Chapter 9
SHE DIDN’T THINK he was man enough to handle her?
Cash blocked her path, before she could walk away. “Better check yourself,” he said, trying like hell to keep his temper under control. “I think it’s the other way around. Remember, you were the one who left.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Get out of my way.”
“No.”
“Damn it, Cash.” She pushed at his shoulder and tried to move down the hall. “I’m done with you, let me leave.”
He rotated, took her by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall. “No.” He pressed his cheek along hers, inhaled her scent, loved her soft skin, her breath against his neck. “What happened to last night?”
“The sex was great, everything else was a mistake.”
“There’s my woman.” He kept her against the wall, but leaned back enough to see her eyes. “You love to cut deep when you’re hurt, don’t you?”
Her chin trembled slightly before she hardened her jaw. “You’d know, since you’ve been hurting me for years.”
“Is that what tonight was? Payback?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I have you by well over a foot and one hundred pounds. I have a mean temper and like it rough.” He slid his hands down her arms, gripped her wrists, then quickly turned her until her back was flush against his chest. “Why is it you can trust me with your body?” he asked, running a hand along her breasts, then lower. When he reached the hem of her short sundress, he shoved the material out of his way, then pressed his palm against her sex. “Why is it you’ll let me fuck you any way I please, but you can’t trust me enough to tell me what’s in your head?”
“You can’t handle what’s in my head or my heart,” she said, trying to wriggle free.
“Try me. Start by telling me why you’d take on a dangerous job after complaining about mine.” When she didn’t say anything, he rubbed his fingers over her silky panties and along her swollen lips. “I want to know,” he said against her ear.
Her breathing grew rapid. The rise and swell of her chest made him crazy with need. He wanted her dress off so he could see her breasts, her nipples. He might be tired of fighting, but he’d never be tired of her.
“Maybe I wanted the edge, to know what kept you from me.” She stopped wriggling and arched into him. “Maybe I wanted to feel like I belonged, like I mattered.”
He stilled his hand. “You matter to me.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her tear-soaked cheeks punching a hole in his chest. “How could I know?”
“I gave you everything when I didn’t think I was going to make it. It’ll always be yours.” He loved her so damned much he’d made sure he had made her his wife, should he not survive the surgeries after his accident. She would get the house, half his business, his money, everything.
“And then you let go.” Keeping her head against his chest, she faced forward. “I know you love me. I know you didn’t leave the hospital regretting that you married me. But there were times when I wondered if guilt was what kept you from divorcing me, and I admit to moments of insecurity.” She let out a shaky breath. “I’d come for the weekend, and you’d love my body just like before the accident. Then you’d let me go again and a part of my heart would shrivel. A piece of my soul turned gray. I’d go home feeling worse about me, us. Spend my days scooping ice cream to cute kids I’d never have, my nights working on cars or watching TV. You want to know what I do when I go to bed?”
No, he didn’t. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg her to forgive him. To trust him with her heart and soul. To give him the chance to prove that he’d do everything and anything to make sure she never had a single moment of loneliness or insecurity.
“I lie in bed pretending the pillow I’m holding is you. I hum the lullaby I used to sing to you when you were having trouble sleeping, then imagine I hear you breathing next to me.”
He moved his hand from under her dress, then smoothed the fabric back in place. He also let go of her wrists, but she made no attempt to move.
“Why’d you let me go?” she asked.
“I have no business using force to keep you with me. Touching you the way I was…it’s no way to prove a point. You deserve better. I’m sorry. I feel like I keep disappointing you.”
She shrugged, then stepped away from him. “That’s okay. You didn’t this time. I knew you couldn’t handle me.”
He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her against his chest again. “Why do you have to be so mean?” He dragged his mouth along her neck and his hands over her breasts. “You open up, then shut down before giving me a chance.”
She reached behind and hung onto his hips. “A chance to do what? Keep hurting us both?”
“You’re the one who’s doing the hurting this time.” He slid his hands down her stomach, bunched the sundress in one hand and gripped her panties with the other. “You could have told me about your other job last night. You could have told me how bad you were feeling. I was honest. I told you something that embarrasses the hell out of me.”
“Cash Maddox embarrassed?” She let out a raspy chuckle. “Please.”
He pulled her panties taut, let go of the dress and cupped her chin and jaw in his hand. “Don’t. I opened up. I admitted to being a coward. I told you I let you go because I was afraid of losing you. Stupid or not, those were my feelings. I would never laugh at yours. Are you going to laugh at me if I tell you that I wake up every morning tempted to drive to Everglades City and drag you home to me? That I hate my life when you’re not in it? Maybe it’ll amuse you to know that I like getting punched in the face because the physical pain sometimes helps deaden the constant dull ache in my chest?” Her tears slipped onto his fingers. He ignored them, let go of her panties and cupped her sex. “I think about your body. Imagine sliding my dick inside you, or running my tongue between your lips. You have no idea how much I love the way you taste.” He nipped, then kissed her exposed neck. “Well, go ahead and laugh. I can handle it.”
“You’re such a bastard,” she said, gliding her hands from his hips to the fly of his jeans. She moved his shirt out of the way, slid the top button free, then the zipper. “There are days when I hate you.”
She let out a low groan when he slipped a finger beneath her panties and ran it along her clit. “Like right now?” he asked, then drew in a sharp breath when his jeans hung around his hips and she took his dick in her palm.
“Yes,” she said on a hiss.
He pulled his fingers from her heat, unzipped her dress, then pushed the straps down her arms. After moving her hand from his erection, he shoved her panties over her hips. “You’ll get over it,” he said, kissing her shoulder and unhooking her bra.
She pressed her hands against the wall. “Arrogant ass,” she said, rubbing her rear along his dick.
“Call me whatever the hell you want.” Damn, he needed inside her. “But I’m starting to realize our separation wasn’t entirely my fault.”
“Don’t go there.” When she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes glittered with both passion and anger. “Like you, I’m tired of talking about our marriage.”
“So it’s sex or nothing?”
“That’s all it’s been until yesterday.”
“And it’s my fault. You didn’t do a thing wrong. Wait.” He leaned forward and kneaded her rear. “You were working a job you didn’t want me to know about.” Reaching under, he pressed two fingers between her slick folds. “How dangerous is it?” he asked, hating that what she’d been doing intrigued him, and hating being jealous of a frickin’ job and how that had fulfilled something inside her he couldn’t. “A fast ride on my Harley used to turn you on. Does the danger of the job?” He circled her clit with his thumb. “Do you come home and touch yourself? I bet you do. I can see you now. Legs spread, one hand playing with your nipples, the other rubbing your clit. Yeah, what do you need me for, now that you have all that going for you?”
“I told you to stop talking,” she said, her sex gripping his fingers.
“Right. Back to what we’re good at. Fucking.” She gasped when he pressed his fingers deep. “I can handle that, babe.”
With a groan, she shoved his hand away, then quickly turned and faced him. “Fuck you.”
He tensed. When the F-word came flying out of Mel’s mouth, that meant she was beyond furious.
“We were good at everything,” she shouted, as tears began to stream down her cheeks. She cupped his face. “We’ve both made mistakes, and we’ve both done our share of hurting. Neither of us are innocent.” She grazed her fingertips along his lips. “When I touch myself, I think of you, not a job. When I’m sad, I think of the good times we’ve had. When I’m happy, I wish you were there to share the moment with me.”
God, she humbled him. He lashed out and said mean things out of pride and anger, and she turned around and told him something private and special.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, needing guidance in unfamiliar territory. “I told you I’d quit my job and do everything in my power to make us work. I want you home. But now I understand why you hesitated yesterday when I asked if you’d come back to me. You aren’t sure about quitting your job.” That realization sucked. Talk about having the tables turned. Now he could understand why Mel had been angry with him. His wife might be tough, but he didn’t like knowing her life could be in danger.
“It’s a job. That’s all. Yes, I enjoy it, but I like working with the people even more.”
“Then you’ll quit?”
“After this investigation.”
“Promise?”
She took his erection in her hand. “I wouldn’t chose a job over my husband.”
The little swamp witch always had to have the last word, and it always had to be laced with barbed wired. He took a fistful of her hair and brought their mouths close. “That stung.”
She nipped his lip, then soothed it with her tongue. “I wanted it to.”
Anger simmered in his chest. “Are you done now?” he asked, keeping his irritation from his voice.
She rubbed her thumb over the head of his penis. “It’s out of my system.”
“About time,” he said, then kissed her. Hard. Open-mouthed. If she wanted slow, she’d let him know. Even then he’d have a hard time going easy on her. He’d eventually get over the secret agent job, but knowing she’d kept it from him still had him wound up and furious. They’d talked enough about it and he wouldn’t bring it up again, unless she went back on her word. Then all bets were off and he’d play dirty. For now, he’d take his anger, his love and lust, out on her body.
Tearing his mouth away, he pushed her against the wall and raised one of her legs. Bent his knees slightly, then with one swift thrust, entered her. When he met her gaze, she gave him a small challenging smile. “That’s all you’ve got for me?” she asked, then let out a soft moan when he thrust again. “What happened to those new moves?”
“Are you complaining about my performance?”
She gasped when he gripped her rear and pumped his hips harder. “Never.”
“Are you going to come?” he asked, loving being buried in her heat.
“Yes,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Good.” He pulled free.
“What the hell, Cash?”
Without responding, he went to his knees and tasted heaven.
She ran a hand through his hair and moaned. “I didn’t expect you to…never mind. Don’t stop.”
He would, just not yet. After drawing in one lip, he slid three fingers between her folds, then flicked his tongue along her clit. The throaty sounds she made, the way her muscles tightened around his fingers told him she was close.
“Yes, right there,” she panted.
That was his signal. As much as it pained him, he pulled his fingers and mouth away, then stood.
She shoved at his shoulders. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her cheeks flushed, anger and desire in her eyes.
He turned her around, then bent her over. “Ass in the air,” he said, giving one rounded cheek a light slap before entering her.
After calling him the bastard that he was, she did as he demanded and pressed her hands against the wall. “Are you going to let me come this time?” she asked.
“Will it make you mad if I don’t?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Why don’t you take the risk and find out? You like a little danger.”
The heat and challenge in her eyes should have sent up red flags, but she was right. He did like danger. He loved how it made him come alive, loved how his wife did the same for him. As he gripped her hips and pressed himself deep, he realized she was all he’d needed. Living with Mel would always be exciting, and based on the threat in her tone seconds ago, maybe even a little dangerous.
His plan to torture her by making her wait to orgasm was a bad idea. Because her pleasure meant everything to him, he was only torturing himself. He slipped free.
“Not again,” she said on a groan.
He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. “Not again,” he said, and gently set her on the mattress.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as he moved over her.
He held one of her legs, then slid himself between her wet folds. “Do you need to ask?”
She caressed his chest. “You were punishing me, weren’t you?”
“You pissed me off.” He leaned forward until her nipples grazed his chest. “The last shot you threw at me wasn’t necessary. You even admitted you wanted it to sting.”
She twined her legs around his lower back, and her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” Now that his anger had subsided, he gave her a slow kiss. Explored her lips, teased her tongue with his. When he raised his head, he pressed his pelvis deep. When Mel gasped, he grinned. “No more talking, I’m trying to make love to my wife.”
Despite the pretty smile crossing her face, tears slipped into her hair. His throat tightened at the sight of them. He swallowed and slowly rocked his hips. The only tears he ever wanted to see Mel shed were tears of joy. Neither of them had had an easy life. They’d both been forced to grow up before their time, had to learn to fend for themselves, and knew that love wasn’t a gift, but something earned. He might not always deserve Mel’s love, but he never wanted to lose it.
Her breathing grew ragged, and matched his own. He stared at her face. She’d closed her eyes, and that was okay. It gave him the freedom to watch her, witness the beauty of her pleasure.
“Cash,” she whispered, then gasped.
The moment her muscles tightened around him, his body tensed and he closed his eyes. As his orgasm shot through him, tightening his core, giving him that intoxicating satisfaction he craved, Mel’s image filled his mind. Dragging in a deep breath, he opened his eyes and met Mel’s. “Were you watching me?” he asked.
“Yes. I couldn’t resist. You looked so happy and sexy. What were you thinking about?”
“You.”
She touched his jaw. “I loved making love to my husband.”
He brushed his lips along hers. “I loved making love to my wife.”
“I think we should make a promise to each other.”
“Anything you need. I’m tired of fighting.”
“See how perfect we are for each other?” she asked with a smile. “That’s what I was going to suggest. That, and a no more tit for tat rule.”
“I wouldn’t have withheld the half dozen orgasms you could’ve had if you hadn’t bit me.” When she pinched his nipple, he chuckled and gave her a kiss. “I think you just broke your new rule.”
She sighed. “I have a feeling we’ll both struggle with it.”
He did, too. But as long as he had Mel back, he didn’t care.
The House of Archer, Bower, Georgia
Saturday, 10:48 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time
Still
groggy, Liam Forrester slowly awakened. When he realized there was no subtle jostling from the bus, he came alert.
Panic clawed at his chest. As he gazed around the room, memories of yesterday assaulted him…
The stop in Atlanta. Climbing off the bus. Mitch dragging him behind the depot and quickly explaining that they couldn’t board the next bus. The government was onto them. They knew their names, their faces and had men searching for them. Mitch had told him to hide his wallet and backpack, go in the opposite direction, then meet him at the diner five blocks northeast of the depot.
He’d done as Mitch had instructed and…damn it. Then what happened? God, he didn’t know. Everything was hazy and blurred.
The drugs.
He glared at where the IV had been stuck in his arm earlier. The woman would pay. He just prayed to God they hadn’t captured Mitch, too. Otherwise, he was on his own.
He looked around the small room, touched on the small, blackened TV screen and remembered…the blood, the gore. The way they’d taped his eyelids open in order to force him to watch such despicable violence. Her voice. The woman’s sexy, soothing words shouldn’t have been sexy or soothing. She’d spoken of atrocity, of the joy, the euphoric pleasure of killing.
She’d encouraged him to kill.
He wasn’t a killer, but he’d have no problem ending the life of the people behind the government’s sick experimentation. The door to his room opened. She stepped inside, then shut the door behind her. Yes, he’d have no problem killing and would start with the woman—after she told him what he needed to know.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Forgot so quickly? Interesting. My name is Madeline.” When she stepped around the heart rate monitor, he realized she’d dressed inappropriately. Wearing a sheer nightgown, her long, dark curly hair an arousing mess, she approached him. “How’d you sleep?” she asked.
The bed he’d been strapped to suddenly moved. As he was taken from being seated to lying flat on his back, he held her gaze.
“You’re an interesting one,” she said, tiptoeing her fingers across his chest. “I think you and I are going to have a good time.” She slid her hand from his chest to his crotch. “Yes, indeedy. I’m going to train you right. You’ll be perfect.”
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