The scream tore from her throat just as Ethan raced Tessa into another room. It wasn’t far enough. There wasn’t a person in a hundred-yard radius of that house who could have missed her tortured cry.
The visceral devastation gutted me.
I rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug, but she fought against me until I was forced to release her.
Her fists hammered against my chest as she screamed, “No!” at the top of her lungs.
“Clare!” I yelled in an attempt to snap her out of it, but she was inconsolable. Her feral eyes stared right through me.
“No. No. No. No,” she repeated through broken cries and angry screams.
“Breathe, babe,” I urged as she backed away from me.
“He’s going to kill me,” she sobbed, tripping over the chair and falling on her ass.
I lunged to catch her, but she swatted my hands away.
She scrambled on all fours until her back hit the wall and she threw a hand up to stop me. “He’ll kill us all!”
My body went solid, and despite every fiber of my being demanding I force her to take comfort from me, I managed to take a step back. “He can’t hurt you anymore,” I swore, slowly lifting my hands in surrender.
“He can always hurt me!” Her voice broke as she drew her knees to her chest. “He won’t stop.” Her hands trembled as she swung her unfocused gaze around the room. “He’ll come for her. He’ll kill me, and then he’ll take her.”
“Babe, look at me,” I pushed, careful to keep my voice even. “He won’t. I won’t let him.”
“He will, and he’ll kill you too. He won’t stop until everyone I care about is gone. He’ll kill Roman, he’ll kill Elisabeth, he’ll kill you, and then he’ll kill me and take her.”
After this shit, I wished like hell Walter Noir would come for me so I could end this for her once and for all. I should have killed him that day on his driveway. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. The next time I saw that coward, he would leave in a body bag—my bullet in his head.
“Breathe, Clare.”
“This is not happening,” she choked out, covering her mouth with her hand. “Please, God, tell me this is not happening.”
“What do you need, Clare?” I asked for no other reason than I knew her answer and I needed her to let me in before my arms tore free of my body in order to get to her.
“He’s going to take you both from me.”
“He won’t. I swear to God. Nothing. No one, not ever, will take me from you. Or her from us,” I swore, dropping into a squat to bring our eyes level.
Her wild gaze bounced to mine, but she didn’t see me. Hollow orbs so far from the woman I knew stared back at me. I couldn’t even be sure my Clare was still in there. But I would forage through the pits of Hell to bring her back.
“Clare!” I barked, slamming my palms down on the hardwood floor, desperation overriding my patience.
And, finally, fucking finally, Clare reappeared in the depths of her blue eyes.
But it was Clare the frightened and tortured woman I’d met all those months ago.
It shattered me.
“Get. Over. Here,” I ordered, hating myself for being so rough, but nothing else was getting through to her.
A flash of recognition hit her face for only a second before she tore off the floor, flew across the room, and dove into my arms.
She collided with my chest, knocking me back onto my heels before I was able to right myself.
Sobs shook her chest as she buried her face in my neck, her nails digging into my back.
And, even still, I breathed a ragged sigh of relief.
“I’ve got you,” I swore, rising to my feet.
Her legs encircled my hips the way she had just over a week ago when I’d carried her out of Walter’s gate. Only, this time, I couldn’t carry her out of the darkness.
The best I could do was carry her upstairs, get Tessa, and then shut the door on the entire fucking world.
It wasn’t enough.
She deserved so much fucking more.
But it was all I could do.
That and rip Noir’s head from his spineless body the first chance I got.
That “giving” bullshit was becoming impossible.
Clare had been curled into my side, blankly staring into space, for over an hour. I wanted to force her to talk to me so I could get into her head. I’d told myself to be patient, to let her open up when she was ready, but it was breaking me.
“Say something,” I urged when the silence had become too much.
“Something,” she whispered.
“I’m serious, Clare.”
“I’m fine,” she replied with absolutely zero conviction.
“Do you want me to get Tessa?”
“Is she with Elisabeth?”
“Yeah.”
“Then no.”
I groaned.
“You want to eat?”
“No.”
“You want—”
“Please stop.”
I closed my eyes and sighed.
For seven days, I’d watched her bruises fade and a completely different woman emerge.
For seven days, I’d listened to her laugh with abandon and watched her smile as if her mouth had never known anything else.
For seven days, I watched her rise up stronger and more confident than ever before.
Or so I’d hoped.
It had taken one sentence to crush her.
Maybe I was delusional thinking I could fix her so easily.
But that fucking cloud of denial we’d been living on was the sweetest thing I’d ever experienced.
I hadn’t laughed as much in my entire life as I did when I was with her. And, every night as I watched her fall asleep, her lips curled in a serene smile, it filled me in unimaginable ways.
The first time I’d kissed her forehead as she’d slept, I had known it was wrong. It was taking at its finest. But I couldn’t stop myself. My body ached to touch her and not just when she needed me. Sometimes, I needed her. And, as the days passed, the ache became agonizing. It sure as fuck didn’t help when she stared at my mouth as though the ache had found her too.
No lines had been crossed. Yet.
But they would be eventually. A fact that taunted my dreams on a nightly basis.
I was fucked.
And not in a good way.
I’d managed to keep my hands off her for a full seven days.
Swear to God, I deserved a medal of honor for that act of heroism.
One thing had become blatantly obvious to me in that time: Letting her go was no longer an option.
But, after today, it was clear keeping her wasn’t going to be easy, either.
Yes, I could make her laugh and keep her safe. But I couldn’t fix her, no matter how much I wanted to. She needed help that I just couldn’t offer. She and Tessa both.
“I think it’s time you talk to a therapist,” I announced.
“I think it’s time I talk to the police.”
I jerked my head back so I could get a read on her face. “What?”
Despite the fact that the DEA had offered Clare full immunity in exchange for her testimony and cooperation in their case against Noir, she was still a nervous wreck about it. After a fair amount of talking in circles, I’d convinced Tomlinson to give us time for her to heal physically before dragging her through questioning. I’d yet to tell her that that time had run out—days ago. It was all I could do to keep them off her back until we had gotten the results of Tessa’s DNA.
“He’s going to kill me, Heath. It’s better we get everything documented before he does,” she stated emotionlessly.
My body tensed. “He’s not—”
She suddenly pushed up on an elbow and looked at me. “You know what I don’t get? How the hell a disgusting piece of shit like Walter creates something as perfect as Tessa.” She sat all the way up and folded her legs to crisscross between us. “I mean, how does that happen? Meanwhi
le, I can’t have kids. Roman, either, ya know? When we did in vitro, I was twenty-five years old, in tip-top health, with shit for eggs. And, somehow, drug-dealing, slime-of-the-Earth Walter fucking Noir can jerk his dick in a cup and create something as perfect as my baby girl.”
I would have rather gouged my eyes out with a rusty coat hanger than think of Walter “jerking” anything into a cup. But that wasn’t her question, and at least she was talking.
“She’s perfect because of you.”
“She was perfect when she came out.” She leaned forward, her blond hair slipping from behind her ear. “How did he do that?”
“I don’t know.” I reached up, caught the lock of her hair, and twisted it between my fingers. “I honestly have no fucking idea.” I gave her hair a gentle tug, pulling her down as I rose up on an elbow to bring us nose-to-nose. “But one thing I can tell you is that his role in her life is over. I don’t give a fuck what that DNA test reads. He is not her father. He’s not even a sperm donor. That man is nothing to her. Nothing to you, either. You two do not exist for him anymore.”
She scoffed, so I released her hair and caught the back of her neck.
“Swear to God, Clare. You do not exist for him. At all. Ever again. He won’t kill you. He won’t take Tessa. Because I will have his head on a stake before he so much as looks at either of you.”
Her lips thinned in a patronizing smile. “You’re sweet.”
I arched an incredulous eyebrow. “I’m sweet?”
“I know you believe that—”
I didn’t give her a chance to finish. Releasing her neck, I caught her at the back of the legs and forced her back to the mattress.
She squeaked as I followed her down, landing my hands on either side of her head, my body hovering above her as I supported myself on my knees.
“Do you trust me?”
She blinked a few times before nodding.
“This is serious. Do not lie to me. Do. You. Trust. Me?”
She licked her lips then nodded again.
Slowly, I lowered myself down on top of her, her legs parting and my hips falling between them. I kept my weight on one elbow but brought my other hand up to cup her jaw.
“Tessa believes in Santa Claus. And the Easter Bunny. And the Tooth Fairy. You believe Walt is going to kill you. And he believes you belong to him. But, Clare, I don’t believe any of that. Beliefs are bullshit. I know for a fucking fact that you do not exist for him. Because, I’ll repeat: I will have his head on a stake before he so much as looks at either of you. That is my word.”
She stared up at me, tears filling her eyes. “Heath,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around my neck, bringing our chests flush.
I held her gaze as I swore, “There is nothing in this world that I will not do to protect you two. And, if you think for one second that I can’t do it, you are highly underestimating the depths of my selfishness when it comes to you and your girl.”
I shouldn’t have done it.
Not even two hours ago, she’d had a complete mental breakdown.
But she was so fucking close.
Her mouth inches away from mine.
Her sweet breath mingling with mine.
Her soft breasts pressed against my chest and her heated core resting against my zipper, only two layers of denim dividing us.
Three months of tension in desperate need of release.
Three months of anxiety making me weak.
Before I could stop myself, I dipped my head and caught her mouth. It was meant to be gentle. It didn’t stay that way.
Her mouth opened hastily, her tongue snaking out to tangle with mine. I groaned as her fingers threaded into the back of my hair and she slanted her head, taking me deeper.
A kiss wasn’t taking? Right?
Now, if I stripped her naked and buried myself inside her, that would be a little different. I wanted her fiercely, but I had the strength to control myself.
At least that’s what I’d told myself—until she hooked her leg around my hip and ground against me.
“Fuck,” I bit out.
I did not have the strength for that.
“Clare, wait,” I mumbled.
She didn’t. She rolled to the side, pulling me with her until she was straddling my hips. Her mouth disappeared but only long enough for her to peel her pale-purple sweater over her head and toss it off the side of the bed.
Her round breasts thrust toward me as she reached around to undo the hook at her back.
If she got that bra off, I was done for. I would be inside her without any further conversation or consideration.
Entire fucking armies didn’t have that kind of strength.
“Jesus. Wait.” He gripped my shoulders to still me, but his eyes drifted down to my chest.
“Don’t stop,” I pleaded, wiggling in his grasp.
Something had happened inside me when his lips had met mine. A hunger I hadn’t felt in years had surged through me.
Passion. Longing. Desire.
I could barely remember a time when I’d wanted Walt to touch me.
But, with a single taste, I needed Heath—everywhere.
His mouth.
His fingers.
His length, swelling between my legs as his eyes focused on my nipples, which were peaking beneath the thin, white cotton of my bra.
I wished it had been something sexier. Something deserving of his appraisal. Maybe one of those little nighties hanging in the closet. But, if he noticed my bra at all, he didn’t let on. His eyes were dark, and his fingers bit into the flesh of my shoulders as if he were clinging to the edge of self-control.
An edge I desperately needed him to let go of.
I folded down, mumbling against his lips, “Heath, please.”
As I circled my hips over his cock, he groaned, “You’re killing me here.”
“Ask me the question,” I whispered, palming either side of his face before taking his mouth again.
His hands slid down to my hips, where he rocked me in his lap. “What question?”
Moving my assault from his mouth to his neck, I traced my tongue up to his ear and then prompted, “What do you need, Clare?” punctuating it by raking my teeth over his earlobe.
His entire body tensed as he moaned his approval with a curse. I glided my hands down to the waistband on his jeans, popping open the button before tugging at the hem of his T-shirt. His arms lifted as I dragged it over his head.
Heat pooled between my legs as his shirt joined mine on the floor.
Heath was beautiful. All raw power and defined muscle. But it was just window dressing for the man hiding inside.
Gentle hands. Kind heart. Gorgeous smile.
My nipples tingled as I traced my finger down the soft, blond trail of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his boxers.
He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “Clare,” he exhaled.
I kissed over his heart. “Ask me.”
His eyes popped open, uncertainty still lingering in his gaze. “This is a bad—”
I didn’t allow him to finish before I reached back and unfastened my bra, letting it fall down my arms.
His fiery gaze locked on my chest.
“Jesus,” he cursed, but his hands moved to palm my breasts.
My head fell back and my mouth slacked open as sparks fired to my clit, adding to the electricity already roaring within me. “Yes,” I cried, rocking against him.
Sitting all the way up, he swayed me backward in his arms and sucked my nipple between his lips.
I balanced one hand on his thigh, the other threading into his hair, holding him close as he devoured my breast. His tongue swirled and his teeth nipped, growls rumbling in his throat.
He thrust a hand down the back of my jeans, kneading my ass as he ground me against his hard length.
God, I needed him inside me.
“Ask me,” I ordered, giving his hair a sharp tug.
“What do you need, Clare?” he
mumbled against my chest.
I smiled victoriously. “You.”
His eyes lifted, an inferno brewing within as he finally gave me the only permission I would ever need. “Then take it.”
I was off the bed, stripping my pants off, before the final syllable had even cleared his lips. He did the same, peeling out of his denim and his boxers. His hand went to his thick cock, stroking as I climbed back onto the bed and straddled him.
His hand caught my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “This is all you, babe. But, just so you know, there is not one thing I don’t want from you.”
I held his stare as I reached between us and brazenly wrapped my palm around his fingers working his shaft.
He glided his hand around to the back of my neck and hauled me toward him. His lips touched mine, the tip of his tongue hitting my bottom lip as he said, “I’m yours, Clare. Take it all.” He moved his fingers between my legs, grazing my clit before pressing inside.
“Yes,” I hissed, releasing him to balance myself with his shoulders.
“You’re wet, babe,” he stated before kissing me with a cocky grin.
I could have told him that. It had happened the second he’d asked me if I trusted him. Never had four simple words been so arousing. And not because he’d said them in that deep baritone that could drive a woman mad. But, rather, because it was the moment when I’d realized that I did trust him. Unequivocally. Completely. Utterly. Mind. Body. And soul.
“I am,” I confirmed breathily.
His finger curled, pressing deeper and causing me to cry out.
“Then guide me home, Clare,” he ordered against my mouth.
Pushing up on my knees, I inched forward. He removed his hand and rested it on my hip, but that was the only move he made. He didn’t urge me down or press up into me as I aligned our bodies. He sat there, impossibly still, his eyes burning into mine, searching my face for any sign of hesitance.
He would find none.
“Kiss me,” I urged, slowly sinking down on his cock, relishing in the way he stretched me.
He groaned into my mouth as a million broken pieces crashed to the floor.
And then I took from Heath. Repeatedly.
I threw my head back and closed my eyes, letting the world around us go and getting lost in him.
The Complete Retrieval Duet Page 27
