Chapter 11 #3
Her hand stills. “We? I wasn’t a part of your scheme. You kept me in the dark.”
I push my hands along the armrests. “You were too close to both Foster and Nelson. Any indication that you were aware of either one of them could put you in danger.”
“I don’t buy that, Grayson. I think it comes back to trust. You’re still operating solo. I have the perfect position to evaluate their behavior.”
My reflexive instinct is to deny her allegation, but I stop myself. We’re governed by our fears, and I’ve feared losing London since the moment I found her. Despite my intelligence level, I’m no different than the average man, fearing rejection, loss.
“You’re right,” I admit. Her eyebrows hike at my admission. “There was a giant, unknown variable around your past and how you’d respond to all the emerging details.”
She touches her tattoo key again, thoughtful. “As you can see, it’s been difficult.”
Something akin to guilt slices through me. “I’m here now,” I say. “You don’t have to work through your dissociation alone.” I plan to work Lydia right out of her system.
Her gaze narrows; always assessing. “I don’t like the distance I’ve felt between us for the past two weeks.
Even while you were in prison, even with the weeks of separation after you escaped, I didn’t feel the disconnect the way I do now.
” She releases a breath. “Partly my doing, I admit. Outside pressures are causing us both strain.”
“You’re risking everything,” I tell her.
Her eyes find and hold mine. “It’s my choice.”
I believe her. I bury the doubt. “I won’t let it happen again.”
And like that, London and I are in sync, an effortless team.
“Agreed.” She gifts me a sultry smile. “So let’s think about this logically and logistically. No matter who the copycat is, we’re still ending it here.”
“That’s an inevitability. The chase and running becomes tiring. Neither side can go on forever. Better to end it on our terms.”
She considers this a while, and adds, “We need both of them.”
I nod. “They each have a distinct role.”
“Detective Foster is a brute. He’d be capable, and he hardly exhibits enough patience in his own investigations. There’s a lot of similarity.”
My skin hums as she breaks it down. Her mind excites me. “I’ve been considering as much. But Agent Nelson suffered a setback at work over the past year. That’s a…what is it called?”
“Stressor,” she supplies.
“Stressor. His FBI career is his life. Something threatening that, like not closing enough cases, could send a perfectionist like him over the edge.”
Her fingers halt their ascent along her leg, and the sudden dimness covering her expression dampens my libido. “Nelson had another setback recently,” she says. “I rejected his advances.”
A slow curling fire licks the back of my neck. “Interesting,” I say, my voice grinding out like gravel. The primal Neanderthal inside me rears up, London in danger of a brutal fucking where I stake my claim like the carnal animal she makes me.
“Do you think he suspects us?” she asks.
It’s an intelligent estimate. If Nelson believes, like Foster, that London is in fact my accomplice, then pushing his way into my territory is the natural order for beasts like us.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her. “Regardless of his motivations, I have no doubt that he wants you.” And that realization sears what’s left of my control.
As if she senses my waning restraint, London arches her back, slipping her hand higher and dragging her fitted skirt up her thighs.
“It would be even more interesting if there was a partnership at hand. Two unlikely allies, teaming up to hunt killers. Who in turn become killers themselves.” What are the odds?
But something has shifted in her. Ans suddenly, this discussion is over. “How did you work the information from the tech?” I note how breathy her voice voice is.
“Who wants to know?” I ask. “London or Lydia?”
“Both.”
Finding a way to unify the conflicting shores at war within her is the key. I can’t have any part of London as my enemy.
“I zip-tied his cock to his wrists and rigged it so if he moved, even a millimeter, the tie would cinch closed. I can only imagine how painful it was for him every time he struggled. How does that make Lydia feel?”
“Aroused.”
I sink my teeth into my lip, fingers gripping the armrest.
“And you think he won’t report this?” she asks.
“I think that he doesn’t want anyone to know how he ended up in such a compromising—not to mention humiliating—situation. Especially his wife.”
“Still, you took a risk.”
I stand and, reaching behind my head, tug off my shirt. I walk forward to stand before her. She’s trembling, lust glazing her eyes.
I palm the arms of the chair and lean over her. “Everything I do, every single day, is a risk for you.” Then I kneel, cupping the back of her knee. With a forceful tug, I haul her farther down, her ass positioned at the edge of the seat.
Her sharp inhale sends a thrill right to my groin as I place a tender kiss to her inner thigh. I travel up her skin, tongue dragging across the rising aesthetic chill, kissing and scraping my teeth, gentle touches.
“Is this a new form of torture?” she says, chest rising against her blouse.
I smile against her leg, reaching up to start working the bottom button of her top. I guide my hand beneath her skirt, settling at the apex between her thighs, as I drop a heated kiss to her exposed belly.
“I can be romantic,” I say, hooking a finger beneath the seat of her panties. She’s hot, aroused, drenching them. “I can make love to Lydia and fuck London at the same time.” I tug the thin material down to her knees, causing her to quake with a hard shiver.
Her hands go to my hair, fingers curling. Then I’m undoing each button, reverently opening her up to me as I kiss a heated path toward her chest. Her light pink satin bra is trimmed in black lace. That does something to me—the sight so innocent and sexy all at once.
A rough groan tears free. I’m straining against the zipper of my pants. Every roll of her hips and arch of her back drives me wild. Lydia doesn’t stand a goddamn chance. I sink both hands under her ass and prop her pelvis up, getting unfettered access as I bury my face between her thighs.
I suck her soft lips into my mouth, eliciting the sweetest moan as a tremor riots through her body.
Pulling back just enough, I say, “Whenever Lydia fights for control, think of me touching you just like this.”
“God, if we start, we’ll never stop. You have to let me go, Grayson.”
“Never,” I say, a near growl. “I got you right where I want you.”
A chime from the office. London’s phone. Her eyes open, the spell broken. “It’s him.”