21. One step forward, two steps back
Chapter 21
One step forward, two steps back
LETTIE
M y eyes eat up the delicious view of Tomer’s lean, toned body. Standing at the entrance to his closet with the light behind him outlining his silhouette, he tugs off the rugged clothes he wore tonight on his... mission or whatever.
“Is this a free strip show, or do I need cash?”
His grin shoots straight to my clit. This man needs to smile more. I’d forgotten how much I missed it.
As my gaze rakes up and down his frame, I try to recall if I’ve ever seen him in this type of tactical getup. Aside from the night he rescued me, that is.
It’s beyond sexy. For the first time, he resembles the military operative he once was. Tough and virile. My damn hero.
My nipples pebble to stiff peaks.
He drops his pants, revealing a sheathed knife strapped to his calf. A lump forms in my throat as I push away thoughts of what he might have needed that for.
My inner delulu perks her head up in the corner of my mind, reassuring me it’s merely for self-defense. Of course it is, D.
Drawn to him with a powerful need, I approach hungrily. “May I join you in the shower?”
His eyes drop to my waist where I’m tugging on the hem of my shirt. “Abso-fucking-lutely, sugar bear.”
A few seconds later, I’m wearing nothing but a smile as he beckons me into the shower. I join him eagerly, feeling a touch giddy.
Not only am I looking forward to being naked with him, I also need to scrub away his smoky scent. According to delulu, it’ll be easier to ignore whatever he did if I can’t smell it.
If anyone else noticed the odor, they didn’t mention it during our pig out. Not that he stayed in the kitchen for long. After he woofed down his eggs, he disappeared to handle a few things on the computer.
And so, yet again, I’m sweeping more shit under the rug.
Eventually, I’ll need to bust out the vacuum. If the lump of shit grows much larger, we’ll be tripping over it. We all know that’s dangerous for me, especially given my overabundance of gracefulness.
“Temperature okay, sugar bear?”
“Yeah.”
Same as always, he positions us so the warm spray is more on me than him. Sweet man.
Once more, I wonder how on earth no one has ever loved him.
I settle into the moment, letting all the worries from the day rinse down the drain. A soft moan escapes me as the hot water soothes my scalp and goes to work on the body aches from all the laughter and floor-sitting tonight.
My attention catches on the vigorous way he washes his hair, scrubbing his scalp like it owes him money. Instead of thinking about why, I focus on the flex and roll of his triceps. When he rinses the suds, he repeats the process.
Dang it to heck. Getting harder to ignore what got him so smelly that he needs such a thorough wash tonight. Good thing I’ve got a black belt in distracting myself.
Before my mind has a chance to run with the llamas, he returns his hands to me, helping clean and condition my hair. As he combs his fingers through my long tresses, he’s gentle and loving. I adore how he handles me so delicately.
Eager to touch him, I lather my hands and trail them over his taut flesh.
We don’t speak for a long time, simply enjoying caressing each other peacefully.
It’s not like me to be so quiet. Normally, by now, I’d have filled the silence with some of my nonsense ramblings or babbling about my day. Tonight, I can’t quite trust my tongue.
After my hair is done, he grabs my loofah from the hook and starts on my body. As always, he’s careful around my sore spots. Thankfully, they’re lessening day by day.
While he washes me, I trail my hands over his pecs and shoulders, tugging him closer.
My thoughts turn carnal, and my tug turns into a yank.
“Can’t wash you if we’re plastered together,” he says with a surprised grin.
“We’re clean enough, aren’t we?” Wrapping my hands around his nape, I pull his face toward mine. “Drop the loofah and put those hands to better use.”
Instantly, it falls to the tub floor. His eyes flash wild, and he settles his hands on my hips to align our lower bodies. His cock twitches against my lower belly.
Hell yes .
Not only is he getting hard, he’s looking at me the way he used to. With heat. Desire. A fervent need.
He still wants me. I’m not dirty.
With impressive resistance, he lowers his face leisurely, holding my eye contact. All the self-control that first attracted me to him is ever-present in his deliberate movements. So dang sexy how he can temper his emotions like that. I’m practically salivating and ready to climb him like a tree, but he drags it out, building the tension in a slow burn.
Best of all, everything about his demeanor tells me he wants to take charge again. His need for my submission is there, vibrating all over his body.
Yes, please.
Our mouths finally converge, sending waves of tantalizing sparks over my skin. I gasp, wasting no time in opening for him. He dips his tongue into my mouth, tasting and devouring me with increasing intensity. The desire wafts off us, mingling with the steam of the shower.
Damn, this is everything I’ve needed.
His grip becomes more desperate around my lower back. One of his hands slides up my side, resting on my jaw, allowing him to angle my head the way he wants it.
Yes, yes, yes. Take control like you used to.
In this moment, he’s exactly the man I need him to be. Then again... hasn’t he always been?
Our kiss brims over with passion as his decadent tongue fucks my mouth. My back arches, driving my breasts into his chest.
He holds me tighter. Kisses me harder.
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he doesn’t treat me like a porcelain doll.
I’m not broken.
With roving hands, we writhe against each other in unison. Right when I’m seconds away from begging him to touch me in naughtier places, he ends the kiss.
Burning his gaze into mine, he roughly grabs my ass, squeezing a handful in each splayed palm. It’s not painful. Just possessive. I love it.
Suddenly filled with scorching desperation, I beg him with my eyes and my words. “Touch me, please.”
Eyes darkening, a dash of wickedness overtakes his features. He pulses his palms around my ass. “I am touching you, sweetness.”
The crowd jeers. Boo. Hiss.
“You know what I mean.”
Anticipation skitters over me when his hands disappear a second later, leaving me bereft.
The sparkle in his eyes tells me he’s planning something. No clue what it may be. As long as he’s not rejecting me, he can do anything he likes.
Instead of looking around to see where his hands are headed, I savor the feel of our bodies flush against each other and let the mystery of what he’s up to heighten my excitement.
A lascivious grin settles on his lips. “Open for me, sugar.” Then his hands are there, prodding between my thighs.
I ease one leg to the side, giving him room.
He roams his slippery hands over the tops of my inner thighs, massaging my tender flesh. After teasing the outer skin on both sides of my pussy, he flattens his palm and drags it up and down my slit.
“Mmm,” I moan, my eyes fluttering closed.
“This okay?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
He places a series of nipping kisses under my ear and along my neck. “How does it feel?”
Snaking my hands between us, I brazenly pinch and roll my nipples. “Damn good. Please rub faster.”
He does as I order, stroking his fingers through the silky flesh of my pussy. “Can I play with your clit?”
“Is a five-pound robin fat?”
His face screws over to one side in confusion.
“You damn well better touch my clit,” I teasingly clarify, embracing my inner brat.
Right before he slams his mouth to mine, he curls his upper lip and growls, “It shouldn’t be so damn hot when you act like a fucking brat, Lettie.” His tongue dives in, demanding my surrender before quickly retreating. “Why the fuck is that sexy? I swear it never was before. Not like this.”
I don’t have time to ruminate on that because, aside from kissing me senseless, he’s found my clit with expert precision. My hips start swirling with fervor, chasing my pleasure. After teasing the sensitive bud with slow rolls and tiny flicks, he pinches it with steadily increasing pressure.
Tossing my head back, I break the kiss and yell, “Oh my god, babe. Yes. Fuck.”
“Shh,” he cautions. “We have house guests, remember?”
A giggle assaults me. “Oops.”
Stella’s in the guest room, and Freya took the couch. She had too much booze to drive. When she tried to order an Uber, we told her a bodyguard would follow her and sit outside her place tonight. She clammed up, then asked to sleep over. Naturally, I was thrilled.
All my favorite people in one place. What could be better?
An orgasm, perhaps?
Evidently, on the same page, Tomer kisses me, continuing to toy with my pussy. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re writhing for me.” Another kiss. This time, his tongue plunges in and out in a staccato rhythm. “Fuck my hand, sweetness. Work those hips and make yourself come on my fingers like my greedy girl.”
As if it’s not mine to control, my body responds to his commands. Always has been at his mercy, I suppose. Unable to deny him, I undulate my hips to drag my core against his slippery fingers, ratcheting up my pleasure in no time.
He dives his head down, taking one of my nipples between his lips, hollowing his cheeks to apply the perfect amount of suction.
It’s all I need to send me careening over the edge. My moans come faster and louder as pleasure explodes from my core, pulsating in all directions.
“Sugar, shhh .”
To silence my breathy moans, he seals our lips, kissing me hard and deep. As he strokes my tongue with his, I ride out my climax and dig my fingernails into his upper back.
When the pleasure ebbs and my body grows still, my euphoria cloud begins to deflate as a pesky worry pops it.
Under normal circumstances, I’m unable to bite my tongue. After an orgasm? Forget it.
My fears come racing out. “Why are you so worried about me staying quiet?”
Seriously, that doesn’t jive with his exhibitionism kink.
Once he’s removed his hand from between my thighs, he holds me close and runs his lips over the curve of my neck. Since I’m so blissed out, I wait for him to respond and relish his loving touch a bit longer.
His answer eventually comes. “Consent.”
“Huh?”
“Stella didn’t consent.”
He realizes how perplexed I am and finally provides a more robust explanation. Thank goodness. I was about to bust out a decoder ring and search for the answer key.
“You know how big consent is for me, right?”
I nod.
“Well, I didn’t know you’d be attacking me in the shower, or else I’d have checked in with her to assess her comfort level.”
I shake my head, utterly baffled. Is this something other people think about when getting intimate?
“What’s confusing you, baby?”
“So much.” I open and close my mouth like a fish. “At my apartment, you’ve never cared when Freya is home.”
“Because I checked in with her beforehand.”
My eyes bulge. “What? You talked to her about sex with me?”
The skin between his eyebrows crinkles. “Just because we get off on being watched or heard doesn’t mean our kinks trump everyone else’s consent. Besides, given what’s happened to you, they might feel even more odd about hearing us.”
He has great points. But something still feels... off.
“I don’t understand. Are you upset?” he asks.
The temperature of the water isn’t as warm, so I reach over to adjust the setting. “Yeah. No. I mean...” I pause, attempting to figure out why that feels weird. I come up with nothing. “Honestly, I don’t know. I suppose I’m surprised you talked to her about it without looping me in. And she didn’t ever mention it either.”
“For what it’s worth, it was a quick two-sentence discussion in passing when we first started seeing each other. Not like we compared notes, discussed positions, and decided on safe words.”
A chuckle bounces out from the back of my throat. “Makes sense. I’m not so innocent either, since I’ve talked to her about dirty stuff too. I’m not mad, babe. It just hit me as a bit strange, that’s all.”
“Well, this is me we’re talking about. Strange, odd, and creepy. That’s the Tomer trifecta,” he quips, a smile licking at the corner of his mouth.
For whatever reason, it makes me happy as a pig in slop. “Are you poking fun at yourself?”
“If everyone else can do it, why can’t I?”
As I study his genuine smile, binding it to my memory, it warms my entire body more than a scalding hot shower ever could. “You’re in a good mood tonight, huh? Wonder what’s got you all cheery.”
As soon as the words are out, I regret it. Classic Lettie.
The orgasm fog made me forget all that transpired this evening. Hell, for a while, I forgot all the trauma of the last week. Nearly without warning, I’ve been smacked with reality poop like the monkey on my back tossed it in my face.
Welp . Might as well feed my monkey a banana and satiate its curiosity.
He kisses me chastely. “Since I got home, you haven’t asked me about tonight. I was under the impression, perhaps incorrectly, that you didn’t want to know. I’ll tell you what happened if you want.”
Pausing only briefly to consider his words, I answer, “I am a little curious.”
Little? Ha.
However, curiosity killed the cat and all. Probably best I don’t push my luck.
I’d bet my buttered butt that my face reveals every ounce of my lingering apprehension about hearing the truth. He’s intensely aware I’ve been tiptoeing around difficult conversations thanks to my pathetically fragile state.
I want to know more about what he did. Yet I also don’t want to know. In summary, it’s a befuddling time to be Lettie Holt.
His turquoise eyes peruse me cautiously, probably evaluating whether I can handle the truth. “Don’t worry, sugar. I kept my promise. No shooting or killing. I didn’t even have to manhandle anyone.”
My gaze drops to his right hand, where it’s red and swollen. I noticed it earlier but swept it under the rug. I’m going to need to get a bigger carpet if this continues.
Oh fuck it.
I grab his hand delicately, bringing it between us. “If you didn’t get physical with anyone, then why does your hand look like this?”
His face scrunches up. “I had a minor altercation with a closet door. And a wall.” He looks up and to the side for a second. “And two other walls. Basically, an entire room.”
My shocked gasp turns into a guffaw at his monotone delivery. “You did this hitting a wall?” I inspect his hand, drawing the knuckles to my lips for a feather of a kiss. “What did that room do to you?”
As his expression turns stoic, my stomach flip-flops.
Wait, wait, wait.
Perhaps it wasn’t what the room did to him but what went on inside it.
Before he answers, the dots connect in my mind. “It was at the nightmare house, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” he admits, his voice like gravel.
“After you saw Savin and Tasha, you went to beat up the house? Running amuck and pickin’ fights with inanimate objects, huh?” I tsk at him, hoping to keep the tone light.
“I burned it down, Lettie.”
A tiny puff of air gets stuck in my throat with my trembling gasp.
“You did what now?”
The cords of his neck muscles bulge, and he forces down a swallow. “It’s destroyed. Burned to the ground, sugar.”
“Why?” I whisper, positively gobsmacked.
He shifts his eyes upward, raking across the ceiling. “Not entirely sure I have the words to explain it.” He shakes his head, pinching his eyes closed. “I couldn’t stand the idea of that place existing any longer. This probably won’t make sense, but it almost felt like...” Pausing, he opens his eyes. “If that house was no longer standing, then?—”
Recognition dawns, shining at me in a blinding light. I interrupt him, finishing his sentence. “Then all the things that happened there could be forgotten.”
Continuing with his thought, he adds, “And if not forgotten, then at least set free. It was as if I was burning away the pain. In here.” He gingerly pats the spot over my heart.
I do the same on his chest. “And in here.”
He nods, turquoise eyes shimmering and holding me captive with their beauty.
I’ve never felt so seen in my entire life.
It’s as if he was there in that house, suffering alongside me. Sleeping on the cold, hard floor. Curled up in the corner, hiding from the monsters. Hungry, tired, bone-weary. Feeling worthless. Never knowing what torment awaits you or when the nightmare would end.
“Come here, babe.” I wrap my hands around his nape and tug his face to mine.
When I rise on my toes, he lowers his mouth to capture my lips. Our kiss starts out tender and soft but swells and blooms in much the same way my love for him has since the day I met him. Until it overwhelms my entire sense of being.
Not sure if I instigate it or he does, but in the blink of an eye, he’s holding me up with my back against the tile wall. My legs wrap around his slippery waist, locking me in place.
“Take me to bed,” I murmur across his lips, then drive my tongue back in for more.
I hear the water cut off and the shower door open. My eyes stay closed, and our lips sealed.
Then he’s carrying me out of the bathroom.
An errant thought passes my mind—I’m sure you’re as shocked as I am—I hope he doesn’t drop my slippery ass on the floor. Fortunately, he’s the one walking so our odds of injury are far less than when I’m on my own two feet.
We make it to the bed, and he lowers me onto my back. A towel flops onto the mattress beside me, which I assume he grabbed off the hook when we passed by.
Breaking the kiss, he attempts to pull away from me, but I lock my legs around him.
“You’re not going anywhere, mister,” I tease, tightening my grip on his shoulders too.
His chuckle is rich and velvety. “Let me dry you off so you don’t get cold.”
Thanks to the power of suggestion, a chill dances over me, causing goose bumps to rise across my damp flesh.
I release him from my death grip, flopping my arms and legs on the bed. “ Argh , fine. Dry me.”
He beckons me with a crick of his finger. “Sit up, sweetness.”
Instead of complying, I offer him my arms and bat my lashes at him, silently begging him to help me up.
Narrowing his eyes at me, he clicks his tongue. “You’re getting a little too spoiled for your own good.” The grin cresting his lips makes it hard to believe his supposed annoyance.
I shrug, fully embracing my inner princess. “If I am, it’s your fault.”
After he pulls me up, he starts with my hair, then continues with my shoulders and down. Wearing nothing but a sexy smile, he doesn’t speak as he runs the towel over my whole body, making me feel cherished.
Once I’m dry, he backs toward the bathroom to hang up my towel and returns with his own.
Still feeling cold, I scoot up the bed and get under the covers.
I keep my eyes glued on the Naked Boyfriend Show , loving the view of him dragging the dark towel over his ivory skin.
Sadly, he puts on his boxers.
“Pajamas or a T-shirt?” he asks.
Wearing a five-star pout, I shake my head no and gesture my open palm at his lower body. “What is that all about? I like you better without the boxers. Lose ‘em.”
Ignoring me, he grabs a tank top and panties from my drawer, tossing them on the bed.
Facetiously, I hang my jaw low and feign outrage. “Excuse me? What’s with all the clothes? That’s counterproductive to what I had in mind.”
“If you don’t put something on, I’ll never be able to focus on all the shit I want to tell you.”
I cross my arms, fully embracing my childlike pout. “No talk. Only horny stuff.”
“Arson really gets you hot, huh?”
An unexpected laugh bubbles up from my belly.
Then he smiles again. My heart explodes, blasting unadulterated love throughout the room.
When I finally get a hold of myself, I decide to tease him. Anything to see him smile again. “I’m not sure if it’s the arson that has me revved up or sheer relief.”
He quirks his head in silent question. “Relief at what?” He gathers up his laptop, phone, and power cord and plugs them in to charge on his side of the bed.
“Well, I’m relieved it wasn’t burning a dead body that had you coming home smellin’ like you worked a double shift, tendin’ to the BBQ pit at the Smoky Pig.”
He stops halfway to the bathroom, fisting his hands on his hips and worrying at his lip. “You’re really not mad at me for burning it down?”
Rather than rushing out an answer, I chew it over. “I’m fine with it.” My nods start slow but grow more emphatic. “So long as you don’t get in trouble.”
“While you were having your late-night pig out, I took care of what little digital evidence there might have been.”
“You sure it’s going to be okay?”
“Fires are nearly impossible to prosecute. Harder than murder to get a conviction.”
My head kicks back. “Really?”
He offers a tight-lipped nod in response.
I heave a purifying breath. “Well, as long as no one was hurt, I’m glad it’s gone. My only regret is not being able to see it burn.” I chuckle, mostly to myself, as I slip on the tank top.
For some reason, he pumps his fist in a tiny show of victory. “I fucking knew it.”
“What?”
“I knew you’d want to see it. Hang on, and I’ll explain. First, let’s get you ready for bed.”
He dashes into the bathroom and returns with two things. Both of which are for me. My contact lens case and a brush.
My heart can’t take much more. I might be having palpitations from how much I love him.
By the time I’ve taken my contacts out, he’s kneeling on the bed beside me, brushing my hair. Then he braids it so it doesn’t tangle during the night.
It’s official.
Heart attack.
No EKG required for diagnosis.
Once we’re both in bed, we sit with our backs to the headboard, cuddling close together. He grabs his phone, tapping to open the photo gallery.
The first few pictures practically jump off the screen at me.
He passes me the phone, and I stare, slack-jawed. Utterly speechless.
Potentially for the first time in my life.
No clue how much time passes before I speak, and when I do, my tone is shaky and filled with a myriad of emotions. “Thank you.”
It’s all I can say.
No other words feel right.
After passing him the phone, I place a kiss on his chest, keeping my body fastened to his. “How was Tasha?”
“Okay, I think. She told me to make sure I took good care of her butterfly.”
“Did she look well?”
He offers a slow nod. “Physically, yes. Aside from some healing bruises and cuts.”
“And emotionally?”
“She was angry. Very protective of her boyfriend. She almost didn’t let us in the room.” His eyes stare off in the distance. “There’s quite a bit of love between them. They’ve both been through a lot. But they have each other. I think they’ll be okay.” His vision refocuses on me. “I hope they will be.”
Oh my heart.
Leaning close, he kisses my forehead and throws his arm around me, pressing me against his chest. Cupping the side of my head, he occasionally strokes my hair.
After the moment passes, he clears his throat and returns his cellphone to the nightstand. “Anyhow. Savin wasn’t too forthcoming because he was concerned about outliving his usefulness with us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the mafia doesn’t treat people well. Even their own. If they don’t hold value, they’re expendable at best. A liability at worst. I don’t blame Savin for assuming we’d do the same. He was afraid if he gave us all the intel we needed, we’d have no more use for him and take him out.”
“Wow. Poor guy. Did he give you anything helpful?”
To be honest, I’m unsure what Tomer’s even hunting for. The specific men who hurt me? The head of the mafia? The people in charge like Skidmark and... him ?
I’ve tried to avoid thinking about it too much since every time I do, he appears in my mind. Front and center.
Viktor.
And then turbulent sensations overwhelm me, pelting me one after the other—nausea, repulsion, shame.
One breath, and I’m right back there. In the windowless room. I can smell him. Feel him.
My stomach pitches and rolls. A bitter taste fills my mouth. The pain suddenly feels so fresh. Every spot on my body where he touched me burns now as if he’s still gripping me roughly. Even my scalp hurts from how he yanked my hair to force me to look at him.
“Look at me while I fuck you, slut.
In the here and now, I want to close my eyes. To hide from everything. But when I shut them, I see him.
Over me.
Breathe, Lettie. In and out. In and out.
Unaware of my impending panic attack since he can’t see much more than the top of my head on his chest, Tomer drones flatly. I cling to his voice to keep from slipping away. “Savin gave us a few names. After you fall asleep, I’ll dig into them more. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you. I’ll work on my laptop from here. He wouldn’t reveal the higher-ups in Lenkov’s organization who oversee the trafficking ring.”
Trafficking ring. I was being prepped to be trafficked . Sold like cattle.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Going into WITSEC,” he continues.
He’s being so uncharacteristically open with me. Just rambling along his plans like we’re talking about the weather.
Meanwhile, I’m over here, heart and mind racing like mad. About to break out in a cold sweat or throw-up. Probably both.
Yet I can’t find the words to tell him to stop. I’m mute, sinking into a dark abyss in my own mind.
“Lenkov’s people have their slimy fingers in all kinds of horrific shit, so it’s hard to know which ones to go after first.”
Doesn’t he feel my heart thrashing? A thrumming sound, loud and fast, vibrates through my eardrums.
Womp, womp, womp, womp.
It’s so loud I feel it in my chest.
Womp, womp, womp, womp.
It’s almost as nauseating as the memories I’m working so damn hard to stave off.
“Now I have to go after the low-ranking fuckers. Work them over to get more names. It’s gonna take time...”
His voice fades away, thankfully. Only I think it’s because I’m about to pass out.
Or black out.
All the stressful events of the day have piled up on my shoulders, and now they’re pushing me down.
Womp, womp, womp, womp.
My heart rate spikes so sharply I feel it pulsing all over my body.
Womp, womp, womp, womp.
Darkness engulfs my field of vision until all I can see is black.
Then nothing.
There’s absolutely . . . nothing.