She padded toward the kitchen. Finding it well stocked, she opened some soup and heated it while she rummaged for crackers. Justin was muttering to himself as he came in the door.
She turned to see him soaked with mud on the entire right side of his body, and cursing up a storm. “What happened?”
“Rev must’ve set up some kind of backwater Cajun trap off the side porch,” he said. “Going to kill him next time I see him.” He stripped the wet T-shirt off and it hit the floor with a thwack, splashing dirt everywhere.
“Hey, give me that. I’ll wash it out,” she said.
“I can wash it out myself.” He worked the button and zipper on his jeans, apparently forgetting what he was doing until he was standing completely naked in front of her.
For a second, they just stared at each other.
“Your soup’s overflowing,” he said finally.
She heard the hissing behind her, but couldn’t take her gaze from the way the light bounced off his hard chest, shadowed his rippled abs, as well as the cut of muscle above his hipbone that she’d earlier longed to trace with her finger. She had the sudden urge to do many things again as the ache between her legs intensified.
He was still angry, but his expression softened slightly. Maybe it was how she’d looked at him, or maybe it was because he did understand, more than she thought. “It’s Leo who’s calling me.”
“Oh my God, how do you know? Why does he hang up?”
“He’s making his way to safety…he’s giving me his trail. Please don’t make me tell you things you’re going to have to answer questions about later. I haven’t spoken with him. I don’t know if he’s alone. I don’t know about Callie. I don’t know anything.”
“So, it looks like we’ve both been holding things back,” she said as she walked toward him. He stood his own ground, but his jaw clenched and he swallowed hard. The mud wasn’t going to deter her. “You’re nervous, aren’t you? I make you nervous.”
“Do not.”
She brushed a hand down his bare chest, felt him actually start at her touch. She stopped her exploration when her hand hit the light trail of hair that led down between his legs and thickened around his cock. “It’s going to be all right.”
“I’m supposed to be the one telling you that.”
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, let her lips open slightly to lick a small path along his skin. A visible shudder ran through his body, and the start of a groan escaped his lips. She could tell he was trying hard not to give in.
“I don’t want to think about the real reason we’re here,” she said, murmuring to his chest. “I’m tired of thinking. I just want to feel. Can you help me with that?”
The wall between them—the years of misunderstanding and separation and frustration—had just been leveled to the ground. And she would not give Justin the chance to rebuild it. She’d claw her way over the rubble, with bare feet and hands, first.
She would tear him down, too, touch by touch, rid him of any further resistance. Her fingers slid down lower still and he continued to protest by keeping his hands fisted at his sides. “You know all about bombs and weapons, but do you know what to do with me?”
“I know exactly what to do with you, Ava. You just trust me on that.”
In that space nothing mattered but the way Justin watched her, alert, totally attentive, his brown eyes rapt to hers even as he struggled to stay in control.
Hard to do when he was completely naked and so obviously not in control at all. She figured it was time to even the playing field.
One small step back, away from him, and her shirt came off and floated to the floor with a soft whoosh. The cool air hit her skin and her nipples tightened as he sucked in a breath and just stared.
Her palms slid downward, to the waistband of the shorts. She wasn’t good at slow. Tension vibrated the air between them, and the sound of her heart beating seemed to echo in the quiet of the room.
She’d never taken quite so much time undressing in her whole life. It was excruciating. But the look on his face as she shifted her hips to push the gray cotton down her thighs, the way his eyelids grew heavy, the slight flare of his nostrils, the way his lips parted slightly, was worth it.
He’d unconsciously pushed the tip of his tongue in between his teeth, his shoulders straightened, and his eyes…well, those had always told her everything she’d needed to know.
She wanted to hear him say her name in that infuriatingly sexy voice that got sexier whenever he was tired or drunk, or obviously turned on.
She’d discovered that last one back in high school. But now she wasn’t seventeen and he wasn’t going anywhere this time.
“Come here, Ava,” he said finally. His voice sounded rough, taut, almost, but still full of command. And that was one order she was more than willing to follow.
10
JUSTIN’S VOICE sounded rough, husky, and his breath caught as Ava did exactly as he asked and pressed her naked body against his.He’d lost any semblance of control when it came to her. The roar between his ears grew louder and as much as he’d miss the contact of her soft breasts rubbing his chest, he wished he could have stood there a while longer to just look at her. So damn pretty she broke his heart, the way her memory had done to him nearly every day since he’d met her.
His heart still hurt, mainly because it was halfway between healing and breaking apart fully, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to piece it back together after this happened. But he wasn’t going to be able to stop, either.
He grabbed her around the waist, carried her to the couch and waited for her to protest, to push back, to argue, waited for the phone to ring or the earth to crumble or something, anything to postpone this the way the universe seemed to always want to.
When she did none of those things and the earth stayed on its axis, he almost backed off. Almost. But something in her eyes still held the hint of dare, asked for proof of something from him he wasn’t sure he knew how to give. And yet he couldn’t—wouldn’t—back away now.
He laid her down on the couch, supported most of his weight on his arms so he could watch her. Still, her legs twined around his as if to hold him there.
“What do you want from me?” he murmured, then brushed a kiss over her lips. She tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow a moan, but that was her only answer. Her arms rested above her head, leaving her so open to him. So trusting.
Yeah, that was it. Trust. That’s what she wanted and it was proving to be the hardest thing for both of them to give. She’d gotten closer than anyone ever had, but whether he would let her all the way in was yet to be seen.
His head dipped to catch a nipple in his mouth. He rolled it around his tongue until the peak was stiff and hot.
“Feels good…so good,” she murmured.
And they were both wet and muddy against the cushions and he didn’t care. Neither did Ava because she was tugging at him, murmuring for him to hurry, to take her, and she wasn’t having to beg for much longer.
HEAT SIMMERED between her legs when Justin’s mouth covered a nipple. She jerked toward him at the warm, wet contact of his tongue on the stiff peak, unable to stop her body from reacting.
His eyes were closed, as if all his concentration was focused on her breast.
She wanted so much more. “Justin, please…”
She clutched at his hair, his shoulders, but he shook his head, blew softly on her wet nipple. She closed her eyes and groaned in frustration.
“I’m not rushing through this,” he said, his mouth closing in on her other nipple, holding it between his teeth while his tongue ruthlessly swiped the tip until she was grabbing at him, looking for any kind of balance.
She wanted his hands to join in the fun, wanted his large palms covering every part of her.
Slowly, so slowly, one of his hands traveled between her thighs to stroke her sex. His suckling her nipple intensified as she bucked, searching for any kind of relief.
T
he first time—and all other times without Justin would forever pale in comparison—with his slow, easy style forced her from simmer to a burn in seconds flat.
She melted, being completely and utterly at his mercy as he slipped a long finger inside of her, teased her, as the walls of her sex clenched. She rocked back and forth for a few minutes, but then he stopped.
Ava opened her mouth to protest, but he caught her clit with his thumb, pressed it until her breath hitched and she was almost gone.
His fingers strummed her and she stiffened, grabbed his arm so he couldn’t pull away.
“Go ahead, Ava,” he said in that maddening way he had. Even now, he acted as if he was in control of her—and her orgasm.
And oh, he certainly was. Her orgasm washed over her, made her a trembling mass of nerves as her belly tightened and her sex contracted around his fingers.
She didn’t want to think about how he was making her feel, afraid if she did, it would all turn out to be a dream. So with her eyes shut tight she pictured Justin above her.
He was inside of her in one stroke, inside of her so deeply her womb ached with pleasure.
Something rumbled deep in his chest and she forced her eyes open. She saw the strain in his arms, his neck, holding back as if he wanted this to last forever.
His stomach muscles rippled under her opened palms and his eyes glowed, a dark, rich brown.
Eyes that seemed to see right through her at any given moment, and most especially at this moment.
Her arms tightened around his back as he pushed deeper and deeper, until her vision blurred and her nails scratched his skin.
Head buried against her neck, the old couch creaking underneath them, he took her for his own, bringing everything full circle.
11
THE GREEN-EYED MAN was still not waking up. Callie had made contact with the safe house four hours into the drive from Pittsburgh, and he’d barely stirred. She tried poking him every now and again.At least he stirs. And cursed at her under his breath a little too, which was a good sign.
She’d stopped only once, pulling money out of his pants pocket for gas and to make a phone call. She pushed away the flood of memories that came down on her like a hard rain.
Yes, she’d been here before—done all of this too many times to count. It was like a homecoming she never, ever looked forward to.
And now, she also knew she wouldn’t be returning to New York anytime soon.
Serena was waiting at the front porch. Her car was hidden somewhere along the road—her only reason for being here to let Callie into the safe house.
“I’ll need some help bringing him inside,” she told the older woman after they’d exchanged a rib-breaking hug.
They’d met ten years earlier when Callie had been in the early stage of her career as a social worker and felt overwhelmed by how little she could do to help anyone within her job’s capacity.
Serena had come to her when she found herself faced with a woman who wanted to leave her boyfriend of five years again. He’d found her the first time, and the results Callie saw in the case file had literally made her lose her lunch. Experiencing the boyfriend in person, threatening everyone in the office, had made her angry. What made her storm out of the place was the police telling her there wasn’t much she could do except fill out a report.
You can’t do anything more until he actually touches you.
Serena didn’t look much different than she did now, in jeans, paint-splattered work shirt and long gray braid. She’d been sitting on a bench outside Callie’s office waiting for her. Waiting to introduce her to the chain of women and the secret method of helping them start over. And then she told her that Callie’s mom had been the beneficiary of such an organization.
“That’s how you found me?” Callie had asked her.
“We’ve got to keep an eye on our own.” Serena had winked and Callie had known that everything was going to be okay.
Now Serena was peering into the car, one eyebrow cocked.
“It’s not what you think. None of this is what you think.”
“You know the rules. Don’t ask, don’t tell.” Serena stared at the sleeping man. “Can he walk at all? Because he looks to be at least two-twenty.”
Callie leaned in the car. “Hey, can you wake up a little? I need your help.”
“You don’t know his name?” Serena asked, and then held up her hand and shook her head.
Gradually, he stirred, his deep green eyes more familiar to her than they should have been after knowing him for less than twelve hours. “What the hell?”
“Come on, you’re safe, you’re fine. You just need to rest.”
He seemed to remember that he wasn’t all that happy with her before he’d gone to sleep. He’d be less so once he fully understood that she’d brought him along on her ride, rather than wait for him to lead the way to safety.
He braced his weight on his arms and pushed himself up with what seemed like a Herculean force, and then he wobbled. He leaned on her and Serena heavily, but together they managed to get him inside and onto the double bed in the back room. He collapsed on the mattress, curled to one side and closed his eyes.
Callie left him to walk Serena to the door.
“How long?” Serena asked.
“Maybe a couple of days. I’m not really sure,” Callie admitted.
“You know the drill.” Serena gave her one last hug before disappearing into the night. Grateful for the lack of questions, mainly because she had too many of her own spinning around in her brain, Callie shut and locked the door quickly, secured the safety bolt and double-checked all the windows. Force of habit.
Then she brought some supplies to his bedside and proceeded to take care of him. A man she barely knew. A man with dangerous friends, and now, even more dangerous enemies.
He might have been one of them at one time, but he’d been held, same as her. And he’d saved her life.
He’s going to want to know things…he’s going to want to know everything. And for the first time, she realized that she wouldn’t have any defenses. His weapons weren’t physical, the kind that she could void with self-defense moves or a call to authorities or a cross-country move. No, his weapons were the way his body felt under her touch when she was scared shitless in the underground tunnel. The way he’d rescued her when she’d never ever let anyone do that for her.
The way he said her name, as if he was making love to her in his mind every time he did so, despite the pain and the danger.
She refused to think about that stupid prince-will-come song now. She had a job to do.
They’d both be gone soon enough, anyway.
Gingerly, she peeled off his T-shirt. They’d have nothing big enough to fit him here, so she’d wash it and his jeans tonight. Underwear too. Which meant she’d have to strip him.
A purely professional move.
She tugged at his jeans, slid them off and stared at his beautiful body for a few minutes. Her eyes lingered on his hard chest and abs.
He was strong and capable and kind, like few of the men she normally met in her line of work. And she let herself wonder, for just a few seconds, what it would be like to lie down next to him, to let him strip off her clothes and touch her until she was nothing but a body of quivering nerves.
She put a soft ice pack wrapped in a towel on his eye and cheek, timed twenty minutes while she cleaned off the other contusions on his body. This man had actively fought back, and hard, judging by the marks on his knuckles. These were not defensive wounds.
She realized she knew far too many medical terms, and far too few words to describe emotions like love.
When she turned off the lights and laid his gun and knife by the side of the bed, she curled up to his naked form and held him the way she wanted to be held.
IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN minutes or possibly hours later when Ava floated back down to earth. Her insides were still fluttering from the intensity of her orgasm. She was covered in dried mud, and Ju
stin’s body was heavy on hers.
“Want to shower?” she asked from underneath him. He lifted his head from where it had been resting on her chest.
“Why? You want to spy on me again?” he teased.
Back then, he’d already been six foot three of solid muscle. Not as filled out as he was now, but enough to make her suck in her breath, even when she spotted him through the glass. Now he was perfect; muscles standing out in stark contrast to one another, shadowed planes and scars that she was sure hadn’t been there before.
“I’d like to be in there with you this time,” she said, and yes, she loved the way his smile took over his whole face. It was part mischievous but somehow all desire.
She buried her face in his neck as he carried her from the couch straight into the shower. He turned the water on and put them under once it warmed, let it drench them both at first.
He kissed her for a long time as the steam built, slowly, as if savoring every single taste of her. Their bodies slid together in a maddening grind until she didn’t think she could stand it anymore, until her sex was aching and ready for him again.
He pressed her back against the shower tiles as the steam enveloped them. She whispered his name and smiled and he moved his hand between her legs.
“Love it when you moan,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, which made her moan again.
“Love it when you do that.”
The water was warm…soothing down her back. Safely in Justin’s arms, her legs still wrapped around his waist, well, she wasn’t planning on letting go. But he wasn’t pushing inside her, not even when she tried to guide him.
“No, not yet. You’re probably sore.” He eased her down until her feet touched the tile floor and then he knelt between her legs.
He eased her thighs open, moved his head forward to kiss the curls at the juncture between her thighs. She groaned as his tongue lapped her swollen, tender sex, his thumb relentless on her clit. She pressed herself to his mouth wantonly.
Her hands brushed the hard muscles along his shoulders as a tight, shivery sensation slid up her body and back down again. She forgot everything—everything—but the feel of his touch, probing her hot recesses.
Beyond His Control Page 9
