Anything He Wants: The Betrayal (#5)
Page 6
He rummaged for something, hips continuing to move his hard length in and out of me in long sure strokes, then the small vibrator I wore clicked on again. I let out a gasping breath as his arm slid under my waist, lifting me up to my knees. Fingernails skimmed along my back as he thrust harder, and I grasped the headboard for additional support.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, hands caressing my back and over the globes of my backside. “Everything about you is a turn-on.”
I bit my lip, his words a balm to my soul, and pressed back for more. He surged inside me, drawing a strangled gasp from my lips. Fingers dug into the skin of one hip, an anchor as he thrust repeatedly inside me, our coupling no longer a leisurely affair. I braced myself against the wooden headboard, shameless moans and cries being pulled from my throat. The tiny vibrator, perfectly positioned so as not to interfere with his access, sent waves through my body with each thrust and spiraled me higher and higher toward yet another orgasm. Other toys lay on the table beside the bed: floggers, feathers, dildos, and several items I wasn’t sure what to call, but Jeremiah wasn’t interested in any playing—no toys were used except the cuffs and the vibrator, both of which were more than enough in my opinion. I was spent and sore, but just as insatiable as the man inside me.
His thrusts became more erratic, a sure sign he was close to coming. My tired body tightened as well, bracing for another orgasm. I felt his breath along my neck, the rough stubble on his chin scraping along one shoulder. His hand snaked between my legs and pushed the tiny vibrator in closer to my body, straight on the throbbing center of pleasure within my folds, and with a strangled moan I came yet again. Every last bit of tension drained from my body, my forehead collapsing on my arms as my body shook, skin tingling from the overabundance of ecstasy I’d had through the night.
Jeremiah collapsed over me, spent, his welcomed weight pressing me farther into the mattress. I didn’t mind at all, grateful for the contact. Eventually, he stirred and reached up to unbuckle the cuffs, freeing my wrists from the restraints. I wiggled around until I was on my back, staring up at his muscled torso. My wrists ached but I didn’t care, as I ran my hands along his hard stomach and down his arms.
He drank me in with his eyes, gaze caressing me like silk. Behind his eyes I saw deep yearning, evidence of a hidden need, and love blossomed in my heart. I tugged on his shoulders, pulling him down atop me, and he came willingly, laying across my body so I could wrap my arms around him. His warmth and hard body made my soul sing, and I closed my eyes as I caressed his back. Being free of the restraints, however, made my mind free to wander, and even though I didn’t want to dwell on events they still rose to the forefront of my mind.
A lot had happened over the last two days, but the most worrying was the investigation on Jeremiah. The government officials who’d arrived to pick up Lucas hadn’t been amused to hear he’d escaped, and they also weren’t happy to learn about the additional kidnapping drama that happened the same day. Accusations that he’d allowed his brother to escape paled in comparison to the storm created by the dead bodies. Jeremiah’s use of his private helicopter over public areas, ironically enough, was the largest issue keeping his lawyers busy. We had, at least for the moment, been absolved of the deaths both on the property and along the waterway, but the violation of restricted airspace could still be enough to land Jeremiah in jail.
Hamilton Industries had also suffered a blow when Celeste had stepped down as COO following her kidnapping. Jeremiah didn’t talk about it and I didn’t pry, but I heard enough of his one-sided phone conversations to determine that she didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark and put in danger, however indirectly. The status of the redhead’s relationship with her husband was still a mystery, but I hoped she would forgive him. Time and space had given me a little perspective: Ethan had been between a rock and a hard place, and chose to save the one thing he loved most. I hated to think what I’d do in a similar situation.
In what I considered a comical twist of fate, I was finally performing many of the duties of a personal assistant for Jeremiah, taking phone calls and messages and helping with day-to-day business activities. It surprised me how much I enjoyed the fast-paced work; Jeremiah forwarded his calls to me and I helped set up his day and keep track of who needed what. To be honest, he threw me into the deep end, sink or swim, but I needed the distraction and I think he knew that. Anytime I slowed down or finished my duties, at those times when I had a free moment to let my brain think of something besides work, I’d invariably flash to an image or memory that disturbed me: the assassin’s open wound, Anya’s body in that bag, staring down the elongated barrel of the assassin’s gun. I’d only managed to embarrass myself once by crying, but with each day the memories became easier to bear. Work, at least, allowed my brain to stay disconnected from the unpleasantness.
A hand slid beneath my head, lifting my head from its position buried in his chest. Jeremiah gazed down at me, eyes searching mine. He traced the outline of my brow, fingers light against my skin as he followed the contour of my face down along my jaw and neck. His caressed lulled me from my thoughts and I closed my eyes, giving myself over to this simple pleasure.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured, his chest rumbling with the words. “Right now, I only want you to feel.”
I gave a soft sigh and opened my eyes, my thoughts pulling me out of the moment. “Are we safe?” I asked, pushing my face into his hand and kissing a knuckle. “Do you know who Anya was talking about, who the person was that convinced her to hire the assassin?”
It was a discussion we’d already had, and I knew Jeremiah was well aware of the continuing threat somewhere out there. Anya’s last words before the sniper started firing, mentioning a man she never named, was a dark cloud looming on the horizon. I could feel it casting a shadow over me, but worried more for Jeremiah. He didn’t seem to be as intent on finding the mysterious figure as he was keeping me tied to this bed. I remembered my earlier conversation with Ethan at the hospital, where the former bodyguard talked about the CEO consistently shrugging off all kinds of danger. Jeremiah had already rejected his mother as a suspect, despite the new information and the fact that she fled without a word. His nonchalance toward the potential menace bothered me, and I couldn’t tell whether it was confidence or if he was doing it for my benefit—I hoped it was the latter.
“We’ll get it sorted out,” he replied, kissing my forehead. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
For a familiar argument, a familiar answer. His patience was frustrating, especially since I wanted answers now. It’s only been a few days, I admonished myself. You can’t expect immediate results on a case with no leads. Still, I hated being on the sidelines, unable to help in any meaningful way.
I pushed insistently at one shoulder, and Jeremiah rolled sideways onto his back, pulling me along with him so I was lying atop his body, straddling his waist. Tired as I was, I still raised myself from him, staring down at his beautiful face. He watched me, too, the fire in him slaked for now, his face as open as I’d ever seen. His hands smoothed up and over my breasts, then down to rest on my hips as he waited on me.
Everything in me sang at the sight below me. A girl could live forever and not get tired of this. I traced the lines of his muscles, then leaned down so my breasts pressed against his chest. Skimming his lips with mine in a feather-light kiss, I gave him a half smile as I whispered, “I love you.”
“No.”
My world stopped. For an instant I thought I was falling, but nothing had changed. I sat up straight, confusion racing through me as I stared down at the suddenly stony expression of the man beneath me. My mouth worked, trying to think of something to say, but it was as though my brain had shut down. Jeremiah’s hands circled my waist and, as if I weighed nothing, he lifted me off and to the side, then sat up, swinging his feet off the bed. I blinked, the meaning of what had just happened beginning to sink in, and watched as he stood and picked up his clothing.
He ignored me for several seconds, quickly buttoning his shirt, then pulling on his pants without looking at me. Finally he turned back to face me, his face as closed off and emotionless as I’d ever seen. The drastic change from only a minute ago was like a death knell in my heart.
He must have seen the distress on my face because he sat down on the bed beside me. “I don’t think…” he started, then paused a moment in thought. “I’d prefer it if we kept any mention of love out of our relationship for the foreseeable future.”
“Why?” I repeated, more forcefully this time. I was slowly breaking apart inside, and keeping myself together was becoming more difficult by the moment, but I needed an answer.
Jeremiah studied me, a clinical examination that was void of any of the tenderness I’d experienced at his hands since our meeting. “Let’s think about this logically,” he finally said. “You’ve known me for roughly two weeks now. Is that enough time to build any type of emotional attachment?”
He was being rational, voicing arguments I’d used on myself when the L-word first popped into my head, and part of me still agreed with him. But with every word he uttered, the cracks in my heart grew wider, expanding and multiplying and going deep to the quick. “I’m not asking you to say the same,” I finally managed, but the words tore at my soul.
“Maybe not,” he replied, “but…” He cupped my face, and I flinched. “Why ruin what we have with platitudes like this?”
Pain blossomed, but I kept my face steady. I’d learned from the best, after all. When I reached out to touch him he stood, perhaps a bit too quickly, and retreated back. Grabbing his phone, he added, “Now that you’ve been cleared in the preliminary investigation, you’re free to leave the grounds for anything. With the police presence being what it is, I think we’re safe from any more attacks for now. One of the guards can drive and escort you anywhere you want; just stay in contact as to your whereabouts.”
A dull ache spread through me as he walked across the room to the door. There he paused, staring at the brass door handle. I thought for a moment he’d turn around and address me again, maybe explain himself further, but he merely turned the knob and left. The latch closed with a finality that was shattering, had numbness not taken over my heart.
Dimly, I felt myself climb out of the bed and go through the motions of dressing myself in clothes still strewn about the room. Cleaning myself up in the bathroom was almost an afterthought, a delaying tactic to keep from showing myself to the world, but when I finally stepped out of the bedroom into the rest of the house, only silence greeted me. From the day I’d arrived at the mansion estate, the house and grounds had been teeming with people, usually the guards or other staff. Now that the danger was past for the time being, they had been moved to their regular assignments, and the sudden famine of souls in the house echoed the painful emptiness within me.
I made my way down the stairs, bypassing the kitchen completely. Food didn’t sound good right then; in fact very little sounded good at that moment, so I walked to the front door and peered outside. The air was chill, almost bitterly so. The milder weather we’d had for a while had taken a wintery turn. Snow flurries dotted the ground, but I didn’t care that my nose immediately began to sting from the frosty wind. A black limousine sat right in front of the large doors, exhaust a billowing cloud of steam in the icy air. I couldn’t imagine it belonged to Jeremiah. Surely he would have already left; it had been several minutes since he walked out. He’d suggested before that I could leave the grounds. Did he call this for me?
I’d stayed away from public places, keeping to the house and not leaving the estate even after the kidnapping attempt. I remained mindful that there was still somebody out there gunning for us, who was willing to use others to do his dirty work. At that moment, however, staring at the limo, I no longer cared—being shot through the heart couldn’t hurt any more than this. I left the house and moved to the car, opening the door and sliding inside. The interior was warm, a marked difference from the outside air, and up near the front I saw the dark head of the driver. “Where to, Ms. Delacourt?” he asked.
“Away from here,” I mumbled absently. Realizing the distance sound had to travel, I readied to repeat my answer louder but the car lurched forward, heading for the gates. I didn’t bother looking out the windows; instead I just stared at my hands, deep in thought.
What if Jeremiah was right? What if my feelings were premature, too soon to be considered genuine? It was reasonable that Jeremiah would hold off on sabotaging a relationship by acting too soon; there were still too many unknown variables in the equation. At least, that was how the rational side of my brain saw it—a man like Jeremiah must have similar issues with moving too fast.
The limo stopped briefly at the gate, and the guards quickly waved us through. I peeked through the back window, watching the great big gates close again, trying to ignore the squeezing in my chest. And really, it was only one part of our relationship with which he took issue. Such a silly word anyway. Love. I’d seen how he looked at me, the way he touched and held me. Really, Lucy, I thought, do you really need platitudes of devotion? “Love” is just a word.
Right?
A sob welled up from deep inside, surprising me with the sudden depth of emotion. My hand went to cover my mouth, determined to hold the inexplicable grief inside, but I couldn’t stop the shuddering breaths or the tears that abruptly appeared and flowed down my cheeks. It’s just a word, I thought again, but the pain wouldn’t stop. I knew what love was, I’d grown up in a household where it flowed freely. Wouldn’t I have a better idea of what the emotion felt like than Jeremiah anyway?
“Is everything alright back there, ma’am?”
“Everything’s just dandy,” I replied, my voice thick. Then for an instant it all became too much. “Got my heart broken today,” I admitted, “but I’m trying to get through it.”
“Ah,” the driver responded. “Well, my brother always was an idiot.”
I was in the middle of rummaging through my purse for a tissue when the meaning of the man’s words sank in. My head snapped up, grief and heartbreak momentarily forgotten, as I stared at the back of the driver’s head through the small partition. A hat covered his head, and the mirror was angled in a way that made it impossible to see his face. “Lucas?”
“In the flesh.” He pulled off his hat, uncovering dark hair. When he turned around to look at me, I saw that he wore makeup of some kind, presumably to get past the guards. His skin was lighter, the nose seemed bigger than I remembered, but the prominent scar on his cheek revealed his identity more than anything else. He gave me a quick perusal. “You look terrible.”
His words pricked my remaining feminine pride and I sat up straighter, glaring at him through the tears. Focusing on the matter at hand was a great deal easier than the emotional roller coaster. “What are you doing?” I asked, striving for bravado.
Lucas shrugged one shoulder. “Apparently, I’m kidnapping you. I thought you of all people would recognize that fact.”
I stared at him for a moment, flabbergasted, then groaned loudly. Slumping in the seat, I leaned my head back against the cool leather, suddenly too tired to think of fighting. Lucas watched me in the rearview mirror but I didn’t care; all I wanted was to not think, not remember my last conversation with Jeremiah.
“Let me guess: you told my brother the dreaded L word didn’t you?”
I didn’t bother responding to his question, instead staring at the ceiling of the limo. Two kidnapping attempts in one week—I’m a very popular girl. The thought held little amusement, how
ever. I just wanted to be alone to lick my wounds in peace.
Lucas didn’t seem the least bit deterred by my silence. “My brother is a fool,” he continued. “Any minute now he’s going to realize what he’s done and…”
The small telephone on the dash rang suddenly, startling me. Lucas chuckled. “That’s probably him now.”
I stared at the phone, torn. Thinking about that beautiful, cold face as I had seen it mere moments ago made my already bleeding heart break more. Why? I wanted to scream. This was more than a bruised ego—I honestly needed an answer. None of the last twenty minutes made any sense.
Lucas reached out and pressed a button on his dashboard. The ringing broke off on a flat note, and I gave the dark-haired man a startled but dubious glance. “Don’t worry, ma chérie,” he soothed. “By now my brother has probably discovered the drugged chauffeur and is mobilizing the troops, so to speak.”
Speechless, I watched as he pulled us into another parking area alongside a long white limousine. A driver stood beside the front door, a large scary-looking man with sunglasses and tattoos across his knuckles. Lucas stepped out of the car and walked around to the back door, opened it, and poking his head inside. “Coming?”
My mouth worked soundlessly, still trying to grasp what was going on. “Why?” I asked finally. It was the same question I’d asked Jeremiah and held within it all the same doubts and anxieties.
“Maybe I need your help with something,” the dark-haired man said, “or possibly this is because I’ve finally discovered my brother’s weakness.” Then his gaze softened as I pressed back into the seat. “Or perhaps I want to help you. I knew what would happen the moment I laid eyes on you.” Sympathy flowed from his voice. “My brother holds everything inside, while you wear your heart on your sleeve for the world to see. Jeremiah rejected you when you mentioned love. Given that our mother and father are likely the ones to whom he compares the word, is his response so surprising?”