CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“He wasn’t there? Goddammit!” Mitch pushed his hand through his hair.
“All we found was a fresh dead body—the driver. Manuel must be a little smarter than his associates and figured we’d follow them. You know how things work at the PD. We wasted so much time with red-tape bullshit and everyone gearing up. He could be back in Honduras by now,” said Adam.
“We should have gone in last night and finished this. Fuck!”
“Maybe, but who knows if we would have come out. We don’t know how many men he has or how well armed they are.”
Mitch was silent. He didn’t much care whether or not he came out, so long as Manuel didn’t.
“There’s no sense in making it a suicide mission. We’ll get him. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the news. Keep in touch.” Mitch hung up and put his hand back on the wheel.
They thought Manuel would be in custody today, so Mitch and Maggie were leaving town to lay low. With Manuel still loose, the last thing he wanted to do was leave.
“We could go back,” Maggie suggested, her voice laced with guilt. “I can stay in a hotel, and you can do whatever you need to do.”
They were only five minutes from the beach house, or he would have seriously considered her offer.
“I’ll think about it. Maybe I can leave you here. I don’t think they’ll go to the trouble of tracking down every one of your family members.”
“Sure. That sounds fine. I can take care of myself.” She lifted her chin, putting on a brave face.
He looked at her for the first time since they’d left his condo. She was wearing jean capris, a white T-shirt, and a pink zip-up hoodie. Her soft brown curls framed her face, her brows knit with concern. She was afraid but wouldn’t admit it.
“I’m sorry, Mags. I’m taking my bad mood out on you. You don’t deserve that. Let’s get inside and see what we can work out. I won’t leave you if it’s not safe.”
“Mitch, I know you want to catch this jerk. I want you to catch him. I’m sorry you’re stuck babysitting me, but honestly, I’d be just fine on my own.”
“We’ll see. Come on.” They pulled into the circular driveway. Since they weren’t expecting anyone else, he left his car parked by the front door, grabbed Maggie’s suitcase and his duffel bag out of the back, and headed up the stairs.
Oliver had ridden the whole way on Maggie’s lap, so she was furiously trying to brush the cat hair off of her clothes.
“He gonna be okay here?” Mitch asked.
“Oh yeah, he’s been here before. My grandparents have two cats. They’re the closest thing Ollie has to friends. He’ll be fine.” He’d already left to explore.
“I’m glad my grandparents are away,” she said. “We should be the only two in the big house. Peter and Gertie stay in the caretaker’s quarters, but I’ll ask if they want to take some time off. Just in case.”
She means, just in case we’re overrun by murderous, Honduran drug lords, he thought.
“That’s a good idea. Have you thought about whether there’s anyone else you should warn?”
“I’ve already spoken to my parents and siblings. The only person I can think of is Doc, but he’s so far away. They wouldn’t go that far looking for me, would they?”
“If they start looking that hard, they’ll exhaust all local options first. Doc would be a tough connection to make, too, so we’ll worry about him later.”
It had been years since Mitch had been to the beach house.
He’d forgotten how big and beautiful it was.
They entered the main living area, which was full of soft, comfortable couches and poofy chairs, each laden with pillows and throws.
The kitchen adjoined the living room, and together, they overlooked the vast deck and pool, which in turn overlooked the ocean.
The entire back side of the house was windows, which was gorgeous for the sunrise, but a logistical nightmare if you were in hiding.
He needed to stay focused. This wasn’t a vacation. Even if he thought Manuel didn’t have the resources to track them here, he had to keep his guard up, as Maggie had so eloquently put it—just in case.
“Oh, shoot, I didn’t think about the food situation,” Maggie said. “There’s probably nothing but dry goods and whatever the last people here left in the fridge.” Mitch followed as she made a beeline to the refrigerator.
“Milk’s good for another week. Same with the OJ and the eggs.
There are even a few beers. What more do we need?
” Mitch was satisfied. Since he considered them all set, he made his way to one set of patio doors and opened them.
Night was falling, and the cool ocean air chilled his skin.
“Hm, pool looks inviting, wanna go for a swim? Oh wait, you’re more of a hot tub kind of gal.
” He waggled his eyebrows, and she rolled her eyes.
“It’s too cold for swimming. I’ll probably just read. Make yourself at home, though. If you want to swim, be my guest,” she said.
“I think I will. It’ll help me clear my head. I’m gonna stay here tonight at least, and we’ll figure out tomorrow, tomorrow.” He went back to the front hallway where he’d left their bags. “Do you care which room I take?” he hollered from halfway up the stairs.
***
“No, pick whichever you want,” she said to an empty room, as she perused the bookshelf for something new. Finding nothing that interested her, she picked up her old standby. Pride and Prejudice never disappointed.
Ten minutes later, she was wrapped in soft fleece and curled up in her favorite chair being transported to nineteenth-century England.
She heard Mitch in the pool, but he must have used the outside staircase because she didn’t see him for the rest of the night. Too bad. Seeing him shirtless wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.
Just as the ball at Netherfield was about to commence, Maggie found a bookmark.
It was getting late, and she was short of sleep from the night before.
Sleep at Mitch’s had proved elusive, so she was tired and a little irritable.
She was also anxious but trusted Mitch and Adam and the police to find Manuel and take care of him.
She hauled her suitcase to one of the rooms on the first floor, did the bare minimum to prepare for bed, and fell into a deep sleep.
For about an hour.
After lying in bed for another hour, wide awake and thinking every thought under the sun, she got up to find something to drink. She tiptoed to the kitchen in search of the orange juice Jenny had left.
“Freeze,” said a hard, masculine voice from behind her. She froze, too petrified to move, even if she could figure out where to go. He’d found her, and she knew from the sound of his voice she was in trouble. Big trouble.
“I searched every room upstairs trying to tell you something. How many bedrooms does this place have?”
“Oh. Well. I’m in a room downstairs. I couldn’t sleep and thought a drink might help.” She turned to face him.
Mitch’s shorts sat low on his hips. His chest was bare, all muscle and covered with fine blond hair. He had a set of abs she knew were rock hard, and it was all she could do to keep herself from reaching out to touch him.
He stared at her for several seconds before speaking again. The silky, thin pajamas she wore left nothing to the imagination, and she was tempted to cover herself but didn’t.
He approached slowly and stopped directly in front of her. “Turn around and put your hands on the fridge,” he said gruffly.
“What?” She blinked in confusion.
He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face away from him.
He ran his fingers down her arms, softly grabbed her hands, and placed them on top of the refrigerator.
Everywhere he touched left a trail of heat.
He leaned in close behind her and whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this since the day I first met you. ”
“You wanted to arrest me?” she whispered back. His hot breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine, and she was having a hard time with coherent thought.
“I’ve wanted to put you up against a wall, tell you to spread your legs, and then touch you all over,” he said as he kissed her neck. “Is that okay with you?” He planted little kisses all down the side of her throat and onto her shoulder.
Oh, yes. Hell yes—excuse her language—that was okay with her.
She didn’t know exactly what he intended to do but was fully on board with whatever he decided.
Her mind had shut down, but her body was on full alert.
He ignited feelings she’d never experienced.
The time for vacillating over what she wanted was over. She wanted him.
Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew this was probably a bad idea, but, even so, she finally squeaked out a “yes” as he kissed back up to her ear.
“Good girl. Don’t move. I promise this won’t hurt a bit.”
He bent and began at her ankle, running both hands up one leg. Slow and methodical. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he bent and did the other leg, just as slowly, torturing her.
Everywhere he touched was left hot and tingling.
Her breasts tightened in anticipation and heat pooled in her stomach and between her legs.
After finishing the second leg, he lightly grazed her bottom as he stood to start on her arms. He was trying to drive her crazy, and it was working.
His fingertips drifted down each arm. Then he slowly wrapped his large hands around her waist. When he finally reached her breasts and took one into his hand, she inhaled sharply and started to let go of the refrigerator.
“Keep your hands up,” he ordered. She did as she was told and gripped tightly with both hands.
She wanted him to touch her. She was having a hard time not begging him to do so.
He grasped both breasts and rubbed his palm over her nipples until they were hard and aching.
Arching her back, she leaned into him, pressing her body against his.
Was she really going to let him do this to her?
Right here, in her grandma’s kitchen? Her body was betraying her better judgment, but she didn’t care.
Things were out of her control now. She wanted him with an intensity she’d never felt before.
Gradually, his hands worked their way south, and he finally, finally touched her where she ached to be touched.
Her head dropped backward, onto his shoulder, and she moaned as he put his hand inside her panties.
“Spread your legs,” he said into her neck. She did, and as he stroked her, she could feel the pressure building. She wanted to move against his hand, but he held her steady.
“Don’t. Stop,” she panted.
“I’m confused,” he whispered. “Are you saying stop or don’t stop?” He was teasing her. He knew full well what she was saying, but wanted to hear her say it. Wanted her to beg. And she was more than willing to.
“Oh, God, Mitch, please. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”
He didn’t. The pressure built and built until finally, she let out a loud groan while her whole body went rigid, and she convulsed in his arms. Her hands had long since left the refrigerator.
One was locked onto the back of his thigh, and the other held his neck in a death grip.
Her body arched in offering to him. Her legs had turned to Jell-O, and he held her up through the aftershocks.
She’d never had an orgasm that strong. She’d never been so turned on.
And they hadn’t even had sex. Come to think of it, they hadn’t even kissed!
Slowly, she floated back to Earth. He was breathing heavily, and she could feel the huge, hard erection pressed into her back.
She’d been satisfied, but he was still raring to go.
Some crazy impulse seized her. She would look back later and think she must have been possessed by some wanton nymphomaniac.
She turned around slowly and looked into his lust-filled eyes.
Moving into him, she put her hands on his chest, pushing him back toward the island in the middle of the kitchen.
Once he was up against it, she pressed herself to him, put her arms around his neck, and brought his lips down to meet hers.
Instantly, they opened to each other. Tongues collided in passionate, desperate kisses.
Reckless, borderline sloppy kisses, trying to get closer.
He grabbed at any part of her he could touch, hands running up and down her back until finally coming to rest on her ass.
She reached down between them and placed her hand on his erection.
Dang, he was big. Slipping her hand down his shorts, she realized the shorts were all he was wearing.
***
He held back a moan as she tenderly wrapped her hand around him.
She used the other to push down his shorts and in the same movement, drop to her knees and wrap her mouth around him.
Gasping for air, he gripped the countertop to keep his knees from buckling.
Her mouth was hot, and her lips soft. He wouldn’t last long if he let this continue.
He knelt in front of her, took her in his arms, and kissed her, hard.
“Maggie, I need to get inside you. Please, let me inside you.” His gruff plea was anxious and desperate. Her frantic kisses told him she wanted that, too.
All at once, he realized he hadn’t come prepared.
He stopped and looked at her. “Shit. I don’t have anything for protection.
I wasn’t planning this. But I swear to you I’m clean.
Are you on some kind of birth control?” His words came out in a jumbled mess.
He wanted her badly but knew he would stop if she said no. He braced himself for her reply.
“Mitch, I’m clean, and I’m on birth control. So, shut up and fuck me already!”
Oh, thank God. That was all he needed. He quickly got rid of her clothes and laid her on the kitchen floor at the same time he entered her. She was wet and tight and felt so damn good around him.
“Sorry, but this isn’t going to last very long. You feel so good. I’m ready to burst right now.”
She answered him with a smile and the movement of her hips. He took the hint and moved with her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed harder and faster, and she met every thrust with one of her own. This time when she came, he came with her and then collapsed on top of her.
They laid together for a minute, catching their breath. Sooner than he would have liked, he rolled off her and helped her up. He gathered their clothes, and they dressed hastily. Now that it was over, reality started seeping in.
Mitch’s head was reeling. Something was different about sex with Maggie. He didn’t know what but was already eager to try again and find out. He wanted to follow her to her room, get into bed with her, and have a slow, leisurely do-over. What he did instead would haunt him forever.