Hottest Mess

by J. Kenner

  When he finally breaks the kiss, his expression is as raw as his voice. "You're at my mercy, baby."

  "Yes." I can barely force the word out. "God, yes."

  "Come for me, Jane. I want you to explode for me, now."

  It is as if the primal command in his voice is the final piece of a puzzle I've been assembling, and I do as he commands, screaming his name as my body rips apart in one wild, sensational orgasm. I tremble all over with such violent rapture that I don't notice at first that his finger is no longer inside me. Now he's using that hand to stroke his cock, and the moment his eyes meet mine, we are locked together.

  His breath is ragged, and I realize that mine is, too. We are perfectly attuned, and waves of pleasure crash through me as he explodes. He comes over my legs and belly, marking me. Claiming me. And I absolutely love it.

  I keep my eyes on his, then slide my finger over my legs and stomach before lifting my hand to my mouth. I suck, relishing the salty taste of him almost as much as the look on his face. Lust. Desire. Appreciation. And, yes, love.

  For a moment, we just look at each other, both our chests rising and falling as we breathe. Then he hooks one arm around my waist and another under one of my legs. He shifts me so that I am sideways in his lap, and I can cradle my head against his shoulder.

  "You do know how to show a girl a good time, Mr. Sykes," I say.

  I feel his chuckle rumble through my chest. "I try."

  I smile, but the laughter never quite reaches my lips. I'm too overwhelmed by the moment. By what I feel. By the presence of this man I love. With a sigh, I tuck my head under his chin, snuggling close. "This whole thing is a hot mess, you know. How are we ever going to make this work?"

  The silence between us is long, but then finally he answers. "I don't know," he admits. "But we will. Don't ever doubt it. Don't ever doubt us."

  The passion in his voice calms me, and I close my eyes as he holds me tight. I cling to him, relishing his certainty. His strength.

  And desperately wishing that he was strong enough to truly crush all of my fears and worries.

  Sins of the Father

  What the fuck was he doing?

  He leaned forward, his hands clutching the marble countertop. He was in his bathroom, naked from the waist down. He'd tossed his jeans--stained from her juices and his come--on the floor behind him. He should have tossed them in the laundry, but damned if he didn't want to wear them tomorrow. He'd be wearing them still if he didn't need to go back out to the party and find Henry Darcy.

  He knew he should shower, but he wanted to hold on to the scent of her for as long as possible. The feel of her. The memory of how wild she'd been in his arms. How hard she'd rubbed herself against his jeans, then worked her slick, swollen pussy against his bare cock.

  He groaned softly, closing his eyes as he let his mind drift back to the way she'd looked, her back arched as she ground herself against him like a wild thing, each gyration forcing his finger deeper into her ass even as the friction against her sensitive clit brought her that much closer to screaming his name.

  He'd always wanted her--hell some of his earliest memories were of wanting her. But now that they were together, that desire had changed. It was hard and raw. It was possessive and wild and desperate. He wanted to take her to dark places with him. He wanted her to understand what he needed now--and what he hated himself for needing.

  He'd changed in captivity. She'd changed him. The Woman. One of their two kidnappers. The bitch who'd tortured him. Teased him. Tormented him in ways he hadn't understood at fifteen, but that had become a part of his sexual appetites. And Jane--oh, god, Jane--she'd sworn she wanted to go there with him.

  Some part of him hadn't really believed her, and he'd intended to start slow. Asking. Explaining. But he'd lost his fucking mind tonight. He'd wanted--and he'd taken.

  And fuck if she hadn't matched him. In power. In desire. In need.

  Granted, tonight was a relatively tame appetizer--a first step on a wild and wicked journey--but she had been right there with him. More than that, she had loved it. He'd never seen her wetter. Wilder. He'd taken her to a desperate, primal place, and she'd been completely at his mercy.

  And oh, the way she'd trusted him ...

  He'd bound her wrists. He'd gripped her throat. He'd given her reason to hesitate, to fear. And yet when he looked into her eyes, the trust and love he'd seen there had both melted him and left no doubt that she was his.

  Trust.

  He winced, looking down so that he didn't have to meet his own eyes in the mirror. She trusted him. And not just in bed, but in everything.

  Most of all, she trusted him to keep his promise.

  "No more secrets," she'd begged four days ago, when they had finally stopped dancing around their desire and committed to being together for real. "Not between us. Not again. Not ever."

  "No more secrets," he'd promised, and at the time, he'd meant it.

  Then Liam had called, and Dallas had found himself holding on to the biggest secret of all. Colin. Jane's birth father. A man that Dallas considered a friend and had once thought of as an uncle.

  A man who right now was topping Deliverance's list of suspects as the brains behind Dallas and Jane's kidnapping.

  Fuck.

  For years, Dallas and Deliverance had been on the trail of the six hired men who had physically pulled off the kidnapping. Five had slipped through their fingers--two had died before the team located them, one had killed himself rather than submit to the team's interrogation, and two simply didn't know a goddamn thing. And then a miracle had happened--they'd identified the sixth kidnapper. Silas Ortega.

  Capture Ortega and Deliverance could extract the identity of the two people who'd masterminded the kidnapping--the Jailer and the Woman. It had been the first solid lead in years, and Deliverance had gone full force after the man, but they'd been too late--the authorities picked him up first. But before Interpol could get any solid intel, Ortega had killed himself in custody. Or so the story went.

  In truth, the masterminds behind Dallas and Jane's kidnapping had arranged a fake suicide--a bold maneuver and one meant to prevent Ortega from offering any evidence about the Sykes kidnapping to the authorities. Dallas didn't have proof of that theory, of course. But that didn't change the fact that he was absolutely certain.

  With Ortega dead, Deliverance was left to learn what they could of the man's involvement in the kidnapping by analyzing his property, including a netbook they'd found in his home in Argentina.

  And that's when things became truly disturbing. Because even though the hard drive was encrypted, Noah--Deliverance's tech guru--managed to pull out a few bits and pieces. And what he found was Colin's name all over those goddamn files.

  Maybe Colin and Ortega had legitimate business. Maybe. And even now the team was looking for more evidence to either inculpate or exonerate Colin. They were all hoping to hell the man was clean. But Dallas couldn't deny the tightness in his gut. A tightness that evidenced his belief that his friend--Jane's birth father--was guilty as shit. That he'd arranged their kidnapping. That he'd held them in a dank, dark basement. That he'd tortured Jane and Dallas for weeks.

  To what end? To what goddamn end?

  And now Dallas was carrying this secret despite promising Jane there would be no secrets between them. But how could he tell her? How could he dump such a horrible possibility on her unless he was absolutely certain?

  He gripped the counter tighter in an effort to stifle the urge to throw something hard and shatter the goddamn mirror. Colin. This likelihood that Colin was involved had been fucking with his head ever since he'd learned about the contents of the netbook's hard drive. He was never far from his memories of the kidnapping, but over the last few days, his dreams had been more feverish, and he'd wake up sweating, his pulse racing. He'd sit up, gasping, as memories of what that fucking bitch had done to him clung to him like grime he couldn't scrub away.

  Had Colin known what was happe
ning? Had he simply looked the other way?

  Or worse, had Colin been behind the torment? Had he urged the Woman on? Had he watched? Had he gotten off on the vile games that bitch had played?

  The questions tore through him, seeping into his dreams, shifting into nightmares. Fucking with his head.

  And, inevitably, yanking him from sleep.

  Thankfully his violent awakenings hadn't disturbed Jane. He half-smiled, remembering how deeply she'd slept--how exhausted their lovemaking had made her. He'd sit frozen in bed, waiting until his heart rate slowed, and then he'd lay back down and hold her close, her warmth soothing him. And when she inevitably turned in his arms and burrowed against him, his chest would tighten with love and longing, and her warmth would banish the few dark remnants of the dream.

  He took a deep breath, then another, reminding himself that they didn't really know anything yet.

  Maybe Colin was entirely innocent. Maybe he'd been mixed up in something else altogether.

  Or maybe Colin had gone completely off the rails after his parental rights to Jane had been terminated, and he'd used his underworld contacts to strike back at Lisa, Jane's mother and Colin's ex-wife. Except that theory was flawed because the kidnapping had been aimed at Dallas. Jane had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she'd been snatched with him.

  Then again, Lisa and Eli were Dallas's parents, too. And Eli had been the moving force behind ousting Colin from Jane's life.

  So maybe Colin set up the kidnapping to punish Eli, the man who at one time had been his best friend? Had Colin been determined to take away Eli's family the way that Eli had taken Colin's by having an affair with Lisa, then marrying her and adopting Jane? Could it be that screwed up?

  It was possible, Dallas knew. Fucked up and depressing as shit, especially considering he actually liked the man. But possible nonetheless.

  But no way was he telling Jane. Not until he was sure.

  Telling her now would only taint her relationship with Colin if he turned out to be innocent. And if he turned out to be guilty, it would destroy her. Colin had been the one she'd relied on after the kidnapping, going so far as to beg to attend a boarding school near her birth father because she needed to get away from Dallas. From everything that reminded her of the kidnapping. And from the reality that the love and comfort that they'd found in each other's arms while captive was forbidden out in the real world.

  So yeah, he was holding on to one hell of a secret.

  He only hoped that when the truth came to light, she'd understand that he'd broken his promise in order to protect her. Because he would always watch her back, even if doing so meant sacrificing himself.

  Right now, however, he needed to let all of that go. This wasn't the time to get lost in the memory of the way she'd looked and felt. And it sure as hell wasn't the time to worry about how he would tell her the truth if the investigation proved that Colin was guilty.

  Instead, right now he needed to focus on the reason he'd thrown this party in the first place--Henry Darcy.

  He checked his watch and saw that it was almost ten. The party had been in full swing for two hours. He hadn't seen Darcy among the guests, but the man had assured Dallas that he was coming, and since Darcy had a reputation of showing up late to pretty much everything, Dallas wasn't yet worried about missing him.

  What gave him more pause was seeing Jane downstairs.

  They'd parted ways at the garden shed, deciding that it was safer to return to the party separately. He'd left first, circling the house and entering through the service entrance to avoid being noticed. He'd used the back stairs to head to the third floor and the master bedroom. Jane, he knew, had most likely used the same route to get to the second floor and her childhood bedroom.

  She was just one floor below him, and it was so damn tempting to go down to her. To lock the door and strip her bare. To lay her out on the bed, spread her wide, and lose himself in the scent and feel of her.

  Instead, he had to go back to the pool deck and pluck an anonymous woman from the crowd. Someone to look good beside him. Someone he could tease and tempt and put on a show with.

  Someone who would expect him to take her to his bedroom and fuck her hard once they'd made the party circuit.

  The thought made him cringe. Jane was the only woman he welcomed into his bed now. But that left him faced with the rather daunting problem of how to manage expectations, not to mention his own carefully-honed reputation as one of the biggest manwhores in the country.

  Considering the scope of the investigations he ran for Deliverance, the dangerous calls that he made, and the sensitive data he handled on a daily basis, the fact that his biggest problem at the moment was how to deal with the rumors surrounding his cock seemed more than a little ridiculous.

  Ridiculous, maybe. But still legitimate.

  Then again, his cock wasn't actually his biggest problem. That honor belonged to Colin--who was currently in a holding pattern--and Darcy, who wasn't. And Dallas needed to get downstairs and talk to the man. Determine what exactly he knew about Deliverance. Did he know anything at all about the organization behind the code name? And if he did, Dallas would have to assess whether or not Darcy himself was a threat.

  If so, he'd pull together the team and they'd come up with a plan.

  If not, he'd breathe a sigh of relief and move on.

  First, though, he had to find a girl he didn't want, but who would serve his purpose.

  Suck it up, Sykes. You chose this life. You built Deliverance. You know what it takes to make it work. Don't start acting like a pussy now.

  Right. Good advice.

  With his pep talk running a loop in his head, he pulled on a fresh pair of jeans. He continued to wear the cashmere sweater that Jane had given him. It was still clean, but it carried her scent, and he wanted as much of Jane with him as he could have.

  Presentable again, he started toward his bedroom door, then caught sight of the blue envelope sitting on the small table that sat flush against that wall. Well, hell. One more thing to add to his list of shit that just kept piling up.

  According to Archie, the letter had arrived last Monday, tucked inside the plastic bag in which the morning paper had been delivered. But Archie had told him that news at the same time that he'd told Dallas that Jane was waiting for him on the pool deck. Dallas had asked Archie to leave the letter in his bedroom to read later, and Dallas had hurried to Jane, the letter forgotten.

  Now, he frowned at it, another one in a string that had started arriving about a year ago. He was tempted to just shred the thing, but reason told him not to. He didn't know who was sending them, and so far they'd been nothing more than a nuisance, but he also knew that could change.

  He opened this one, then felt his gut twist as he read the words printed there:

  My mouth, my pussy, my ass, my heart. You know you have all of me, so why aren't you mine?

  The words made him cringe, all the more so because coming from Jane, they would make him hard.

  "Bitch," he spat, cursing the unknown woman as he carefully folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. He'd deal with it later. Right now, he had more important things to worry about than a woman who imagined herself scorned.

  Forcing the letter from his mind, he hurried down the hall and through the double doors that separated the private rooms from the public area. He moved slowly down the stairs, using the vantage point to scope out possible companions mingling in the great room below. He didn't see Jane, and her absence both disappointed him--when didn't he want to see her?--and pleased him. Because right then, seeing her would only drive home the fact that she was the one woman at the party that he could absolutely not pursue.

  He'd reached the second floor landing when he saw Liam. His childhood friend turned business partner stood ramrod straight in the middle of the room, his perceptive gaze taking in every face. He was looking for Dallas, of course, but his military training was so ingrained that the man never entered
a room without assessing the occupants and the space. Liam had been captured once, too, and held in Afghanistan. And Dallas knew damn well that his friend also fought his own personal demons.

  Now, he tilted his shaved head back, his eyes going immediately to Dallas as if he'd known that Dallas was watching. Hell, he probably had. He grinned, his white teeth bright against his dark skin. Without hesitation, he pushed through the crowd, then paused at the base of the stairs like a wall of pure muscle and waited for Dallas to join him.

  "I came here planning to put Archie on a couple of hours' worth of data analysis," Liam said, skipping over the prelims and getting right to business.

  "He left Monday," Dallas said, referring to his butler and Deliverance's go-to guy, all rolled into one. "Had some personal things to take care of."

  Dallas leaned against the balustrade, remembering how pleased he'd been to get the note from Archie saying that something had come up and he needed to take time off. Dallas hadn't relished the thought of explaining to the man who had helped raise both him and Jane why the two of them were sharing a bedroom.

  Liam, however, knew the situation, and now Dallas flashed a quick grin at his friend. "A convenient trip, actually."

  "I know." Liam grinned. "I heard you sent my mom away," he added, referring to Helen Foster, who had worked at the Southampton mansion as a housekeeper since before both men were born. "She appreciates the spa week. Said it was quite the surprise the way you hustled her into the limo and sent her off to the Ritz Carlton."

  "Your mom works hard," Dallas said dryly. And it was true. She and Archie were the only two permanent staff he retained, not only because he valued his privacy, but he didn't want anyone who was unaware of Deliverance having unfettered access to the property. "I figured she deserved to be pampered."

  "You just wanted to frolic naked with Jane."

  "That too."

  "When's Archie back?"

  "Tomorrow. You want to stay the night and catch him in the morning?"

  Liam shook his head. "I've got plans in the city tomorrow morning before I head back to London. I'll leave instructions in the op-center," he added, referring to the mansion's converted basement that Deliverance used as one of its operational bases.