“It’s been so long. I want to feel you inside me.” She ran her hands over solid flesh. She found the top button of his shirt and deftly undid it, revealing a sprinkling of dark hair. She undid the next, and the next. His body was beautiful, muscles defined and perfect. He had a newly healed scar and several old ones, but they didn’t bother her—they reminded her of what he did every day of his life. Fought to protect people.
The bravery thing was definitely a turn on. The chivalry thing too.
It was possible he was going to look even better naked than dressed, which was saying something. And she wanted to see him. She wanted him at her mercy if only for twenty minutes of stolen fun, which was probably all they’d manage before the self-recriminations kicked in.
He jerked the shirt out of his waistband, tried to pull it off and was impeded by his shoulder holster. He growled in frustration, and she helped him ease the harness off his shoulders. He placed the gun on the nightstand, and she knew what it represented. She also knew if she let him think about it for too long, he’d change his mind. He closed his eyes and breathed heavily. No longer watching her or kissing her.
Second thoughts.
No doubt he was about to give her the spiel about not crossing that line between protecting her and taking advantage of her. Like she wasn’t the one standing here naked.
So she touched him through the denim of his jeans. His hips moved against her fingers as if he couldn’t control his body, and that’s what she wanted. No thinking it through. No careful contemplation. Hot, wild sex. They were both unattached adults. She wasn’t about to ask him for anything more than this.
She throbbed. This is what happened when you went four years without a man and suddenly craved one. She wanted him inside her. She didn’t want to be scared anymore, she wanted to feel alive. She unsnapped the button of his jeans, then drew the zipper carefully down, freeing him from his pants. He sprang free into her hand, and she touched the silky, smooth skin stretched taut over rigid flesh. He shook, and it almost made her laugh to think she might have seduced him. She didn’t know the first thing about seduction, but she was pretty sure being naked and willing stacked the cards in her favor.
She wanted to give him pleasure, maybe release some of the tension that had swirled around them for days, and she wanted to get rid of the terrible craving she had for the man. She scraped a finger down his abdomen, watching his body twitch as he continued to keep his eyes closed, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might break. She went down on her knees before him and used her mouth. He groaned and banged his head sharply against the door. She released him. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Yes. No.” He sounded almost pained, but he could figure it out while she played. She’d forgotten the joy of giving pleasure. The give and take of good sex.
His hands sank into her hair, and then the grip changed, holding her just so as he thrust himself into her mouth. Then he pulled away to kick his jeans free. He looked wonderfully aroused and her anticipation grew.
He stared at her then, a predatory stare that made her shiver. Then he bent down to grab something out of his back jeans’ pocket and pushed her back onto the mattress, not giving her time to recover as his mouth settled over her wet core. Spirals of pleasure lashed through her, and she grabbed the sheets to stop from writhing uncontrollably. He pushed one thigh high, his tongue inside her, lapping her and then sinking deep back inside her. The rhythm made her rotate her hips and gasp out his name.
“More,” she whispered, because Michael was downstairs asleep, and she couldn’t scream.
He pushed her other thigh up, spreading her knees wide and opening her to his gaze. The light in his eyes gleamed. “You are so beautiful.”
She didn’t care whether she was beautiful or not. She just wanted him inside her. She heard the crinkle of foil and a rip, then watched him slide the condom over his thick length. Did he know he was turning her on? Making her wet, making her throb?
His eyes said he did.
She started to lower her legs, but he caught both knees and spread them wider. “I did not intend to have sex with you, Vivi. I need you to know that.”
She bit her lip. Nodded.
“And if I had thought of making love to you, it would have been a slow, romantic seduction when all this other shit was over.” His eyes burned into hers. He was angry. She’d taken away some of his choices, and he wanted to punish her.
“I don’t need romance. And I don’t want slow.” She reared up and caught his lips with hers before sinking back to the mattress. “I just want you.” And it was true, she realized. It wasn’t just that she wanted to get off. If Jed Brennan hadn’t been here, if she hadn’t started to fall for the dark, good looks and protective demeanor, she wouldn’t be feeling this desperate for sex.
She was falling for him, and that realization made her freeze.
Don’t fall for anyone.
He positioned himself against her opening, but must have sensed her hesitation. He locked his hand in her hair, raising her head so she met his gaze. “Are you sure about this?” He scraped the side of his chin against her cheek in an intimate caress.
She shuddered in reaction. He felt so good. Warm, strong, beautiful. She reached up and touched his bottom lip, so soft and full, so gentle and demanding.
She was a quivering bundle of needy desperation. It wasn’t pretty. “I’m very sure.”
He thrust forward, working himself inside her slowly, an inch at a time, in and out, easing into her flesh and reminding her body how good it felt to be full and squirming. Finally he buried himself to the hilt and rested his head against hers for a moment. “You feel amazing.” He held her thighs wide and pressed deep inside her, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back home. Over and over again. Despite her words, he was taking it slowly, agonizingly slow. Oh my God. It had been so long, and she was so aroused that a few deep thrusts were all it took for her to shatter into a million pieces. He never changed his rhythm, but now there was a satisfied smile on his face as the seriousness with which they’d begun this began to melt away.
He pulled out and moved her up the bed, came back between her legs and put her knees over his shoulders.
“Did I tell you I loved your shoulders?” she asked on a quiet breath.
“Did I tell you I loved your legs?” He lapped her with his tongue, driving her back up again.
She’d never come twice in one go before, but damned if she wasn’t willing to give it a try.
“The taste of you makes me insane.”
When she was panting, he pushed her knees against her chest and entered her again, the angle different, the penetration deeper. She gasped as he hit what had to be the mysterious g-spot—she’d always wondered where it was. Jed had found it with unerring accuracy.
“Hard and fast?”
She was about to explode. “Yes.”
Instead, he eased her knees down and kissed her, his tongue driving her out of her mind while he filled her with delicious, hard strokes. And then he started to slam into her and she thrust back, hands slipping on his taut, slick skin. She gripped his ass, feet straining against the mattress as she pulled him to her and clung to his movements, not letting him pull out. The friction, the wildness and ferocity, set light to every nerve in her body, and she exploded around him, her inner muscles clenching so strongly it was like nothing she remembered. She felt his orgasm rocket through him, and it triggered another spasm that tore through her and made her tremble so hard they both shook.
They lay hot and sweaty and out of breath while their hearts pounded.
Jed reared up, sending flickers of sensation sparking through her again. He smoothed the hair back from her brow, his dark brown eyes serious.
“It’s OK.” She caught his wrists and gave him a sad smile. “I don’t expect anything from you. I just needed—”
“Shut up.” He pressed inside her again. She shut up, and he rewarded her with another hard thrust.
&nbs
p; She groaned. “I thought you came.”
“I did. You’re not the only one who hasn’t had sex in a long time.”
She didn’t think she could bear to feel any more pleasure, and yet he kept the slow relentless pace and her body, so lax and fluid one moment, was straining against his the next, and pretending everything was going to be OK. Pretending this wasn’t extraordinary and he wasn’t special. Pretending she’d be able to walk away without her heart breaking.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Pilah woke and shifted uncomfortably in the hospital chair. Her back hurt. Fatigue dragged at her eyelids. It was dark except for the icy-blue glow of the machines. The constant beep of the heart monitor was like a form of Chinese water torture after listening to it for hours. But something was different. Something had changed. Slowly she became aware that the body under the blankets was stiff with tension. She lifted her gaze and met the wide-open eyes of William Green.
Despite her lack of hijab, recognition flared as his eyes met hers. He reached for the emergency call button, and she seized his hand. He fought hard, writhing in the bed, and she was terrified he was going to pull out some of his tubes. Forcing his hand down to the mattress, she leaned on his arm, grabbed her bag, and searched blindly through the depths. Something rattled, and her fingers chased it, coming up with the pills the shadow-man had given her. William fought harder against her hold. Desperate, she straddled his body and put her knees on his upper arms, weight on his chest, pinning him down. The heartbeat on the machine had gone through the roof and her own pulse matched the crazy rhythm. She used her teeth on the lid of the container to rip open the bottle. She snatched up a tablet, losing a couple in the bed. Didn’t matter. She needed him unconscious before any of the staff came to investigate. She grabbed his jaw, but he seemed to understand what she wanted to do and clamped his mouth shut. Frustrated, she pinched his nostrils closed until he was forced to open his mouth for breath, and she shoved the tablet in. She struggled with both hands, clamping his mouth shut, using all her strength as he bucked beneath her. The monitor was going nuts, as if his heart was about to explode.
Don’t die!
Sargon and the shadow-man would not be happy with her if she killed him and ruined all their plans.
Twenty seconds later his muscles grew lax beneath her. She heard footsteps and quickly climbed off him, straightened the sheets, finding two stray tablets and stuffing them into the bottle which she tucked into her pocket. She straightened her hair and sat back down just as the nurse entered.
“You’re still here?”
Pilah nodded. “I fell asleep. He seemed to be dreaming a minute ago. I held his hand until he was calm again.”
The nurse checked the monitor. “It’s a good thing you were here then. Oh, he’s pulled out his cannula.” She tut-tutted and replaced the tubing and then turned to her. “You should go home for a few hours.” She patted her arm. “I’ll call if there’s any change. He’s lucky to have you.”
She picked up her coat and bag, blew out a deep breath, hoping the nurse didn’t notice she was sweating. Her footsteps echoed off the walls of the corridor, and Pilah couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Part of her wished she could swallow all those pills and put herself out of her misery. But being a coward wasn’t part of her personality. She’d gone too far to back out now. As long as the shadow-man saved her babies, she was in this until the end.
***
Elan crept forward in the shadows, pistol in his left hand, suppressor fitted to the barrel. He’d removed his snowshoes and left them, and the rifle, hidden beneath a bush around the bend of the road just out of sight.
He circled into the forest and then approached the cop car from the rear, using the trees for cover. The engine was running, exhaust fumes creating a cloud of fog that cloaked him.
The vehicle was an SUV. Elan could just make out the profile of someone in the front seat. If it weren’t for the narrow bridge he had to cross in full view, he would have let this person live, but with the snow brightening the night, he couldn’t risk it. Adrenaline flowed through his blood, but it wasn’t enough to make him crave the kill the way he had as a younger man. Maybe because these people weren’t the enemy—they were collateral damage in a war that never let up.
He walked up to the driver’s side door and shot through the metal. A cry of pain came from inside. Elan opened the door and put another two bullets in the man’s brain, and the guy slumped to the side. Dead.
Elan’s shoulders sagged as he examined the clean-shaven jaw and brown hair now matted with blood. A young face. A handsome face.
Another martyr for the cause.
A wedding ring encircled the third finger of the man’s left hand, glinting in the glow of the onboard computer. More lives ruined. Elan pressed his lips together. Heaviness filled his chest. He was tired of this. This would be his last job, although perhaps the most important.
Did he make a difference? Yes.
But his enemies would never stop their persecution, and so he and his kind could never rest either. He reminded himself of his family back home. His mother and grandmother, sister and their families. Their safety was worth every sacrifice. His people knew the price of failure. They knew the cost of waiting for the rest of the world to come to their aid.
Never again.
Never again.
Quietly, he shut the car door and walked swiftly up the road, over the bridge veering around the back of the log cabin. There was a loud rustle from the woods. Elan swung toward it—deer, rabbit, wolf? As long as it left him alone he would leave it alone.
He crept along the side of the building, going slowly and silently now. The lock on the door to the basement was solidly made, but Elan was more than capable of breaking and entering. He took a kit out of his back pocket and inserted the metal picks. He worked carefully and diligently, the rustling nearby masking the dull noise of the metal against metal grind. It took longer than usual, because his fingers were stiff with cold. He blew on them and tried again, finally hearing the telltale snick of the lock opening.
He raised his pistol and inched inside. Although the area was dark as charcoal, there was a feeling of open space he hadn’t expected. He closed the door silently behind him and risked using his flashlight. Massive beams stretched across a room that was full of lumber and kayaks and life jackets and outdoor furniture. The place was immaculate and smelled like freshly cut wood.
Behind the stairs was a washer and the furnace. Stowing his appreciation, he steeled himself for the task ahead. Time to end this before the boy reduced their efforts to nothing but the wishful thinking of mad men.
The fuse box was on the wall. He pulled night vision goggles out of one of his pockets and slipped them over his head. Then he flipped the breaker.
***
Jed lay in the darkness staring at the ceiling. Vivi lay beside him, eyes closed, breath slowing and becoming more regular.
What the hell had he just done? Twice?
Getting involved with a witness was absolutely a no-no. Sure, it had been blow-his-head-off spectacular, but it was still a massive error in judgment. Taking it this far was a sackable offense. Didn’t matter that she’d initiated it. The fact that she’d initiated it had shocked the bejesus out of him because he knew she didn’t treat sex lightly, no matter what she said.
And he was too busy to get involved with a woman like Vivi who was a single mom for God’s sake—it wasn’t just her happiness he was screwing around with, it was her son’s too, and no way did he want to see either of them hurt. He hunted serial killers for a living. It was not the sort of nine-to-five job women wanted in the men they dated. It was not the sort of realities mothers wanted in their homes.
And what the fuck?—now he was thinking about a relationship?
They were stuck in the middle of nowhere hiding out from terrorists, and he was mentally picturing flowers on the table and a woman greeting him at the door after a long day at work?
Idiot.
Juxtaposed against his stark, stale, barren life, the idea held a weird sort of mental appeal. To have something like his parents had. To find the sort of relationship that lasted beyond a few weeks of dinners and dates and mediocre sex. What he and Mia might have had if her life hadn’t been cut so brutally short. Something built on a solid foundation of trust and support and slowly, over time, growing into that bone-deep love that seemed so prevalent in movies, but so rare in real life. He hadn’t thought he’d ever feel this way again, but it was happening, and he had to figure out a way to make it stop before they all got hurt.
Bobby’s unsmiling face came into his head and he groaned.
No one lived forever…
He did not need another complication, even though he was attracted to every aspect of Vivi, from her brains, to her body, to her love and devotion to her son. Why anyone wouldn’t love the boy was beyond him. Michael was a great kid. His father was an asshole. How the guy let someone as incredible as her slip through his fingers was beyond Jed. If he ever put a wedding ring on a woman, he’d move Heaven and Earth to keep her happy and keep her his.
But that wasn’t what the future held for him.
He loved his job—assuming he still had a job when this was all over—he made a difference and got killers off the street. And she lived in Fargo. Christ. He gritted his teeth.
He should be thinking about terrorists. He should be downstairs photographing and emailing those images. As soon as Frazer knew she and Michael were alive, they’d be sent into protective custody. The fact he didn’t want that was already affecting the case.
Suddenly the bathroom light went out. Shit. The fuse must have blown again.
He eased away from Vivi’s seductive heat, already missing it and knowing he couldn’t afford to make this particular mistake again. Forget being worried she might get emotionally attached. He was neck-deep in fucking emotional attachment. He was supposed to be making the world safe for them and others, not chilling out, having sex with a beautiful woman. He groped around on the floor and found his jeans, pulled them on. He needed to fix the breaker and start sending the images to Frazer so they could see if any of the people Michael had drawn were involved in the attack.
Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) Page 22
