Chapter 22
I check the rearview mirror, the side mirrors, tracking reflections, movement, anything that doesn’t belong.
But it’s dark out here, and the only light coming into the car is the flicker of moonlight through the trees and the faint glow beyond the mountains.
If we’re being followed, my driver will know.
I always have a driver on hand, even if I travel with others, like we did.
And thank God I do. What the hell happened back there? Delilah came away from the hallway as if she’d seen a ghost.
I watch the road behind us for a moment longer.
Nothing but darkness.
I didn’t stop to ask her what happened. The blood was drained from her face, and she asked to leave, so I moved.
Next to me, she’s still breathing fast, staring straight through the windshield, jaw tight, like she’s trying to get a handle on it.
I need a handle on it, too.
“What happened?” I ask.
“There was a man. One of the waiters. Or at least he was dressed like one.” She swallows thickly. “I’ve seen him before. At Luther’s. I’m sure of it.”
I don’t let my mind go anywhere near what would happen to Delilah if they ever get her back. They’re not getting her back.
“What did he do?” I demand.
“I don’t—he didn’t really—” Her words trail off, still pushing through the fear.
“Did he speak to you?” I ask.
“No.”
“Did he touch you?” My voice is filled with darkness.
She takes too long to answer. Long enough for my jaw to clench.
“Yes.”
I want to rip him apart.
“Where?” I growl.
“My arm. When I ran into him.” She swallows. “And… he didn’t let go.”
My heart rages in my chest. “What do you mean he didn’t let go?”
“He just, you know, held it longer than he should have.”
He held her. That’s a message. And messages like that don’t come without a follow-up.
“Do you think they’re following us?” she asks, rubbing the sides of her arms.
“If they were, I’d know. My driver is trained to lose a trail.”
Fuck. How could they ever know she’s here? I fucking checked everything on her cell, in her car, and on her laptop. And if they did trail her to Monarch Hills, why did they wait so long to show their face?
And why didn’t he take her in the hallway?
It’s not adding up.
I glance back down at her. “Are you sure you knew him?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I just—I swear I’ve seen him before.”
“At Luther’s?” I ask.
She nods once. “Yeah. It was the neck tattoo.” Suddenly, doubt seeps into her tone. “But it was a fuck the world tat. I mean, other riders have them, but I swear he looked familiar.”
I lean forward slightly, tapping my driver’s shoulder. “Take an alternate route.”
“Yes, sir.”
The car shifts direction without hesitation.
I sit back and want to wrap my arm around her, comfort her. She’s still keyed up, still running it through her head.
“Why didn’t he take me?” she says suddenly, more to herself than to me. “If he knew it was me—why didn’t he just—”
She’s circled back to the same question I’ve been running through since we left. And I still don’t have an answer.
Silence drops between us.
“You’re very calm about this,” she mutters.
“I’m not calm,” I say. “I’m controlled.”
Her mouth presses into a line. “Same difference.”
“No,” I reply. “Not even close.”
Calm is passive. Control is a decision.
She huffs out a breath, shaking her head. “You’ve got this all figured out, haven’t you?”
“No,” I say.
Her eyes snap back in my direction.
“But I will,” I add.
Her eyes narrow. “And if you don’t?”
“Then I deal with whatever comes.”
She studies me, trying to decide if that’s confidence or something else.
“You just… live like this?” she asks, gesturing to the car around her. “Are you always planning an exit?”
“I don’t go anywhere without one.”
And I’d do well to remember my exit strategy now, the one with Delilah. What that kiss did to me, how Delilah being found makes me rage inside, tells me I’m losing control.
A short laugh escapes her, sharp at the edges. “God, your life sounds exhausting.”
It is.
“I do what needs to be done,” I say, glancing out the back window again at total darkness.
“Right.” She’s irritated. “Because if you’re not in control, you’re not playing.”
That’s rich coming from her.
“I know someone else like that,” I bite.
Her green eyes dart back to mine and ignite in the flickers of moonlight coming from the window behind me. “Do you?”
“Controlling? Welcome to the club, sweetheart.”
“You’re so fucking annoying.” She seethes. “I’m just another pawn in another man’s game. Aren’t I?”
I’m not a saint, but I don’t use people. “Funny that’s how you see it, and you still ran to me just now.”
She turns to me sharply. “I ran to survive. Don’t make it personal.”
“You knew exactly where you were going.”
“Don’t rewrite it.” She shoots back. “You’re making it into something it’s not.” She mumbles. “You self-important prick.”
This isn’t about Luther anymore. Not with the way she’s looking at me. Not with the way my body remembers her mouth.
Anger pushes in between us.
She pokes me in the chest. “You just love this, don’t you?”
I stiffen. “What’s this, Princess?”
She hisses. “Being in control of me.”
“You really think I’m in control of any of this?” I snap.
I’ve lost it now, admitting that. I don’t have a clean angle on this anymore. Luther’s back in my world, and Delilah’s become someone I give a damn about.
A short, humorless breath leaves me but there’s nothing funny about this, not when I’ve never been less in control of anything in my life.
I care about Delilah. I’m getting her out of this. She’s twenty-five, for God’s sake. She’s never lived. But the shitty part is she can’t do that living with me.
When GhostEye finds the women, I might get swept up with the trash. I’d never let someone wait for me.
Delilah and I aren’t a pair. We both have reasons to forget the other existed.
But it doesn’t matter how many times I remind myself. I can still feel the heat and taste of her mouth on mine like it’s happening now.
I should reset the dynamic. Cool things down by being sensible but all I want now is her furious lips on mine again.
Anger dances in her eyes.
“Rio, I could have you by the balls,” she says sharply, her hand surprising me by grabbing my cock firmly, “and you’d still stand there acting as if nothing gets to you.”
I don’t dare give her the satisfaction of looking or flinching, but every nerve ending I have lands in the single point of contact where her hand cups my cock.
She’s trying to prove a point that I don’t give a shit about her, except my cock is instantly hard under her palm, every ounce of blood in my body pours into my dick as it swells with a need for her.
I should stop. I’m acting like a masochist, wanting more.
But I do want more.
And by the way her hand stills around me, holding on, gripping me, she wants more, too.
“Gary.” My voice is animalistic and low. “Put up the privacy screen.”
Every molecule in the air holds its breath, waiting to see what happens when fire plays with fire when no one is watching.
My dick presses painfully against my zipper now. I’m fucking rock hard under her touch.
“You like that, Princess? You like holding my cock? Having power over me?”
She tightens her grip around me. “I don’t have any power over you.”
“That’s the story you like telling yourself, is it? That might have been true in your old life, but now, you do have power. The only problem is…” I slide my hand up under her dress, along the smooth skin of her thigh, where it finally meets the damp fabric of her panties. “I have power, too.”
My mouth hovers just short of hers. “And what does this do to you, Princess? Nothing?”
We’ve both tried to play it cool after that kiss, and now, the frustration has blown up in our faces.
We’ve crossed the line but I’m not turning back.
Lust surges in my veins. I gently rub my fingers back and forth until I feel her pussy part under her panties.
I can feel her swollen nub right through them.
She closes her eyes tightly, like she’s trying to conjure up defiance, but her body’s already betraying her.
She clamps down harder on my dick, running her hand up and down along my cock. My dress pants are thin enough that it nearly floors me.
The car takes a turn, and she shifts with it. Her thighs part and I take the opportunity to slip my fingers under the fabric.
“You want me to jerk you off? That doesn’t make me powerful.” She’s still fighting it, but her words are nearly breathless because my finger circles her swollen nub.
She bites her lip. “You’re just a man after all.”
“And what does that make you?” I ask.
I pull my fingers back. They’re glossy with her wetness, and I lick it off. “Guess you’re just a woman, after all.”
There’s a weightless second—just one—where I could stop this. Where I could keep my hands to myself, put distance between us, remember the plan, and how Delilah and I aren’t meant to be.
But instead, take both hands and rip off her panties at the sides.
I’m powerless this close to her. Fucking powerless.
I close the distance again and take her mouth with enough force to pull a sound out of her.
Everything I do feels against my own will. I’ve finally found my kryptonite– five foot five, raven-haired, green-eyed goddess that she is.
She kisses me back and it hits me even harder than the balcony, her hand rubbing furiously on my cock.
She wants this. I want this.
Control leeches from my body as if I’m in a trance.
She unzips my pants and slides her little hand through, shoving the top of my boxer briefs down the best she can, and the feel of her bare skin on mine makes me groan.
I dive my fingers between her legs, two inside her sloppy wet pussy, still circling her clit. God, the feel of her, the taste. The smell.
It’s intoxicating, spellbinding.
The car disappears. The driver. The road. Everything outside of this tight, charged space we’ve locked ourselves into is gone.
Her delicate hand rocks on my cock, sometimes consistent, sometimes stopping completely when she focuses on my finger plunging in and out of her. I try to think about her pleasure alone, but I’m mad with greed.
Her cunt is soaked. Fuck I want inside her. My dick surges at the feel of her, at the thought of my cock in her, riding her bare, bottoming out, holding her hips in my hands with her legs spread…
She rides my hand harder now, and I bury my finger as deep as I can, cupping her pussy. I grind the heel of my palm over her clit at the same time, and at that, she lets out a small whimper.
“Jesus, Rio…” She whispers, letting her head fall.
I feel it building in her, the way her legs fall to the sides, giving way and then start to tremble, her grip tightening on my dick to the point of sweet pain…
And then she breaks.
And it takes me with her.
Her clit pulses against my hand at the same time my dick throbs out, releasing hot cum into her hand, I finger fuck her through it and nearly choke on my own orgasm at the same time. I’ve lost my mind at a hand job.
Eventually, my hand stills. Hers does too. Neither of us moves right away.
Then the world comes back all at once.
And with it—everything I just ignored.
The man in the hallway. The fact that I gave in to my lust when I knew I couldn’t keep her.
She shifts first, pulling her dress down. She turns slightly toward the window, as if she needs something solid to look at, something that isn’t me.
I find tissues in the side of the door and hand her some. “Sorry,” I say, but I don’t know why.
Because I should have stopped that for both of us?
I’m still seeing stars as I clean up the cum that made it onto my boxers. We’re silent, and a few minutes later, the car slows and stops outside our destination.
She presses her face closer to the window. Confusion threads through her voice. “Why aren’t we at Monarch Hills?”
She glances at me.
The flush in her cheeks is there. Why can’t I stop wanting her? Why couldn’t I convince myself not to take her?
Because this woman isn’t a problem.
She’s the only thing that matters.
“We’re here,” I run my forefinger under hers and let it drop.“Because you don’t go anywhere, I can’t keep you safe.”