around the receptionist area to hear more. “You’d think that Steve and Meredith would be relieved that the police have a prime suspect, especially given that the police had been focused on their affair as being the prime motive for Brad to be killed.”

  “Someone had access to the building’s video surveillance equipment,” Laurel pointed out hesitantly, sharing a look with Cynthia. Grace couldn’t believe that either one of them were even doubting her stepbrother’s guilt. “We’re not saying that Brandon didn’t do this, Grace, but you have to admit there are still some loose ends to be dealt with.”

  “Do you think I haven’t thought about—”

  “Grace, Detective Nielsen is here to see you.”

  All three women stared at Marilyn as if she’d just announced that Saks OFF 5th was having a fifty percent off sale.

  “Did you just say that the police are here?”

  “Yes,” Marilyn replied hesitantly, sneaking a glance down the hallway. “I heard him say they released your stepbrother this morning.”

  Marilyn’s bomb was kind of a dud, considering that Grace had expected Brandon to have great representation since his father was footing the bill.

  “The media is probably having a field day,” Grace muttered, standing from where she’d been leaning against the wooden filing cabinet Laurel had positioned against the far wall in her office. “Fine. I’ll speak with him.”

  Grace followed Marilyn out into the hallway after reassuring Laurel and Cynthia that this was most likely a courtesy visit from the police. After all, she’d been framed for murder and the person responsible had just been released from questioning.

  “You were right about the media,” Marilyn conveyed in a low voice before either one of them reached the foyer. “Marshall Securities and Manon Investments have been the sole focus on the financial channels. Steve’s been glued to the television since he arrived this morning.”

  There were two large screen TVs in the trading room, allowing the traders and staff to monitor the day’s events. Technically, the news regarding Rye’s connection to her had broken yesterday. Add in Brandon’s trip to the station for questioning, and who knew how the media would spin her involvement.

  The loose end that Laurel had brought up regarding someone having access to the building’s security system lingered, and Grace couldn’t help but stop Marilyn right before they entered the foyer.

  “Marilyn, what’s going on with Steve today? Did something happen between him and Meredith?”

  Marilyn sighed the way she usually did when it came to company gossip. Nothing happened in this office without Marilyn knowing about it, though she was usually discreet with whom she shared that information with—unless asked. She leaned in close and began to spill today’s latest chatter.

  “Before your stepbrother was on the police’s radar, Meredith supposedly asked Steve if he had anything to do with Brad’s murder.”

  Grace gave a low whistle of surprise.

  “That couldn’t have gone over too well with Steve.”

  “Meredith has been calling Paul all morning, wanting to dump her shares of Manon Investments.” Marilyn shook her head in remorse. “It’s truly sad, because the two of them were so happy together.”

  Grace didn’t want to rain on Marilyn’s parade of happily-ever-after sagas that the woman seemed hell-bent on relishing in her day-to-day gossip mill. Yes, Steve and Meredith had gotten together after Meredith’s divorce, but to get involved with one of her ex-husband’s employees hadn’t been the wisest of ideas or too discreet, either.

  “Ms. Dorrance, thank you for meeting with me,” Detective Nielsen greeted, holding out his hand in offer. He gestured back over his shoulder. “I see from the presence down the hall that you still have personal protection. That’s reassuring.”

  “Why do you say that?” Grace asked before realizing that having this conversation out in the open wasn’t the best of ideas. “Before you respond, let’s take this to my office.”

  Grace didn’t offer the detective a cup of coffee, already knowing that Marilyn had taken care of such formalities. Neither one of them said a word until they’d reached the privacy of Grace’s office and she’d closed the door.

  “It was my intention of calling you first thing this morning after your stepbrother left the station, but his lawyer is every bit as good as your Justin Monroe.” Detective Nielson took a seat in the first guest chair that didn’t have folders covering the fabric. He unbuttoned his suit jacket as if he intended to stay awhile. “And the reason I believe maintaining additional security is so important is because of what happened before, and so it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Then you believe that Brandon is guilty?”

  Detective Nielsen took too long to reply. His brief silence set her on edge, which was obviously his intention.

  “Your attorney said it himself yesterday morning,” Detective Nielsen pointed out, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “The governor wants this case closed quickly, and the prosecutor felt there was enough evidence for me to formally question Brandon Walsh.”

  “Why are you here then, Detective?”

  Grace had slept like a baby last night, and it wasn’t only because she’d been physically satisfied. It was also with the knowledge that her stepbrother was about to be behind bars and could no longer damage her reputation. This courtesy visit suddenly didn’t seem so chivalrous.

  “Who else besides Brandon Walsh would want to see you put away for murder?”

  Grace leaned back in her chair, grateful that this questioning was being done on her turf. This office was her sanctuary. This place of business was her domain. She could handle anything thrown her way, even the disbelieving notion that Detective Nielsen had doubts about her stepbrother.

  “No one,” Grace answered confidently. “Brandon was guilty all those years ago for insider trading, and he’s looking for payback after spending all that quality time in your gladiator academy. Are you telling me he has an alibi for the night Brad was murdered?”

  “Like you did?” Detective Nielsen countered, bringing Grace up short.

  “I guess I deserved that.” Grace could graciously admit when she was in the wrong, not that she’d intended to do so until her arm had been twisted. “But I also have a security guard in my building who can vouch that I never left my apartment that evening. At least, not until I received Laurels’ call. I’ll be honest, Detective Nielsen, It’s beginning to sound like I should have my attorney present.”

  Grace held up a hand, foreseeing exactly where Detective Nielsen was headed with his next statement.

  “Rye was already running late that night before having a flat tire,” Grace acknowledged, but she wasn’t going to stand back and allow that bit of information to cloud what was right in front of them. “And my answer is still the same—no one else has any reason whatsoever to frame me for murder.”

  “Rye Marshall almost lo
st his business because you recommended your stepbrother as head trader for his firm,” Detective Nielsen pointed out, purposefully ignoring the fact that she’d already asked and answered his question. “Fast forward so many years, and Mr. Marshall is presented with a gift-wrapped situation where he can out the two people who tarnished his reputation.”

  Grace bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from overreacting. Detective Nielsen wasn’t an obtuse man, and it was more than apparent he was following up on whatever bullshit story Brandon had spun while he’d been in custody.

  “I can see that Brandon has filled you in on quite a bit of my history with him, as well as Rye.” Grace reached for one of the pens on her desk. Holding the writing implement gave her something else to do besides escort the detective out the door. It was best she used this visit to her advantage to ensure there was no doubt as to her stepbrother’s guilt. “I’m sure you’ve looked into Brandon’s past interrogations regarding the insider trading charges. You’ll see a pattern of him shifting blame onto other people. Don’t be fooled again, Detective Nielsen. You have your suspect. It’s time to close the loop.”

  Detective Nielsen didn’t break eye contact, but his brief nod told Grace that he was satisfied with her explanation. She would have sighed in relief, but unfortunately, his next statement told her what the problem was with preventing the book from being slammed on this case.

  “Brandon Walsh didn’t have access to the security room in this building, nor does he have the knowledge to hack into such a sophisticated system.”

  “Brandon spent years behind bars with his fellow criminals,” Grace pointed out, refusing to back down and give the police any shred of doubt when it came to her opinion about her stepbrother. “You have no idea what he could have learned in prison during that time.”

  “Detective Mancini is currently looking into that as we speak,” Detective Nielsen shared generously, allowing the tension in Grace’s shoulders to somewhat recede. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me, Ms. Dorrance. It cuts through a lot of red tape, which I’ve been up to my neck in ever since this case landed on my desk.”