Say You Will (Trust & Tequila Book 3)

28. Henry

twenty-eight

Franki curls up on one of the comfortably worn leather armchairs tucked into a corner and looks around the rustic cabin with curious eyes. She’s no longer crying or shaking, but she’s biting her lip and isn’t quite herself either.

I crouch before her, cupping her hands and blowing on them as I attempt to transfer some of my heat to her. I lit the wood burning stove as soon as she was ready to sit down, but it will take some time for the chill to dissipate from the cabin entirely. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yes. Of course. Are you?”

I blink, startled by her question.

“Are you okay?” she repeats.

“Ah.” I glance down at her hands. “I’m a great number of things. Grateful you’re unharmed. Also seething that someone shot at us and impatient to learn who hired them. I’m also concerned for your emotional and physical well-being. And we missed lunch. So I’m feeling peckish.”

She lifts my hands to her face and leans into them with a smile before straightening. “Do you know who did this?”

I shake my head. “Not yet. This was a hired job. Were they poorly prepared to take on an armored vehicle, not realizing we wouldn’t be an easy mark, or was this meant to act as a warning? How did they know where we were? And who has motive and opportunity?”

“You have enemies?”

“None that I hadn’t believed to be neutralized.”

Her eyebrows lift slowly, then she purses her lips and gives a small nod.

“You’re safe here, Franki.”

She glances around. “This place isn’t what I expected. I thought your country retreat would be some luxury lodge.”

This place is a bunker that’s been made to look like a cabin in the woods. The walls are lined with steel. The windows are bulletproof, and beneath us is a panic room equipped for a siege and a tunnel that leads to the airplane hangar.

The cabin appears to be well-maintained but has little in the way of anything I’d consider decorative or extraneous. It’s also small, rustic, and the furthest thing from elegant. I enjoy the wood beams that cross the open kitchen and living room space, but I’d never call it a great room because the entire space is less than twenty-four-feet wide total. It’s a single floor, though a loft contains a modest open space filled with books and a comfortable chair overlooking the living room. A door leads from the living room to the only bedroom, which adjoins the single bathroom in the cabin.

The visible walls and flooring are made of natural knotty pine boards, though two area rugs in shades of blue and green anchor the living and dining spaces. The hearth and wall behind the wood burner are constructed of stacked river rock and visually ground the wall facing the kitchen.

I hoped she’d like it, but I suppose her tastes have changed. “I can buy you a lodge. Someplace huge with massive windows. Do you want one in the Sierra Nevada mountains? Vail?”

When she shakes her head, I ask, “Switzerland?”

She heaves one of those sighs that means “You’re being ridiculous,” but she says, “Your cabin is perfect. I love it. I’m surprised that it’s something you like. That’s all.”

I stand to my full height. “Good. You said you wanted one of these.”

She gives me a bemused smile. “Did I?”

“You wanted to run away from home into a forest and live off the land. You were reading a book at the time.”

“My Side of the Mountain. I wanted the adventure, but not the suffering.” She laughs. “I was ten years old and told you to come with me and help me build a cabin because I didn’t want to live in a hollowed-out tree. You said if I was patient, you’d build one for me when we were adults. I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I don’t forget when I make a promise. I built this place for you. In case you came back.”

Her brows draw together and her chin drops.

I indicate the bedroom. “Your luggage is stacked on the dresser, along with your purse, and the case with your meds.”

She nods. “Okay.” She steps away, then turns. “You know this is nuts, right?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just us.”

She swallows hard, and the corner of my mouth lifts. “You’re safe with me. There are perimeter alarms surrounding the property. No one followed us or has any way of tracking us. This property is hidden behind a shell corporation and doesn’t appear in any way connected to me, and”—I lift the corner of the area rug at my feet to expose a hatch—“if anyone makes their way up here, you climb down the ladder. You’ll have two choices when you get down there. Left door is a panic room. You can survive there for more than a month, if necessary, though it would never take that long for reinforcements to arrive. Right door leads to a tunnel that brings us out to the planes.”

“This place looks lived in.”

“I come here when I need to hit the reset button. Listen.”

She cocks her head. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Sublime, isn’t it?”

Her lips curve upward in response.

“Trouble hasn’t come to this mountain. Whoever our pursuers are, they don’t know where we’ve gone. We have a plane. A helicopter. A fully stocked kitchen, and, most importantly, time together.”

“I can’t believe you built this place for me.” Her words match her expression. She doesn’t trust easily.

“I would do anything to see you smile. I’ll give you anything you ask for.” I huff. “I’ll even carry your friendship bracelet, if you want me to.”

She squints. “You don’t have to carry it, but what is the big deal? It’s a piece of cotton.”

I reach in my pocket and remove her panties. I hold them aloft and give them a shake. I’m trying to avoid any more misunderstandings, and I can’t live my life hiding the fact that I stole them. I may as well face the music now. “I don’t need your friendship in my pocket. I already have your panties.”

She props her hands on her hips, her eyebrows crawling to her hairline. “You’ve been carrying around my underwear?”

“What did you think I was doing with them?” I drawl.

Color floods her cheeks, and her brown eyes sparkle as she makes a grab for the lacy fabric and presses the front of her body flush against mine. As distractions go, it almost works. My eyes glaze with lust before I snap back to attention and stretch my arm out of her reach.

“Give me back my underwear,” she says in an exasperated tone.

“I’d rather not.”

She circles me and I move with her, until my back is against the bedroom door. She presses against me. Rubs, really. Like a cat seeking affection, but I’m the one who wants to purr. I slide her panties back into my pocket, then widen my stance slightly to bring my height closer to hers.

She drops a kiss on the center of my chin. “Why would you want to carry something like that around?”

Her body is warm and pliant against me, and she’s wearing her sweet, sexy smile. The one where I see it in her eyes more than anywhere else. It isn’t a fair fight, and I give a jerk of my head in a failed attempt to shake off the trance she’s put me under. “1) They remind me of you, and 2) The fabric has a distinctive stretch to it that I find to be a satisfying tactile experience.”

I halt her hand as it slides down my abdomen in the general direction of my pocket and guide it gently behind her back. “I’ll buy you new lingerie.”

She squirms her lower body against mine, seeking friction. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

Her nipples are hard as diamonds under her blouse, and I’m damned confident it has nothing to do with the chill in the air. I slide my thigh between hers. “Everything is a negotiation.”

She shivers and bites her lip, her pupils dilating as she watches me take off my glasses. Good to know. I’ll be taking off my glasses in the most inconvenient places for her now, just to see if it gets her hot.

I place them on the nearby table and give her clit a nudge with my thigh.

She’s forgotten her desire to steal back her panties, her left hand sliding up my chest, even as I continue to restrain her right. She kisses me, a soft press of lips that, when I open in welcome, becomes a slick meeting of tongues. When I release her arm, it’s only so I can slide my hands up to cup her lovely face. She squirms against me with a moan of frustration. I turn us once more, and the door rattles on its hinges as I press her against it and slide my thigh more firmly between hers, giving her the friction we both need.

Her pussy is hot and damp against me. I groan as she yanks my shirt from my pants. This feeling is beyond the desire for sex. It’s unadulterated need. I spare one last thought to remind myself that this location is secure, then let Franki fill every one of my senses. I trail hot, sucking kisses along her neck, her skin salty on my tongue, a result of clean sweat from her earlier fear.

Wanting to fuck is a well-known reaction to a near miss like the one we faced. It’s one of the ways people remind themselves that they’re still here, and it provides a physical release for the adrenaline thrumming in their veins.

I’ve never responded to danger like this before in my life. Never even considered it. Now, I’m not certain I’d survive this life without her to come home to.

She thinks I wasn’t affected because I kept my cool. She’s wrong. If I’d been alone, my nonchalance would have been real, but someone put her in the crossfire, and I’d had to clamp down hard on the fear and rage that threatened to turn me into someone who would terrify her as much as the person shooting at us did.

Now, we’re here, and I need to feel her skin against mine. I crave her taste in my mouth. The scent of her filling my lungs. I want to fill her up and drown myself in Franki. It’s more than arousal. It’s a feral demand for satisfaction.

I force myself to unbutton her blouse and divest Franki of her remaining clothing gently, rather than tear the fabric off her. She wasn’t wearing a bra. That’s why I could see her nipples so clearly. I swallow hard and skim my thumb over one turgid nipple. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

Pulling her into my body, I open the door behind her and back her through it. It’s four steps until we reach the bed, then I lower her to the soft, duvet-covered down comforter. She falls into it, and it lofts around her like a cloud. She’s a work of art, lying there in navy blue panties and thick cotton socks.

She uses her arms to cover her breasts and her stomach. “Are you going to stand there and stare or take your clothes off too?”

She has no idea the effort it takes for me not to pounce on her. I’m practicing self-restraint for both our sakes, but I forgot she’s sometimes insecure about her body. To me, she’s the most perfect woman in existence. I’ll convince her of that, someday. “Let me look, love. The sight of you is a privilege I’ll never deserve. But I’m asking for it, anyway.”

She swallows hard and drops her arms.

“You are so damn beautiful.”

Her gaze follows me as I remove every piece of clothing from my body. Then I join her, my knees digging into the mattress, my hands tracing the shape of her. I run a knuckle over the seam of her sex, right on top of the blue fabric that hides her pretty pussy from my searching gaze.

I lift my head. “Your panties are wet. That can’t be comfortable. I’ll make you a trade. You can have the other ones back if you give me these.”

The flash of humor in her eyes is so obvious to me. I might love to be a “pain in the ass,” but she’s more than happy to play along.

“Henry McRae, you’re a pervert.”

“Apparently, I am. I had no idea.” Moving up beside her, I slide her panties down her thighs, kissing her long and slow before I work my way down. I’m deliberately gentle because I don’t want to be, exploring her body with fingers and lips and tongue. Then I’m at the apex of her thighs, kissing, tasting, watching, always watching, her every reaction. Adjusting to drive her up further until she crests a wave of bliss and shakes under me, her thighs clamping tight around my ears.

I recognize her signals, now, and back off before she pushes me away. Then she’s got her hands and mouth on me. My cock leaks pre-cum, and I groan in pleasure. She rolls us both so that she’s on top, and I slide against her clit. The urge to pull her down onto me clouds my every thought. There’s supposed to be something I’m worried about. Something I should think of.

When I do, my gaze jerks to hers. “I have to find a condom.”

“I’m on the pill to help with my periods, but it means we could skip the condoms. If you wanted to.”

I frown. “You mean you’re okay if we—”

“Yes.” She nods eagerly.

“Do it. Take me inside.”

Franki slides down on my cock, enveloping me in her snug, wet heat. I blow out a slow breath through my mouth, caught unaware once more. This is different. Blissful. Even harder to maintain control. I feel everything.

She rocks against me, and I slide my right hand up to circle her throat, fingers stroking her pulse gently. “That’s it. Look how well you take me.”

She works herself on my cock, and I push my thumb between her lips. “Get me wet for you.”

She swirls her tongue over me, then I’m giving her clit the attention it deserves.

“Eyes on me, love.”

Her lids lift. Her brows furrow, her bottom lip twists, and white teeth clamp down on the side. Her dark amber eyes look back at me with something infinitely more tender than sexual need alone.

“Can you come one more time, love?”

Her eyelashes flutter, then she’s throwing her head back with her palms planted behind her on my thighs. She rides me as I work her clit. When her orgasm comes, she jerks hard in achingly tight convulsions that latch onto my spine and drag me under in a quaking release of my own.

She collapses over me, and I take her mouth with mine, rolling her beneath me.

One at a time, I collect her hands and draw them over her head. Transferring them to one of mine, I lift my head. “What are you doing to me?” My voice is hoarse.

Her brows come together. “What do you mean?”

I release her hands and roll off her, tucking her against me. I don’t know why I asked her that question. I only know that I’m drowning in a deluge of feeling. I have no intention of fighting it either. I’d sooner cut out my own heart.

She rubs her thumb between my eyebrows. “What upset you?”

Kissing her forehead, I drag the blanket over both of us and soak in the almost overwhelming comfort of holding her in my arms. I carry secrets far beyond her panties in my pocket. In the car, I told her I understood the difference between protecting her and controlling her, but hiding the darkest parts of myself wasn’t about protecting Franki. It was an attempt to protect myself. “I have some things I need to tell you.”