“How are you?” he asked.
Sophie shrugged. “Tired, which is stupid because I didn’t do very much today.” She raised her head to peer into his face. “You?”
He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and back into his hair. “I’ll be better once this is all over.”
She really couldn’t dispute that. She longed for nothing more than the return of her normal life.
“What was bothering you earlier?” she asked, rubbing his arm gently.
He exhaled again, lifting his gaze to the gold plaques screwed into their doors. “Dad was just being … annoying.”
“Did he give you a hard time?” she wondered.
He shook his head. “Not really. He just … ” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not a big deal.”
“You sure?”
He nodded, kissing her. “Forget it, okay?”
Reluctantly, she agreed. “I’ll see you in the morning?” she said, getting the enclosure of his arms around her in response. He kissed her delicately, drawing all her worries and fears away for just a moment.
“Goodnight,” he murmured against her lips.
“Night.”
They broke apart and, with a final glance at each other, stepped into their rooms.
But despite the heavy umbrella of exhaustion, Sophie couldn’t bring her eyes to close. Each time she tried, images of the garage door, the crimson stain, the message burned behind her eyelids, forever stamped into her brain. She couldn’t seem to shake it or bypass the need to sob uncontrollably into her pillow.
In the next bed, her parents slept soundly. Her father’s snores orchestrated the thick darkness, chasing away any shred of sleep she may have encountered. She lay staring at a ceiling she couldn’t see and wondered if Spencer was having any troubles sleeping or if he was lying awake as well.
Her mother sighed in her sleep. She shifted and the bed squeaked as she rolled onto her other side. Sophie wondered how she could possibly sleep with the ruckus her father was making. Maybe after twenty years of marriage, her mother had become immune to the blow horn in her father’s throat. She was ready to go mad.
With a groan, she snatched up her pillow and stuffed it over her head. It was stupid to think a pillow full of feathers could somehow shield her from the dying elephant in the room, but it did muffle it a bit. It also nearly stifled the soft thump, thump, thump, thump that just scraped under her father’s noise.
Sophie was upright in an instant, her heart lodged in her throat. Her mouth opened, prepared to call to her father when it came again, a rhythmic thump, thump, thump, thump. It was the sound fingers made when drumming on wood. It was also not coming from the front door, which should have been a given considering she doubted whoever was after her wouldn’t bother to knock. And, it wasn’t a knock.
She threw off the blankets and padded quietly to the door joining her room to Spencer’s. She unlatched the lock and opened the door.
Bathed in soft, pale light, Spencer stood on the other side, wearing nothing but sweats. He momentarily took her breath away before she caught it and asked in a whisper, “What are you doing?”
He smiled almost sheepishly, ruffling a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep. Did I wake you?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
His silver eyes studied her, glinting in the faint light filtering in through the window behind him. “Why?”
She leaned into the frame with her shoulder, folding her arm beneath her chest. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “What if they never find them? We can’t live in a hotel forever.”
His arm hooked around her middle and she was drawn into his warm, solid chest. “We’ll work it out somehow,” he promised.
It was hard to focus on their conversation when all she could feel was the smooth width of his back, the rock hard bulges of his arms and the way his scent and warmth poured and pooled around her. Her body tingled with awareness, painfully conscious of her unintentional wardrobe choices. Part of her wondered if he’d noticed yet, if he knew just how little she was wearing. A lump of anticipation and embarrassment coursed through her, distracting her from even breathing.
Tentatively, she peered up at him through her lashes, carefully assessing his reaction. It was impossible to tell with the shadows falling in strips across his face, but his slow, shallow breaths, the slight tremor in his muscles and the sharp glint in his eyes spoke volumes. He knew.
“You should go back to bed.” His voice was even, viciously controlled.
Sophie dampened her lips. “My bed?” It was undetermined what possessed her to voice the question out loud, but once it was out, no amount of wishing could take it back.
His breath drew in sharply. The precisely carved patchwork etched into the muscles of his abdomen flexed beneath her fingertips. His fingers curled into the flimsy material of her oversized t-shirt.
“Or mine.” His teeth flashed in a half smirk, half snarl. “But I promise you won’t get much sleep there.”
She would have happily melted into a thick puddle of delicious nothingness, but he was waiting … no, daring her to answer. “I didn’t plan on sleeping anyway.”
There was a rumble of satisfaction in his low growl as he hoisted her up into his arms. Her bare legs automatically banded around his waist, anchoring her to him as he quietly closed the door between their rooms and marched to his bed.
In the bed over, Jackie slept peacefully, her back to them, oblivious of the goings on only a handful of feet away.
Spencer lowered Sophie to the unmade bed and quickly crawled over her. He wedged his narrow hips between her knees and pinned her trembling body to the mattress still warm from his heat. A strange sound erupted from her, a sound between a whimper and a moan, but breathy and desperate. Her nails sunk into his shoulders, pulling him in closer.
His lips curled into a dark grin. “Oh I’m not going anywhere, baby!” he practically purred before his mouth crashed down on hers.
There was urgency in the kiss that stemmed from the possibility of getting caught at any moment. Everything seemed a thousand times more intensified because of it. Every touch was knives of pleasure carving into them. Every kiss was liquid fire searing through their veins. Hands and lips roamed freely, but with purpose, over miles of exposed flesh. Sophie had no recollection of having her top removed or his sweats, leaving her in her boy briefs and him in his boxers, but the raw sensation of feeling every inch of him pressed, melded into her was a high no drug could ever duplicate. The ecstasies of his mouth, the confident glide of his hands were an unimaginable boil of fire that roared fiercely through her. She would have happily burned under his torture forever when his thumb hooked into the waistband of her briefs.
“No,” she choked, breaking the kiss and grabbing his wrist. “I’m not ready.”
His hand instantly released and moved further down to cup the back of her thigh. His mouth found hers. He kissed her long and hard, ripping away everything but the spiraling need for something only he could give her. Her entire body shook with the force. She clawed into his back, dragging him closer, needing him closer, needing him to do something to make the brimming madness stop.
“Be a good girl and be very quiet for me,” he whispered into her ear.
She was ready to promise him anything, and nearly did, when his fingers traced the curve of her hip and eased beneath the elastic of her briefs. .
“I’m here,” he whispered when she gasped his name, her body jerking in reaction. “I won’t hurt you.”
No. There was nothing painful about what he did, although she was sure there should have been. At one point, he’d held her so tight, pressing her face so deep into his neck, she nearly couldn’t breathe. But it wasn’t air she’d been desperately panting for. She might have bit him, but that was also hazy. She might have done a lot of things, said a lot of things, but it was all a blistering hue of colors so bright, she was seeing spots long after he’d drawn away to pull the bla
nkets around her.
“I’m sorry … ” she began, feeling a surge of mortification over her behavior.
“Shhh,” he crooned, kissing her softly. “I’ll be right back.”
With a final kiss, he slipped out of the bed and padded quietly to the washroom. Deprived of his heat, Sophie shivered as the cool air breathed over her damp skin. She sat up and dragged her t-shirt on before curling back up under the blankets. She listened as the toilet flushed and water ran in the bathroom. Several moments later, Spencer returned to bed and drew her into him. She curled into him like a kitten seeking heat. She felt rather than heard him exhale. His chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. His fingers combed the knots from her hair as they lay in blissful silence.
“Spencer?” she said, breaking the quiet.
“Yeah?”
A smile tugged on her lips. “What would you have done if my father had answered the door?”
“I certainly would not have done that with him, I can promise you that.”
Sophie giggled, snuggling deeper into him. “I should go.”
He made a soft humming sound of agreement. “In a minute.”
She nodded, eyes closing. “A minute.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sophie opened her eyes to the dim glow of muted sunlight spilling through tufts of gray. The broken beams splintered through the stretch of glass on her left, which was not where her window usually was. A fleeting moment of disorientation paralyzed her as she pushed off the heaviness of sleep and focused on the unfamiliar room surrounding her.
She was on her back, pinned there by the heavy weight resting on her entire right side. Hefty bands hooked around her middle and another was tucked a little too high between her legs. A hot flush worked up her body as memories flooded through her, memories of Spencer coming to her room and then them winding up in his bed. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound between excitement and embarrassment. Carefully, she unhitched herself from his possessive hold and tiptoed to the joining door. She took one last peek at Spencer’s sleeping figure before ducking into her room.
Her parents were both sleeping. Her mother had her back to Sophie and her father was snoring the roof down. Sophie crept quietly to her duffle bag and dragged the whole thing into the bathroom with her for a shower. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she left the bathroom to find her parents up and shuffling around getting things together.
“See if Jackie and Spencer are awake,” her father said as he followed her mother towards he bathroom. “Tell them we have to get going soon.”
Sophie left her duffle bag on her unmade bed and started towards the door, her heart hammering in her chest. Her body, hot and tingling, trembled as she raised a hand and knocked softly.
To her disappointment, and semi relief, Jackie answered in her silk housecoat and slippers, her hair flat on one side.
“Good morning!”
Without stealing peeks over the woman’s shoulder, Sophie smiled. “Morning! Dad says we’ll be leaving soon.”
Jackie’s eyes widened. “Oh! Well … ” A soft click issued from somewhere behind her and she perked. “Oh good! Spencer just finished with the washroom. I’ll take a quick shower and be ready in no time!” She didn’t wait for Sophie to answer. She darted into the bathroom and shut her son out in nothing but a towel and miles of flawless skin.
Droplets of water clung to his shoulders and quivered down his chest. His hair was swept back from his face, leaving it devastatingly bare. Silver eyes rose up and met hers and she had just enough time to slump against the doorframe before her knees dissolved.
Beautiful muscles bunched and flexed as he stalked towards her with slow, purposeful strides. The only outward sign that he was just barely in control was the white caps on his knuckles gripping the towel in place around his tapered waist. Sophie tried not to think what would happen if he let go.
“Last night happened.” There was a challenge in his eyes, as if he were daring her to deny the most magical night of her life.
She nodded, affirming his non-question.
“You left.” The accusation in his eyes was white hot as was the hunger simmering just beneath it.
“I … I had to,” she whispered.
He closed the space separating them. His hand lifted and closed in the hair at the back of her head. She was held fast as he fused every inch of his body into hers, capturing her between him and the wall.
“I’ve had dreams of you before, but it had never been that vivid,” he hissed against her parted lips. “I could smell you everywhere this morning, in the air, on the pillow, the sheets … ” He nipped on her chin. “On me. But you weren’t there.” He kissed her before she could even think to respond, not that it mattered. One touch of his mouth and she forgot everything else. Her arms wound around his neck, forcing her onto her toes. Every last inch of space vanished with the melding of her front into his. But the moment didn’t last. He pulled away.
“Wait!” she begged.
His teeth closed sharply over her bottom lip, eliciting a whimper from her as she clamped a hand over the back of his neck and forced his head back down for another fierce kiss. Her hands greedily followed the hard plains of his chest, his back, his arms, any part of him she could touch.
“Baby … ” His voice broke. His entire body shuddered against hers, causing silver ribbons of elation to rip through her. He slanted forward, sagging against her hungry mouth, seemingly powerless to do more than let her take everything she wanted. “Sophie … God!”
“Another minute!” she panted.
He groaned, the sound pleading and desperate. “Sophie!” His fingers closed around her upper arms and she was shoved back from him. Her back slammed into the wall and she was held there as he visibly struggled with control. “Don’t look at me like that!” he warned.
But she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know how else to look when she was completely ravenous for him. Hiding it just seemed pointless.
“Damn it!” he snarled.
Before she could draw another breath, Sophie found herself forced back into her room and the door slammed between them. It took a moment for the unexpected relocation to set in, but when it did, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. On the other side of the door, something thumped against the barricade, like a fist or a forehead.
Behind her, the bathroom door opened and her father emerged, dressed in dark slacks and a white polo shirt. He eyed Sophie warily as he ambled across the room to the nightstand. “Everything okay?”
Sophie nodded. “Yeah. Why?”
He waved a hand towards her while he gathered his wallet and keys. “You’re staring at a door.”
She moved away from the temptation and busied herself getting her books together for school. She emptied the novels she’d stuffed into her backpack and grabbed her jacket. She checked the battery life on her phone before stuffing it into her pocket.
“Dad?”
In the process of strapping his watch around his wrist, her father glanced up. “Yeah?”
“What are we going to do if this doesn’t end? If the police don’t find the person who did this?”
He walked towards her and gently rested his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed lightly. “Don’t worry about that, okay? I’m going to take care of everything.”
That didn’t answer her question at all. Something told her living in a hotel wasn’t a forever sort of solution and she didn’t want to go home, which enraged her. It was her home. It was the only home she’d ever known. Her room had been her nursery. It had memories and it was hers. She didn’t want to move! She didn’t want to leave her friends behind, or Spencer.
“Hey.” Her father shook her gently. “I’ll fix this,” he promised solemnly.
What choice did she have but to believe him? If anyone could make things better, it was her father. He could fix anything.
Her mother hurried out of the bathroom, swinging on a white sweater over her blouse and black slacks. She fluff
ed her hair out from beneath the collar and hurried to snatch up her purse.
“I can’t find my … oh! There it is!” She whipped out a tube of startling red lipstick and darted back into the bathroom.
Her father met Sophie’s gaze and rolled his eyes. “Women.”
Sophie elbowed him playfully and went by the door to wait. No sooner had she leaned back against the cool surface when a soft knock sounded between her shoulder blades. She jerked back as though the door had attempted to take a bite out of her.
“It’s probably Jackie,” her father said, hurrying forward. He pushed Sophie away while pressing one eye to the peephole. “Jackie,” he confirmed, throwing open the door.
Dressed in a pretty dress in soft beige with tiny roses all over, Jackie smiled at them. “Am I too early?”
Her father shook his head. “I think we’re all ready. Where’s Spencer?”
That’s what Sophie wanted to know. It was the first thing her eyes had sought out the moment the door had opened, but the gorgeous blond was nowhere in sight.
“He apparently forgot to rinse the shampoo from his hair so he’s taking a quick shower. He told me to just go on ahead and he’d catch up.”
Her father frowned. “I don’t like the idea of leaving anyone behind.”
“I think we’re safe here.” Her mother emerged from the washroom, clipping gold earrings onto her earlobes. “They have cameras everywhere. Plus, we’re only going downstairs.”
Her father continued to look hesitant, but accepted the facts and ushered Sophie and her mother out. He closed their door and together, they shuffled down the hall with Sophie a foot or two behind. She tossed several glances over her shoulder as they ventured down the seemingly endless corridor toward the elevators.
“So we’ll have some breakfast and then I’ll get the kids to school … ” her father was saying, but Sophie wasn’t really listening. She watched the slow descent of the flashing numbers above the metal doors.
Games of Fire Page 30
